“Exactly,” I said. “He flirts his way through every situation. If the marquee caught fire, he’d probably ask it out for a drink.”
That made Noah laugh properly this time, low and deep. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
He paused then, glancing back towards the glow of the terrace.
“You know…” he said slowly, “now that we’re talking about him… Lucas disappeared for a while last night.”
I blinked. “He did?”
Noah nodded, a slight furrow between his brows. “For someone who thrives on attention, he slipped away pretty discreetly.”
“Huh.” I kept my tone light, casual. “I thought he was just off charming another table. Or taking selfies with better lighting.”
“That’s what I assumed too,” Noah said. “But he wasn’t on the terrace. Or on the lawn. Or anywhere he normally gravitates to.”
I tried to brush it off, but something about the way he said it nudged at the back of my mind. “Probably nothing,” I said. “Maybe he needed a breather. Even peacocks sleep sometimes.”
Noah’s mouth tipped into a faint smile. “True.”
“It’s just all so weird. Everyone’s saying they’re fine, but they’re all holding something back.” I swirled my wine absently. “Cleo spent half the afternoon combing through footage and photos from the welcome party. Security cameras, guest photos, tagged Instagram stories, random influencer videos, everything.”
“Find anything?”
“Nothing useful,” I sighed. “Which honestly feels statistically impossible considering there were about three hundred people there and half of them document their lives for a living. Famous people, business people, influencers… you couldn’t walk three steps without ending up in someone’s background content.”
Noah chuckled at that.
He took a sip of wine, his eyes scanning the vines as if the answers might be tucked between the rows. “You’re not wrong,” he observed. “My end of the day wasn’t much calmer. The estate staff found one of the cellar doors unlocked yesterday afternoon. No sign of a break-in, but it’s strange. Those keys never leave my office.”
A chill ran through me. “You think someone was in there?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair in that way he did when he was thinking too hard. “It’s difficult to tell. Half the guests are wandering the grounds like it’s an art museum.”
I sighed. “Well… who else has access to the keys?”
“Just me,” he said automatically, then paused. “Oh, and Izzy.”
His eyes widened a fraction as he realised the implication. “But I trust Izzy,” he added quickly. “She’s like family.”
“Of course,” I said gently. “I know you do.”
Still… the unease sat between us.
“And you said the cabinet in the east wing had been touched,” Noah murmured, almost to himself. “Not stolen from… but disturbed.”
“Like someone is looking for something.”
He stood still, his gaze fixed on the dark outline of the vines ahead of us. The breeze pushed a few loose strands of hair across his forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice lower than before.
I watched him for a beat. The set of his shoulders was calm, but his mouth flattened into a thin line, the only tell that he was rattled.
“Did anything look different in the cellar?” I asked.
He hesitated, swirling the wine in his glass. “Not that I could see. Nothing obvious, at least. The bottles were all in place, the furniture untouched. But…” He paused.
“But what?”
