Lucien's POV
Morning was usually the quietest part of my duties.
I stood inside the small office adjoining Lady Seraphyne's chambers, reviewing the day's schedule I had prepared earlier. Her morning snacks had already been delivered. The dresses selected for the day were already hung neatly near the wardrobe. Correspondence from the tailor and the seamstress had arrived at dawn and now rested on my desk, sealed and untouched.
Everything was in order.
It always had to be.
A personal butler's job was simple in theory. Anticipate what your master needed before they asked. Maintain their chambers, their schedule, their belongings. Remain close enough to assist, yet distant enough to be invisible.
She preferred it that way.
Order left little room for mistakes.
I was adjusting a stack of letters when light footsteps approached the doorway.
"Good morning, Sir Lucien."
I glanced up.
Georgia stood there with her hands neatly clasped behind her back, and her posture overly stiff in an attempt to appear proper. The girl had only arrived a few days ago, but she was trying her best.
"Good morning, Georgia," I replied.
She stepped inside carefully.
"I finished arranging Lady Seraphyne's writing desk earlier," she said, sounding rather proud of herself. "Just like you showed me."
I nodded once.
"Good."
She lingered.
"The flowers in the corridor were replaced this morning before she woke up," she continued.
"I see."
"And the laundry maid said Lady Seraphyne's blue dress will be returned later this afternoon."
I closed the ledger slowly.
Georgia had never been particularly good at disguising when she was nervous. The way she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other was enough to confirm it.
I looked at her.
"Georgia."
"Yes?"
"Is there something you wish to tell me?"
Her eyes widened briefly before she gave an almost forced smile.
"Lady Seraphyne is calling for you."
The room fell quiet.
My hand paused on the desk.
Seraphyne.
Just hearing her name was enough to stir memories I would rather forget.
A shattered teacup against the wall.
A book thrown across the room hitting my head.
Her voice trembling with anger as harsh words poured out without restraint.
Whenever the household pushed her too far, the storm always followed the same path.
And it always ended with me.
I had learned long ago that when Lady Seraphyne reached the end of her patience with the world, I was usually the nearest target.
Be it glass or porcelain.
Whatever happened to be within reach.
It never mattered.
Georgia watched me carefully.
I finally asked the only question that truly mattered.
"Is she in a foul mood?"
The girl tilted her head slightly.
"I'm… not sure," she admitted.
That answer alone was troubling.
She hesitated before adding quietly, "But something is very wrong."
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself.
Something was surely wrong.
That could mean anything.
Another outburst.
Another object flying across the room.
Another day of enduring words meant to wound.
I stood up and straightened the cuffs of my coat, smoothing the fabric calmly.
Whatever waited upstairs, I would handle it the same way I always did.
Professionally.
After all, this position was not one I could simply abandon.
My mother's face surfaced briefly in my thoughts.
The medicines she needed were growing more expensive each season.
I was the only one she had.
Which meant this work was not a choice.
It was survival.
I exhaled slowly, letting the breath steady the tension that had gathered in my chest.
Georgia stepped aside as I moved toward the door of the small office a few meters away from Lady Seraphyne's chambers. My hand rested briefly on the handle.
"Well then," I said calmly, "let us head to her room."
"Uh… Sir Lucien?"
I paused hearing the hesitation in Georgia's voice, and it was enough to make me turn back.
She hadn't moved.
Instead, she stood there awkwardly as if she had forgotten an important detail.
I raised a brow slightly.
"Yes?"
"She… isn't in her room."
That was unusual.
Lady Seraphyne rarely left her chambers unless summoned for meals or family obligations. Most days she remained within those walls, avoiding the rest of the household whenever possible.
My fingers loosened from the door handle.
"Then where is Lady Seraphyne?" I asked.
Georgia scratched the side of her cheek, clearly struggling to explain.
"She asked me to bring you somewhere else."
"Where?"
"The kitchen."
I stared at her.
For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard.
"The kitchen," I repeated slowly.
"Yes."
Silence fell between us.
I studied Georgia's face, searching for any sign that she might be joking or mistaken. The girl looked just as confused as I felt.
"Why would Lady Seraphyne be in the kitchen?" I asked.
Georgia hesitated again, clearly uncertain about the answer she was about to give.
"…Cooking?"
The word left her mouth carefully.
"What?"
Georgia nodded weakly.
"I think so."
I blinked, dumbfounded.
In all my years serving this household, I had never heard of such a thing.
Noble ladies did not cook.
They had no reason to.
Entire kitchens existed for the sole purpose of preparing their meals. From early morning until late evening, cooks and kitchen maids worked tirelessly so that the nobles of the estate would never need to lift a finger.
Cooking was labor.
And labor was not something nobles involved themselves in.
Instead, they spent their mornings in gardens, music rooms, or parlors. Reading books. Practicing embroidery. Playing instruments. Hosting visits with other noble families.
Privileges of birth.
Responsibilities were delegated.
Work belonged to servants.
Yet somehow I was now being told that Lady Seraphyne Vaelmont, the youngest daughter of the Duke, a girl known for her fragile temper and isolation was currently standing in the kitchen.
Cooking.
The idea alone felt absurd.
Georgia seemed to notice my silence and hurried to explain.
"She told me to bring you there," she said quickly. "She sounded… serious about it."
Serious.
That word did not comfort me.
If anything, it made my suspicions grow stronger.
Lady Seraphyne's moods were unpredictable on normal days. When something unusual happened, it usually meant trouble followed shortly after.
I glanced toward the corridor leading deeper into the estate.
"Did she say why she wants me there?" I asked.
Georgia shook her head.
"No, Sir Lucien. She just told me to find you."
Interesting.
I straightened the sleeves of my coat, smoothing the fabric with practiced movements. The simplicity of it helped settle my thoughts.
Whatever waited in that kitchen, speculation would not prepare me for it.
Experience had taught me that the best way to handle Lady Seraphyne was simple.
Endure whatever came.
Because no matter how unusual the situation seemed, my position in this household remained the same.
I was her butler.
Which meant I answered when called.
I turned fully toward the hallway.
"Very well," I said.
Georgia quickly hurried after me as I walked the other way, going straight to the kitchen.