Page 72 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“I guess so. I mean, everyone seems to have a wonderful time,” Eleanor replied, hoping that she hadn’t offended him, but it was the truth. All the nobles seemed to have fun, even if their host was absent.
“And you weren’t?” the voice asked.
Her mind raced, trying to decipher who she thought it belonged to. It was a man’s voice who sounded amused at the situation.
“No… I mean. I was. It was lovely, the wine and everything, but I…I just wanted some time alone,” she finished lamely.
“Well, in that case—”
Mortification flushed through her as she realised how it sounded to the man. If he was a noble, then he’d not appreciate a courtesan giving him an order. “Oh no! I didn’t mean…you were here…whoever you are…” Eleanor sighed at how out of practise she was with people. “Sorry, but you can see me…but…who—”
The heavy library door slammed open, cutting off her question.
Eleanor paid no heed to the slight pull at her palm and kept her fingers loose against her thigh as she whipped her head towards the open door. She blinked furiously against the sudden intrusion of light seeping into the room and further illuminating her, casting the corner of the mysterious voice deeper in shadows.
“Oh, sorry,” a high-pitched voice said, in between giggling.
Eleanor took a breath and flexed her fingers. It was a couple from the party—who were holding each other up while stealing quick kisses—seeking a quiet room for themselves.
“Not at all,” Eleanor replied, using the intrusion as an opportunity to leave before she potentially said anything to get herself into trouble, and slipped past the tipsy couple.
Eleanor felt exposed in the bright hallway and knew it wouldn’t look good if someone caught her alone. The string quartet’s upbeat notes sounded close, and she was sure if she rounded the corner, she’d find the party. Eleanor moved in the opposite direction to the dulcet sound.
She just needed a minute of peace. That moment in the library had been too short and now she needed to try and make sense of what she’d overheard in the passageway, and what she’d seen in the library.
The string quartet became a soft, distant lilt as she made her way along the mostly empty hallway. No stewards guarded this area, but a few giggling, stumbling courtiers weaved through the residence, searching for rooms for a quick fumble.
Rather than trying the handle from any of the numerous doors, Eleanor walked until she found latticed-framed doors to the outside and tried the iron handle. The door swung silently open and she welcomed the chill of the night on her skin as she stepped outside. The partial moonlight showed a stone path and Eleanor walked away from the glinting lights and tittering courtiers, until she could hear a steady trickle of water from some unseen water feature. No doubt it was of over-exaggerateddesign and cost. Strangely, she didn’t see any guards, posing as servants or not, but she didn’t doubt the possibility that there might be guards patrolling.
In the darkness, Eleanor couldn’t see the plants properly, but their scent reached her. The light breeze blew a rich woody citrus across her skin, a scent that had teased her from the palace. Of course, the ever-wealthy marquis had imported it from another land. It didn’t surprise her that he had the audacity and the size of his ego to do so.
Eleanor had already given into reminiscing tonight so, as she skimmed her fingers over boxwood miniature hedges, she effortlessly fell into remembering other nights like this and the hungry promise that had accompanied them. In this stillness under the moonlight, tears threatened, and she felt her fingers pulse over the foliage. Taking a deep breath, Eleanor shirked from the sensation in her fingers, and pushed the feeling further away inside her, halting the emerging tears. It was all too much, too raw. The insidious inner voice whispered that it didn’t matter how many years had gone by, she could never shake the bitter thoughts. She wouldn’t be here, nor in this position. None of this would have happened…if not for her.
It was all her fault.
With a sigh, her head fell against the weight she felt on her shoulders.
A scuffling noise of a boot against stone made her jump and turn. She softly cursed herself. For the second time tonight, she’d allowed herself to get distracted and lose herself in her surroundings.
Eleanor had missed the stone bench tucked into a hedge alcove, where a dark figure was sitting. Instinctively, she placed her tender hand against her thigh to her concealed blade. The dark figure stood in a fluid motion and strolled towards her,with a light tapping against the stone slabs. The graceful figure stepped into a pocket of moonlight, revealing the marquis’s face.
Her breath caught in her throat. Eleanor was seeing the marquis in a different light tonight. Perhaps it was her memories being too close to the surface, or the night’s trickery. Regardless, he remained in the silver glow as he approached, and he looked like the Mother herself had made him.
His hair blended into the night sky, and his dark eyes reflected the stars, making them seem impossibly darker. His sharp cheekbones and straight nose drew the shadows in such a way that he looked noble and severe. Eleanor almost convinced herself that he was severe enough to be a warrior.
“You look wonderful in the moonlight, darling,” his intense voice drawled.
A soft breeze sent a few night-black long strands across his face. Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, but she didn’t move her hand from its protective place on her thigh. Never in all her long years roaming this world had she experienced such an immediate, visceral reaction to someone, yet the seeping feeling of dread made the cause of her reaction all the more alarming.
These feelings were not for her.
As if she needed to put some distance from him, she recalled Verena’s words.“I didn’t think that little whore would actually come.”
She was a bet…again.
She’dfoolishlybelieved him when they’d had a moment in the carriage. She’d believed he had invited her because he liked her, and her company.
It was a lie.
