Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“And so, I crept into the kitchen and stole some bread to eat. I even shared it with the other girl. Two days later, what do you know, she reported me to the Mother Superior!” Helena finished to peals of laughter from Amelia.
Supper was a tense meal, with everyone keeping to their respective corners. Helena and Amelia made polite conversation, smiling and laughing with each other, pointedly leaving Silas out.
The whole thing would have been amusing if he had not been unsettled by his own thoughts.
The memory of the library, the closeness, the warmth, the subtle scent of her…
it all refused to leave him. It was one thing to press a subject of interest like Helena so intently, but the intensity of his own reaction caught him off guard.
He had never participated in the marriage mart, not wishing to bring another woman into the house while his sister was still there. He had always assumed he had plenty of time after she was married to find a bride.
Of course, he’d had dalliances with women outside the ton, but he—and most importantly they—knew it was nothing serious. He had never touched a lady, never with intent. And yet… in the library, he had felt something altogether different.
Was I going to kiss her?
The very thought was ludicrous. He flicked a glance at Helena; her face was so animated, and for once, there was no trace of misery in her eyes.
A part of him, one that the duties of the duchy and his work for the Crown demanded he suppress, wished she were being genuine, and not merely putting herself out to amuse his sister.
“Silas.” Amelia’s voice cut through the air, sharp and teasing. “You might want to stop staring. You are making Helena think you’ve been hypnotized.”
Silas blinked and snapped his gaze back to his plate, though the slight flush in his cheeks gave away the truth.
“I was not staring,” he muttered.
“Oh, but you were,” Amelia teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I wonder what could have caught your attention so thoroughly.”
Helena, sitting across from them, tilted her head just slightly, catching Silas’s eye. Her lips quirked into a half-smile, which vanished instantly.
“I assure you, my lady,” he told Helena smoothly, “I was simply contemplating the way your stories have a tendency to entertain.”
Helena raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his words. She made no reply, her gaze flicking to Amelia, then back to him.
Amelia, ever the one to poke at the situation, leaned forward with a smile. “You must be quite taken with her, brother,” she teased. “You have been unusually quiet, and I do believe it’s because of our lovely guest.”
Helena bit her lip for a second, remaining silent, clearly having no interest in engaging with the conversation.
Silas felt the faintest tightening in his chest. Curiously, part of him missed the boldness she’d exhibited before. What had happened to it? Had he scared her off in the library?
He cleared his throat. “I am not accustomed to company at dinner, as you know, sister,” he said. “But I must admit, Lady Helena does have a knack for keeping things interesting.”
Helena’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, but her tone remained level. “I shall try not to disappoint, Your Grace.”
Silas had to swallow the irritation that rose at her restraint. He hadn’t expected her to be so unfazed, so composed, despite the obvious tension. He felt responsible for it. Felt responsible towards her.
Before he could speak again, Amelia intervened, sensing the undercurrent between them.
“How about this, Helena,” she said brightly, breaking the silence. “After supper, I’ll show you how to play the harpsichord, like we said? You mentioned you were interested in brushing up, didn’t you?”
Helena glanced at Amelia, her eyes softening ever so slightly, before looking back at Silas. “That sounds lovely. I would enjoy that very much.”
With that, Helena stood, giving him a quick glance before turning to follow Amelia out of the room.
Silas remained seated, his hand still resting on the table, and he let out a long breath.
His thoughts were tangled, but above all, his whole being felt tangled, every fiber of it pulling him towards the direction Helena went.
What had this woman done to him?
Helena didn’t want the evening to end. The prospect of retiring to her chambers, alone with her thoughts, did not appeal.
Especially not after her interaction with the Duke in the library.
She could still feel the faint heat of his presence, the closeness of him, the way the air had seemed to hum between them.
Her heart still stumbled at the memory of his voice, low and steady, and she couldn’t quite untangle the rush of heat he provoked within her.
She had fled, of course, but the echo of that moment lingered, stubborn and insistent, like a small, uninvited spark.
At the abbey, she would have been sitting in the dark on her bed, awaiting the bell to ring for nighttime prayers. She wouldn’t even have been able to read, because the girls had no access to candles, torches, or any form of light.
To be able to make polite conversation while eating and drinking her fill was more than she’d had in a long while.
It turned out that Amelia was quite good at playing the harpsichord. She played it with joy and competence.
Helena swayed from side to side, tapping her glass of brandy against her thigh as she tried to see if she recognized the tune. Before his death, her father was wont to invite various artists and scientists to the manor house, including musicians, so that they could showcase their skills.
In hindsight, Helena had to wonder if those encounters were part of his work for the Crown.
Silas sat to her right on the Chesterfield, quietly drinking his own brandy and watching his sister play. It was the most peaceful they had been in each other’s company.
She blinked, trying to shake off the lingering warmth in her chest, the memory of his nearness in the library refusing to leave her. She wasn’t sure what it meant, only that it made her pulse quicken, when it should not.
“Helena, come here. Let me show you a few chords,” Amelia said with a beaming smile.
Helena smiled back, forcing herself to steady her thoughts, and got to her feet to sit on the bench beside Amelia.
“Put your hands here and here,” Amelia demonstrated it to her and Helena did her best to copy her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She could not start crying now.
Not even if this was the closest to safe and home she’d felt in a while.
Silas got to his feet as Helena entered the breakfast room the next morning. Amelia was wont to sleep late, so he did not expect her. He’d thought that Helena would also sleep late and so he would be able to avoid her as well, but alas. Here she was.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked politely as he pushed her chair closer to the table.
“Yes, thank you, Your Grace. I slept very well. What about you?”
He nodded, and they stared at each other, both frozen. He was at a loss as to what to do next. After her reserved demeanor the night before, he didn’t wish to make her more unsettled.
He indicated the silver pot before him. “Would you like some coffee?”
She nodded jerkily and he instructed a maid to attend to her. Once he’d settled into his chair, another maid served him coffee and began placing food on Helena’s plate.
Helena dug in as if this might be the last meal she ever had. Silas watched her, wondering why she would behave like that.
Perhaps she has gone too long without proper food at the abbey.
The thought made his jaw tighten and a quiet surge of protectiveness coil in his chest. She shouldn’t have had to endure that. Not her.
In spite of himself, he found his attention lingering on her. He prided himself on understanding people quickly, for it was essential to his work, but Helena was different. She remained… quietly compelling, at every turn.
After sleeping on it, he realized that he could not force answers from her.
If he wanted her to trust him, he would need to earn it.
Which meant letting her see some part of him as well.
Not all of him, of course; some pieces would always remain shielded, but enough to show her he was not just the Duke or the spy, but someone who could listen.
Someone who wanted to help.
“I see that you and Amelia are getting along quite well,” he said, keeping his voice light, curious rather than judgmental.
She turned her head, watching him cautiously. “Is that an issue?”
“No,” he replied. “I was merely observing. My sister… she’s rarely taken so easily to anyone. You’ve managed it without even trying, which is remarkable.”
Helena frowned slightly. “I am merely a guest here. I do not seek to influence her.”
“Of course,” he said, nodding. “But she is very impressionable. Even small influences shape her. If you wish to maintain harmony, it may help if she listens to those who guide her. They only want what’s best.”
Her gaze hardened, posture straightening. “And you believe she should follow orders blindly?”
Silas leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “Not blindly. But there are times when experience matters. She is learning, yes, but if she defies those who know more than she does, it could cost her dearly. Guidance does not diminish her voice. It merely keeps her safe while she learns to use it.”
Helena crossed her arms, lips tight. “She must learn to stand up for herself as well. She is not a prize to be controlled. Her voice matters.”
“I know,” he said gently, leaning forward just enough to soften his expression. “And she will have every chance to speak and decide when she is ready. For now… she must balance curiosity with caution. That is part of growing safely.”
Before he could say more, the door opened with a light creak, and Amelia entered, her eyes bright and cheerful, completely unaware of the tension in the room.
“Good morning! Why do you both look so serious?”