Chapter 7: A Familiar Stranger
Duke Alexander’s Study – Late Afternoon
Alexander stood by the window, watching the city below as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
Duke Alexander Ravenswood / ML
...
His mind replayed last night’s encounter.
The girl. The way she had looked at him—not with admiration or curiosity, but fear.
It wasn’t the fear of a commoner facing nobility.
He turned, eyes narrowing as he pulled out an old record. A charcoal sketch of the late Marquess of Sinclair stared back at him.
Alexander had met him once, long ago. And standing beside him in that memory…
Dark hair, bright eyes. Laughing as her father lifted her into his arms.
His grip tightened on the parchment.
Duke Alexander Ravenswood / ML
(thinking) It can’t be.
But it made sense. The missing noblewoman. No records. A familiarity he couldn’t place at first.
And the most damning piece of all—her reaction to him.
If he was right… then the woman he had confronted last night wasn’t just a lost traveler.
And if she was alive, then someone had wanted her and her family dead.
Outside the Whitmore Estate – Evening
The grand Whitmore Estate loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing with golden candlelight. Carriages lined the entrance, nobles stepping out in their finest attire.
Lucia, hidden in the shadows near the servants’ entrance, took a deep breath.
She had no invitation. No name.
But she needed to be here.
Her heart pounded as she slipped through the back door just as a group of maids hurried inside, balancing trays of fresh linens. She kept her head low, moving quickly through the dimly lit hallway.
Voices echoed from an open doorway—servants chatting as they prepared for the evening.
Her eyes darted to a row of neatly folded uniforms on a bench.
Lady Lucia Sinclair / FL
...
Quietly, she grabbed one and hurried into an empty storage room. Stripping out of her worn dress, she changed into the maid’s uniform, securing the apron around her waist.
She caught her reflection in a dusty mirror.
No longer Lady Lucia Sinclair.
Just another nameless maid.
She exhaled sharply. Perfect.
Then, smoothing out the fabric, she lifted a tray and stepped into the grand ballroom.
The Whitmore Ball – Evening
The scent of candle wax and roses filled the air as Lucia moved carefully through the grand ballroom, carrying a silver tray of champagne flutes.
The maid’s uniform fit a little too snugly, the fabric rougher than anything she was used to. But it served its purpose—no one paid her any attention.
She had spent the past hour lingering near the noblewomen, listening.
Lady Pembroke
(whispering to another noblewoman) It’s been two years since the Sinclair tragedy… can you believe it?
Lady Whitmore
A dreadful affair. And to think, the girl burned with the house… such a shame.
Lucia’s hands trembled as she carefully placed the tray on a nearby table.
Lady Lucia Sinclair / FL
(In her mind) They think I’m dead.
Her throat tightened. What about her parents? Cold sweat ran down her body, but hearing the finality in these women’s voices made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.
She turned away, trying to steady herself—
And collided into someone.
A firm grip caught her before she could stumble.
Her breath caught as she looked up.
Duke Alexander Ravenswood.
Duke Alexander Ravenswood / ML
...
His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, recognition flashing across his face.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, his fingers tightened slightly around her wrist.
Duke Alexander Ravenswood / ML
(low voice) You again.
Lady Lucia Sinclair / FL
...
A cold dread seeped into her bones.
She tried to lower her gaze, to play the part of a humble maid, but it was too late.
And this time, she had nowhere to run.
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