To Trust a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #8)(11)

So it was, a short while later, Eleanor and Marcia stepped outside the front doors. Eleanor didn’t know what she expected. Thundering from the heavens above? Thick, dark storm clouds passing overhead to signify the folly of her venturing out, past the safe walls of Aunt Dorothea’s home? Alas, the sun shone bright and she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring rays.

“Oh, Mama! It is splendid out.”

Her daughter’s words spurred Eleanor into action. Mindful of Mrs. Plunkett and the footman assigned as their escorts hovering in the open doorway, she started down the steps. “Indeed,” she said, smiling gently down at her daughter. For her cowardice, she’d not allowed herself to consider Marcia being closeted away in a new home. Her daughter had long been a child of the outdoors, sitting in the gardens with her dolls dancing at her feet. And just like a parakeet, caught for the world’s pleasure, Eleanor had gone and trapped her within Aunt Dorothea’s walls.

“Can we please go to Hyde Park?”

“No!” the denial exploded from Eleanor’s lungs.

Marcia cocked her head at a funny angle, dislodging a golden curl.

Drawing in a deep breath, Eleanor ruffled the top of her daughter’s blonde tresses. “How did you find out about Hyde Park?”

“Mrs. Plunkett.” Mrs. Plunkett was the nursemaid brought on by Aunt Dorothea so Marcia could have proper lessons. The young woman shifted guiltily on her feet and Eleanor gave the young woman a reassuring smile.

“Please, Mama?” Marcia yanked at her hand. “Can we not go? She said they have magnificent gardens and fountains and lovely ladies in grand gowns walk with gentlemen and—”

She dropped to a knee and settled her hands upon Marcia’s shoulders, and looked into her daughter’s hopeful, excited eyes. “We will go one day, poppet, I promise.” She promised. And lied. She’d no intention of risking seeing either Marcus or…him…as she’d taken to thinking of the other, nameless gentleman.

Little shoulders sank. “You’re lying.”

Odd, this child of seven should know her so well. “I’m not.” She hopped to her feet, ending any further debates on the veracity of Eleanor’s words. “Now, Aunt Dorothea has charged us the important task of walking Sat—Satin and Devlin,” she quickly substituted different names for the horrid names affixed those poor creatures.

Marcia skipped over to the footman with the two dogs at the end of leads, looking more like a captain guiding a ship at sea than a man being tasked with the chore of walking his eccentric employer’s frequently misbehaving pugs. “Can I hold one?”

A protest sprung to Eleanor’s lips but then the servant wisely handed over the lead to the older, slower pug. Little snorting giggles escaped Marcia as she allowed herself to be led down the fashionable, blessedly quiet sidewalk. Mrs. Plunkett hurried after her charge.

As they made their way to the end of the street, Eleanor studied her daughter’s jaunty steps. Guilt pulled at her. The foundation of Marcia’s life was nothing more than a weakly constructed lie and the moment that unsteady base was kicked out from under her, Marcia’s fate would be cast into the same shadowy, murky haze of Eleanor’s herself. But perhaps the lie could persist. Her daughter could find and wed a polite, respectable gentleman of the gentry who might not care if he, nay, when he, discovered the truth of his wife’s legitimacy.

Eleanor’s heart wrenched. For that detail would matter. To any and all. It was why they belonged in the country, removed from polite Society where the people removed from the ton were less driven by cruel gossip and the woes of others.

A small cry split the quiet, cutting into Eleanor’s musings and her heart paused a beat. She found Marcia with her gaze. Devlin wrestled his freedom from Marcia’s small fingers. The miserable pup yapped and danced past Mrs. Plunkett’s reaching hands. Then he spun about. His little legs worked hard and fast as he raced in Eleanor’s direction.

She narrowed her eyes on him and, for a moment, he froze. “Oh no you don’t, you miserable bugger,” she declared. His pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth from the exertions of his efforts, and then responding to the challenge there, he tore around her and raced onward, back down the route they’d previously traveled.

Eleanor started after him and stuck her booted foot out, effectively trapping his leash. “Ha!” she exclaimed, triumphant. Her daughter clapped excitedly, hoisting her clenched hands aloft and waving them in victory.

Despite herself, Eleanor laughed…and then registered the curious stares trained on her. She flitted her gaze about. A handful of lords and ladies on the street gawked in return. Eleanor swallowed hard, as all her dratted efforts to remain invisible were quashed—by a fawn pug that just then took advantage of her distraction and pulled free.

Bloody hell.

“No, Mama,” her daughter groaned, her expression crestfallen. The footman bounded after the blasted pup, sailing past Eleanor. Giving her head a shake, she set out in pursuit, gaze trained on the fawn ball of fur. For all her aunt had done for her and Marcia, she couldn’t very well go and lose the lady’s beloved dog.

A tall, broad-muscled gentleman stepped into Devlin’s path. The dog collided with a gleaming black Hessian and then staggered back, dazed when the stranger bent and scooped up the leash. Relief swept through Eleanor as she lengthened her strides. “Thank you so much, sir,” she panted, breathless, as she stopped before the gentleman and reached out to collect that leash. “I did not…” She glanced up and her heart tripled its beat.