CHAPTER 12: THE GUEST LIST

Lucian’s POV

The morning air outside the stables was sharp and clean, cutting through the lingering headache I had carried since dinner.

I stood by the wooden stalls, watching my bay stallion nicker softly into a bucket of oats. I hadn't slept well. The image of Genevieve Sterling complaining about our kitchen staff, our wine, and our northern traditions had kept my mind pacing in circles until dawn.

"Well, if it isn't the happiest groom in the province," a voice called out cheerfully.

I turned to see Leo leaning against the stable doorframe, wearing a loose linen shirt with his sleeves rolled up, chewing casually on a blade of sweet grass. His eyes were bright, practically dancing with amusement.

"Did you sleep well in your own quarters, big brother?" Leo teased, crossing his arms with a dramatic grin. "I half expected to find you hiding in the haylofts to avoid morning tea with your beloved."

I let out a slow, dry breath, resting my arm against the horse's saddle. "Please, Leo. Marry her instead."

Leo instantly held up both hands, stepping back in mock horror. "Absolutely not. I am far too young, far too pretty, and entirely unprepared for holy matrimony. Besides, if Genevieve and I were trapped in the same house for more than three days, either one of us would end up poisoned or we'd both burn the manor down to the ground."

"I am serious," I said, my voice dropping into a tight, quiet register. "I cannot do this. I need to find a way to make her lose interest in me. I need her to refuse the betrothal from her end."

Leo burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Curse you, Lucian. Only you would sit here wishing you were an ugly, insufferable brute just so a woman would leave you alone."

He stepped closer, tossing the blade of grass onto the stone floor as his expression shifted into something surprisingly thoughtful.

"You're going about this all wrong," Leo said, tapping a finger against his chin. "Why don't you just find the lady in the yellow dress?"

I stilled. "What?"

"The girl from the Sterling summer ball three weeks ago," Leo clarified, raising a brow. "Mother saw you dancing with her. She hasn't stopped talking about how it was the first time in three seasons you actually looked at a court debutante with something resembling interest. If you find her, bring her home, and present her to Mother, Mother will gladly accept her over Genevieve—so long as you end up married before the snow falls."

The silence between us stretched for two sharp seconds.

The lady in yellow. The mysterious, quiet woman who had slipped through my fingers at the Sterlings' grand pavilion before I could even ask her name.

"Yes," I breathed, the fog in my mind suddenly clearing. "The lady in yellow. But how do I find her, Leo? I have no name. No family crest. I have nothing."

"Ask the Sterlings' head assistant," Leo offered with a casual shrug. "He kept the official invitation ledger for the grand ball. The Sterlings brought their entire administrative staff down to the guest manor across the valley. Go get the guest list."

A rare, genuine surge of relief washed over me. I stepped forward, grabbing my brother by his shoulder and pulling him into a brief, hard embrace.

"You are brilliant," I said, stepping back. "I finally see a light at the end of this damn tunnel."

"Go change your coat before Mother corners you for breakfast," Leo laughed, swatting my shoulder. "Go!"

An hour later, my horse was tied outside the Sterlings' temporary guest manor on the edge of the estate.

Master Sterling's chief clerk—a thin, stoic man named Mr. Finch—opened the heavy front door, bowing low the moment he recognized my face.

"Lord Lucian," Finch said, surprised. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I require the official guest ledger from the Sterlings' summer ball last month," I said flatly, keeping my posture rigid and my tone strictly professional. "I need to review the names immediately."

Finch blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "The guest list, My Lord? May I ask why? If there is an administrative error with the betrothal documentation, I would be happy to assist you myself—"

"No need," I interrupted smoothly, cutting him off with a calm, unyielding look. "My father wishes to send formal seasonal thank-you gifts to the high-ranking northern noble houses who attended the event. I simply need to cross-reference a few names for our stewards."

Finch hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding deferentially. "Of course, Lord Lucian. Right this way."

He led me into a quiet, sunlit study, retrieving a thick, leather-bound register from a wooden cabinet and setting it down on the desk before bowing out of the room.

Once the door clicked shut, I pulled the heavy ledger toward me and began flipping through the crisp pages of calligraphy.

It was a staggering list—hundreds of names of lords, ladies, counts, and capital dignitaries. I pulled a piece of parchment and a quill toward me, methodically scanning the lines and writing down the handful of prominent families whose daughters I didn't recognize.

My quill paused midway down the page under the northern visitors' section.

My eyes locked onto a single, neat line of dark ink.

Lady Eva Vance.

My brows furrowed sharply. My heart gave a strange, abrupt thud against my ribs.

Eva Vance.

Images flashed through my mind: the quiet maid in my study whose eyes held an intense, burning fire; the girl caught red-handed at my desk staring at old trade treaties; the maid who carried herself with a quiet, unshakeable dignity that never belonged in a servant's apron.

How did a maid from Valenridge Manor get her name onto an exclusive, invitation-only Sterling court ball?

Or worse—was the quiet maid cleaning my floors actually a noblewoman hiding under a false identity right beneath my roof?

I dipped the quill back into the inkstand, rapidly copying down the only three female names on the entire ledger I couldn't account for, with Eva Vance circled twice in dark, heavy ink.

I closed the heavy ledger with a firm, decisive thud.

Stepping out of the study, I passed Finch with a brief, stiff nod. "Thank you. I have what I need."

I didn't wait for his response. I hurried out to my horse, throwing my leg over the saddle and pulling the reins hard.

My mind was burning with a hundred dangerous questions. The lady in the yellow dress was out there—but right now, the quiet maid sitting in my own kitchen held a secret that could blow this entire house wide open.

I had to find out what she was hiding. Immediately