Benedict, of course, did not appear in the least deterred. “Nonsense! There are many more! But, for tonight, we shall leave the legends in peace. Though my heroism remains indisputable, of course.”
Helena quietly sipped her wine, marveling at the ease with which Silas and Benedict bantered.
For the first time, she saw him in a different light: not just the sharp, commanding duke that had stolen her away from St. Margaret’s, but someone capable of humor, patience, and…
Softness, even if only briefly.
And that made him all the more captivating.
Chapter Nine
“Send them in,” Silas said without looking up.
Two days after Benedict’s visit, he wasn’t surprised when Jeeves announced the arrival of two visitors dressed in black habits. He’d been expecting this.
The door opened to reveal two nuns. One he recognized from his brief visit to St. Margaret’s. The other was new, older, sharp-eyed, and with a tight-lipped smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
“Sisters,” Silas said smoothly, rising to greet them with the civility of a man born to it. “What a… surprising pleasure.”
“We simply wished to follow up on your visit to the convent, Your Grace,” said the younger nun, Sister Philomena, if he recalled correctly. “You did not have the opportunity to meet our superior at the time.”
She gestured to the elder nun.
“Indeed,” Silas said, his eyes resting on the woman. “Sister Frances, I presume. A pleasure.”
Sister Frances inclined her head with a stiff nod. “Your Grace.”
“I apologize for my abrupt departure the other day. Urgent matters demanded my attention.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. “You must be here for the donation. I had a promissory note prepared.”
Sister Frances reached for it quickly, but Silas held it just out of reach.
“Of course,” she said with a thin smile. “Very generous of you, Your Grace. But the donation is not our sole concern today.”
“No?” Silas glanced at his watch with mild disinterest. “Then by all means, do get to the point. I have limited time.”
Sister Frances’s smile didn’t falter. “We are looking for a certain young lady. She left our convent without permission.”
“Left?” Silas echoed, lifting a brow. “I was under the impression that convent life was voluntary.”
“In most cases,” Sister Philomena interjected hastily. “But some girls are placed with us by family, for their own good.”
“Ah.” Silas leaned back in his chair, hands folded loosely in front of him. “How charitable of you.”
Sister Frances’s mouth thinned. “This particular girl is… unstable. A danger to herself and others. We’re concerned for her wellbeing.”
“As am I,” Silas murmured. “In theory.”
There was a pause.
“Have you seen or heard of this young lady?” Sister Philomena asked, watching him closely.
Silas met her gaze with polite indifference. “I meet many young ladies, Sister. Should I be concerned that your convent is misplacing them?”
Sister Frances’s composure began to fray. “She escaped, not misplaced.”
“I see.” He smiled faintly. “I do hope you find her.”
The nuns exchanged a brief, silent glance.
