Page 5 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Admiring the view?”
Eleanor cursed herself that she’d been so lost in her own thoughts and surroundings to notice that someone had come up behind her.
“Not much of a view,” she replied, sipping her sparkling wine, acting like she saw this amount of wealth every day.
Eleanor felt a deep rumbling chuckle from the man. “I’m quite taken by it.”
She raised a brow and turned to see a handsome man with long black hair and copper brown skin standing next to her. Guided by instinct, she quickly swept a look up and down. He was wearing the current court fashion, a silk suit. Black fitted trousers tucked into black shiny boots, a highly embroidered navy silk long-coat that stopped just above his knees. The long-coat was open with gold embroidery and blue jewels—that looked like sapphires—running along the front buttons to highlight a matching waistcoat that finely fitted his tall and broad form. Whoever this man was, he held himself elegantly, with a thoroughly ringed hand resting on a jewelled cane. Eleanor couldn’t help thinking one ring could feed a family for months, or even an entire year. Maybe she could steal one. Surely, he’d never notice one of his precious rings missing, one of the golden ones, or that large sapphire and diamond ring on his index finger. He probably had a whole drawer full of them.
Eleanor lifted a shoulder. “If you like overt decadence.”
He was just as bejewelled as those surrounding him. She knew these nobles had their titles that coincided with their ancestry,land, and general wealth. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t distinguish between the two. She’d been taught the various titles that these aristos went by, but trying to drag them from her memory, and remember their order of importance, meant opening a box, a chest of memories she’d buried inside her. She didn’t fancy dragging that casket out of its murky depths for fear of what it would unearth.
His expression epitomised her assumption of a typical courtier. The man looked bored with her lacklustre presence. He was an aristocrat. He was used to women, especially court ladies, vying for his attention with empty smiles and flattery.
“I take it you’re new here?” he asked with light blue eyes that pierced through her.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was yet to introduce himself to her. Eleanor was unsure if the man’s identity was common knowledge or if it was a snub at her lower position. Regardless, she had no intention of introducing herself if he wasn’t going to.
He knew, of course, that Eleanor was a courtesan, a fact that she acknowledged with a weary sigh.
“Whatever gave it away?” she asked wryly.
A hint of amusement lightened his blue eyes, belying his bored facade. “Would you care for a dance?” he asked, surprising her.
She had seen no Favours dancing, and no one had led any courtesans onto the ballroom floor. The aristocrats knew courtesans were uneducated, especially in all things court related. Only if they became Favours and if their lord wanted to train them in courtly pursuits, would they be able to participate in all aspects of court similar to the noble ladies. Eleanor knew how to dance, but she shouldn’t, and if she did, she didn’t like what it would reveal. After all, she was being inconsequential and blending in, hoping to remain unnoticed for the Collection.
Then, realisation sunk in, perhaps that was why he’d sought her out: to make a fool of a courtesan. Eleanor tamped down the flash of anger that woke with this awareness. From this lord’s perspective, she had been standing alone, staring in wonder at the massive ballroom and no doubt, he’d thought she would be grateful for him to speak to her, a lowly courtesan. Eleanor cursed herself again, she’d made herself look like bait for this shark to make his move. But she’d not be a plaything for these lords.
“As I’m sure you’re well aware, I’m not here for dancing,” she replied.
She saw, from his eyes widening sightly, that she’d surprised him, thinking that some prettily dressed lord would bedazzle her enough to cloud her judgement.
“A dance of a different kind, it would seem,” he murmured.
Done with this conversation and before she might do something she’d regret, Eleanor made her excuses to leave the embellished lord. Swaying her hips as she walked away from the stranger, Eleanor didn’t look back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was interested in him. He was handsome and would be welcome in her bed, he’d give her something pretty to look at. But her fury stemmed from the aristocrat’s characteristic blend of arrogance and boredom, a product of always getting their own way. As she swayed away with her head held high, she couldn't shake the feeling that the darkness was still watching her.
Chapter Three
The Petals
As Eleanor refreshed her glass, the Petals caught her eye. Iris and Jasmine inclined their heads, while Calla openly waved her over.
Eleanor avoided interacting with the women at The Ladies Grace. She preferred to keep herself distant from everyone else and keep her own company as much as possible. She was aware they whispered behind her back that she thought she was better than them, but Eleanor didn’t want them prying where they weren’t wanted.
Apparently, the four of them sharing a carriage had created some sort of common ground between them and had broken through some of the misconception that many in The Ladies Grace shared of her.
“Oh, my First!” exclaimed Calla. “Can you believe that we’re here? It’s everything I’d ever dreamed it to be.”
Completely captivated by the palace's extravagant display of wealth and grandeur, Calla was left awestruck, stunned, and exhilarated, her face cycling rapidly through expressions of each emotion.
“Someone’s happy to be here,” Eleanor said, amused as Calla’s bright smile and wide eyes darted around the room, taking in everything she could.
“Calla,” hissed Iris.
“You need to calm,” Jasmine said to the young woman.
Calla looked properly chastised for a whole second until something shiny caught her eye, and the young woman whipped her head up to find and follow whatever it was, making Eleanor snort into her glass flute.
