A loud banging on the door jolted Eleanor awake.
“Madam! Wake up, Madam!”
Eleanor blinked groggily, her heart still racing from the remnants of her dream. Madam? That was new.
Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the door and pulled it open. A young maid stood before her, balancing a tray in her hands.
The smell of fresh bread and tea filled the air, but Eleanor barely noticed.
“Why are you calling me ‘Madam’?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The maid lowered her head slightly. “It is how we are to address you now.”
Eleanor frowned. Now? But she let it go.
Her gaze flickered to the tray. “Is that for me?”
“Yes,” the maid said, stepping inside. “Please eat quickly. We must leave soon.”
Eleanor tilted her head. “Leave? Where are we going?”
“The seamstress is expecting you.”
A pang of disappointment shot through her.
For some reason, she had thought—no, hoped—that she was going to Silas’ room.
She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but she couldn’t help it. Of all the brothers, Silas was the only one who had shown her respect. The only one who treated her like more than just a possession.
And for that, she respected him too.
She sat at the table and quickly ate her meal while the maid moved around the room, setting out clothes for her.
When Eleanor was done, the maid helped her into a stunning emerald-green dress, the fabric smooth and luxurious against her skin.
She glanced at her reflection and blinked in surprise. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her waist before flowing down elegantly.
The maid stepped back, pleased.
“You look beautiful, Madam.”
Eleanor turned to her, still feeling a little off about the title. “What’s your name?”
The maid smiled. “Esther.”
“Well, Esther, you did a great job.”
Esther’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you.”
Eleanor nodded, but a thought nagged at her. “Why did you dress me up so nicely just for a trip to the seamstress?”
Esther only smiled. “You’ll see.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, suspicion growing.
As they stepped out of the room, she instinctively turned toward Silas’ room. But before she could take more than a few steps, Esther gently grabbed her arm.
“Madam, we are not going that way.”
Eleanor raised a brow. “Aren’t we going to see Master Silas?”
Esther shook her head. “No. The order was not from him.”
Eleanor’s heart sank, though she wasn’t sure why. She hesitated for a second before making up her mind.
“I just need a minute.”
She turned and walked toward Silas’ room before Esther could protest.
She knocked on the door.
Silence.
Then—
“Come in.”
Eleanor pushed the door open and stepped inside. Silas sat at his desk, papers spread out before him. He looked up, clearly surprised to see her.
“Eleanor?” His brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, suddenly unsure of what to say.
His sharp gaze studied her. “What is it?”
She shifted on her feet. “I just… I was about to leave for the seamstress’ place and thought—”
She hesitated, feeling foolish.
Silas leaned back in his chair, waiting. “Thought what?”
She squared her shoulders and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Do you want some blood before I leave?”
His lips curved into a faint smile. “No.”
Eleanor blinked. “No?”
Silas shook his head. “I know Viktor and Dorian were in your room last night.”
Her stomach twisted at the memory.
Silas’ eyes darkened slightly. “I wanted you to rest today.”
Her breath caught.
No one—no one—had ever thought about what she needed before.
Her admiration for him only grew.
She looked down at her hands, suddenly flustered.
Silas studied her for a moment before asking, “Is that all?”
Eleanor hesitated, then lifted her gaze back to him. “Why am I going to the seamstress?”
Silas smirked slightly. “There’s a ballroom party tomorrow.”
She blinked in surprise. “Ballroom party?”
He nodded.
Her mind raced. “Is it some kind of tradition?”
Silas tilted his head. “Not exactly.”
Her curiosity deepened. “When was the last time a party like this happened?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “Ten years ago.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Ten years?”
Silas nodded.
She frowned. “Why haven’t you had one since then?”
He glanced down at the papers on his desk, as if considering his answer. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze back to her. A small smile played on his lips as he pointed directly at her.
“Because of you.”
Eleanor’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded violently in her chest.
Because of me?
She opened her mouth to question him further, but no words came out. Silas simply watched her, waiting for her reaction. She had none. Because at that moment, all she could do was stare.