Lady Ophelia And Her Doctor
img img Lady Ophelia And Her Doctor img Chapter 5 Nocturne
5
Chapter 6 Tutor img
Chapter 7 Challenge img
Chapter 8 Palm Reading img
Chapter 9 Dinner img
Chapter 10 Staring Contest img
Chapter 11 Tension at Court img
Chapter 12 Eavesdropping img
Chapter 13 Sneaking out img
Chapter 14 Kindred Spirit img
Chapter 15 Smut img
Chapter 16 First Lesson img
Chapter 17 Training or Torture img
Chapter 18 Outing img
Chapter 19 Matchmaking img
Chapter 20 Diplomatic Disaster img
Chapter 21 The Whispering Room img
Chapter 22 Crown Prince img
Chapter 23 Repercussions img
Chapter 24 Autumn Banquet img
Chapter 25 Rumours img
Chapter 26 Lost img
Chapter 27 Piano Solo img
Chapter 28 Unwanted Attention img
Chapter 29 Cut Ties img
Chapter 30 Royal Summons img
Chapter 31 Double-edged Sword img
Chapter 32 Lecture img
Chapter 33 Karma Cycle img
Chapter 34 Trapped img
Chapter 35 Killer img
Chapter 36 Cave img
Chapter 37 Prince Damian's Plot img
Chapter 38 Strange Nightmare img
Chapter 39 More Questions than Answers img
Chapter 40 Safe Return img
Chapter 41 Presents img
Chapter 42 Bride img
Chapter 43 Inappropriate img
Chapter 44 Self-defence img
Chapter 45 Trouble img
Chapter 46 Hairpin img
Chapter 47 Nightmare Man img
Chapter 48 Citrus img
Chapter 49 Viktor img
Chapter 50 Political Marriage img
Chapter 51 Trap, Sprung img
Chapter 52 Dream Gideon img
Chapter 53 Past Lives img
Chapter 54 Massage img
Chapter 55 His Lips img
Chapter 56 Rift img
Chapter 57 Staged Fight img
Chapter 58 Dream Viktor img
Chapter 59 Warning img
Chapter 60 Matchmaking img
Chapter 61 Deranged Scheme img
Chapter 62 New Girl img
Chapter 63 Admiration img
Chapter 64 Lucian img
Chapter 65 Ghost Ophelia img
Chapter 66 Bracelet img
Chapter 67 Distraction img
Chapter 68 Abducted img
Chapter 69 Past Life Nonsense img
Chapter 70 Cut Ties img
Chapter 71 Birthday Banquet img
Chapter 72 Grand Consort img
Chapter 73 Engagement img
Chapter 74 Cornered img
Chapter 75 Aftermath img
Chapter 76 Power Play img
Chapter 77 Yew Hollow img
Chapter 78 Ghost img
Chapter 79 Prince Damian img
Chapter 80 The Voice img
Chapter 81 Intruders img
Chapter 82 Prisoner img
Chapter 83 Coup img
Chapter 84 Escape Plan img
Chapter 85 Released img
Chapter 86 Not Platonic img
Chapter 87 Spoiler Alert img
Chapter 88 A Piece of Her Soul img
Chapter 89 Puppet img
Chapter 90 Promise img
Chapter 91 Forgery img
Chapter 92 The Delegation img
Chapter 93 Envoy img
Chapter 94 Treason img
Chapter 95 Kidnapped img
Chapter 96 Blame the Female img
Chapter 97 Rescue img
Chapter 98 Magnetic Pull img
Chapter 99 Palace Coup img
Chapter 100 The Frying Pan and The Fire img
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Chapter 5 Nocturne

Ophelia's head throbbed, her throat felt raw, and she knew-without a doubt-exactly what was wrong.

She had been sick too many times to not recognise the symptoms.

Ophelia grabbed her tablet and scribbled down a prescription.

'Elise,' she called, stretching lazily, 'go fetch these meds.'

Elise took the tablet, glancing at the list with clear scepticism.

Ophelia sighed. 'If you don't believe me, ask one of the doctors.'

Elise hesitated, then gave a quick bow. 'Yes, Lady Ophelia. I'll be back soon.'

Once Elise was gone, Ophelia rang for the other maids to help her wash and dress.

Greta Voller, her wardrobe mistress, hovered at her side, holding up an array of dresses. 'What would you like to wear today, my lady?'

Ophelia paused.

Her father and brother were due back soon.

And once they returned, she'd be stuck at home under lock and key.

Which meant she needed to go out.

Now.

***

There were few things in life that Ophelia truly cared about, but music-music was everything.

And in all of Rosenfeld, no one played quite like Lucian Drexler, the pianist of Nocturne.

Her father never understood it. Sergei Volkov had spent years trying to convince her to attend performances at The Marquess Club-a members-only music salon for nobility-or The Lyrien Conservatory's Private Salon, where only the most distinguished musicians played for an invitation-only audience.

But Ophelia didn't want polished perfection in gilded halls.

She wanted something raw. Something real.

And that meant places her father would consider 'beneath her.'

Nocturne was one of them.

A smoky, dimly lit music lounge where the elite mixed with the avant-garde, where genre-bending performances blurred the lines between classical and modern.

It was exactly the kind of place Sergei would hate-and exactly why Ophelia loved it.

Lucian Drexler was the crown jewel of Nocturne.

He was everything her father loathed. Tattooed, reckless, a rogue with a reputation for seducing noblewomen looking to rebel in the shape of a man.

No one knew exactly where he came from, though whispers claimed he was the bastard son of a nobleman.

He played in rolled-up sleeves, fingers moving like sin across the keys, playing like he'd sold his soul to the music itself.

Sergei would have had a stroke if he knew how many times Ophelia had snuck out to watch him.

But lately, Lucian had been impossible to find.

Ever since Crown Prince Viktor von Solberg had taken an interest in him, the pianist had been spending more time performing at Viktor's Keep-a palatial residence Viktor had rebelliously renamed, much to his father's dismay.

The prince's patronage meant Lucian had all but vanished from Nocturne.

Lucky for her, Viktor had recently fucked up.

Whatever he'd done, it had been bad enough that King Alaric had sentenced him to a two-week house arrest-no visitors, no parties, no distractions.

Which meant no private concerts.

Which meant today-Lucian would be at Nocturne.

'Lady Ophelia, which dress would you like?' Greta asked again, her fingers skimming over the selection. 'Perhaps something lively? Seraphina mentioned that Lady Anastasia received a call from Lord Sergei last night. He may return to Rosenfeld tonight.'

Seraphina, her mother's head maid, wouldn't have said that unless she had solid information.

Which meant her father and brother would be home in a matter of hours.

Which meant this was her last chance to get out before she was grounded indefinitely.

Ophelia straightened. 'That one,' she said, pointing to a tailored midnight-blue dress. Then, flicking her wrist impatiently, she added, 'Quick, do my hair-I'm going out.'

'Where to?'

'A nightclub.'

Nocturne was a music lounge, but Ophelia liked the idea of a nightclub. It made her feel modern.

Greta's hand visibly trembled. The ivory comb in her fingers slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. 'L-Lady Ophelia...?'

Ophelia narrowed her eyes. 'Tell my mother, and I'll have your hide.'

Greta bent down, retrieving the comb with a perfectly composed expression. 'Of course, Lady Ophelia.'

Smart girl.

Ophelia sighed.

Honestly, she wasn't very good at being terrifying. Château de Volkov had a massive staff, but there were very few people who actually feared her. Maybe she really was too soft.

By the time she was dressed and ready, she took one last look in the mirror.

Her reflection stared back-a porcelain face, dark eyes smudged with defiance, her lips painted the shade of quiet rebellion.

She reached for her oversized Tom Ford sunglasses and slid them on.

The dark lenses wouldn't help her blend in.

But they'd at least reduce the chances of getting recognised-or worse, photographed-on the streets.

Satisfied, she slipped out through one of Château de Volkov's side entrances, her security detail trailing behind.

Somewhere along the way, her personal maid, Elise, joined her-though calling Elise a maid was a stretch.

She was more like Ophelia's accomplice, always ready to escape the castle at a moment's notice.

Elise practically vibrated with excitement when she learned they were heading to Nocturne to see Lucian Drexler.

Still, she worried. Just a little. 'What if Lady Anastasia finds out?'

Ophelia was confident. 'She won't.'

For music, Ophelia feared nothing.

And if that music came from a man with obscene amounts of talent and a face to match, even better.

If Crown Prince Viktor hadn't claimed Lucian first, she would have invited him for a private performance herself.

The thought made her itch to move faster, her strides lengthening.

Lucian was waiting.

***

Nocturne.

Tucked away in Rosenfeld's historic district, the venue was a converted 19th-century theatre, once home to grand operas, now reborn as an underground music lounge where nobility and the artistic elite converged.

Entry was strictly invitation-only-but titles came with perks, and the younger aristocrats always found their way in.

The guest list was meticulously curated, featuring royals, virtuosos, avant-garde artists, and the occasional ambitious commoner with the right connections.

Ophelia had no invitation, but then, she didn't need one.

                         

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