Page 76 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Do I need a reason? Can I not want to forget what my life is like?” Eleanor said as her hand had finally contacted a bottleneck. “And this,” Eleanor said, jostling the bottle, “thiswill do that for me.” She was done talking and gulped down the sour contents.
With her focus on emptying the bottle, Eleanor barely heard Iris say,“Come on, let’s leave her to it.”
Eleanor kept drinking, ignoring the sharp acidic taste. Even when she heard the click of her door shutting, she kept drinking, and as the groan of their feet moved away from the doorway, she kept drinking.
With each passing day, Eleanor’s frustrated intensified. The courtesans had been to court a few times, and Madam Grace had offered a feeble excuse for Eleanor, leaving her as alone as she could be in The Ladies Grace. Eleanor wasn’t a complete fool. The madam had spread the rumour that she was ill, lest the alternative deter any other lords from also paying for her.
The lie had made the others keep their distance, genuinely thinking that she was ill. No one wanted to risk being close to her in case it was the Wasting Disease. Some still thought that was contagious. Milk and Cookie either didn’t believe the rumour or they accepted that only women couldcatchthe illness. Somehealersspouted that women were susceptible to the illness due to their weaker and frailer bodies, but those were the healers who were also more likely to kill a labouring mother, proving they knew nothing of real healing practises.
“So being hungover is now a code word for ill,” Milk said.
Eleanor blinked. Unfortunately, she wasn’t seeing things, Milk and Cookie were standing in her room wearing…she couldn’t decide if they were lacy, or frilly, either way they were colourful dressing gowns. An equally bright scarf held back Milk’s curly hair, and Eleanor blearily thought he was the colour of sunshine. From their opposite ears, a pair of matching earrings swayed gently, a subtle but noticeable detail in their appearance.
Eleanor had consumed enough alcohol during the day to prevent her from becoming completely intoxicated and to maintain a degree of lucidity. As soon as the nighttime quiet crept in, swallowing the last sounds of the day, she could have chunks of time missing. The lack of any apparent threat from anyone entering the room made her less concerned about the missing time than she should have been.
“I don’t think we should give these to you,” Cookie said, as he placed the bottles of alcohol on the floor.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him. “I paid in advance for those, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but when you weren’t so…drunk,” Cookie mumbled.
“Drunk?” she laughed bitterly. “I’m not drunk, not yet.”
She heard a sigh, but didn’t care who it came from. They could judge all they liked; it wouldn’t make a difference. She was still drinking it all.
“Are those all for me?” she asked, somewhat hopeful that their crate was for her.
“No,” Cookie baulked. “You’re not the only one who needs to have a few drinks around here.” His sharp tone made her sit up on her elbows. She knew the pair of them were good-looking but seeing them both carry the crates of alcohol showed the definition of their arms through their colourful dressing gowns. It was sticking to their damp skin from being outside in the downpour that was still lashing against her window. Not only did they carry the crates from their source and up the flights of stairs, but they weren’t even winded.
As suspicion started to seep in, Milk said, “we’ve got some time before clients tonight. Lucy said you might like a distraction.”
Eleanor rubbed her eyes as she thought about what they were offering.
They…Stars…Lucy…and Lucy’s cock.
Cookie chuckled. “Yeah, Lucy’s cock.”
“But do you want a real one instead?” Milk asked.
Her stomach twisted as the marquis’s face flashed before her eyes.
No, not him.
“To be honest, it was hot hearing what you did for Hugh,” Cookie admitted.
As he leaned closer, Milk's earring, catching the candlelight, sparkled brilliantly. “I could be a good boy for you, if you wanted that.”
The offer was tempting. She could forget abouthimfor a few minutes, and then…what? Fuck herself satisfied?
Her stomach twisted further until it was painful. It felt like a heavy knot that was almost suffocating. What she was feeling couldn’t be solved by a quick fuck. It’d make her feel worse for using the lads in an attempt to feel better. She couldn’t bring herself to do that. The thought of bedding either or both of them made her want to vomit, cry, and stab something. She didn’t know if she wanted to do those things simultaneously or none at all. It was confusing. She needed more drink.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good,” she croaked.
“If you change your mind, you know where our room is,” Milk replied, before they both left her alone once more.
Eleanor expected Madam Grace’s imminent return to force her back to work. An event she would embrace only if she had drunkenough. Until now, the madam had not bothered her, as herbenefactorhad paid handsomely for her. She had tried asking Iris if she’d overheard a lord’s name being used one too many times, but there were none that sounded familiar.
No matter how much she drank, her mind kept returning to the looming presence of the Marquis of Laerus. Which reminded her of the marquis’s party, and subsequently Verena’s words would follow, along with finding the necklace in his library, making Eleanor groan and drink more.
