Morning sunlight poured into the grand hall, soft and golden. The mansion looked peaceful again, as if it had never seen smugglers or midnight chases. Evelyn, on the other hand, felt like her bones had turned into pudding.
She had promised herself to rest after training, but promises were fragile things when curiosity existed. The Duke had gone to the council meeting, leaving her with an hour of free time. An hour was dangerous. That was just enough time for her to make terrible decisions.
She told herself she would only walk around, just to stretch her legs. That was all. No heroics. No sneaking. No climbing.
The halls were bright and quiet. Servants moved like soft shadows, carrying trays of flowers and folded linens. The scent of lemon polish filled the air. Evelyn greeted everyone she passed with polite nods, hoping her uniform and newly straightened mustache made her look trustworthy.
Mrs. Hargreaves appeared from behind a pillar holding a stack of ledgers. Her sharp eyes caught Evelyn instantly.
"Not resting," Mrs. Hargreaves said without preamble.
"I am resting internally," Evelyn replied. "My body is just doing light sightseeing."
The older woman sighed. "Try not to sightsee your way into another incident."
"I make no promises," Evelyn said, smiling.
The butler shook her head. "Captain Wren left documents about last night's events on the small desk in the east corridor. If you happen to wander near it, do not spill anything or move anything. Especially do not read anything."
Evelyn saluted with mock seriousness. "Of course, Mrs. Hargreaves. I will absolutely not do all of those things."
The housekeeper gave her a long, knowing stare. "You are worse than the Duke ever was at your age," she muttered as she walked away.
Evelyn waited until Mrs. Hargreaves was out of sight, then quietly headed toward the east corridor.
The small desk sat by a tall window that overlooked the garden. The light there was soft, tinted green by the leaves outside. On the desk were a few papers tied neatly with blue ribbon and a folded map.
She told herself she was just checking to make sure everything was safe. She was not being nosy. She was performing a security inspection.
That sounded better.
She untied the ribbon.
The first report mentioned crates marked with a hawk symbol, the same one she had seen at the smuggler's meeting spot. Another page listed names of guards who had been seen near the north gate the night before. Two of them were circled in red ink.
Evelyn frowned. She knew one of those names. It belonged to a quiet young man who worked in the lower halls. He was always polite and never caused trouble. The kind of person who remembered birthdays and helped old maids carry buckets.
She turned to the next paper. It was a map of the harbor with several buildings marked. One mark in particular caught her eye. Warehouse Number Seven. A note beside it read: Hidden room behind barrels. Meet at the second bell after sunset.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. That sounded like a new meeting.
The Duke needed to know.
Evelyn started to roll up the map when she heard something faint behind her. A small sound. The kind of sound that would not exist in an empty hall.
She froze.
Another soft noise followed. Like a shoe brushing against stone.
She turned her head slowly toward the direction of the sound. The long corridor stretched empty, lined with portraits of past Dukes and ancestors who all stared back at her with quiet judgment.
She took one careful step forward. The air felt still, heavy in her ears. The sound had come from the picture gallery.
Her heart sped up, but her feet moved anyway.
The gallery was wide and bright. Rows of tall windows threw sunlight across the floor. Every portrait looked too alive. Evelyn swallowed.
She walked quietly to the end of the hall. A small wooden door led to the family archive, where important letters and records were kept. It was slightly open.
That door was never open.
Evelyn pushed it a little farther and peeked inside. The room was small, filled with shelves and scrolls. The air smelled like old parchment and lavender oil. On the table near the window, someone had left a half-empty ink bottle. The window itself was unlatched.
She moved closer and saw that the latch had been forced and then neatly pushed back into place.
Someone had been here recently.
Evelyn's stomach turned cold. She reached the table, found a piece of paper with a smudge of fresh ink, and touched it carefully. It was still wet. Whoever had been here had left only minutes ago.
She looked out the window. A figure was walking along the hedge toward the servants' gate, moving quickly but not running. A plain coat, a hat pulled low, and a familiar build.
Her mind connected the dots at once. The quiet guard. The one whose name was circled on the list.
Without thinking, Evelyn ran.
She darted through the hall, down the side stairs, and out into the garden. The air smelled like roses and earth. The man was already at the far end, almost through the gate.
"Stop!" she called.
He turned, startled, and for one brief moment she saw his face clearly. He was young and pale, eyes wide with guilt. Then he bolted.
Evelyn sprinted after him. Her boots thudded on the path. He was fast, but panic made him clumsy. He stumbled on loose stones near the old stable yard.
She caught up and grabbed his sleeve. The fabric tore. He spun around, holding a short knife. His hand shook.
"Put it down," she said, panting. "You do not want to do this."
"I have to," he said, voice shaking. "They will kill her if I do not."
Evelyn's grip loosened. "Who?"
"My sister," he said. "They took her. They told me to open the window and deliver the map. If I do not, she will die."
Her heart twisted. "Who told you?"
He hesitated. "Men from the harbor. The same ones with the hawk mark."
Evelyn lowered her voice. "Then help me stop them. I swear on my life that I will not let them touch her."
He looked unsure. His hand trembled harder.
Then heavy footsteps sounded behind her. The Duke entered the yard with Captain Wren. The sight of him froze the air. His calm presence filled the space like quiet command.
The young guard's knife fell to the ground. "I did not mean to betray you, Your Grace," he said quickly. "They forced me. Please, they have my sister."
The Duke's expression remained composed, but his voice softened. "You will tell us everything, and we will bring her back. You have my word."
The guard's shoulders collapsed with relief.
Captain Wren stepped forward and secured the man's wrists gently. The Duke turned to Evelyn. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "Only tired of running."
He gave a faint smile. "You are not built for quiet days."
"Neither are you," she replied.
They walked back toward the house together as the sun began to lower behind the trees. The light turned gold, wrapping the garden in soft warmth.
Evelyn wiped dirt from her sleeves. "You are not angry, are you?"
He looked at her with calm eyes. "Should I be?"
"I was told to rest and instead I chased a spy," she admitted.
"That is true."
"And I may have broken a window latch."
"That too."
He stopped walking, facing her fully now. "You also stopped information from leaving this house, and you kept a man alive long enough for him to tell the truth. I will call that an acceptable balance."
Evelyn smiled, her chest feeling light again. "You always find a way to make trouble sound like good behavior."
"Only when it works," he said quietly.
Their eyes met for a moment that felt longer than it should. The air between them seemed to hold more meaning than words could carry. Evelyn looked away first, pretending to inspect a nearby bush.
Mrs. Hargreaves was waiting at the back door with her usual mix of scolding and concern. "You are covered in dust again," she said. "I will start charging you for soap."
"Charge the Duke," Evelyn said quickly. "He encourages this."
Mrs. Hargreaves sighed. "He encourages nothing except headaches." She handed Evelyn a cup of honeyed tea and turned to the Duke. "And you, Your Grace, have visitors in the study waiting."
The Duke nodded and began to walk inside. Before he reached the door, he looked back. "Guard Ash," he said, "you have done enough for one day. Rest before I find another reason to make you run."
She grinned. "I will consider that an order worth obeying."
Later, as the evening light faded, Evelyn sat by her window with the cup of tea still in her hands. The city outside glimmered softly. She felt the pleasant ache of exhaustion and something quieter, something warmer.
She thought of the Duke's faint smile, of the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, of how he never called her foolish even when she clearly was.
She laughed softly to herself. "You are in very deep trouble, Evelyn."
Then she sipped her tea and leaned back, letting the peace of the moment settle in. Somewhere far below, the house hummed with life again, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.