Dawn came quietly.
The manor, once wrapped in the stillness of night, began to breathe again—soft light slipping through tall windows, brushing against polished floors and silent walls.
Mallory was already awake.
She stood before the mirror in her room, fingers lightly adjusting the sleeve of her dress as her reflection stared back at her—composed, calm… but not entirely untouched by thought.
Her mind drifted.To him.Lucien.
The whispers of the maids from the previous day returned uninvited.
A viscount.
Her fingers stilled.
She had known he was of high standing—anyone with eyes could see that. The way people moved around him, the quiet authority in his voice… it wasn't ordinary.But a viscount?
Her gaze sharpened slightly at her reflection.That… is something else entirely.And no parents.That part lingered longer than she expected.
Mallory exhaled softly, pushing the thought aside before it could settle too deeply.It wasn't her concern.
When she was done, she stepped back.
Her dress was simple, yet elegant—a soft cream fabric that fell smoothly to her ankles, fitted just enough to flatter her frame without drawing unnecessary attention. The sleeves were long, delicate at the wrists, and the neckline modest.
Her hair had been carefully styled, dark strands gathered and pinned neatly at the back, with a few soft pieces left loose to frame her face.Refined.Controlled.She turned and left the room.
⸻
The dining hall was already occupied.
Miranda sat poised at the table, her posture as perfect as ever, a cup of tea resting between her fingers. Across from her was Eve—far less composed, already nibbling on something as her eyes wandered around the room in quiet curiosity.
Eve noticed her first.
"Good morning,Miss Mallory!" she greeted brightly, a smile breaking across her face.
Mallory gave a small nod. "Good morning."Miranda did not greet her.But that was fine.Mallory took her seat without comment.
Moments later, footsteps echoed from the entrance.
Lucien.
He walked in with an ease that didn't demand attention—yet somehow held it anyway.
His attire was far from formal. A loose white shirt, the top buttons undone, the fabric soft and relaxed against him. Dark trousers sat neatly at his waist, simple but well-fitted.
His hair—Not styled.Not combed back like before.
It fell naturally, slightly tousled, giving him a far more… effortless appearance.
Almost homely,almost."Good morning," he said."Good morning," Miranda and Eve replied almost in unison.Mallory followed shortly after.
"Good morning."
Lucien took his seat.Breakfast began.It was quiet—comfortable, but not entirely.Then—
The doors opened.The butler stepped in.
"Master Lucien," he said with a slight bow, "your aunt, Lady Camille, her husband Mr Theodore, and their children have arrived. They came… unannounced."
Lucien did not look surprised."Let them in, George."
"Yes, Master Lucien."
⸻
They did not take long.
Four figures entered.And they did so like they belonged.
Lady Camille led, her presence sharp and deliberate. She was dressed in a rich burgundy gown, fitted and elegant, her brunette hair styled neatly beneath a decorative headpiece.Beside her was her husband, Theodore—tall, composed, dressed in a dark tailored suit that spoke of quiet wealth.Behind them—Eloise and Benedict.Both brunettes.
Eloise wore a soft, flowing dress of pale blue, delicate and youthful, her hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. There was a brightness to her expression—especially when her eyes landed on Lucien.
"Brother Lucien," she said warmly.
Benedict, slightly older than Mallory, stood beside her. His attire was neat but less rigid—a fitted vest over a crisp shirt, his posture relaxed, his gaze observant."Cousin," he greeted calmly.
Miranda and Eve greeted them first.Lucien followed.Mallory inclined her head politely. "Good morning."
They all took their seats.But the air had shifted.
Lucien leaned back slightly, his gaze cool.
"Do you normally visit people's homes unannounced?" he asked, his tone smooth—yet unmistakably edged with sarcasm.Lady Rosamond smiled faintly. "Family does not require an invitation.""Mm," Lucien hummed.
Eloise leaned slightly toward him, eager. "We simply wished to see you."
Lucien did not respond.Not directly.He reached for his cup instead.
Benedict, however—His gaze had shifted.To Mallory.And lingered.
⸻
It didn't take long.
"So," Lady Rosamond began, her eyes settling on Mallory, "who is this?"
Silence brushed the table.
Mallory met her gaze calmly."My name is Mallory—" she said, stating her full name clearly and without hesitation.Recognition flickered instantly."Ah," Rosamond said, leaning back slightly. "That Mallory."A faint smile curved her lips."The famous criminal."
The words were light.But not kind."I do wonder," she continued, glancing toward Lucien, "what you were thinking, bringing someone like her here."
Before Mallory could respond—Lucien did."I don't recall asking for your thoughts on my decisions," he said coolly.
The table fell quiet.Benedict's gaze remained on Mallory.Not with judgment.But interest.
⸻
After breakfast, the manor shifted once more.
Lucien was pulled away to the parlor by his aunt and uncle, their voices low but firm as they spoke.
Miranda and Eloise sat together, their conversation flowing easily.
"And her?" Eloise asked, glancing slightly toward where Mallory had been.
Miranda's lips pressed thinly. "I don't trust her."Eloise nodded. "Neither do I."
⸻
In the garden—The air was fresh, soft with the warmth of morning.
Eve walked beside Mallory, hands clasped behind her back, eyes bright with curiosity."So," she began immediately, "is it true?"Mallory glanced at her. "Is what true?""That you're a criminal."Straight to the point.
Mallory didn't flinch. "That is what people say."Eve tilted her head. "But what do you say?"
"I say," Mallory replied calmly, "that stories are rarely told the way they happen."Eve's eyes widened slightly. "So you didn't do it?""I didn't say that."
Eve blinked. "…You're confusing."
"I've been told."
Eve smiled.Then—"Are you scared of brother Lucien?"
Mallory's gaze shifted slightly ahead."No."
"Should I be?"Mallory looked at her again.
"…That depends."
"On what?"
"On how well you understand him."
Eve opened her mouth to ask another question—
"Good morning."A new voice.Benedict.
She
He approached with an easy confidence, his attention fixed on Mallory."I hope I'm not interrupting."
Eve glanced between them.
Mallory shook her head. "You're not."
He stopped before her. "Benedict."
"Mallory."
"I know," he said lightly.
A small pause.
"You're not what I expected."
Mallory raised a brow slightly. "And what did you expect?""Someone less…" he paused, studying her, "…composed."Eve leaned in slightly, watching.Benedict continued, "Do you like it here?"
"It is… peaceful."
"And before?"
Mallory held his gaze. "Less so."
He smiled faintly.
"I'd like to hear more about that."
Eve suddenly straightened.
"Oh! Miss Mallory it's time for my lessons!"
She grabbed her arm lightly. "We're going to be late."
Mallory glanced once more at Benedict.
"Another time," she said simply.
He nodded. "I'll hold you to that."
And just like that—The morning moved on.
But the manor felt far less quiet than it had at dawn.