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Chapter 30
One Day Later…
“Milady, you should remain in bed—you’re still too ill to wander about,” Fenella said.
The sheet dangled from Eloise’s body, slipping down to her waist, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She almost forgot how comforting it felt to remain wrapped in the woolen blanket, but she pushed it aside. Enough laying around. Her condition had improved, and she needed some fresh air.
“Oh, nonsense. I simply wish to have dinner downstairs,” she insisted, finally standing up, her limbs sore from the sudden rush of blood, “I promise I’ll be…” she stretched a little, “careful.”
“Are you certain? You only woke up a few days ago…”
Eloise nodded. “I am. My limbs feel cramped from sitting so long. And besides, it’s only a few minutes of walking down the stairs and then having dinner, nothing more. I’ll be in bed right after.”
Fenella frowned but helped her regardless. Eloise stretched her arms, her legs and made sure that her steps remained careful and low, afraid that fatigue might find her again.
“There’s still time to change your mind, Milady. I can bring your meal upstairs, in bed. I promise, it’ll feel much better and warm.”
Fenella was trying to entice and convince Eloise otherwise, using the warmness of the bed as a bargain. It was almost amusing; Eloise had uttered her fondness of the bed and the woolen blanket numerous times to her, so much so to the point that even Fenella started feeling jealous. But her real reason to have dinner downstairs was to see Simon. He still hadn’t paid her a visit, and now she was becoming rather impatient.
“I’m all right, it’s just dinner after all, how bad can it be? I’ll have to test my strength eventually, and now feels like a good moment,” Eloise insisted.
“Okay. I’ll help you get ready,” Fenella replied, holding Eloise’s arm and guiding her to a chair.
Eloise patted her French bun carefully, placed one more pin in her hair, and adjusted her jade gown. She was sitting at the dinner table, nervously waiting for Simon to arrive, so they could have dinner together like they would before the accident. It would be different now, she knew it. She believed it would be more intense, and she only hoped that this experience would have strengthened their…relationship, or whatever it was.
The candles burned low while her heart drummed high and loud, echoing throughout the room. An orange simmer danced across her eyes, and she intertwined her fingers, crossed her legs, adjusted herself in the wooden chair, sipped from her wine…She had no reason to feel as awkward as she did. She felt like a maiden on her wedding day.
She wondered what to say to him once he arrived. Should she thank him? Hug him? Perhaps kiss him? No, that would be a bit much. Ugh, it was tough to decide—she shouldn’t even be feeling this way, they already were so close. But over the last few days, she had begun to think maybe it was one-sided.
As she gazed at the clock, the time ticked away at a rapid pace. He usually arrived at precisely five o’clock, but it was ten minutes past six now, and there was no indication he would be arriving at all. He could be tired, fatigued; he could be many things. Or, he could have decided that their interactions were foolish and it was time for all this to end.
The thought ached her but had burrowed into her mind a few times now. And she refused to believe it. He wouldn’t do that. His words rang back to her ears, his indication about his rakish behaviors and how he would halt them. It meant something; he couldn’t be lying.
She gripped the fork in her hands, digging it into the pork with a slight annoyance. As busy as he was, she believed he could spend five minutes of his time to ask for her wellbeing after what happened. If she was as bad as everyone was saying, then that means he would’ve known first hand.
The chair creaked against the floorboard as she dropped her fork and moved back. She paced to the side of the room toward a frail woman who dusted the portraits and decorations; Eloise had seen her from afar in the past.
“Pardon me,” Eloise said.
The woman turned abruptly, gasping. “Yes, My Lady?”
“I was wondering if you knew Sim—His Grace’s whereabouts. Isn’t he coming for dinner? He hasn’t arrived yet.”
“He must be at his study, My Lady,” the woman said, “we have strict orders not to disturb him. I’m sure he’ll arrive in time.”
“I understand. Thank you.” She ambled back to her seat in bother.
Simon tapped his fingers on the hardwood of the bookcase as he rustled the books with his free hand. Everything reminded him of Ellie. Even those boring and unbearable books that now stared back at him, books he knew she would love. It was one of the many things he admired about her. She could find beauty even in the most disastrous things, including him.
Biting his tongue, he swallowed back the blood he drew. She deserved so much better than what she’d been through—so much better than this, so much better than him. There was a constant tightness in his chest as images of Ellie’s faint body kept replaying back to him. He fell for a woman after he promised himself never again.
“Your Grace.” Richard entered the room with strong hesitance, his face oily and dry all the same from the tiredness and the lack of sleep. He was one of the few people in the Castle—alongside Antonia—who made sure everything was kept in line and no duty was left undone or neglected.
Simon nodded in recognition. “Take a seat, have a rest. You look like you’re going to fall over man.”
Richard did as he was told, though he didn’t look too pleased. Simon was certain he wanted him to do the exact same.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?”
