Leila fidgeted with her fingers, the heavy silence in the room pressing down on her like a weight. The tension was almost suffocating every tick of the grandfather clock on the wall felt louder than the last. It had already been an hour, yet no one had said much. Everyone sat upright and uneasy, their gazes occasionally flicking toward the man seated at the center of it all the masked figure sipping tea as though the world were at peace.
How did I even end up here? she wondered, stealing a glance at him. His posture was elegant, relaxed, every movement slow and deliberate, exuding a kind of control that made her skin crawl.
"I will go check on Juliana," Lady Helen said at last, her voice strained with polite urgency as she stood and quickly exited the room.
Elliot, standing attentively by, immediately stepped forward. "Is the tea to your liking, my lord?"
The masked man placed the teacup down with unnerving grace. "Mm," he hummed, neither cold nor warm just indifferent.
Leila narrowed her eyes. So arrogant. What kind of man could command such quiet authority? Even Jack, a man known for his pride, seemed cautious, borderline fearful in his presence. Just who is this man really and how much power does he truly hold?
As her thoughts wandered, Leila's gaze drifted back to the man seated across the room. There was an undeniable air of power about him, refined yet commanding. His silence was not empty but filled with presence, like a predator quietly observing its surroundings. He had to be someone of immense status, to be so feared.
And then, as if sensing the weight of her stare, he lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. She felt herself drawn in, captivated by the cold gleam of his gaze. The word surfaced in her mind unbidden, beautiful. His eyes were a strange contradiction. Ethereal in their color, like glass kissed by moonlight, yet utterly devoid of warmth. A beauty carved from ice.
His lips twitched into a faint smile elegant, practiced but his eyes remained untouched, as hollow as before. That smile…
A sudden image crashed into her mind him, standing over her, his hand clenched tightly around her throat, that same lifeless smile stretched across his face as her vision blurred into darkness.
Leila gasped softly, her entire body tensing. She ripped her gaze away, goosebumps rising along her arms as a shiver raced down her spine.
Leila's fingers instinctively brushed her neck, the phantom sensation of the masked man's grip from her vivid nightmare lingering. The dream had felt alarmingly real, as if she'd truly experienced the final moments of life at his hands. A sharp twinge of pain made her wince.
"Is your neck alright, Miss Leila?" Lord Valmont inquired, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Jack's head turned swiftly, concern etched across his face.
"I'm fine," Leila replied hastily, dropping her hand and forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Lord Valmont's lips curved into a smile, but his eyes remained cold and detached. That smile sent a chill down her spine. She quickly averted her gaze, thinking it might be better if he didn't smile at all.
From the corner of her eye, Leila observed him, finding his presence increasingly irksome. What was he doing here? Could it be...?
Her eyes widened in realization.
"You were wondering what I was doing here, Miss Leila?" he drawled, his fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest. Every movement he made exuded elegance. "Well, I'm here to retrieve my coat and..."
At that moment, the door swung open, revealing Lady Helen, followed by a visibly displeased Juliana.
"...and also to see my fiancée," he concluded, his gaze fixed on Leila.
Juliana's fiancé was Lord Valmont? Leila looked at Juliana who was standing at the door way motionless, her lips pursed. Juliana looked briefly at Lord Valmont before averting her gaze quickly.
"Juliana," Lady Helen said with carefully measured calm, her eyes narrowing slightly.
With the slowest, most reluctant steps imaginable, she moved forward and dropped into a curtsey so stiff and insincere it looked more like a forced bow.
"My lord," she said, voice syrupy with false charm. Lord Valmont offered only a nod, clearly unmoved. Jack cleared his throat loudly. "Right. We'll leave the two of you to talk."
Leila, grateful for the excuse, quickly turned to follow him. As she stepped through the door, she couldn't help but glance back. Lord Valmont was staring at her, his gaze unwavering. The hairs on her back stood on end and she quickly shut the door.
To Leila's surprise, Lady Helen was waiting just outside the drawing room, her hands folded gently in front of her, a soft expression on her face. Leila instinctively braced herself, expecting some form of chastisement for her earlier behavior, after all, she had not conducted herself as a proper young lady ought to.
But instead of sternness, Lady Helen's voice was light and reassuring. "Have you eaten yet, dear? Come now, your breakfast must be waiting."
Startled, Leila could only nod as Lady Helen looped her arm through hers and guided her down the corridor with unexpected warmth. There was no lecture, no comment about the incident, only a quiet urgency in her steps, as though her only concern was Leila's well-being.
In the dining room, a maid appeared promptly and set down a steaming tray. The aromas were inviting, eggs delicately seasoned, fresh bread, and ripe fruit but Leila's stomach was too tight to appreciate them.
She took up her fork but barely managed a bite. Lady Helen sat across from her, her gaze gentle but unwavering.
After a moment, she spoke softly, "Am I making you uncomfortable, my dear?"
Leila blinked, startled by the question. Lady Helen gave a small, reassuring smile. "Everyone has already eaten. I simply wished to see you take something warm to help with your recovery."
Leila offered Lady Helen a small, appreciative smile, sensing the woman's quiet concern beneath her gentle composure. This kindness wasn't obligation, it was genuine. Though her appetite was slow to return, she did her best to eat, if only to ease Lady Helen's watchful gaze.
As she picked at the food, her thoughts wandered. Something about the household stirred unease within her. Though nothing had been said aloud, it was plain to see that neither Lady Helen nor Jack seemed particularly pleased about the engagement between Juliana and Lord Valmont. Their silences, their glances, they spoke volumes.
But if they disapproved, why permit it at all?
There's something going on in this family. She considered confiding in Lady Helen, but upon seeing the faint tension in her brow and the weariness behind her eyes, Leila chose to hold her tongue for now was clearly not the right moment.
Then, quite suddenly, another memory surfaced. Back in Brokley, didn't Lord Valmont visit the pastry shop she worked in with a striking brunette woman. The woman had been beautiful, yes, but intolerably rude and loud, with the kind of arrogance that curdled the air around her.
Was he already engaged at that time?
Her lips twitched. So he was already spoken for, and still parading around town with women who had less grace than a tavern maid?
Perhaps they were well-suited, after all, Lord Valmont and Juliana. One was a scoundrel who paraded about with other women despite being engaged, and the other, a polished hypocrite cloaked in silk and superiority. It was almost poetic, in a grim sort of way.
'A perfect match made in heaven' She couldn't suppress the flicker of amusement at the thought.