CHAPTER 38: SILK, LACE, AND DECEIT

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.

Genevieve’s POV

​I stood by the window of my guest room, staring out at the manicured gardens.

​Truthfully, I had planned to pack my bags and leave Valenridge days ago. It stung to watch my grand dreams—the elaborate society wedding, the children I was supposed to bear for Lucian, the grand title—evaporate into thin air. But as I placed my hand over my heart, I had to admit a painful truth: I was never in love with Lucian. He was simply the "dream man" my mother had chosen for me, the perfect pawn to elevate our family's standing.

​Now, my mother refused to even speak to me, furious that I had let the betrothal slip through my fingers. Returning home to her cold, disappointed glare was unbearable, and I thanked God Lucian had granted me permission to stay in the guest villa.

​More than that, a heavy, suffocating guilt anchored me to this estate. Eva had lost her mind because of my envy. If Lucian and Eva were truly, desperately in love, who was I to stand in the way of true affection? The very least I could do to redeem my soul was stay and help Eva regain her lost memories.

​A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Laura stepped into the room, her eyes narrow and filled with disdain.

​"Why are you still helping her?" Laura demanded, crossing her arms as she slammed the door shut. "I heard you escorted Eva and the Duchess to the bridal fitting today! You shouldn't be doing that, Genevieve. Have you completely given up on marrying Lucian?"

​I turned from the window, letting out a weary breath. "Laura, please. It is okay. I think... I think we should stop this. What we did was wicked, and I am consumed by guilt."

​"Guilt?!" Laura hissed, taking a step forward. "Because our plan spiraled? We wanted to drive the maid out of this house, but somehow she ended up elevated to a future Duchess! We have to put an end to this wedding before she is locked into this family permanently!"

​"Are you out of your mind?" I gasped, staring at her in shock. "How do you intend to stop a royal wedding? They are in love, Laura! Can you not see it?"

​"No! I cannot see it!" Laura sneered, her voice rising in frustration. "It makes no sense at all! When did they ever have time to fall in love? If Eva was meant to be marrying anyone in this house, it should be Lord Leo, not Lord Lucian! She spoke to Leo constantly—they were always together! Something is deeply fishy here, Genevieve. Can't you see it?"

​"Laura, I... I don't know what to say," I stammered, shaking my head. "I just know we have done enough harm to this household."

​Before Laura could launch into another tirade, the heavy oak door swung open.

​Lady Eleanor stepped into the room, her sharp eyes darting between the two of us. "Am I interrupting something, ladies?"

​I cleared my throat instantly, smoothing my skirts. "No, My Lady! Not at all. I was... I was just asking Laura to help me locate some special hairpieces for the wedding."

​Laura offered a quick, strained bow, her face a tight mask. "Yes. If you will excuse me, My Lady." She practically glided out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

​Lady Eleanor watched her leave before turning back to me with a soft, gentle expression. "I came to speak with you, Genevieve."

​"How may I help you, Duchess?" I asked softly.

​She walked over, taking my hands in hers and guiding me to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. "You showed remarkable strength of heart by coming with us this morning, child. I did not expect you to offer your support. I know it must feel selfish of me, but I simply wanted to experience the joy of helping my future daughter-in-law choose her gown."

​"Thank you, My Lady," I murmured, lowering my eyes.

​Lady Eleanor squeezed my hands gently. "You know... if it is not Lucian, you could always find happiness elsewhere. Perhaps with Leo, or another fine lord next season. You must never force yourself to be with a man you do not love, Genevieve. Love is the key and absolute foundation to a long-lasting marriage."

​I looked up at her, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. "I will try to find true love, My Lady. A love... like the one you and the Duke share."

​Lady Eleanor froze for a fraction of a second, a flicker of profound melancholy crossing her features before she offered a small, knowing smile. "I think you deserve a far better love than that, my child."

​She stood up, leaning down to press a warm, gentle kiss against my forehead. "I am very proud of you."

​With a soft rustle of silk, she turned and left the room, leaving me alone in the quiet dusk, wondering if any of us in this grand house would ever truly find the love we were searching for.