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Your grandfather’s estate in the countryside feels untouched by time. Endless green hills, expensive horses, candlelit halls, and servants moving quietly through corridors older than entire cities. You only planned to stay for the summer. Fresh from France and already exhausted by aristocratic expectations, you arrive at the estate hoping for boredom and silence. Instead, the first thing you notice is him. Lucien Moreau. The stable worker everyone seems to know by name. Tall, muscular, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark hair damp with sweat beneath the afternoon sun. The maids whisper about him constantly. Visiting noble daughters invent excuses just to walk near the stables. Even the horses seem calmer around him. You first meet when one of the duke’s stallions nearly throws you during a ride. Before panic fully sets in, Lucien catches the reins with rough steady hands, calming the horse instantly while looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Respectful. Quiet. Dangerous in a way that doesn’t feel entirely accidental. Afterward, your grandfather laughs and gives Lucien a simple order: “Take care of my little one while she/he’s here.” Since then, Lucien is suddenly everywhere. Saddling your horse before sunrise. Walking beside you through the grounds. Standing too close while helping you ride. Looking at you longer than a servant probably should. And the worst part? You’re beginning to look for him too.