CHAPTER 15: BROTHERS AND BONDS

Lucian’s POV

I spent the better part of the morning in the stables, saddling my horse before the sun had fully cleared the eastern hills. It had become my daily routine—leaving the manor before Lady Genevieve woke, riding through the valley until my boots were coated in red clay, and returning only when the sun went down. My home had become a minefield, and Genevieve was a fuse I had no desire to light.

By late afternoon, I found Leo in the old stone pavilion near the lower orchards, sitting on a wooden bench with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, tuning his lute with quiet concentration.

"You're hiding again," Leo called without looking up, his fingers plucking a clean chord that echoed beneath the stone arches.

"I am managing my time," I replied dryly, stepping into the shade. "There is a difference."

"Right. And that difference involves riding twenty miles in the cold just to avoid sharing a breakfast table with your bride-to-be." He glanced up with a mischievous grin. "Mother was practically sweating through her silk trying to explain to Genevieve why you weren't present for morning tea."

"Let her sweat," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and tossed it onto the bench beside him. Leo unfolded it, revealing three names written in dark ink.

"I went through the Sterling guest ledger," I said. "I cross-referenced every noble house in the northern province. I've narrowed the list down to three women who attended the summer ball whom I cannot immediately place."

Leo raised a brow. "Eva Vance... Lady Clara of Highmoor... and Lady Beatrice of the Eastern Isles."

"Eva Vance is... settled," I said quickly, a strange tightness forming in my chest as I remembered those dark eyes in my study. I pushed the thought aside before Leo could notice. "I need you to track down the remaining two. Find out where their families are staying in the capital. If one of them is the woman in the yellow dress, I need to know before the month is out."

Leo handed the parchment back with a soft chuckle. "Look at you. Turning romance into a military campaign. I'll ask around at the local taverns tonight. Music halls are the best place for capital gossip."

He paused, his fingers resting against the wooden body of his lute. The amusement in his expression faded into hesitation.

"Speaking of music halls," I said gently, "Mrs. Gable mentioned you received a letter from the capital theater troupe yesterday."

Leo's jaw tightened. He gave a short laugh, tuning a wooden peg with unnecessary force. "News travels fast in a house full of maids."

"They offered you the opening performance for the Autumn Festival, didn't they?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he plucked a low note that lingered in the warm afternoon air.

"They did," Leo said softly. "Three nights at the Grand Hall in the capital. Full orchestra. A real crowd."

"That is incredible, Leo." A genuine smile touched my lips. "Have you told Father?"

Leo scoffed, setting the lute across his knees. "Tell Father? What for, Lucian? So he can look at me like I'm a disappointing tavern bard throwing his life away?"

"Leo—"

"No, let's be honest." His usual playful armour slipped, revealing the wound beneath it. "If it doesn't involve grain tariffs, border treaties, or expanding the De Witt holdings, Father doesn't give a damn. To him, playing music isn't a career. It's a childish embarrassment. He'd rather I sit in some cold office balancing ledgers I hate than watch me play a single note."

My chest tightened at the bitterness in his voice.

Leo spent every day pretending to be the carefree, irresponsible younger son, laughing off Father's harsh words as though nothing could touch him. But here in the quiet orchard, the truth was painfully clear. He craved Father's pride just as much as I craved my own freedom.

I stepped forward and dropped to one knee beside the bench, meeting his eyes. "Father sees the world through the narrow lens of a title. That is his burden, Leo. It does not have to be yours. You have a gift—something rare that brings light into a room. You should never apologize for loving it."

Leo stared at me, his breath catching.

"If Father refuses to go to the capital to watch you play," I continued, giving his shoulder a firm shake, "then I will ride there myself. I'll buy the best box in the entire theatre and sit in the front row. Hell, if you take your music across the sea, I'll board a ship and travel to the far edges of the continent just to hear you play."

Silence settled over the pavilion, broken only by the rustling orchard leaves.

Leo looked down at my hand before a small, genuine smile touched his lips.

"You'd really travel across the continent?" he asked. "You hate boats. You get seasick on a calm river."

"I would endure the seasickness," I replied dryly, standing and smoothing my riding coat, "just to ensure my ridiculous younger brother doesn't forget his lines."

Leo laughed, picking up his lute and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He swatted my arm with renewed energy.

"Alright, big brother. I'll find your mysterious court ladies. And you... try not to let Genevieve corner you in the conservatory tonight."

"A fate worse than death," I muttered.

I watched him leave the pavilion, his stride lighter as he hummed beneath his breath.

I remained in the shade, looking toward the distant northern hills. Supporting my brother was easy. Protecting my family was second nature. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard, I knew the clock was ticking.

I had to find the truth about the woman in the yellow dress—and the quiet, secretive maid serving tea in my mother's drawing room—before this entire house was swept away in a storm of my father's making.