Marcus was lost.
The Roselle Palace was a maze of identical corridors.
Every hallway looked the same. Every door matched.
It was like the building had been designed to confuse invaders.
Or guests trying to find the library.
"Third left, second right, past the statue," Marcus muttered, reciting the directions a maid had given him.
"Which statue? There are seventeen statues."
He tried another door. Wrong room. Just more military maps.
The next door opened into what looked like a private study.
Small, cozy, completely unlike the rest of the austere palace.
Books lined the walls. A comfortable chair sat by the window. Fresh flowers in a vase.
This was someone's personal space. Marcus should leave.
But something caught his eye.
The floorboard near the bookshelf sat slightly higher than the others.
None of your business, Marcus. Turn around. Walk away.
His curiosity had other ideas.
Old life coach habit: people's hidden spaces revealed their true selves.
Marcus knelt and pressed the floorboard.
It popped up easily, revealing a hollow space underneath.
Inside were books. Lots of books. But not the kind displayed on the shelves above.
These had covers. Lurid, scandalous covers.
Shirtless men with flowing hair. Women in dramatically torn dresses.
Titles like "The Duke's Forbidden Desire" and "Passion in the Storm" and "The Countess's Secret Lover."
Romance novels. Cheap, mass-market, completely scandalous romance novels.
In Duchess Catarina's private study.
Marcus picked one up.
"The Merchant's Daughter and the Knight."
The cover showed a woman swooning into a man's arms.
Her dress was falling off. His shirt was already gone.
He opened to a random page and read a few lines.
"Sir Raphael's hands were fire upon her skin.
Lady Eloise knew this was madness, knew society would never accept their love, but in his arms she finally felt free..."
Marcus blinked.
The prose was purple enough to be royal, but underneath the melodrama was something genuine.
A woman choosing passion over duty. A relationship built on equals, not hierarchy.
"What are you doing in here?"
Marcus spun around. Catarina stood in the doorway, frozen like a deer.
Her eyes went to the book in his hands. To the open floorboard. To the pile of novels now visible.
Her perfect composure shattered. Real fear flashed across her face.
"I can explain," she said quickly. "Those aren't... I don't... Someone must have left them..."
"The Merchant's Daughter and the Knight," Marcus said, holding up the book.
"Published three years ago. Out of print now. Hard to find."
Catarina's face went pale. "Lord Marcus, I..."
"The author relies too heavily on the misunderstanding trope," Marcus continued.
"Every conflict could be solved with one honest conversation.
But their exploration of female agency is surprisingly nuanced."
Catarina stared at him. "What?"
"Lady Eloise choosing the merchant's life over nobility. It's actually quite radical.
Most romance novels of this era default to 'love conquers all but we still keep the noble title.'"
"You've read it?"
"Just this page. But I recognize the author's style." Marcus set it down carefully.
"Elena Thorne. She wrote under three different pseudonyms.
This was her middle period, before she got better at pacing."
Catarina's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "You know who Elena Thorne is?"
"I know romance novels have value beyond their covers." Marcus gestured to the collection.
"Stories about desire, agency, choosing your own path. Why wouldn't those matter?"
"Because they're frivolous. Beneath a ruler's dignity. Inappropriate for..." Catarina's voice cracked.
"Everyone would mock me."
"Why? For reading stories about women making choices?"
"For reading trash!"
"Is it trash if it makes you feel something?" Marcus picked up another book.
"The Duke's Forbidden Desire.
Let me guess, this one's about a woman forced into an arranged marriage who finds real connection with someone unexpected?"
"How did you know?"
"It's a common theme. But common doesn't mean invalid." Marcus sat in her reading chair.
"These books are about control. Women in impossible situations finding ways to choose their own happiness."
Catarina still stood frozen in the doorway. "You're not going to laugh?"
"Why would I laugh?"
"Because I'm the Duchess of Roselle. I command armies. I manage trade routes. I negotiate treaties." Her voice went quiet.
"And I hide romance novels under my floorboards like a guilty child."
"You're allowed to want things beyond duty."
"That's not what duchess do."
"That's not what perfect duchess do," Marcus corrected. "But perfect is exhausting."
Catarina moved into the room slowly. Like she was approaching something dangerous. "You really won't mock me?"
"I'd rather discuss them. Have you read 'Passion in the Storm'? The pirate captain is clearly based on the author's real relationship."
"I... what?"
"The level of detail in the sailing sequences. The way she writes about freedom versus safety. It's autobiographical."
Marcus pulled that one from the pile.
"See how she describes the ocean? That's someone who actually sailed."
Catarina took the book with shaking hands. "I never thought about it like that."
"Most people don't. They see the shirtless pirate on the cover and dismiss it."
"Because it's shallow fantasy."
"Is it? Or is it exploring what happens when someone chooses passion over security?" Marcus leaned forward.
"These novels are radical. Women leaving comfortable lives for uncertain love.
Choosing partners based on connection instead of political advantage."
"That's just escapism."
"Escapism tells us what we're escaping from." Marcus met her eyes. "What are you escaping from, Catarina?"
She flinched at the use of her first name. But she didn't correct him.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You read stories about women breaking free from duty. About choosing love over responsibility.
About being seen as a person instead of a position." Marcus gestured to the novels.
"This isn't trash. This is hope."
Catarina's hands trembled. "That's not... I can't just..."
"Can't just want something for yourself?"
"I'm a duchess!"
"You're also a person."
"Being a person is a luxury I can't afford!" The words burst out of her.
"I have a duchy to run. A sister to raise. A military to maintain. I don't get to be selfish."
"Wanting happiness isn't selfish."
"It is when fifty thousand people depend on you!"
Marcus stood slowly. "Your father prepared you thoroughly. Made you perfect. But did he teach you it's okay to be tired?"
Catarina's breath hitched. "He taught me to be strong."
"Strong doesn't mean invincible." Marcus had said those words before.
To someone else who needed to hear them. "Being strong means knowing when to admit you need rest."
"I don't have time to rest."
"Then you'll break. And then who runs the duchy?"
Catarina turned away. Her shoulders shook slightly. "I can't break. Too many people need me."
"Have you considered that those people might need you healthy more than they need you perfect?"
Silence filled the small study. Marcus let it sit. Pushing now would shatter whatever trust this moment had created.
"The authors you recommended," Catarina said finally. "Who are they?"
Marcus smiled.
"Depends on what you're looking for.
Better prose? Try Marianne Delacroix. She actually knows how plot structure works.
More political intrigue? Isabella Crane writes romances that double as treatises on power dynamics."
"You really have read these."
"Stories are stories. Some use magic, some use swords, some use heaving bosoms. They're all exploring the human condition."
Catarina laughed. It was small and broken, but real. "Heaving bosoms?"
"Every cover. It's apparently required by law."
She turned back to him. Her mask was gone.
Just a tired woman holding a romance novel like a lifeline.
"Why are you being kind to me?" she asked.
"Because someone should be."
"You don't know me."
"I know you read books about women who choose freedom. That tells me plenty."
Catarina clutched the book tighter. "If anyone found out..."
"They won't. Not from me."
"Why should I trust you?"
Marcus stood. "Because I'm probably the only person in this duchy who sees you as Catarina instead of the Duchess."
Her eyes widened. Something shifted in her expression.
Understanding. Recognition. Connection.
"I should return these to their hiding place," she said quietly.
"Or you could put them on the shelf. Own them."
"That's not realistic."
"Neither is a pirate captain falling for a merchant's daughter. But that didn't stop Elena Thorne."
Catarina almost smiled. "You're strange, Lord Marcus."
"I get that a lot lately."
She walked him to the door. At the threshold, she paused.
"Thank you," she said. "For not laughing."
"Thank you for having good taste in escapism."
Marcus left her in her sanctuary, surrounded by her secret collection.
He'd just had a literary discussion about romance novels with a duchess who was supposed to fall for Theodore.
I was just being nice. That's all. She needed someone to see her.
But the way Catarina had looked at him, like he'd unlocked something she'd kept hidden for years, suggested she'd seen him too.
"I'm the worst wingman in history," Marcus muttered.
The romance novel covers seemed to mock him from memory.