Lady Eleanor Mary Cantwell, daughter of the Marquess of Salford, is a proper young lady. With her golden complexion, raven-black hair, and manners befitting a princess, Lady Eleanor has always been deemed a belle. There is just one problem.
Lady Ele...
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'I knew it,' Eleanor hissed at Nathan. 'You brought me here to kill me.' Although the better part of her knew that nothing was going to happen to her, a small part trembled at the sight of so many guns turned on her.
'Stand down, she is my wife,' Nathan bellowed from behind her and all the men who stood around them, lowered their weapons. Eleanor heaved a sigh of relief. She was indeed stupid to think Nathan would harm her.
Nathan walked forward and lay a hand on the small of her back. His touch set to light thousands of sparks and she couldn't help the small shiver that visibly shook her.
'Are you alright?' Nathan asked, a frown on his face as he looked down at her.
Eleanor pasted a bright smile onto her face. 'Of course!' she said, a little too enthusiastically. 'It was just the slightest bit chilly.'
'Oh, alright then,' Nathan said and gestured at the men who watched them. 'Go ahead. Back to your work, men.' The men dispersed then, some disappearing upstairs and others placing the guns on tables as they went back to doing whatever it is they were.
The shop was small and dimly lit but Eleanor saw well that the walls of the shops and several cases that lined them were laden with different types of guns. Rifles, revolvers and various other types unbeknownst to Eleanor gleamed down at her and she felt herself shrink into herself.
'This is not a place for a lady,' Eleanor mused as her eyes travelled over the guns. But she was not surprised. After all that she had seen in the past few weeks, her being in a gun shop was far more proper than anything else she had done.
Nathan chuckled beside her. 'But you never were a normal lady, were you?'
'I guess not,' she replied with a smile, finding herself at ease when she said those words.
Nathan led her over to a counter, behind which stood a man. He, like the others, had a piece of cloth over his mouth but was dressed in an English commoner's day clothes. When they reached the counter, he removed the cloth to reveal to Eleanor a young English man in his twenties.
Eleanor grabbed Nathan's arm to get his attention. 'Where are we exactly, Nathan?'
Nathan's lips broadened into a bright grin. 'This is a gun shop, Eleanor. A secret, ill-reputed one. It caters to the needs of the English, hence the English staff.'
Ill-reputed. Illegal.
Eleanor looked back at the man who smiled brightly at Nathan and her. 'What would you like today, Your Grace?' he asked in Nathan's direction. He knew Nathan's title which meant Nathan frequented here.
'I'd like a gun for my wife, Henry,' Nathan said.
Eleanor froze in equal parts shock and terror.
Did he say he wanted a gun for me?
The man's, Henry's, smile fell, as did Eleanor's jaw, at Nathan's admonition.
