The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 58: She Will Hear It From Me

Moonlight bathed the manor in a silver glow, streaming in through the tall windows. Lucien sat in his study as quiet settled in. 

A lamp rested at his side, its brass frame darkened with age and etched with careful patterns. Instead of flame, a steady alchemical glow burned within its glass, casting a warm, restrained light across the desk and shelves.

He grabbed a parchment and a quill that rested easily between his fingers. The quill's nib glided across the page with practiced grace. His handwriting flowed clean and even, each line measured without hesitation. He worked in silence, composing two letters in succession, never stopping to correct a stroke. 

When he reached the end of the second letter, he dipped the quill back into the inkwell. As he lifted it, the surface of the ink trembled. A small bubble rose where the nib had broken the surface. It burst softly, flicking a dark speck onto the back of his hand.

He paused.

His free hand slipped into the inner pocket of his coat and drew out a familiar handkerchief. The cloth was finely made, pale white, with delicate embroidery of snowfall. Tiny stitched flakes scattered across it, and near the edge, his name had been worked in careful thread. 

He lifted the cloth to wipe the ink away, then stopped halfway. He hesitated. Ink stains were difficult to remove, and with that thought, he folded the cloth again and returned it to his pocket. He would not risk marking it.

Suddenly, the droplets of ink on the back of his hand vanished.

A soft hoot sounded directly in front of him. An owl now stood on the desk, talons silent against the wood. Its arrival had gone completely unnoticed. Lucien glanced at his hand, clean once more, then at the bird. This owl was no ordinary courier.

He reached out and brushed his fingers along its feathers, slow and familiar. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The owl answered with a low hoot and shifted its wings, ruffling them once before settling again.

Lucien turned back to his work. He folded the letters neatly and slid them into a small envelope, sealing it with care. Once finished, he tied the message securely to the owl's leg, the binding snug but gentle. He gave the bird one last pat.

"I am counting on you," he said calmly.

The owl tilted its head, blinked once, then spread its wings. With a single smooth motion, it lifted from the desk, passed through the open window, and vanished into the night.

Watching the bird disappear from his sight, Lucien remained still, his hand resting on the desk longer than necessary. The quiet pressed in, broken only by the lamp's steady glow.

For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted to the past. To a morning in the palace, when he had been given a choice.

It had been early morning in the imperial palace. Sunlight swept across the stone courtyard, pale and clean, carrying the scent of dew and marble. Lucien stood beside the emperor, both of them facing the open space ahead.

The emperor's long blond hair caught the light, falling loose down his back. His emerald eyes reflected the morning, sharp and observant, missing very little. This had been before Lucien's wedding to Adeline. Before everything had settled into place.

"So," the emperor said lightly, hands clasped behind his back, "what did you wish to speak about before your wedding, Lucien? Surely this isn't about wanting to back out now, like when you refused to be my heir."

Lucien kept his posture straight. "No, Your Majesty. I was only curious about something. You keep watch over nearly everything in this empire, so I thought you might tell me what I should know about her."