Page 68 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Eleanor hesitated, gazing out the window. They’d passed through the Centre and the city around them had made thesteady transformation into the less affluent Exchange. “You’d need to talk to—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I know, but I’d like to ask you first.”
It didn’t escape her notice that he’d been seemingly honest with her, and she couldn’t help but like this side of the man. She still couldn’t read his facial expressions, nor had he shown much emotion beyond boredom and mere amusement, but she’d enjoyed their conversations today despite their surroundings. She wanted to see him again and push him to reveal more of himself. Surprisingly, she felt like she could trust him, which was foolish of her. She knew that one way or another, she’d only end up being disappointed. The only way to avoid disappointment was to expect nothing at all. Life was easier that way.
“Fine,” she replied, not wanting him to think that he’d somehow gained something more from her.
It unsettled her. She didn’t know his true motive, or what he gained from this arrangement, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be something that she’d be forced into just yet.
Eleanor arrived at The Ladies Grace with a mixed reception of scowls and amused smiles. Iris was leaning against the frame of Eleanor’s room. “So, youdidbag the marquis.”
“Stop saying that. I didn’t,” Eleanor said, but with no force in her tone, already tired of being the centre of attention.
Iris gave her a disbelieving smirk. “Whatever you say, flower.”
Eleanor raised an unamused brow at Iris, a hint for her to step aside. After a beat, where Eleanor considered if she would have to physically move the woman or retreat to the kitchen, Iris moved.
Eleanor kept an eye on her as she stepped into her room, ready to shut the door on everyone.
“That’s not what the gossip says,” Iris said as she followed Eleanor into her room, keeping the door open. It hadn’t escaped Eleanor’s notice that the rest of the house was suspiciously quiet. “He’s never looked at a woman for longer than one evening. To spend a day…alonewith someone. That means something,flower.”
Eleanor swallowed. It meant something, and she’d agreed to spending more time with him. “It wasn’t a whole day, and who says we were alone?” she finished with a playful smile on her lips.
The shuffling and general noises of The Ladies Grace resumed with Iris’s laugh. Eleanor sat on the lumpy bed, and she couldn’t help but look forward to the evening with the Marquis of Laerus.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Moonlight
Eleanor left The Ladies Grace to ever-deepening glowers and smirks from the others, while Madam Grace had all but shoved her into the dark blue and silver carriage that’d arrived as the sun had set.
The driver, helpfully and too loudly, for her liking, announced that the marquis had arranged the carriage. For which she had been quietly thankful. Navigating the streets at night dressed like this would have been treacherous. All it would take was for one person to approach her, thinking they could take advantageof her. A dash of courage, a touch of foolishness, or a bit of inebriation was all it took.
Despite wearing her cloak to hide her meagre excuse of a dress, it would identify her as a prostitute. That alone would add to the temptation for someone to press themselves on her for free, regardless that she was one of Madam Grace’s ladies. Not that anyone needed a reason to force themselves on seemingly weaker or lesser people. But that’s how many women ended up dead at the end of an evening, prostitute or not. Alone, walking the streets at night, wearing clothes that someone would deem suggestive enough to give some twisted unspoken permission, would be enough to inflict themselves on her.
Those who had encountered Eleanor on such a night would never do so again. No matter how much she relished the idea of such a confrontation, she didn’t need to show up at the marquis’s fancy party with blood on her, at least not tonight.
The carriage trundled along the lamplit Centre where the wealthy of the king’s society lived. An area with a lure that was hard to resist for thieves, perfect for being caught by the city guards or a noble’s own guard.
Her stomach churned with the certainty that the carriage was taking her to the palace. But it turned just before reaching the statue of the First King and the palace gates, ending up at a cluster of trees Eleanor had always assumed was part of the Palace grounds.
The carriage rolled between wrought-iron gates, passing a small building tucked just inside, housing the guards. Lights dotted the trees, lining what she realised was a driveway, ending at another set of open iron gates fixed to a long, high stone wall.
The driver circled the carriage, displaying a courtyard fountain, then stopped at the stone steps.
So, this was where the mysterious marquis lived.
A wisp of blond hair escaped from the driver’s hat as he jumped down to open the carriage door for her. Eleanor thanked him as she took in the marquis’s residence. It surpassed all other Breninsol residences in size, excepting only the king’s palace. Light, music, and laughter streamed through the tall windows into the courtyard, which helped the torches to illuminate the neatly trimmed shrubs running along the windows. The doors were massive, and she could have easily ordered the carriage to have driven her up the steps and deliver her into the entrance hall.
If she had done so, the carriage would have appeared small. The double-storied hall featured a wide staircase leading to the darkened upper level of the residence. Manservants stood guard at the top and bottom of the stairs, but they didn’t fool her. They were standing too rigid, their eyes too wary, and their blue outfits only added to the bulk of their frames. Even though they bore no visible weapons, she recognised them for what they were: guards posing as servants.
Presumably they prevented party-goers from straying too far, unless there was another reason for these men to hide in plain sight.
Before she could fully take in the hall, the young servant in front of her took her cloak. Eleanor thanked the young woman, knowing she would see the holes in it. She had probably not even seen five-and-twenty years. Maybe she was even younger, as she was nearly two heads shorter than Eleanor. Her neatly tied-back blonde hair accentuated her rounded cheeks, adding to her youthful appearance. Her long cornflower blue dress looked warm with sleeves that fell below her elbows, and a crisp white apron was tied primly around her slight waist.
The young woman widened her eyes at Eleanor’s dress, and the false servants coughed. Eleanor smirked, as the woman’s cheeks turned a shade of pink.
Despite the invite, Eleanor held no illusion that she was a courtesan, so she’d opted for a flowing dress in an eye-catching gradient of colour, cascading from a light blue to a deep turquoise. As always, the dress had a plunging neckline, and it revealed more flesh than the courtiers’ dresses, with its criss-cross pattern on her stomach that revealed her belly button and hips, but the draping fabric at her shoulders covered her arms in a slitted sleeve. The only compromise she’d made was to tie her hair into a low chignon.
