Chapter 3

Autumn had settled over the Duke's estate in earnest, painting the orchard gold and scattering leaves across the garden paths in crackling drifts. Zoe had declared it "perfect chaos weather," which was her way of justifying why she'd spent the entire morning trying to build a leaf fort instead of practicing her needlepoint.

She was elbow-deep in her third failed attempt at a fort wall when she heard the wheels.

A carriage — grander than anything that usually came down this particular lane — rattled up the Duke's drive, its lacquered sides gleaming even under the overcast sky. Zoe abandoned her fort immediately, craning her neck over the hedge to get a better look, just as a very determined goat wandered in from the neighboring farm and decided her half-built leaf wall looked like an excellent snack.

"Hey! That's structural!" Zoe yelped, lunging for the rope trailing from its collar. The goat, unbothered by architecture, dragged her three full steps sideways through what remained of her flowerbed border.

"Chris! A little help!" she shouted toward the garden bench, where Chris sat with his notebook propped on one knee, seemingly content to watch the disaster unfold.

"You said you had it handled," he called back, not even looking up. "Ten minutes ago. Your exact words."

"I lied! Heroines are allowed to lie in stressful situations, it's a documented literary convention!"

"Is it?"

"I'm making it one right now."

Before Chris could respond, a new voice cut cleanly through the commotion — light, amused, utterly unbothered by the sight of a duke's daughter being towed backward by livestock.

"I think the goat's winning."

Zoe froze mid-stumble and looked up. A boy about her age was climbing down from the carriage, golden-haired, dressed in a fine blue coat that had clearly never met a leaf fort or a goat in its life. He had the kind of easy, dazzling smile that looked practiced — the sort you'd see on a portrait commissioned for a royal Christmas card — but his eyes, when they landed on her, were sharp with genuine curiosity rather than mockery.

"And you are?" Zoe huffed, finally wrenching the goat to a stop by looping the rope twice around a fence post.

"Julian," the boy said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow that was somehow both mocking and perfectly polite. "My family's here for the season. Father calls it 'strengthening diplomatic ties.' I call it Mother wanting new drapes, since apparently this district has the best silk merchant in the kingdom."

Chris finally rose from the bench, brushing grass and pen ink off his trousers. "He talks a lot," he said to Zoe, as though warning her.

"I've noticed," Julian said cheerfully, turning his attention fully onto Chris now, studying him the way one might study an interesting specimen. "And you must be the neighbor. The infamous one. I heard you threw a shoe at a duke's carriage last spring."

Chris went faintly pink around the ears. "That was an accident. There was a wasp."

"Mm. A wasp." Julian's mouth twitched, clearly unconvinced, clearly delighted regardless. His gaze flicked briefly between the two of them — Chris's reddening ears, Zoe's hand still tangled in both goat rope and the sleeve of Chris's jacket, neither of them seeming to notice the second part at all. Something in Julian's expression sharpened, quick and pleased, like he'd stumbled onto a very good secret on his very first afternoon.

"You two are hilarious," he announced, clasping his hands behind his back with the satisfaction of someone who'd just solved a puzzle. "I'm staying the whole season. I have a feeling this is going to be extremely fun."

"Fun how?" Zoe asked, wary, still holding the goat.

Julian only grinned wider, tucking the answer away like a coin in his pocket. "You'll see."

He turned to go, then paused, glancing back at Chris's notebook peeking out from under his arm. "Writer, are you?"

Chris hesitated. "Something like that."

"Good," Julian said, already walking backward toward the house, still grinning. "I like stories. Especially ones that haven't figured out their own ending yet."

And with that maddeningly cheerful non-answer, he disappeared toward the manor, leaving Zoe holding a goat and Chris staring after him with an expression she couldn't quite place — somewhere between wariness and the uncomfortable feeling of having just been seen.

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