Page 7 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“We thought for sure Lord Godefrey would have caught you,” smirked the lord with undulating curls.
Eleanor had no idea who they were discussing, but guessed it was a lord she’d narrowly side-stepped. She wanted an easynight, and she didn’t want these lords to think she’d been interested in another.
Eleanor thought about Calla and channelled her reaction. “Oh, my lords, you can hardly expect a girl to know what to do with herself when faced with all this…” Eleanor said, waving her hand vaguely around the ballroom, and hoping they brought the forced awe in her voice.
“It is a sight to be sure,” the lord in light blue murmured, with a kind smile.
She nodded enthusiastically and made sure to make eye contact with the fourth member of their group. Unlike his friends, the silent lord had a slim face that lacked any of the lingering fullness that came with youth, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d joined them. The fact that they hadn’t dismissed her signalled their interest in her reason for being there. Rather than engaging in trivial conversation, Eleanor steered the discussion towards something useful. She ought to know the lord’s name if she’s taking him through the curtains this evening. “You’ll forgive me, my lords, but would you let me know who I have the pleasure of talking to?”
“Lord Philip of Farrowfeld,” replied the lord who’d first spoken to her. This close to the young lord, Eleanor could see the dark freckles that were spattered across his cheeks, which gave him a cheeky mien, so at odds with his calm exterior. “These are the lords Frederic of Winterdon, Leander of Ustanholm, and Alden of Haefwood,” Lord Farrowfeld introduced, as each lord nodded in turn with their introduction.
Eleanor smiled and pretended to be in awe of those places, wherever they were. None of those regions were places she’d heard before. She’d recognise the land that they were referring to if there was a map in front of her, but sadly, no-one thought pinning a lord’s domain to their chest was a good idea.
“A pleasure, my lords,” she purred, giving them all another slow sensuous dip. “I was wondering if any of you handsome gentlemen could show me around the court?”
“I thinkDericcould help you with that,” Lord Leander of Ustanholm said, recovering his surprise at her straightforward approach. They’d been expecting her to stand and simper, flatter, and fawn over them. She wasn’t here for that masquerade.
The lord in question coughed to cover the surprised noise he’d made.
“Oh really? You could?” Eleanor asked, making it sound like he was helping her and looking after the damsel in distress.
Lord Winterdon’s pale cheeks reddened, like blood on a snowfall. “Ye-yes.”
“Excellent,” Eleanor beamed at all of them to keep her availability as open as possible for the coming weeks. “My lords, if you wouldn’t mind, Lord Frederic of Winterdon and I will be on our way.”
“Of course,” Lord Farrowfeld said with an inclination.
Lord Haefwood—who, with his calm demeanour and his long red hair, was reminiscent of a towering redwood tree—only offered a subtle nod. The almost imperceptible touch of Lord Ustanholm's hand on Lord Winterdon's back, light as a sea breeze, caused a crimson flush to bloom across his cheeks.
From the corner of Eleanor’s eye, she saw the sapphire-clad aristo from earlier had finished his dancing and was stumbling towards their little group with a fellow dark, long-haired courtier. Both of their long-coats sparkled with equal brilliance, but considering all these courtiers did was drink, they couldn’t handle their liquor.
As she gracefully accepted the offered arm of Lord Winterdon, Eleanor smiled at him, deftly circumventing the two inebriated courtiers who were attempting to approach them. LordWinterdon set a leisurely pace while escorting her like a well-trained gentleman through the ballroom. He nodded at every lord they passed, but he didn’t stop nor say anything to her.
Eleanor would have assumed he was being rude, but his tight-lipped, strained smile, in stark contrast to the easy grin he wore with his friends, betrayed his true feelings. “Lord Winterdon, how long have you been at court?” Eleanor asked.
The last thing she needed was for him to get cold feet before they reached the white curtains.
“Oh, err…since I was a child.”
She bit her tongue with her immediate response. “Oh, that’s a long time.”
He gave a simple nod.
They were nearly to the curtains, and his crimson cheeks hadn’t diminished. “Do you prefer court or home?”
His steps faltered, momentarily shifting his weight onto her from their interlinked arms, but he was fast to recover. “This is my home.”
Before she could ask any more, they’d reached the curtains. As she moved away from the lord, Eleanor kept her right hand loosely at her side, then pushed aside the heavy drapes to lead him through. The silence behind the curtains and the gossip from the Petals hinted a hallway lay beyond. She didn’t like surprises, so couldn’t help the small, sigh of relief escaped her lips. In truth, she’d been prepared for an open communal room, filled with sounds of shrieks and giggles. Instead, an empty marble corridor stretched before them with closed gilded doors.
After walking part of the way along the corridor, Eleanor opened a door and loud moans greeted her. She closed the door as quietly as she’d opened it and gave a sultry smile to the blushing Lord Winterdon. “I believe that one’s occupied. We’ll try a little further along, shall we?”
He coughed but nodded and followed her to the next door.
After seeing one too many hairy arses, Eleanor found an empty room. If Eleanor had been shy about nudity, it would have given her a complexion seeing that many bare arses, balls, and breasts. She was a little disappointed at not accidentally finding the Petals with their lord. Eleanor had always been curious about what they did with their clients. With a conspiratorial smile at Lord Winterdon, she closed the door behind them, the clicking sound filled the room.
Once again channelling Calla, Eleanor feigned astonishment at the room’s vastness and opulent decor. While she surveyed the space, she sought the potential spy holes or hidden servant access. The room’s decor mirrored the gold and marble colour scheme found in the other rooms along the hallway. The plush white silk sheets on the massive bed beckoned her with their promise of comfort, making her briefly consider abandoning the lord for a night of restful sleep. Between the windows a red chaise longue was a stark stain of colour, and a matching set of wide armchairs sat in front of the fireplace that was burning low. To give herself a moment to scrutinise the areas where she suspected there was something concealed, she stroked the chaise longue’s silk jacquard. As she pivoted to face Lord Winterdon, she spotted the spy hole.
Fucking perfect.
