"You've been quiet all evening, Eleanor. Is everything all right?" I asked, noting how she kept fidgeting with her champagne glass. We'd retreated to a quieter corner of the grand ballroom where the celebration continued in full swing.
Eleanor's cheeks flushed immediately. "I'm fine, Isabella. Truly."
Helena Pembroke, who'd joined us moments earlier, raised an eyebrow. "That blush says otherwise. What scandal are you hiding from us?"
"There's no scandal," Eleanor protested, but her voice pitched higher than usual.
I leaned closer, genuinely concerned. "You've barely spoken all night. Something's clearly bothering you."
Eleanor glanced around nervously before sighing in defeat. "If I tell you, you must swear not to breathe a word to anyone."
"Of course," I promised, while Helena made a crossing motion over her heart.
"I..." Eleanor hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I kissed Reed."
"Reed? As in Duke Thorne's brother?" Helena gasped, far too loudly.
