CHAPTER 37: SECRET REFUGE

Lady Eleanor’s POV

​The afternoon sun spilled across the private balcony, bathing the stone balustrade in a warm, golden light. I sat alone at the small iron table, swirling a cup of pale tea, staring out over the sprawling green grounds of Valenridge.

​My mind was heavy. Arthur’s words from last night kept echoing in my head. If Lucian married and took over the duchy, Arthur would finally retire. He would be home constantly.

​A quiet wave of dread washed over me at the thought. To the rest of the province, I was the envied Duchess of De Witt—a woman of absolute power, grace, and noble standing. But within the quiet stone walls of this estate, I was utterly miserable. Decades of a cold, transactional marriage with Arthur had left me feeling like an empty shell. Yet, demanding a divorce was unthinkable. The scandal would create a public humiliation so massive it would ruin the family line and shatter my sons' futures. I was trapped in my own title.

​"A penny for your thoughts, beautiful?"

​A low, smooth voice broke the silence, making my heart instantly skip a beat.

​I looked up. Standing in the balcony doorway was James, holding a small bundle of freshly cut pale roses.

​He wore his formal guard uniform, the silver buttons gleaming in the sunlight, but his eyes held a warmth reserved strictly for me. For nearly ten years, James had been my secret, my sanctuary, and my greatest sin. Where Arthur was cold, detached, and selfish, James was everything a woman could ever dream of—attentive, emotionally devoted, and fiercely passionate. He was younger than me by nearly a decade, a detail that should have made the affair feel complicated, but in his arms, the age difference vanished completely. I could have sworn he was my true soulmate born in the wrong lifetime.

​"James," I breathed, a soft, genuine smile finally breaking across my face as I set my teacup down. "I was just thinking about you."

​He stepped out onto the balcony, setting the flowers on the table before reaching down to gather me into his arms. With an effortless lift, he spun me around, making me let out a quiet, breathless laugh as my silk skirts swished against his boots.

​"Your husband is locked in a long council meeting in the east wing," James whispered, his hands resting possessively against my waist as he set my feet back on the stone floor. "I cleared the hallway myself. We have time."

​"Never enough time for me," I murmured, my fingers already reaching for the silver buckles of his leather chest harness.

​James didn't wait. He leaned down, catching my lips in a deep, desperate kiss that instantly erased the lingering chill of Arthur’s touch from the night before. His hands moved with practiced devotion, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping the heavy velvet robe off my shoulders.

​Right there in the quiet sanctuary of my private chambers, surrounded by the scent of roses and warm sunlight, I surrendered entirely to the only man who made me feel alive.

Leo’s POV

​The local tavern was thick with the scent of spilled ale, pipe tobacco, and cheap roasted meats. I sat slouched at the far end of the scuffed wooden bar, staring blankly at the dark liquid sloshing in my heavy tankard before downing another massive gulp.

​My mind was a chaotic, burning inferno. Eva is getting married.

​The thought made my blood boil in my veins. I couldn't accept it. I couldn't sit back and watch Lucian lock her into his cold, manipulative web while she stood there completely helpless, her past completely wiped away.

​"You know, My Lord," the old bartender murmured, wiping down the sticky counter with a worn rag as he looked at me, "usually when you drain tankards this fast, you are on the floor dancing with three different women. Tonight, you look like you are ready to burn the town down. Are you alright?"

​"How do I know if I am alright?" I rasped, my throat raw from the liquor. I leaned my elbows on the bar, running a hand through my messy hair. "I have this constant, suffocating fire in my chest for a woman, and I do not even know what this emotion is. I just... I get so violently furious every time I see her near him. Every time I remember she is betrothed to another man."

​The bartender paused his wiping, letting out a soft, knowing chuckle. "Well, that sounds like love, My Lord. Only love makes a man feel that particular kind of crazy."

​I went dead still, blinking up at him through the dim candlelight. "Love? I have never been in love before. Isn't love supposed to be... peaceful? Beautiful?"

​"That is the beauty of it, My Lord," the bartender said, leaning over the counter with a gentle smile. "The chaos, the shivering, the fierce protectiveness, the unbearable chills—that is the fire. It is a burning flame you only feel for one specific person."

​My chest tightened, a strange, overwhelming realization washing over me like a tidal wave. All this time—my desperate urge to shield her, the thrill I felt watching her rebel, the absolute agony of seeing her in Lucian's arms—it wasn't just protective instinct. I was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

​"How do I know... if she feels it for me?" I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper.

​"You simply talk to her," the bartender replied softly.

​I let out a bitter, heartbroken laugh, staring down into my empty glass. Talk to her? How could I talk to her when her mind was a complete slate? She didn't remember the house, she didn't remember Lucian, and worst of all, she didn't remember me. Even if a small part of her had cared for me before the fall, that memory was gone now. How was I supposed to stand by while she was led to the altar to marry my own brother?

​No. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let Lucian win her by default.

​I slammed my heavy tankard onto the wooden bar, pushing myself up from the stool. My head swam slightly from the ale, but my purpose had never been clearer in my entire life.

​"I am going to find her," I declared, my voice steadying with sudden, unshakeable resolve. "I am going to speak to her tonight. I am going to tell her how crazy I am about her. I cannot hold this in for another second."

​The bartender grinned wide, clapping a hand onto the counter. "Yes, My Lord! Go do that! Who knows? Perhaps we will be celebrating a double wedding at the De Witt estate this season after all!"

​A genuine, breathless smile broke across my face for the first time in days. "Wish me luck."

​I turned around, shoving the heavy tavern doors open, and stepped out into the night, ready to fight for the woman who held my entire heart.