Chapter 12 #2
His eyes flicked towards the half open door, hoping that his sister, or Helena at least, might join him.
He could hear the castle settling in around him for the night: the distant footsteps as the maids climbed up and down the stairs, using the dumbwaiters to transport hot water to the upper floors.
He could also make out the shuffle of footmen, shifting from foot to foot as they stood at attention, awaiting summons, and even distantly, the kitchen staff, gossiping as they banged on pots and pans.
Everyone was busy, no one giving a thought to him.
It felt very lonely.
He frowned, wondering where that thought might have come from. He wasn’t a man much concerned with company, but knowing his sister and their house guest were somewhere ensconced together, pouting about him, was unsettling.
We’re supposed to be enjoying a digestif together, for God’s sake! he thought with annoyance.
Before Helena had come, he knew that Amelia would have returned, and joined him for the evening. If only to have someone to speak to.
He began to play another tune, increasing the tempo until his fingers were flying over the keys. He lost himself to the music, pushing all thought away.
Whatever had happened earlier, it was done already, and there was no use crying over spilt milk.
As the song reached its conclusion, he came to an abrupt stop. He could sense someone’s presence behind him.
He looked up to see Helena standing in the doorway.
“I didn’t know you could play like that,” she said, taking a step into the room.
Silas frowned. “There’s much you don’t know about me.”
“Clearly,” she said nonchalantly as she leaned against the pianoforte. “Will you play something else?”
He took his hands off the keys and placed them in his lap. “No. I am done for the evening.”
“How disappointing. We heard you play from Amelia’s chambers, and she said that it happens so rarely that we really need to take advantage. I see what she meant. You’re remarkable.”
He snorted, looking away and shaking his head. “I thought I was harsh and unfair.”
“Oh, you are those things as well. Never fear,” she said blithely.
He flicked a glance at her, unable to maintain his annoyance. “So you and…” He leaned back and away so he could see past her at the door. “…Amelia came down to get an after-dinner show?”
Helena grinned. “We did. We decided that if the music was good enough, we could forgive you.”
Silas narrowed his eyes at her, noticing for the first time how loose she was, how her body swayed a bit as if she had trouble maintaining her balance.
Her flushed face…
“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
The lazy smile on her face became even lazier. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a slight hiccup. She leaned against the pianoforte for support. “Just a glass of wine… or maybe two. It was quite nice Very civilized.”
He exhaled through his nose. “You should sit.”
“I am sitting,” she replied, gesturing vaguely downward, though she clearly was not. “In spirit.”
Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched. “That is not reassuring.”
She tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made him shift in his seat. “You know,” she said slowly, as if considering a great truth, “you look entirely different when you play.”
“Do I?” he asked dryly.
“Yes. Less… sharp.” She traced an idle line along the edge of the pianoforte with her finger. “More… human, I think. Because it’s unexpected.”
“Was that a compliment?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid. I don’t offer those to you often. Hm, how about this?” She paused, then added, far too honestly, “You’re very handsome when you forget to be severe.”
That did it. He looked at her fully now, amusement flickering plainly in his eyes. “You will regret that observation tomorrow.”
She blinked, then smiled, unrepentant. “Perhaps. But I won’t tonight. You are as cross as a thundercloud most of the time. Someone ought to coax out the sun.”
“A noble sacrifice,” he murmured.
Encouraged, she went on, words tumbling out with less care than usual. “And the way you play, like you’re trying not to feel anything at all. It’s very unwise. People notice.”
“Helena,” he said, gently but firmly, “you’ve had enough wine.”
She straightened, overcorrected, catching herself with a small laugh. “There. You see? Perfectly steady.” Then, more softly, “You don’t like being seen. Not really.”
The air between them tightened. He studied her face, the careless honesty there, the warmth, the lack of guile.
“No. I do not,” he confessed.
Helena tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
For a moment, he said nothing. He ought not to have answered at all. She was warm with wine and candor, and tomorrow she would remember only fragments, if that. That alone should have made him careful.
And yet…
“Because,” he said slowly, choosing each word as if it mattered, which it did, absurdly, “being seen invites expectation. And expectation leads to disappointment.”
Her brow furrowed, earnest even in her tipsiness. “You disappoint no one.”
A quiet breath left him.
If only that were true.
“You are wrong,” he said, not unkindly. “I have made a habit of it.” He glanced away, his jaw tightening. “It is simpler to be thought cold than to fail at warmth.”
She absorbed that in silence, her gaze still fixed on him. He could feel it, steady and open, and it made something uneasy shift in his chest.
“You play beautifully,” she said again, softer now. “That doesn’t sound like someone who wishes to disappear.”
Before he could reply, she lifted her hand.
Her fingers brushed his cheek lightly at first, then settled there, warm and unmistakably real. Her thumb traced a slow, absent-minded stroke along his cheekbone, as though the gesture had occurred to her without permission or plan.
Silas went very still.
No one touched him like this. Not without expectation, not without asking for something in return. Yet there was nothing calculating in her expression. Only a gentle, almost wondering attention, as though she was discovering something fragile rather than claiming it.
He should have stopped her.
Instead, his breath left him in a quiet exhale, and before he quite realized it, he had leaned into her touch. Just enough to feel it more fully, just enough to admit the truth of how much he wanted it.
Her hand fit there too easily.
For a suspended moment, the world narrowed to the warmth of her palm and the slow, careful stroke of her thumb. His eyes fell shut. The tension he always carried loosened, ever so slightly, like a knot eased rather than undone.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Helena smiling, faint and pleased, as though she had coaxed something rare into the open.
“See?” she murmured. “You’re still here.”
The words landed somewhere deep and unguarded.
For a heartbeat, he felt the weight of the barriers he had built around himself, and how easily they might crumble in the presence of someone who saw him. Not as the Duke, not as an agent, not as a protector…but as Silas.
He had never welcomed such acknowledgement before. And yet, for this brief, suspended moment, it was exactly what he wanted.
Gently, he lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around Helena’s own.
“Helena…” he whispered her name, which came to him as easy as breath.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached the door, and just as Amelia burst into the room, Helena pulled her hand away and stepped back, as though she’d never neared him in the first place.
“Did I miss it?” Amelia asked, and to Silas’s relief, she seemed none the wiser.
“Well, your brother says he’s done for the day,” Helena answered with a slight pout.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Amelia’s shoulders slumped, and she looked very disappointed.
Silas gave a put-upon sigh. “Very well, I shall play another tune.”
“Oh, hurrah!” Amelia pumped her fists, skipping a bit, and grinning at Helena.
They both leaned on the pianoforte, staring intently at him as he chose another music piece and began to play it.
It was a lively aria from Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Silas was taken aback when Helena began to sing along. Her voice, though not practiced, had a surprising warmth to it, blending beautifully with the rich notes of the piano.
“La ci darem la mano…” she began, the melody lilting in the air.
To his astonishment, Amelia joined in on the second line, harmonizing with a delicate soprano that complemented Helena’s voice. The two of them sounded enchanting together, weaving the melody into something truly magical.
As Silas continued to play, he found himself watching them in wonder, until the last notes faded into silence.
There was some applause from the doorway and Silas realized they’d gathered an audience of servants who seemed quite as impressed as he was.
Amelia executed an exaggerated curtsy, which Helena immediately copied, much to the amusement of their audience.
Silas shook his head slowly. “Whatever am I to do with the two of you?”