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“It was at first,” the maid lowered her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, “but as an orphan, I guess I enjoy the feeling of belonging I get here.”
Eloise looked her right in the eye, then wrapped her arm around Fenella’s and brought her over to the dining room table to sit beside her. “Being an orphan does not entitle you to any less than someone else, dear.” She held the maid’s hands gently over the table, offering a warm smile. “My parents passed away when I was merely the age of three, and though my Uncle took care of me, I suppose I’ve always been somewhat of an orphan too—at least that’s how it feels sometimes.”
The young maid straightened up suddenly, her eyebrows raising. “But My Lady, you cannot be an orphan, you’re doing so well for yourself. I thought our kind to be outcasts to society, yet you must have rows of gentlemen swooning over you,” Fenella inched closer, whispering now, “My Lady, have you ever attended a ball, do you suppose I could too then someday?”
Eloise laughed at the maid’s excitement. It was contagious. “Oh, absolutely! I don’t usually care for gossip, but there was a rumor a scullery maid attended the annual season ball. They say she attended with a wealthy Viscount. It’s like something out of a fairytale!”
The two of them giggled between each other, quietly sharing stories of their pasts as orphans and the hilarious situations they would find themselves in. And for once, the maid’s face was glowing in the excitement of what could be.
The oak door creaked open once more, revealing the sight of a footman who couldn’t be older than twenty. His black hair was short and sleek, and his face remained clean-shaved. The tight-fitting trousers, along with his waistcoat, created an illusion, making him appear taller than he was. For a footman, he was well dressed.
His piercing blue eyes scanned the room before resting on Fenella, who blushed at the sight.
“My Lady,” the man said, turning back to Eloise and bowing. “I’m sorry to interrupt your afternoon, but His Grace has instructed me to deliver some unfortunate news.”
“Of course, Sir. What is it?”
“Another storm is imminent from the West, My Lady. His Grace said you may have to extend your stay at the Castle until he figures how best to deal with the situation.”
Eloise looked out of the window, and she found herself gasping. A storm was indeed sprouting in the near distance, stirring up a torrential mist and threatening to envelop the path the men had spent all day carving.
She forced a smile. “Thank you for letting me know.”
With her prolonged stay, Eloise was almost certain to miss the dinner organized by Aunt to announce her betrothal to James, nor would she have the opportunity to voice her rejection anymore.
She had to find a way out.
Simon allowed the wind’s howl to hypnotize him as he banked the embers of the fireplace. He was hoping that after the events of yesterday, he would escape his Castle and leave for one of his rakish adventures—and put it all past him. But there was no such luck.
A large part of the afternoon had been wasted, hopelessly trying to clear a makeshift path out of Richmond Castle, when a sudden blizzard approaching from the West soon rendered all their efforts futile. Now, he sat, hands stretched out, shivering by a hearth once more, planning his next move.
“Your Grace,” Richard said, jolting Simon back to reality. “I narrowed down some potential candidates.”
“Candidates?” Simon asked, turning his attention to the man whose eyes appeared to be red from exhaustion.
“Possible candidates who could be this unknown woman you speak of. Mostly unwedded Ladies.”
“Oh, right,” Simon said. “Thank you, Richard.”
“If I could be straightforward, Your Grace,” Richard walked closer, handing a sheaf of papers to Simon, “this task is near impossible. Waiting for the weather to settle so we could receive more information may be the wisest option.”
Simon held them in his hands, setting them back down on the desk beside him. He inched as close to the paper as he could, struggling to read every single name on the list. There must have been close to a few hundred names on here. Richard was right. There was no possible way he could find any valuable leads, being stuck in the castle like this.
With a huff, he threw the sheets into his desk drawer, then turned to make his way to the window. The darkness was ever consuming; even during midday, all he could make out from the window was his vague reflection, illuminated by the hearth beside him. His raven hair, ruffled and untidy, was a clear mess, and the constant drinking was beginning to take quite a toll on him. Was this the reason Lady Ellie rejected his advances?
He shuddered at the thoughts of last night, or early morning. Her words still haunted him for some unknown reason. It truly had been the first time a Lady had rejected his overtures so audaciously. Did she really not know who he was?
The door flung open as Fenella almost fell inside, being caught only last-second by Gregory,who was arriving closely behind. By some luck, they had together managed to save the tray of biscuits and fresh-ground coffee from a sure fall.
“Oh! I apologize, Your Grace, I must have slipped, I—”
“It’s all right Fenella.” Simon waved his hand. He was unsure if her clumsiness was born out of nervousness or lack of experience; either way, he was more than willing to be patient with her.
Gregory took a step forward, bowing. “Your Grace, the pianoforte has been tuned as you requested.”
“Perfect.”
