Page 82 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Why then, why have youboughtme, if I’m so expensive?” she gritted out. That word was distasteful, but that was the world she unfortunately existed in now.
He paused, considering her question, and likely weighing up how much to divulge. “Maybe it’s because you had my undivided attention for the better part of a day, and you spent the majority of it encouraging me to look elsewhere.”
“So why didn’t you?” she hissed.
He tilted his head as if to better examine her. “Maybe I find it refreshing.”
She narrowed her eyes, a sceptical frown tugging at her lips as she studied him. He was playing with her. The steam from her teacup curled around her face as she tightened her grip.
He smirked, seeing her reaction. “I’m told you’re trustworthy.”
Eleanor took a fortifying gulp of coffee to get past that annoyingly cryptic response, but she quickly replaced the teacupto cough past the choking sensation. She fixed her gaze on the lake’s still, glassy surface, the morning mist clinging to it, to centre herself. After a few moments, she more cautiously sipped her sweetly fragranced coffee, then felt ready to ask, “by whom?”
“A reliable source,” was all he offered her.
“Convenient.”
Her sarcasm was met with a pointed lack of response, leaving the air thick with unspoken tension.
“You won’t tell me,” she said flatly.
“Even though I’m told you’re trustworthy, that doesn’t meanItrust you,” he replied, giving her a pointed look.
She gritted her teeth but thought about trying another tactic. “I thought you weren’t looking for a Favour. So, what are you going to do with me?”
“I wasn’t,” he sighed, as if this was trivial to him. “I have a prior engagement in a few days’ time. We’re staying in the capital, and then we’ll return home. Until then, my personal guard Sebastius and I will keep a close eye on you,” he said, nodding to the large looming presence that was standing to one side.
“Oh good, jailers to go with my fancy prison.”
He froze, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, a silent scream against the uncomfortable recognition that he didn't like to consider himself the villain.
“Do you not have a family? Someone who misses you?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes, a knot of distrust tightening in her stomach as his questions grew more pointed.
“You could return to them,” he offered purposefully, keeping his tone casual and light.
She laughed bitterly. He thought himself her saviour, but she’d long ago realised that no one could save her, and she didn’t deserve saving. “Of course, you would—”
“Do you think so little of me? You have no family? A mother who misses you? A father who loves you?”
Eleanor took a breath, concentrating on her hands wrapped around the warm cup, as if that’d stave off the morning chill.
She looked him in the eye and, without emotion, replied. “Dead.”
His jaw clenched, a silent affirmation before his slow nod. They sat watching the still lake, the only sounds the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the chirping of unseen birds.
He softly questioned, “Would it be so very terrible to stay here?”
That proved to be a more complex question than he realised, and it was one she didn’t know how to answer.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Pink Room
Eleanor followed a servant from the lakeside, leaving the marquis to sip his coffee while Sebastius, the marquis’s burly personal guard, continued to loom in the bushes.
The servant was attired in what looked to be the distinctive uniform of the marquis’s servants. She wore a cornflower blue dress, with sleeves that stopped below her elbows, and a white apron neatly tied around her trim waist. She led Eleanor along hallways, through several doors, and up a twisting quiet staircase.
