The grand ballroom glittered under the glow of chandeliers, each crystal refracting light into a cascade of golden hues. The hum of polite conversation and the rustle of expensive fabrics filled the air as Duke Marvis stood near the refreshment table, sipping absently at a glass of champagne.

It was the kind of gathering he attended out of obligation rather than enjoyment—a sea of elegant masks and shallow pleasantries. He’d been exchanging dull words with a countess when something caught his eye.

No, someone.

A man stood near the arched windows, partially obscured by the flowing drapes. His silhouette was arresting enough—a sharp jawline, elegantly styled hair, and a poise that seemed effortless. But when Marvis shifted to get a clearer view, his breath caught.

The man was stunning.

His features were almost too perfect, as though crafted by some divine hand—soft yet striking, with a natural grace that made the finery he wore seem like mere accessories to his presence. His eyes, vibrant and expressive, scanned the room with detached curiosity, as if he didn’t entirely belong in this world of aristocratic pomp but humored it all the same.

Marvis found himself staring longer than was appropriate, his heart giving an unfamiliar flutter. The duke was a man of power, a man who had faced courts and wars without faltering, yet this single moment of beauty struck him to his core.

“Your Grace,” the countess’s voice broke through his thoughts, “are you quite alright?”

Marvis blinked, realizing his distraction. “I’m fine,” he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the figure by the window.

He wasn’t one for chasing whims or fancies. But as he set down his glass and adjusted his cufflinks, he found himself taking a step forward, compelled by a force he couldn’t name.

The man turned slightly, their eyes meeting across the ballroom. And for the first time that evening, Marvis felt like he had found something—someone—truly worth pursuing.