Mallory was escorted to her room and it was… simple.Not in the way of neglect, but in the way of intention.
A bed neatly made, a small writing desk by the window, a basin of water already prepared. No excessive decoration, no unnecessary comfort. Just enough to be lived in—temporarily.
Mallory stepped inside slowly, her gaze sweeping over the space as the door closed behind her with a quiet finality.
Not a guest.The words lingered.
She turned slightly toward the servant who had brought her there. "Is there somewhere I can wash?"
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "I will have it prepared immediately."
"And clothes," she added, glancing down at herself—dust-stained, wrinkled, marked by everything she had just escaped. "Something I can change into."
A brief nod. "Of course."He left without another word.
Mallory exhaled, her shoulders lowering just slightly as the silence returned—not heavy, not watching. Just… still.
She moved toward the mirror and stopped,for a moment, she just stared.Her hair was a mess—strands tangled and uneven, falling where they pleased. Her face looked sharper than she remembered, drawn with exhaustion. Dirt clung to her skin, her dress rumpled and worn, the fabric telling its own story of where she had been.
Mallory's lips pressed together faintly like someone who had nowhere to go.Her gaze hardened just a little."That can change," she murmured under her breath.It had to.
Because staying here wasn't a plan.It was a pause.
Her mind was already moving, already piecing things together. Another town. Somewhere far enough that no one would think to look for her. She could work—anything, really. Cleaning, sewing, serving. It didn't matter.
Money first.Stability after.Freedom…eventually.
A knock came, soft but precise.She stepped back from the mirror. "Come in."
The servant returned, this time carrying folded clothes—simple, but clean. A soft blouse, a skirt, undergarments neatly arranged.
He placed them down carefully. "The bath is ready."
Mallory nodded once. "Thank you."He inclined his head and left again.
This time, she didn't linger.
⸻
The water was warm,warmer than she expected.
Mallory sank into it slowly, the tension in her body loosening in ways she hadn't allowed herself to notice before. Dirt lifted, the weight of the past hours dissolving into something she didn't have to carry anymore—at least not physically.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Think.
She couldn't stay here forever. That much was clear. A stranger's home was not a place people simply… lingered without purpose.
She is sure Lucien isn't the kind of man who offered charity.So whatever this was,it would end.
Which meant she needed to be ready before it did.
Another town. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere she could disappear into without questions.
She'd need money, work.
A name that didn't carry trouble behind it.
Mallory opened her eyes again, her fingers curling slightly against the water's surface.
"I'll figure it out," she said softly.She always did.
⸻
By the time she stepped back into the room, dressed and clean, she almost didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.
Her hair still fell a little wild—but cleaner now, softer. Her face looked less hollow, her eyes clearer.
Not safe,not settled,but… better.
Her stomach tightened sharply.
Hungry.
The realization came all at once, like her body had been waiting for permission to feel it.
Right on cue—A knock.She turned her head slightly. "Yes?"
A maid stepped in this time, posture straight, expression composed. "You are requested in the dining room."
Requested. Not invited.
Mallory gave a small nod. "Lead the way."
⸻
The dining room was… large.
Not overwhelmingly so but enough to remind her exactly where she stood.
A long table stretched through the center, lit softly by candlelight. The setting was neat, precise, untouched.
Three people were already seated.
Lucien sat at the head.
To his right a young girl, no older than ten, her posture straight but her eyes bright with curiosity. She leaned forward slightly the moment Mallory entered, as if trying to see more than she was supposed to.
To his left— a woman.No—not quite.
Younger than him, but not by much. Composed, elegant, and watching Mallory with a gaze that didn't bother hiding its assessment.
Mallory stepped forward, steady despite the attention.
Lucien's gaze flicked to her briefly—taking in the change, the absence of dust and exhaustion—before settling back into that usual calm.
"You cleaned up well," he said simply.
Mallory took her seat without waiting to be told. "Water helps."
A faint flicker of something—approval, maybe—crossed his expression.
The younger girl leaned forward more openly now. "Who is she?" she asked, her voice light but eager.
"Eve," Lucien said without looking at her, "manners."
Eve leaned back slightly, though her curiosity didn't dim.
Mallory glanced at her, just briefly. "Mallory."
The girl smiled immediately.
The older sister, however, did not.
Her gaze lingered, sharp and unimpressed, before her lips curved faintly—not warm.
"I see," she said, her tone smooth, edged. "Brother… you've picked up a stray."
The words landed deliberately.
Mallory didn't react.
Lucien did.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, his attention shifting fully to her.
"Miranda," he said, voice calm, "I don't recall asking for your interpretation."
Miranda's smile didn't falter. "You rarely do. It doesn't make it incorrect."
Lucien's gaze held hers for a moment—quiet, controlled.
"If I had picked her up," he replied smoothly, "you would not be speaking about it so casually."
That did it.A small pause.
Miranda's expression shifted—just slightly.
Eve blinked between them, clearly entertained.
Mallory remained still, though her attention sharpened.
Interesting.
Lucien turned his gaze back to the table, as though the matter had already ended. "She will be staying for a time."
Miranda let out a soft breath through her nose. "How generous."
"How observant," he returned.
Silence followed—but not uncomfortable.
Just… measured.
Eve broke it first, her voice quieter now, curious instead of bold. "Are you staying long?"
Mallory met her eyes briefly. "Long enough."
Lucien's gaze flicked to her again at that.
Not questioning, not interrupting,just… noting it.
And for the first time since she had entered the manor, this didn't feel like being cornered.
It felt like something else entirely.Not safety,not yet.But something close enough to make staying just for now—worth the risk.