Prologue

AUGUST 2, 1781

The sharp cry of a newborn child joined the painful screams of its mother, disrupting the peaceful night of Belcourt.

The woman, her face drenched in sweat and tears, shakily reached out for her child as it was hastily bundled in white cloth.

One of the seven cloaked women standing in the room came near and bent over her, face shadowed by the moonlight streaming behind her through the window, and sternly said, “You have committed treason against Belcourt, Elizabeth. Your fate and that of your child has been determined.”

“Yes, I—I am aware, but I—I want my child! Let me hold him just this once, please!”

“It is a she, Elizabeth,” the woman calmly stated.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror. Her pale face turned white as blood drained from her head at the revelation. “No,” she roared, nearly in anger. Then she paused before letting out a bitter laugh. “No, he is to be the next—”

“You bore a daughter.”

“You are lying! Let me see!” she shouted as she weakly reached out for her crying child that was in the arms of one of the three cloaked women standing at the foot of her bed.

With a nod from the woman standing beside Elizabeth, the women pulled up the hood of their purple cloak and turned away, carrying the infant away from the woman who brought her into this world.

More tears streamed Elizabeth’s face as she roared in anger and pain.

“She can’t have her! You cannot have her! She does not belong here!”

The four remaining women looked at each other. One of them nodded and the other three turned to face Elizabeth.

“By the power vested upon us by the High Court, we hereby sentence you, Elizabeth, erstwhile, a lady from the Court of Flowers, to a life of banishment.”

Elizabeth knew her punishment was just.

She laughed, and then she cried.

She laughed at her fate.

She laughed at the women standing around her bed.

She cried for her child.

She may have survived the childbirth, but she would never survive the banishment . In no time, she would be as dead as the man she was running away from.

“You leave Belcourt on the morrow.”

She let out a weak chuckle.

A tear rolled down her eyes as she closed them, remembering the day she first stepped into Belcourt and cursing the day she would leave it for the last time.

I | The Fainting Belle

DECEMBER 23, 1809

One could most often will the body to do anything with their mind.

But such was not the case for Sasha.

She knew it was coming. The darkness started to creep in from all edges of her vision, dimming the brightly lit room of the parlor. The ringing in her ears began, fading the voice of the woman speaking before her, and she could only stare at the woman’s thin lips as they moved.

Her mind willed her body that it was not the perfect moment for her knees to buckle, that the carpeted floor, albeit softer than the hardwood flooring outside in the corridor, was not at all comfortable. But her body never listened as it often did.

It stole her breath from her as she tried to catch it.

And then her eyes closed.

And she was falling down the floor.

The Fainting Fairy did it again.

The reason for the fainting was rather just. It was unexpected and it was most definitely not a welcome one.

“You are being re-courted into the Court of Flowers,” was the opening statement that had greeted Sasha after a very short introduction to a lady she only knew by name.

She barely had time to grasp the weight of the lady’s words or the fact that she had been in the Court of Libraries for five years to this day. Five years! To this day! Today was her twenty-third birthday and this was not the kind of present she expected.

“Why?” she had managed to ask, blinking weakly in confusion.

“You do not belong in the Court of Libraries, Sasha,” the lady had said, her perfectly made blond curls unmoving as she spoke. Blue eyes regarded Sasha with calmness and complete control. And authority. Lady Mariam, Mistress of the Court of Flowers, was preceded by her reputation to be beautiful, graceful, and imperious.

Sasha’s mouth had opened in disbelief. How could this woman be the judge of any lady from the Court of Libraries? Or any of the other courts? She was the one who did not belong here. The Library was not her place.

But to Sasha’s greatest chagrin, Lady Aisling, Mistress of the Court of Libraries, spoke the words that caused the light to slowly creep away from Sasha’s vision. “You have failed many of your research, Sasha. Too many than any of the ladies who had been here longer than you.”

“But of course. That’s how research works,” she tried to reason, her voice growing faint with each word. Disbelief. Despair. Dishonor.

“Your research focus on the human mind and trust me, dear, that in my seventy years of life, I had not seen one lady succeed in uncovering its secrets,” Lady Aisling had explained in a gentle manner.

This was not happening.

This could not be real.

“I… I can start another research. One that does not—” a slight, desperate pause, “One that doesn’t focus on the human mind… I do not understand. Five years. I have… I have been here five years…”

The lack of sympathy was expected from Lady Aisling. At the Library, no one was controlled by emotion. Everything had to be conducted by sound reasoning.

“Sasha, the decision is final. You have been re-evaluated.”

“But… that’s never…” Her eyes wandered from one woman to the other. “That’s never been done before.”

“In this case, it was necessary.”

No.

Why?

Her confusion turned to desperation.

Not the Court of Flowers.

Please.

“You are stripped of your Librarian status. From this day, you are officially a Belle, Sasha.”

It was then that the warning came to her. The dimming of the room. The ringing in her ears. The weakened knees.

Some of Lady Mariam’s words came through the ringing. “This… Belcourt’s decision… cannot contest…”

Her breathing was being snatched out of her and she struggled to catch it. Her chest began to heave.

She blinked, fighting the darkness. It was an utter failure.

“A Belle… a title you… honor for it is more than what you think it is.”

Sasha was not certain how she could believe that. She knew what they did or who they served. She knew of their reputation outside Belcourt.

A Belle. A bloody Belle.

She could never be one.

“Your villa is ready in Coulway… pack… on the morrow… leaving…”

Live outside Belcourt?

No, she could never.

Belcourt was home. The Library was home.

She could never return outside.

Her dreams came crashing down on her and the ground finally opened up underneath her feet, swallowing her whole. If only she could stay there. It would be heaven compared to the world that Belcourt decided to throw her into.

As Sasha fell on the floor, her last thought was that Belcourt was harsh. And she had never thought of the place as anything but extraordinary until today.

Her dramatic fainting soon reached the ears of the other ladies in Belcourt until she gained a new moniker—the Fainting Belle.

II | The Flower

Belcourt was known to the Kingdom of Sutherland to be a prominent orphanage for young girls.

And it was also known to rear the most dangerous beauties—the Belles, the only moniker people knew of all Belcourt ladies.

They did not know the truth, however. Not the entire truth, that is, for they were quite right about the Belles, young ladies from Belcourt who came into their towns to live a good life with the best faculties that Belcourt was responsible for. They were trained to entertain through music, acting, and most of all, seduction.

For the people outside of Belcourt, all children in Belcourt were Belles, the only name they knew ladies of Belcourt to be. They were the kind of women other ladies were wary of—even despised. They stole their husbands, fiancés, and anything else that desired them within or outside their premises.

The people did not know that the Belles came from just a small fraction that comprised the entire Belcourt. They were ignorant of the existence of the other courts as they only knew of the orphanage, the façade of Belcourt. And they only knew of the women—the Belles—who came out of Belcourt, threatening their society, calling themselves ladies , as if they were titled.

Pretentious little wenches, some would say. Ambitious, others would agree.

They were children of bad blood; daughters of the lowest stations; bastards of men who made a mistake; or of women who were so naïve and careless.

Unwanted children raised to be wanted by men.

Yet they were addressed as ladies because that was how Belles were addressed—because Belcourt said so. And because the kingdom never bothered to correct them. And because they all lived in lavish villas fit for a lady of good social standing.

Sasha stared blankly at the edifice before her.

Its wide façade exuded elegance, grace, and innocence.

She was not elegant. She was not graceful either.

But she was innocent.

No one knew that. She was not expected to be innocent, not when she was a Belle.

The cold winter wind blew against her, causing a shiver up her spine.

What had she done to deserve this?

Many other ladies from the other courts would question her reaction, for she knew most had dreamed to be a Belle, to be in the Court of Flowers. Who wouldn’t?

Unlike the others, Belles had the best gowns. They owned their villa outside of Belcourt. They graced balls and social functions. They had servants. They had a life outside the walls of the vast Belcourt estate.

No one seemed to care that they had to pay with their virtues so long as they could be a part of society again, the very same society that shunned them one way or another.

Sasha never wanted to return to society because here the world was harsh.

It was unforgiving.

It was real.

Any fantasies she had after Belcourt opened its doors for her that one rainy evening fifteen years ago was just recently shattered, piecing itself back together into this white edifice standing tall and elegant before her. Inside were more elegance, she knew that.

She would have a staff of people provided for her by Belcourt, from Belcourt, ready to do her bidding as their mistress.

She would have her maid.

She had her horse and carriage.

But this villa was a prison.

She could not do any of her research here. There would be no rooms or halls of books for her to consume. No subjects to test, presenting her problems to burn her candles down to the base at night. There would be nothing here but a fabricated life. Here, she was naught but a lady from Belcourt, one who was just set free from the orphanage to start a new life, and for most people who had very little knowledge of Belcourt, that life would be filled with sin and lust and greed. They were opportunistic, insensitive whores, others would say. And to some, they were of free spirits, of free reign.

But that was farther from the truth. Her life was still owned by Belcourt just like every other Belle around the kingdom.

Not that Sasha hated owing her life to Belcourt.

In fact, she would gladly give the rest of it to Belcourt.

But not here . Not outside.

Not in this place she escaped from fifteen years ago.

Sasha squared her shoulders.

“Lady Sasha!” the woman’s voice coming from the double doors of the villa draw Sasha back to where she was and why she was here. She recoiled at the title. Would she ever get used to it? No, never.

She looked at the brown-haired woman skipping the steps down to meet her excitedly, her brown eyes glimmering, her square jaw stretching to the side as her full lips broke into a wider grin. “Iyana, you do not have to address me as such,” she said, smiling gently at a dear friend.

Iyana was a good friend back at the Common Court. As girls of the same age, they both had to endure and enjoy many things. The days they were filled with dreams of turning eighteen, eager to leave behind the schooling and the strict rules of the Common Court and live their lives as true ladies of Belcourt, came flooding in.

Iyana had been courted six months before Sasha was. It was a surprise to many that her friend landed in the Court of Service, the least favorite of the young girls in the orphanage. Yet, Iyana seemed fine. She seemed… was content the right term?

“You should know that I was ecstatic to learn I shall be serving you,” said Iyana, taking her hand. “Oh, Lady Sasha, it is a surprise! You were re-courted! How in the name of—no matter, let us come inside. It is freezing out here! What are you doing out here in the cold!”

Trying to see if it’s cold enough to freeze me to death, Sasha silently replied as Iyana pulled her up the steps and into the warmth of her villa.

Her villa.

Belcourt’s villa.

Iyana reached out to free Sasha of her red cloak. “It is red,” Iyana said in a teasing tone. “Mine is still black.”

Iyana laughed at Sasha’s horrified look. “It is not funny, Iyana. Your court is—”

“I love my court, Lady Sasha.”

She groaned. “Will you stop calling me that? We are friends!”

“Oh, we are, but you are my mistress now. The Court of Service is devoted to whomever they serve.”

“And that is not I. It is Belcourt we serve. And to be called a lady is rather ambitious and pretentious, wouldn’t you agree? I am no lady.”

“Belcourt wishes me to serve you and since I serve Belcourt as you say, then I shall do what Belcourt says and serve you as my mistress. And you are a lady. You are Belcourt’s lady—a Belle!”

Sasha sighed. “If that is how things work in your court, I have no choice but to accept it. Like how I accepted my turn of fate.”

“One that is exciting!” Iyana said, jumping at the last word. “Now, would you like to have a tour around your villa, or would you rather have some hot tea and biscuits?”

“I believe tea and biscuits can wait.”

Sasha nodded and put away her red cloak. “Come with me then.”

Sasha allowed Iyana to tour her around the villa, into the parlor, the drawing room, the kitchen where she met the other staff, all of whom she was familiar with from her days in Belcourt, and all of whom regarded her as a true mistress. Was that how the other ladies saw Belles? Their mistress?

Was Sasha the only one who had a different opinion on the Belles, the overly augmented bunch of ladies in Belcourt? Weren’t the other courts more worthy of such high regard?

She was taken upstairs to a guest room, a small library that barely had any books, and finally her bedchamber.

It was grand. She had her own back at the Library, but never this large.

Giant windows lined one side of the room, giving way for sunlight to shine on the humongous four-poster bed in the middle, and the sight nearly made her faint. It could fit five people, but she knew it was there for a different reason other than providing Sasha with a night of good sleep.

The white lace curtains tied to the four vertical columns of the bed offered no privacy. It was there to tease, to give a hint of a promising night. One she was expected to give a man.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

Tearing her eyes off the bed, she turned to Iyana who was looking at her with concern.

“Lady Sasha, are you all right? You lost color.”

“I am quite fine,” Sasha said, forcing a smile. “Now, tea and biscuits?”

“Of course!” Iyana said, turning to leave.

Sasha threw the bed another look.

She was told before she left that he was coming tonight.

How could she ever be ready?

---

Iyana seemed to know what was about to come— who was about to come.

That night, after a good meal, the woman prepared a bath with scented soap and warm water. She insisted on scrubbing Sasha’s back and was insistent that she stay in the water longer so the lilac scent of the soap stayed on her skin.

And as Sasha dried herself, Iyana laid out her finest gown, one Sasha spared for rare special occasions in Belcourt.

Iyana sighed as she stared at the blue gown. “This will have to do,” she said, “but you must make certain to set out for your fittings by the morrow. I believe someone will come and assist you with that. This gown is the best amongst the ones in your possession, but it surely is not good enough for tonight.

Sasha remained silent as Iyana helped her with her gown. Did she need a corset?

“Too tight,” she told Iyana.

“Not tight enough,” the woman replied as she tugged at the strings with a grunt.

“You are killing me, Iyana!”

“There! Done!” Iyana said, turning her around to face the mirror. “We ought to do something with your hair.”

“I am going to bed after tonight’s… event. I do not need my hair done.”

Iyana’s eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean? Ridiculous, Lady Sasha. Of course, you need your hair done! The gown is not enough to save you tonight. Well, unless he does not wish to keep it on your person, that is.”

Sasha flushed at Iyana’s bold remark.

Iyana chuckled. “Oh, you ought to have stayed longer in the Court of Flowers before setting out here. You blush at the slightest naughty notions!”

“I have the same concerns,” she said, taking a breath and finding that she could still do so with the tight corset. “I would need a decade in the Court of Flowers before being sired a Belle.”

“Silly. Being a woman does not need a lot of training. And a Belle is a woman. You only need to be yourself, Lady Sasha.” A look of concern crossed Iyana’s face. “But please, pray tell, do you still suffer from fainting spells?”

“I would if you do not loosen my corset.”

Iyana chuckled. “You will be fine. But the fainting spells?”

“I shall be fine,” she lied. She hated lying. She was trained to never lie. That was the most important thing to being in the Court of Libraries. No research is fruitful with a lie.

“Good. Then I shall leave you be.” Iyana started for the door and then stopped. “But do remember one thing—scream.”

“Scream?”

“If he ever forces you into anything that inclines you to feel threatened in any way, scream. We shall all be up until the moment he leaves.”

Sasha moistened her lips. It just occurred to her that the villa was filled by women, all of whom from Belcourt. No men to protect them.

But surely they did not need a man’s protection.

Or would they?

Should they?

She squared her shoulders. “Be gone, Iyana.”

Iyana nodded.

“Iyana—wait.” Sasha looked at her friend. “Where should I wait?”

The woman smiled. “Where else?”

“Here?”

“Are you silly? Who receives a visitor in their bedchamber? You wait in the parlor, of course!”

---

Sasha could not keep still as she waited.

She was not given the time of his arrival.

Nor was she advised on what to do on this first meeting.

Everything was in haste the moment she regained consciousness yesterday. Neither of the Mistresses was there when she came about. Her bags were packed. And she was ushered into a carriage the very next day which was today.

And now she was expected to meet the man.

She did not even know his name!

Did the Court of Flowers run out of Belles? Why did they pluck a new one from another court?

She stood up to pace around the carpeted floors of the parlor. She hated how elegant they looked against her worn-out silk slippers. She hated how the blue floral embellishments were brighter than her gown.

Sasha crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the paneled wall before her. It was blank. Had anyone not thought that books were good decorations, if not useful? Fools, she thought.

At the thought of books, she walked out of the parlor and went up the stairs to the study. If the man was purposely being tardy, she needed a book to at least believe she was not wasting her time.

She picked a random one. Anything would be interesting at the state she was in. She needed distractions.

She rushed out of the library and opened the book down the corridor. Then she stopped. She closed it again to check the title.

Untitled. Nothing but plain red cover.

She opened it again and frowned at the first sentence.

Her eyes widened. Color rushed to her face.

This was… this book ought to be burned!

She scanned the pages, not fully aware that she was slowly making her way back to the parlor, fully scandalized and enthralled by the images before her.

Drawings of men and women in various states of copulation, each position worse than the last.

She bit her lower lip to muffle her gasp on the next page.

A man’s head between a pair of legs—this book was from the devil, surely!

She snapped the book closed and whirled around, intending to return it to the library. No, she had to hide it. No, burn it! Yes, she ought to do that—

“And where are you off to again?”

Sasha froze at the voice.

A shiver ran up her spine. The hairs at the back of her neck stood erect.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since she had heard a man’s voice.

Her heart raced.

“I asked a question. Where are you off to again?”

The annoyance in his voice snapped Sasha back to her senses. She blinked and stiffly turned around. She had not realized that she had reached the parlor and was just on her way out.

And inside, in the middle of the room was him.

A stranger. And a fuming one at that.

Her bluish-gray eyes even refused to blink at his presence for as much as she Sasha did not want to admit it, the man was not worthy of a blink.

He was tall. The top of her head would fall on his shoulder.

His brown hair curled in big waves with some locks lighter where the light touched. His bristled chin accentuated his sharp jaw. At one look, one would think he was harmless, but she had already heard him speak and his tone did not promise anything innocent. And she had taken a second look and the way his thick straight brows dipped inward and the angry glint in his light blue eyes gave Sasha a glimpse of what this man could be—arrogant and condescending.

And mysterious.

The air around him was painted with it she could almost see it.

She had to tread carefully here.

But how?

Her hand tightened around the book as her heart raced against her ribcage.

She moistened her lips.

She might faint soon, she feared.

It would not be a surprise.

“I was not informed I was paired to a deaf.” His cold, icy tone embodied the snow outside. “Or are you perhaps a mute?”

Sasha’s ears began to ring. No, she was not fainting, she was sure of that now. She was actually starting to boil with anger. It was not his words. She had heard harsher ones before. It was his tone and the way he looked at her.

It was the animosity in his eyes, the prejudice in his voice.

“It would be a great pleasure if I was,” she replied, willing her voice not to shake, “for I would rather have a conversation with a mouse than the one standing before me.”

His thick brows raised ever so slightly before she saw one eye twitch.

If this was the man Belcourt wanted her to service, Sasha would hang herself. And if he wished to be serviced, he would have to expect being served with tea by her every day for that was the only service she was willing to give him.

“I see that you are easily offended,” he said, his voice the same, his tone similar. “I did not mean to.”

“You look at me, sir, as though you were offended.” She cocked a brow high. “Were you expecting someone better, perhaps?”

A hint of a smile.

Oh, the devil knew how to smile. Famous!

Then it was gone as he spoke. “I had very little expectations before I came.”

Sasha suddenly felt lost. How must she proceed? Surely, she could not just ask him to leave. He was her flower—her gentleman. He must have paid a large sum to be paired with a Belle.

Iyana said she simply needed to be a woman. Well, if she had her way, she would be upstairs reading a book. Not the one in her hand, of course, but something more interesting.

And Sasha was almost quite certain that was not how Belles treated their flowers. These gentlemen had expectations.

But he said he had very little , a small voice whispered in her ear.

“Very well,” Sasha said, lifting her chin in a haughty way she saw some Belles would do during one of her afternoon walks back in Belcourt. “So, did I. I had lesser expectations. As a Belle should be,” she added, biting out the last words.

Good lord, she must have had lesser expectations indeed, for she did not expect this man to be… to be arrogant and cold and mysterious and… sinfully beautiful.

Or mayhap he was not arrogant and it was she who was being controlled by prejudice. She barely knew him. Had she not been interested in the human mind? She knew from her failed trials one consistent thing: one could never judge someone by first impressions.

His gaze fell on the book in her hand. Sasha immediately hid it behind her and cleared her throat. “Do forgive me,” she said, walking inside the parlor. She did not have to fear this man. She was the Belle. He was the flower . “Please, have a seat.”

He looked at the posh red settee, stared at it for a moment before he turned to face her. “I shall not be long. I was instructed to show myself tonight for a formal introduction.”

Sasha’s brows twitched high a notch at the realization. Of course! “Again, do forgive my manners. I am not used to formal introductions—very well,” she cleared her throat once more and offered a very clumsy and awkward curtsy. “Sasha from Belcourt. Lady Sasha for you, sir.”

His brow cocked at the title she gave herself. “No other name?”

There is one , was her silent reply, but one I do not need. “In Belcourt, we only have our first names.”

He nodded once, gauging her again with judging eyes. What was he thinking? Was he disappointed? She was in her best gown, was she not? Her thick dark brown hair intricately made by Iyana earlier, with pearl pins at that. Or perhaps she was not just pretty enough? That could be it.

“West,” he said, finally speaking.

Sasha frowned. Did he wish her to face to her left so he could judge the rest of her profile?

“My name. It is West.”

“No title attached?”

“I would rather keep the title with me.”

So, he is titled.

Sasha started to grow uncomfortable. He was staring at her too openly, judging her with his eyes, probably trying to convince himself that she was all right.

“Sir,” she said, breaking the silence. This was too bloody awkward. “Do you not like what you see?”

He blinked and finally, she saw a different reaction on his face. He frowned in confusion. “Why the question?”

“You stare at me as though you are considering demanding your money back. Belcourt never gives back what you give it, but it can provide you with what you wish if you give it a good reason to. And if you wish for a different Belle, we can try to arrange that.” Sasha honestly did not know if that was possible, but they could always try. Belcourt did not always have to be right. A match between a Belle and a flower would not always have to be perfect, would it?

Sasha did not realize she had been holding her breath until he shook his head.

“No.” The words echoed around the still room. “You would have to do.”

Sasha blinked and her mouth fell.

You would have to do?

Now, if that was not condescending and arrogant. Sasha could only scoff, staring at him with mouth half-open.

“I shall take my leave, my lady “ he said, putting on his coat that she did not notice had been hanging in his arm, giving emphasis on the last two words as if to mock her. She let it slide for she understood quite well how someone like him, someone with a title, found the idea of a woman giving herself an empty title when it was least deserving. And she was still preoccupied with his last statement to even bother. You will have to do?

“I will see you once you have properly settled. I was informed that you have just moved in.”

He walked away and out of her sight, silent as the dead of the night.

You would have to do?

His words rang in her mind over and over again until she finally let out a snarl.

You would have to do?

The bloody bastard!

He would not be seeing her again, Sasha swore. If she were to be a Belle, she would make everything in her power that that man would not be her first flower.

III | The Soldier

“You know of Belcourt’s golden adage, yes?”

“Of course,” Iyana said as she laid down a cup of tea before Sasha. Straightening to full height, she recited the adage that was engraved in their minds. “Courage, passion, wisdom, and service maketh the perfect woman.”

Sasha sighed. “I fear I am far from the perfect woman.”

Iyana peered at her knowingly. “I knew it from the moment you woke up that your meeting with your flower did not go well last night. What could have happened that makes you think you are far from perfect, Lady Sasha?”

“Courage… I may not be from the Court of Arms, but I do have a bit of it. Wisdom, quite a little, but I am afraid I do not have enough to convince Belcourt that I belong in the Court of Libraries. Service… well, you do know I am efficient in that regard as we both took all the tests that required one to be in your court. Passion, on the other hand, is what I lack.”

“You have passion, Lady Sasha.”

“Not the kind of passion I am talking about, Iyana. I am passionate about science and research, for discovering the mysteries of the mind. I am not passionate about…” She let her voice trail off. “You know what I mean!” she said in frustration.

Understanding dawned on Iyana. “You believe you cannot please him in the way you think he expects.”

“Is that not what Belles are supposed to do? Please their gentlemen? He left last night with the worst words a man could say on the first meeting with a Belle. And I am telling you, Iyana, I may not have been properly trained to be one, but I am no fool. I know how to read between the lines and that man said words that—that frustrates me so!”

Iyana, for the love of her, did not ask for the words and simply smiled. It was a knowing one and Sasha wondered what it meant. “Belcourt is many things, Lady Sasha, but it is most often right. Trust that you were re-courted for a reason. To be the second woman in Belcourt’s history to be re-courted should tell you something. Of all the hundreds of ladies wanting to be in the Court of Flowers, they chose you. Why is that so?”

“That is the answer I intend to find out. I plan to travel to Belcourt on the morrow. I barely had time to ask them questions because I… well, I fainted after they announced that I was re-courted.”

Iyana blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Sasha proceeded with her breakfast in silence, Iyana leaving her alone to attend to more duties.

Someone was coming this morning to take her to her fittings and she should be ready.

But two hours later, Sasha was not looking forward to gown fittings at all. She was counting the hours until the morrow when she could go to Belcourt and demand for a different gentleman. And demand answers. Surely, they had a different reason for turning her into a Belle.

Have they not had a good look at her? She was plain in comparison to the other women. Even West, that arrogant, insensitive man, would agree!

Iyana came to announce that someone was here.

“A man?” she asked, silently cursing herself at the terrified tone in her voice.

Iyana chuckled, shaking her head. “No. A lady from Belcourt.”

“A Belle?”

“No, I meant someone from inside Belcourt.” Her maid walked closer to whisper, “She is in a green cloak.”

Sasha blinked. “The Court of Arms? Why would someone from the Palace be here?”

“Hush!”

“Why? Is her presence her supposed to be a secret?”

“Well, no. But you know them Soldiers. They like their anonymity. Their green cloak is filled with mystery.”

“Ridiculous,” Sasha said, already walking to the door. “Have you offered her tea?”

“Yes, of course. And pistols and hot daggers. I know they love their pistols and daggers,” her maid replied.

Sasha was still smiling at Iyana’s quip as she entered the parlor and found a woman already sitting inside the room, sipping tea. Beside her in the settee was her emerald green cloak.

“Good morning—” she stopped as soon as the woman stood to greet her. Red waves, light green eyes, freckles. She was stunning.

She should be the Belle, not I , the thought passed Sasha’s mind. She vaguely remembered the woman who might be older than her. She might have seen her one time or another around Belcourt.

Sasha caught herself as the woman smiled at her. It was a gentle smile, but Sasha doubted if it was true. It could be a façade.

The ladies from the Court of Arms were Belcourt’s soldiers and for Sasha, they were the elite amongst all courts. Their sole purpose was to protect the Palace, not the Kingdom of Sutherland’s, but the most important place inside Belcourt.

Not only were they tasked to protect the Palace, the ladies from the Court of Arms were also trained to be the best in combat to protect the whole of Belcourt.

Theirs was the most secretive and loyal court.

Once, Sasha aspired to be one of them—a Soldier. She spotted a few of them ladies swimming across the lake in Belcourt, their strokes powerful and graceful, and her young self was awed. But her tendency to faint at any time dispelled the dream as fast as it came, for as the stories went, the Soldiers of Belcourt were required to do tasks that even the constables of Sutherland could not fathom and Sasha was not suitable for that. She could faint if she were in any form of physical or emotional pressure.

“Lady Sasha,” the woman greeted, voice direct and commanding, clear and succinct. “I am Gabrielle from the Court of Arms.”

Sasha stole another glance at the green cloak on the settee. “I have figured,” she said with a smile. “Please, sit.” She did the same, taking the lone winged chair standing adjacent to the settee, facing away from the window that overlooked the street outside. “I should say I am curious to have someone from your court giving me a visit. I assume you are not the person to take me to my fittings?”

The woman chuckled. “No, I am afraid not. Belles going to fittings may pose a few dangers including a prick of a needle, but I do believe nothing that requires an escort.”

As the woman spoke, Sasha wondered how fast this woman could run or how good she was with her weapons.

“Then you are here for something else.”

“I am, yes. Lady Eastwell wishes me to inform you that I shall be your liaison for the Court of Arms during your mission.”

The smile on her lips froze and she frowned. “What mission?”

Gabrielle frowned. Blinked. “Your mission. Please, do tell me you are jesting.”

“I do not know what you are talking about. What mission?”

“What were you told yesterday?”

“That I am now a Belle and that I have to pack my things.”

“That is all?”

“I also fainted before anything else was spoken.”

Gabrielle smiled. “You are the Fainting Belle. Or have you not heard?”

“I was the Fainting Fairy before that.”

The woman’s beautiful face turned serious once more. “You are telling me that you were not informed of any mission?”

“Yes, I was not informed of anything related to any mission.”

Gabrielle scoffed in disbelief. “Then you mean to tell me that they re-courted you without telling you why?”

“Yes.” Sasha leaned forward. “Would you care to tell me? I have been dying to know. I was forced to accept my new position and I… well, you must imagine how it feels.”

“Of course. You are confused.” Gabrielle looked around. “Is someone else aware that you did not apply to be re-courted?”

Sasha blinked. “There is such a thing?”

“Of course. But applications have always been rejected. You are courted where Belcourt sees you fit.”

“And will you tell me now? Why was I suddenly re-courted? Why me? Why not the hundreds of women clamoring to be placed in the Court of Flowers?”

Gabrielle opened her mouth and closed it again. “No, I believe I am not the person to tell you that. Lady Mariam ought to have given you your orientation.” She sighed. “But considering the animosity between her and Lady Eastwell, I believe reluctance is expected from her.”

It was not a mystery to everyone in Belcourt that the Mistresses of the Court of Arms and Flowers were not quite chummy.

“This is a misunderstanding. I will have to report it to my Mistress immediately.” Gabrielle came to her feet. “Will you be available on the morrow to make a trip back to Belcourt?”

“I was planning to travel to Belcourt on the morrow.”

“Perfect. Then I shall see you there.” Gabrielle looked around once again. Was it a Soldier thing to do? Constantly survey the area? “For now, keep your silence. No one is to know that you are on a mission for yours is a sensitive one.”

“Is it a common thing then? These missions?”

Gabrielle looked at her with something akin to pity. “I know that there is too much to take in for you, Lady Sasha.”

“It is. I cannot—I cannot be a Belle.” She felt a great sense of relief to finally admit it to someone. “The idea abhors me, to be frank.”

Gabrielle frowned. “Why so? To be a Belle requires great responsibility.”

She scoffed. “If you mean pleasing men and keeping them chained to your bed so they continue to pay Belcourt a great responsibility, then perhaps for it would require one to strip themselves of their honor and virtues.”

Gabrielle stared at her for a long time, the surprise in her eyes apparent. But with a knowing smile, she finally spoke, “You were in the Library for the duration of five years before you were whisked into the world of the Belles. You were in the Common Court before that and the realities that all the courts face are rarely taught there. We were never told of the true responsibilities each court carries. We were innocent in the Common Court, were we not? We only had our lessons to fret about. We only dreamed of turning eighteen so we can be courted into the courts of our dreams.”

“And I was courted in the court of my dreams. I was ecstatic to learn that I would be in the Library. Yet here I am, a two-day-old Belle.”

Gabrielle nodded in understanding. “And the Library is the worst place to know anything about Belcourt despite the fact that you keep all its records.”

Sasha froze. “Whatever does that mean?”

Gabrielle smiled at her. “I am telling you this, Lady Sasha—”

“Please, just Sasha.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Sasha, I am telling you this because I do not wish you to go about the rest of your day blindly.” She paused before she continued. “Being a Belle is more than just being a pretty face, Sasha. They are judged because of the tasks bestowed on them by Belcourt, but that is merely a façade. Belcourt does not need the money they get from the gentlemen—the flowers as you call them.” A pause. “Do you not see it yet?”

Sasha swallowed. “See what?”

“Belcourt gains from the men in a different way. They are useful in other means. Belcourt does not need money from these gentlemen for we have vast land and can fend for ourselves. These men are useful because of their secrets.” Gabrielle allowed a few seconds for her words to sink in before she added, “The Belles are not just ornaments. They are weapons.”

IV | A Proposition

Her heart skidded to a sudden stop. “A weapon? For what?” she asked, mortified that she sounded ignorant, and feeling incredulous as well. A weapon? Her? A woman?

Gabrielle sighed and shook her head lightly, smiling. “To protect the Kingdom and therefore protecting Belcourt. Being a previous Librarian has made you ignorant of the things Belcourt does. You are only focused on your studies and research that most of you are unaware of the threats that Belcourt gets every single day. You do not know it, Sasha, but the Court of Flowers works closely with us.”

Sasha was in disbelief. She had been out of the Common Court for five years and had not heard of this?

Gabrielle turned to grab her cloak. “I should get going. I can already imagine Lady Eastwell’s revulsion at this situation… Lady Mariam ought to have at least oriented you on your duties as a Belle.”

“But—”

“You will have more of your answers on the morrow, Sasha, I promise.”

In one fluid motion, the woman swung her emerald green cloak around and over her shoulders and back.

Gabrielle fastened the cloak around her neck and pulled the hood over her head, shadowing her face, the ends of her red locks the only indication of the beauty the hood held.

“We shall see more of each other soon.”

---

Sasha had no time to spare musing over the conversation she had with Gabrielle that morning because a fellow Belle and someone she was familiar with from the Common Court arrived to take her to her gown fittings.

Ruby was a chatty woman. She always had been.

She was three years in age ahead of Sasha, but she had been in Belcourt all her life, left at the Common Court when she was merely a day old.

It was no surprise that Ruby was courted into the Court of Flowers and became a Belle seven years ago for the woman was amongst the most stunning. Everyone knew where she would land.

Her straight black hair was a stark contrast to the white snow around them. Her deep-set blue eyes and full lips perfectly matched her oval face that seemed to have been smoothed and polished with fine grit. She had a mole just under the outer corner of her left eye and for Sasha, it was the woman’s most stunning feature. An imperfection that perfected her face.

Like Iyana, Ruby was impressed that Sasha managed to get re-courted.

She did not tell the woman she had no choice on the matter for it would potentially lead to a series of questions she was not allowed to answer.

Ruby took her around the town center which was surprisingly crowded considering the heavy snow that morning and the cold wind.

But it was the holidays. Everyone was seen carrying holly, rosemary, Christmas Rose, and other decorations which would soon be up before Christmas Eve.

It only occurred to Sasha that she would be celebrating differently. For fifteen years, she always celebrated Christmas in Belcourt which would start with the lighting of the Yule Log and a few games and singing.

Tomorrow, the children in the Common Court would enjoy a lavish meal of turkey, pudding, gingerbread, and many of their favorites. The boar’s head would be remained untouched for the adults to enjoy.

The four Christmases she spent at the Library were quite memorable as well. Not as grand as she heard the other courts celebrated theirs, but it was a few hours of respite from their active minds, veering back to the children that they once were before they left the Common Court.

Now, she wondered how the Belles celebrated their Christmas.

But that was not her concern at the moment. She had to go back to Belcourt on the morrow not for the holiday, but for her mission, one she still had trouble believing to be possible.

Belles took on missions?

How?

Seducing men? For what? Their secrets?

What could possibly be the secrets of these gentlemen that they could so willingly share with the Belles?

Unless, perhaps, the secrets were uncovered in secret.

The thought excited Sasha.

She stole Ruby a glance as the woman continued to talk endlessly about how she could not believe Sasha managed to be re-courted. She was a phenomenon! A history!

Was Ruby currently on a mission? How many flowers did the woman have?

The town center was bustling with merriment and advanced Christmas greetings and Ruby seemed to belong in it. She relished the appreciative stares they received from the men who passed by. A few women smiled at Ruby, while one or two threw her a secret look of scorn.

“And by the by, you will need a few friends here,” said Ruby, turning her head to face her. The woman was wearing a feathered hat and a lavish fur coat. “Not friends from Belcourt, but here . You will soon realize it will come handy.” She looped her arm around Sasha’s. “This will be exciting for you, Sasha, believe me! Being a Belle is freedom!”

No, it is not , Sasha answered in her mind.

Their freedom here outside was but a mere illusion.

---

Her gown fitting was tedious.

Carla Montgomery was a very meticulous modiste, and despite the long line of women outside, she took her time to carefully measure Sasha’s shoulders, arms, legs, and neck.

“You will be pleased,” she promised Sasha after nearly an hour of fitting.

“I trust that she will be, Carla,” Ruby told the woman. “But will you be able to send a few gowns within the week? She badly needs one from you, as you can see.”

The modiste did not hide her distaste as she stared at Sasha’s plain gray dress. “Even a scullery maid would not dare make rags out of that dress, dear.”

Sasha looked down at her decent dress. She had worn this dress countless times in the Library and no one cared!

Ruby noticed her despair and laughed. “Welcome to your new world, Sasha,” she said, pulling her away from Carla. “And she shall need a new set of nightgowns, Carla! Do not forget!”

“I know the right ones for her, my lady, fret not!” the modiste’s reply followed them to the door.

“Oh, finally!” a woman said as they walked out, pulling her daughter into the shop. The others still in line stared at both Sasha and Ruby.

“Good day, ladies,” Ruby greeted as they walked past. “Now, Sasha, do you wish to go for tea? I know a good tea house nearby. It is not better than the one we have at Belcourt, but it is cozy.”

Sasha considered Ruby’s suggestion. “I was meaning to shop a bit more.”

“Oh,” Ruby said, looking at her. “Have you received an allowance for that?”

“I was given enough to last me a month.”

“Very well, then, let us go! What do you wish to shop for? Hats? You definitely need hats.”

“I—books. I want to find a few to entertain me—”

Ruby laughed. “Oh, Sasha, you make me laugh. You will not need books out here. Entertainment is everywhere! We can see the opera next week if you wish. A play is also scheduled to arrive by Monday and I have wanted to see it for quite some time now. Or we can go and have a walk to the park on the morrow if you—oh, I cannot go on the morrow. I have things to do. Perhaps the next day. And the day after that, I will take you to meet a few good friends of mine. Have you been invited to a Christmas ball? You should get invitations. Belcourt can handle that, unless your mission is—” Ruby paused, realizing her slip. She took Sasha aside. “Have you received your mission?”

So, it was true. They did have missions.

“I am yet to receive it.”

“Oh. Well, fret not. It could merely be a little spying on a gentleman at a ball such as my first one.”

Sasha blinked. “It does not always have to be your flower?”

Ruby chuckled. “Silly, of course not! But it could be his friend. Or his cousin. Or his bloody butler. Anyone!” Ruby started walking backward, smiling at Sasha as she followed. “So, you see, Sasha? We are free here. So long as we do our tasks, so long as we deliver what is expected of us, so long as we keep our lips tight at certain subjects, the world is to ours for the taking!”

She couldn’t help but chuckle along.

Ruby had that effect. Her brightness and charm were contagious.

---

Sasha could sense that someone was following her.

She was not certain how, but she was certain she was right.

Ruby had gone off to meet a few of her friends after they had their tea. Sasha insisted to walk back to her villa with her new books.

She had the same ominous feeling earlier when she was on her way out of an alleyway after buying her books.

It was the same feeling she had that night when she…

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

She must merely be feeling this way because of the notion that she would soon be given a mission. The word suggested mystery and adventure, of danger and secrets.

When the feeling did not go away, she hastened her steps. She should have taken Iyana with her.

A group of young girls laughing with smoke coming out of their mouths was coming toward her. She moved to the side as they passed and that was when it happened.

Something—or someone, rather, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a very narrow alleyway she had not noticed she passed by merely a few steps before.

“What—”

A gloved hand covered her mouth to silence her.

Sasha’s heart began to beat faster.

Was she going to die today?

Just before Christmas Eve?

Just a day after her twenty-third birthday?

Just a day before she could get her first mission as a Belle?

But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the alleyway, they widened with surprise.

He was standing too close to her and she could clearly see his face.

Noting that she finally recognized him, he spoke, a breath of smoke coming out of his mouth. “You ought to be careful where you walk around this town,” he said. “It is not safe everywhere.”

She slapped his hand away. “I could see that now,” she snapped, pushing him away. “Give me one good reason why I should not start screaming for help now, sir,” Sasha demanded. “Is this how you treat your Belle?”

West’s jaw tightened at the last word.

Did he hate the thought of her being his Belle that much?

“And this area of the town had been safe until you started to follow me,” Sasha said, brushing off snow from her shoulders and arms. She looked around, realizing she had lost her books.

They lay at the side of the street, in the light, just outside the dark alleyway. When she turned, intending to fetch them, West’s strong grip returned to her arm.

“Let go of me at once. You are not in liberty to touch me yet, “ she gritted out, throwing him a look.

“This had to be done.”

“What? The slight abduction?” She glared at him. “You said you shall not be seeing me until I have settled. I am not yet settled.”

He looked down at her and her gray dress. “Clearly.”

“You are… you…” Sasha closed her eyes and calmed herself. This man could potentially help her with her upcoming mission. She could not dismiss him entirely for now. “Mind not, you might simply be odd. You could have called on me properly like last night.”

“The matter I need to discuss with you could not be discussed in your villa.”

“Whyever not?”

His light blue eyes were filled with knowing. “Your villa is filled with ears from Belcourt.”

Sasha felt a shiver ran up her spine. This man knew a little about Belcourt.

“And whatever you wish to discuss cannot be done at your place where the ears are paid by you?”

His face remained impassive as he said, “I would rather not have you grace my estate, my lady . You are to remain separate from my affairs and my title.”

There was that mocking tone again. Oh, these titled brutes truly held their status and title precious, didn’t they? They hated it when someone pretentiously tries to carry one.

Sasha gritted her teeth to keep from her fist from landing perfectly on his perfect face.

“Rightly so,” she said instead through her teeth. She looked down the narrow path of the alleyway. “A dark and filthy place is the best venue for me then?”

Something flashed in his eyes, but it soon disappeared before she could decipher it. “I am here to give you a proposition.”

“What sort?” she asked, hoping he was not thinking of some dangerous fantasies he might have that comprised her, him, and a dark alleyway.

“One you may find very hard to pass.”

Sasha blinked with impatience. “I am not a very patient woman today, sir. I would rather you tell me what it is that you have in mind so I can fetch my books and return home.”

He remained unbothered, simply staring at her intently. “If you can help me with a small task, I can help you find a way out of Belcourt.”

V | The Mission

“I know enough of Belcourt to be aware that the only way a Belle can escape Belcourt’s grasp is if she can pay her way out,” he calmly said to her. “For many of you, it would take years, almost half of the rest of your life, to summon enough to get your freedom.”

Sasha blinked in disbelief. He was overflowing with certainty.

“I can give you enough to be free from Belcourt if you can do what I will ask of you.”

Sasha moistened her lips. He was talking about a

great deal of money. Was he even aware of how much her freedom was worth? It could be three times the price of his estate. Blazes, it could even be worth more than his title!

She had heard of Belles paying the dowry they owed Belcourt. Some married off to rich businessmen and even some titled ones. But they were not a ton of ladies, mere a lucky or a very determined few.

Sasha was not one of them for Belcourt was home. She was safe there.

And yet, here was this man, suggesting that he could give her enough money to be free. Sasha did not want to be free. She wanted to be free of the world outside Belcourt. This very fine afternoon of being abducted merely two days out of Belcourt was enough proof of why she never wanted to get out.

But he did not have to know that so she decided to humor him.

“And what do you wish from me? What do you want me to do?”

He looked at both ends of the alleyway before turning back to fix his light blue eyes on her. Sasha swallowed. He was not far enough. His warmth was a gentle relief from the cold air, but she felt uncomfortable.

“I need you to find someone in Belcourt.”

Whatever fears she might have, whatever she had imagined him to demand from her was rendered feeble to the one he was suggesting.

Her eyes widened in horror. “No!”

He frowned. “Have you not heard my proposition? I am offering you freedom from that place.”

“ That place is my home, sir,“ she said.

“My lord,” he corrected.

“I care not. Did you not just say you wish me to be separate from your estate and your title? I happen to also agree. The title you hold is null where our relationship is concerned.”

He acknowledged her words with a slight shrug, “Why?” and asked instead.

“Why what?”

“Why do you say no to my proposition?”

Sasha scoffed. “You may claim to know enough about Belcourt, sir, but you know nothing. We have rules we need to follow. We have laws . You do not know the punishments I will be facing if I will be caught searching Belcourt’s grounds for someone for you in exchange for monetary reward. That shall be considered by Belcourt a form of treason.”

It was his turn to scoff. “And what does Belcourt know of treason? It rears women to prostitute themselves to men. What rules could such an institution uphold when its very products barely hold one?”

Sasha shook with fury. Her nostrils flared. And then she chuckled. “I hold many rules, sir and I believe now is the best time to tell you.” She arched her brow at him. “One, you do not pull me into any dark, filthy alleyways. Two, you do not see me without prior notice. Three, you do not propose anything close to the one you just suggested. Four, you wait for any sexual gratification from me until I am ready to prostitute myself to you. Five, you do not expect anything else.”

She finally saw his face register something other than a deadpan expression, a glint of anger in his eyes. “You do not give me the rules. I give them.”

“Forgive me, sir, but it must have passed your mind that I am not your mistress. I am your Belle. And the Belles give the rules.”

“I paid to be a gentleman of Belcourt.”

“That you did. But you did not pay for me.” Sasha started to turn, then paused. “A flower. We call the gentlemen of Belcourt flowers .” She smiled when she saw his lips curl in loathing at the word. “You shall come to my villa when I send for you.”

As she walked away, Sasha wanted to rejoice.

She did not faint.

The thought did not even occur to her.

She was so consumed by fury that the thought of a fainting spell did not cross her mind.

Hastening her steps, she walked out of the alleyway and found her books. She picked them up, straightened, lifted her chin, and turned to return to her villa.

---

He had never been addressed as ‘sir’ in his life, nor had he been addressed so carelessly by anyone.

Frustration was too lacking a word to describe how he felt after the woman left him in that grimy alleyway.

You dragged her there , a voice in his head whispered.

He had no other place to talk to her.

He could not at her villa for he knew it was staffed by Belcourt.

Not out in the open either where anyone could see them.

West Blackwood was seen with a Belle! A woman from Belcourt! How scandalous!

It would be a scandal at its finest.

His estate was out of the question all the same. He could not risk anyone seeing her come into his home.

“Perhaps you will need another place to

meet the woman,“ Tanner Macmier, Marquess of Leighton, nonchalantly said as he moved his knight piece on the chessboard. “What say you, Rider?” Tanner asked their other friend who had silently been brooding across the chessboard since the topic of Belcourt came about.

The Earl of Keene turned his brown eyes to West. “You are walking straight into trouble.”

Tanner brushed his black hair back with his fingers and sighed, eyeing West wryly, one corner of his lips lifting into a sly smile. “At the very least, you will have a woman to warm your bed. You have not had one for quite some time, I believe.” He laughed when West glared at him. “Or am I wrong to assume that you have ended your affair with Lady Pauline when she decided to marry that brute—what was his name? Donovan?”

West ignored Tanner and addressed Rider. “Why would you say I am walking straight into trouble?”

Rider was looking at him as though he did not have to answer for West already knew what he was about to say. “Your title. You have worked hard to rebuild your reputation amongst the wrathful society after your father’s death.”

“And succeeded tremendously thus far,” added Tanner.

West had no rebuttal for his friends were right. He spent years trying to rebuild the reputation that his father ruined. He did so tirelessly, always landing on the good side of the right people.

Yet here he was, testing the waters, seducing a scandal that could ruin the only thing that he held dear—his precious title.

West gave his posh study one sweeping look. He had made certain years ago that the room was stripped of any trace of his father and the same could be said to the rest of the estate and the others he owned around Sutherland, including his title. Most definitely his title. It was all his. It was as clean as it had ever been before his father’s unfortunate fate many years ago.

Rider had stopped playing and was now regarding him with curiosity. His friend was too honest to not allow room for empathy. There were times West appreciated Rider’s coldness, his propensity for not caring how his words would affect anyone, for they were the same. Unlike Tanner who seemed to always just want to see the fun in every situation, West and Rider always saw eye to eye.

But not on this matter.

“The question in the end for you, West,” Rider said, voice calm and calculating, “is whether it was all worth the risk.”

“If I am careful enough, it will be.”

“And if things go wrong? If this whore from Belcourt becomes a problem instead of the solution? What then?”

Tanner was obviously enjoying the exchange as he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and turned his head to look at one friend and then the other. It was rare to find West and Rider in banter because most often, their ire was directed at Tanner. “Rider is correct,” he commented, coaxing West to throw a smart reply.

“That shall not happen. A contract shall be drawn and she shall face the consequences should she ever breach it.”

“Good point,” Tanner said with a nod, turning to Rider. “Rider?”

“The problem now is that she said no. She could be on her way to Belcourt now as we speak, giving the bloody place a recount of your proposition.”

“That is a very good possibility.” Tanner nodded, turning to West.

“There was no witness to our conversation. I could simply say she is a bloody liar.”

Tanner nodded enthusiastically. “Good, good. Trap her in her own trap. Rider?”

“Stop it, Leighton, or I shall pull your tongue out and cut it with a bloody dagger,” Rider growled without moving.

“Oh, he is angry. But he classically always is,” Tanner said with a chuckle. “Give me no mind then. This is getting interesting. I need a drink.” He shot to his feet to pour himself a brandy.

“She could not even be in that place, West,” Rider continued.

“I know she is,” West insisted.

His friend only looked at him. The tense silence filled the air until Tanner returned to his seat with his glass full of brandy.

“But say, West, I have a question.” He pointedly looked at Rider. “And it is a serious one, I swear to God.” Crossing one leg over the other, with his drink in one hand, he turned his attention back on West. “Say, this Belle of yours accepts your proposal. But—” his friend dramatically paused, widening his eyes for effect, “she gets caught. Belcourt will surely punish her, eh? Will you help her escape? You do have honor, do you not? In fact, you have too much of it.”

“The only punishment she may get is being kicked out into the streets. She shall be stripped of her villa, her staff, her carriage, and even her gowns. Which, for me, would be no punishment at all. She shall have my money—”

“Even if she does not deliver?”

“She has to deliver,” he snapped, almost scathingly. “I will make certain that I get results.”

“Very well, let us assume that she does deliver. But then she gets caught.”

“As I have said, she shall be free of Belcourt. My payment will be enough for her to start a new life. How she will live it shall not be my concern thereafter.”

“But Belcourt will surely not allow her to leave, or have you not heard about the island?” At West and Rider’s frown of confusion, Tanner shook his head and sighed. “Of course, you have not heard of the rumors.”

“What of the island?”

“Interested, are we, Rider?” Tanner teased. When Rider glowered, Tanner sighed. “There is this island in the south, see? It is said to be owned by Belcourt and any Belle found guilty by Belcourt law shall be banished there and most often, they die. The island is uninhabited, I should add. No woman—or man—could survive the place. One winter will be enough to kill anyone in it.”

Rider scoffed. “Belcourt law? You must be jesting. The place is a bloody orphanage. What law are you on about?”

Tanner shrugged. “Then tell me why you have not found her by any normal means such as knocking on Belcourt’s doors to make inquiries? Well? You have not, have you? I have witnessed you try and fail numerous times because Belcourt does not simply open its doors to just anyone. The place is a formidable force to be reckoned with. I am telling you, Belcourt is hiding many secrets. The Belles, my lords, are just the tip of the iceberg.”

You may claim to know enough about Belcourt, sir, but you know nothing. We have rules we need to follow. We have laws…

Sasha’s words echoed in West’s mind. He shook his head. No, it was impossible. She was merely overdrawing things as he found some women often did to prove a point.

“Some say it hides not just Belles, but many other women who are proficient in other things. Rumors you may call them, but there is no smoke when there is no fire. Belcourt is indeed a curious case, would you not agree?” When no one replied, Tanner added, “I also heard that Belcourt is powerful enough to cause trouble on its gentlemen.”

Tanner’s words elicited another glower of half irritation, half curiosity from West and Rider. “Ah, then you must not have heard about poor Garland. You have heard of poor Garland, have you not, Rider?” When Rider stiffly turned his head with a scowl, Tanner nodded and quickly said, “Of course, you have. We all have. The poor guy disappeared.” He lifted his fist and spread his fingers. “Poof. Just like that. And you know who the poor guy was with before he disappeared. A…” he leaned in to whisper the next words, “ a Belle—a Belcourt lady .“ He straightened, nodding his head at West, his brows arched high. “Just like that, West. Poor Garland disappeared.”

West scoffed. “He lost everything, his title included, in the course of his gambling, Leighton. Of course, he disappeared like the other men who had nothing left to pay for their debts.”

“Oh, but he lost everything because of….” Tanner leaned closer again, “the Belle .”

West rolled his eyes. “You should truly consider gagging your women’s mouths, Leighton. They tell you all types of rumors in bed.”

“I am not forcing anyone to believe me. In fact, I would be surprised if one of you ever consider the rumors to be true,” Tanner defensively said. “Now, what about this game, Rider? I was winning.”

At that, West and Rider allowed the conversation to die.

There was no use arguing when West was adamant to see this one through.

Rider knew his bounds.

For West, he had to prove to his friends that he made the right decision.

He could not discount Tanner’s statement either. Belcourt was indeed a formidable force. He had tried to approach the place numerous times. Never personally, but through the people he hired. They never replied to written inquiries and never opened their gates when they thought that a personal visit was called for.

The only solution was to become one of its gentlemen.

The price to be one was incredible, but Belcourt gave him no choice.

Now, there was no turning back. He had to succeed or lose his last chance.

But first, he had to deal with the woman.

His Belle, who thought herself more superior than him simply because Belcourt gave her a title that did not hold any weight in Sutherland’s society, ought to be tamed for she was his only hope.

---

A large gate closed Belcourt from the rest of the world with hedges that ran for miles down the road to keep intruders at bay. One would have to walk two miles from the outer gates to get to the high walls that hid the institution from spectators.

It would take a large sum of money to enter the second gate that would lead directly to what the women of Belcourt called the Common Court, and what outsiders would call the ‘orphanage’.

For the ladies of Belcourt, both young and old, it was simply Belcourt—a home. Most of them had not experienced one outside for most were taken to the orphanage right after they had their first cry.

And for some who, like Sasha, had a glimpse of the world outside, Belcourt was a new world before it became home. And it was a wonderful world, one that was entirely different from what the outside world thought it was.

Night had already fallen when Sasha arrived. She had anticipated being here in merely two hours, but she had forgotten that the roads were frozen that the carriage driver had to carefully and very slowly make the journey.

Sasha was not aware that she had fallen asleep while on the journey and that they were easily given access by the four women who guarded the first gates and the other two at the second gate.

Sasha stirred awake when the carriage door opened and the woman driver grinned up at her. “We are here, Lady Sasha.”

Sasha nodded. “Thank you, Briana.”

Briana grinned at her, stretching her full lips. Her curly, dirty blonde hair was almost white against the light coming from the building. “Will you be staying the night?”

“No.” Of course not. She knew there was a bedchamber for her disposal here, but she would rather go back to her villa soon. If she had a mission, it was best to finish it the soonest she could. Then she looked at Briana and reconsidered. “But if you are tired, we can stay the night—”

“No, my lady. I am rather inclined to go back to the villa myself. My bed there is more comfortable if you know what I mean.”

Sasha nodded. She knew that for the Service ladies, being assigned to a Belle was a luxury.

“Very well then, we go home tonight.”

“Then I shall wait. You can call for me when you are ready to leave.”

Sasha nodded and the woman pulled up the hood of her black cloak to step aside.

She struggled with her cloak before she stepped down from her small carriage.

“I shall not be long,” she informed Briana who nodded with a smile.

Snow scrunched against her boots and she hurriedly walked the path to the entrance of the building, eager to see this night through. She would hate for Briana to fall weary on the journey back home.

She scoffed at the idea of West, her flower , walking around Belcourt. She was quite certain he had not done so yet for if he did, he would not have such poor opinions of Belcourt. If he did, he would have seen other Belles and would have demanded for someone better than her.

When she stepped into the warm hallway of the inner building, Sasha came to a stop.

A group of Belles were inside, huddled together, chatting and giggling. They noticed her entrance and stopped to turn and look.

Five pairs of eyes measured her from head to foot before they smiled and waved.

Of course, they already knew who she was. Words traveled fast in Belcourt.

“You must be Sasha,” said one of the ladies, the very center of the group and the most outstanding of all. Aliya. She knew of the lady. Ruby and the others may be beautiful, but Aliya was beyond beautiful. She was devastatingly divine. Even Sasha would admit that she would be quite proud to call herself a Belle if she was in the company of Aliya because the woman gave the title a different meaning.

Aliya’s luscious auburn hair and particularly light brown eyes that were almost golden, made her seemed unreal. Her nose, straight and perfectly sculpted, was enough to make one feel ashamed to be breathing the same air as she.

Aliya was the queen of all the Belles. Even the secluded women from the Libraries were aware of that.

“Yes,” Sasha said, giving Aliya and the others an awkward curtsy.

“You are expected upstairs at Lady Mariam’s study,” Aliya said with a gentle smile. It was not a genuine one, Sasha easily assumed. Nevertheless, it made her want to please the lady. Aliya had that effect.

A very dangerous asset, Sasha noted, wondering how Aliya used it outside of Belcourt. How many men had fallen victim to her charms? How many fell on their knees begging for her attention?

Perhaps she would never know. Aliya lived hundreds of miles away from Belcourt, in one of the most prominent cities in Sutherland. She must be here for Christmas as was customary of the Belles.

“I assume this is your first time here in the Flower Garden and you do not know your way around,” Aliya said, moving forward.

“Yes.”

“Come, I will take you to Lady Mariam.”

Sasha awkwardly gave the other ladies another curtsy before she left to follow Aliya.

“Ruby was here earlier but had to leave. She told us the two of you went to your fittings yesterday.”

“Yes.”

Aliya looked at her over her shoulder. “You do need a few dresses.”

Sasha unknowingly closed the gap of her cloak.

“There is no need to feel shame on what you wear outside, dear,” Aliya said. “You should make pride and confidence your fashion. The dresses are just mere ornaments.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

Silence reigned between them as Aliya led her down the corridor that connected the two buildings.

“You have not been properly trained here before you were thrown out there.” Aliya broke the silence, climbing a flight of stairs. “It is understandable that you feel strange. You will be fine. We Belles treat each other with great respect for we know how challenging our responsibilities are. And do not hesitate to reach out if you need help.”

The woman’s words held more meaning now to Sasha. She nodded. “I shall keep that in mind as well.”

“Of course, you will. You are from the Library before this. You must be quite smart. Use that as your fashion. Not your gowns or jewelry.”

“And the pride and confidence.”

Aliya stopped outside a door. She turned to Sasha and smiled and this time, it seemed genuine. “Yes. They are the most important things a Belle could possess.” She raised her brows at Sasha. “Merry Christmas to you, Sasha. I hope to be working with you in the near future.”

Sasha nodded.

Why did she suddenly feel excited?

Work with other Belles?

Now that sounded different. That sounded adventurous.

Aliya turned and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” a voice said from inside.

“Go,” Aliya urged, turning to leave.

Sasha watched the woman retrace their steps before she reached for the door and entered the room.

“You are late,” said Lady Mariam.

“The road proved to be challenging, my lady,” she replied, giving the woman a curtsy. She looked around the room and found Gabrielle sitting idly at one corner, her green cloak over her shoulders. Another woman was standing by the window, this one near Lady Mariam’s age. She turned and smiled at Sasha.

She was a colored woman, slim and small. But her eyes held a different confidence that was far different from Aliya’s earlier. Lady Eastwell’s confidence was not one that charmed people like Aliya’s, but one that showed anyone who was facing her that she could inflict excruciating physical pain.

“Sasha, please, sit down,” Lady Eastwell offered, ignoring Lady Mariam’s previous comment. “You must be weary from your journey. We shall not make this long as we know you must be starving.”

Sasha did not answer and took the seat offered her.

“I was informed that you were not told about your mission,” Lady Eastwell said, stealing Lady Mariam a glance. The other lady simply scoffed, shaking her head. “And you were not properly oriented of your responsibilities as a Belle.”

Sasha could only nod, afraid to offend any of these ladies.

“She fainted, Lady Eastwell,” Lady Mariam defensively provided, her voice stern and etched with ire. It may be known to all that both ladies were not friends, but the reason for the animosity was never revealed.

“Still not enough reason to just whisk the poor girl out of Belcourt,” Lady Eastwell retorted fast without sparing Lady Mariam a glance.

Sasha, on the other hand, shared a knowing, secret smile with Gabrielle.

“Very well, I shall give it to her now if you so wish!” Lady Mariam turned in her seat from behind her desk and stared at Sasha. “Sasha, there are many responsibilities attached to being a Belle. I shall not prolong this orientation by trying to be modest. I know very well the reputations the Belles have in Belcourt and most especially outside of Belcourt. But you must know that we do not simply service men in bed. It is expected, yes, but not always. These gentlemen, after all, expect different things from their Belles. Some merely want company and friendship, but yes, true enough, most of them wish to receive sexual gratification. As a Belle, you are not required to provide if you are not ready, but we highly encourage that you try. We match the flowers—I am certain you know we call them that?”

Sasha nodded, eager for the woman to finish her rushed orientation.

“Good. We match the flowers with the Belles we believe they would have a connection with.”

Sasha was highly doubting the capabilities of whoever make the matches for there was not a thread of connection between her and her current flower.

“However, if a Belle wishes to be matched with another, that can also be arranged. The same with the gentlemen. If they wish to be with another Belle, the Court of Flowers will try to find them a more suitable Belle. All of these are done with careful deliberation, of course.” When Sasha remained quiet, Lady Mariam, asked, “Well, have you any questions? A book manual should be in your bedchamber and if you wish to peruse it privately, that is very welcome. You will find more instructions there.”

“Of course. Thank you,” she replied courteously.

“Now, to the more interesting part,” said Lady Eastwell, “I believe Gabrielle has given you a hint that you are expected to fulfill missions as a Belle.”

“Yes.”

“Most of these missions are small, but some are quite sensitive and require enormous secrecy.”

“You will also find in your book manual the list of the consequences you would face should you fail to follow the codes of the Court of Flowers, particularly ones that involve missions,” added Lady Mariam.

Lady Eastwell eyed Sasha with concern and sympathy. “I fear that we have little time to talk you through this thoroughly, Sasha, but we believe that you are capable enough of understanding the codes of your new court. Considering the court where you came from, we are quite confident that you can do this mission like any of the other Belles, if not better. Lady Aisling would not have recommended you if she found you lacking for this mission.”

“But she surely did find me lacking to be in the Court of Libraries.” Sasha did not realize she had spoken out loud until Lady Eastwell frowned.

“Oh, no, my dear. You were suited for the Library. It is just that you are more suited for this mission.”

“But if I was re-courted for just this mission, would it not have been better to just find an existing Belle?” she asked.

“No,” chorused the two Mistresses. “This mission is highly sensitive. The present Belles may have encountered the subject of the mission one way or the other. We needed a fresh face,” added Lady Mariam.

“Do you understand now, Sasha?” Lady Eastwell asked gently.

Sasha slowly nodded. Everything was starting to become clear now.

“Are you quite ready to know more about your mission?”

She nodded, moistening her lips.

Lady Eastwell squared her shoulders. “We have reason to believe that someone is currently plotting something against the kingdom. And the crown prince has personally asked for Belcourt’s help on this matter. You may not be aware, but Belcourt has always been supportive of the king.”

Sasha nodded. She cared not of Belcourt’s relationship with the king. She only wanted to know about her mission so she could make her bargain.

“With the kingdom at threat, so is Belcourt,” Lady Mariam said, voice ominous.

She looked at the two women. “Then you wish me to find out who is plotting against the kingdom?”

Lady Eastwell shook her head. “We already have a name. Your task is simply to spy on him.”

Sasha swallowed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gabrielle shift in her seat.

“Who?” she asked.

“West Blackwood,” answered Lady Mariam. “Your flower.”

VI | An Agreement

“He became a gentleman of Belcourt merely a week ago. We were not aware of his plots until the crown prince himself came forward and personally asked Belcourt to accept Blackwood’s application into Belcourt so we could spy on him. The prince has reasons to believe that your flower joined Belcourt as part of his plot.”

“But the prince has no proof of the plotting. He has intercepted a letter addressed to the Blackwood from England, but it is not enough to put him to trial,” Lady Eastwell added to Lady Mariam’s statement.

“What letter from England?”

“The letter did not provide anything, but the fact that it answered a question regarding people that had been involved with the previous monarchy is enough to make us assume that Blackwood is up to something.”

“And you should know, Sasha,” said Lady Mariam, “that the previous king of Sutherland was dethroned twenty-nine years ago and it is believed that he fled to London before he was made to answer for the crimes he did during his reign.”

Everything was starting to fall into pieces for Sasha. Except for one thing.

“And where does my flower fall into this? He could simply be curious about the previous monarchy and its allies. The letter intercepted by the prince could be from someone else entirely—a scholar from England. Anyone.”

“You are indeed the right woman for this task,” Lady Eastwell said with a smile. “You ask the right questions.” She gestured with her hand as she answered Sasha’s question. “Your flower is the son of Addison Blackwood, the previous prime minister of the previous monarchy. He was very loyal to Reginald and was believed to be the man who helped the fallen monarch escape Sutherland.”

A small gasp escaped Sasha’s lips. She knew of Addison Blackwood as they were taught of Sutherland’s history, and she wanted to slap herself for not having made the connection when West introduced himself.

Addison Blackwood died in 1798, leaving behind a tarnished title. And it meant only one thing.

She tried to stifle her groan as she murmured, “Good lord.”

Lady Eastwell smiled in understanding. “You must now be feeling the weight of this mission, Sasha.”

Sasha closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. When she opened them, her eyes locked with Lady Eastwell’s gaze. “He is a duke.”

“Yes, he is,” Lady Mariam said, “but do not let his title scare you, dear. It is just a title. He is still a man. And they can be controlled and manipulated just as easily as anyone else.”

“You were chosen because you are smart, Sasha,” the Mistress of the Court of Arms said. “We trust that you can fulfill this mission.”

“You wish me to find proof of treason,” said Sasha. “And if there is none?”

“No harm done.” Lady Mariam shrugged. “We will be proving his innocence and the crown prince can rest his mind.”

“And if I do find proof?”

“You deliver it to us immediately and the king shall deal with him. He still has his title because his father was never proven of any crime. Since his father’s death, West Blackwood had been working hard on polishing the tarnished reputation he inherited from his father. He may have succeeded, but the fact remains that the man is his father’s son. Addison Blackwood died believed to still be in correspondence with Reginald. If he had plans with the previous monarch, his son could very well have taken his place.”

Or not.

Sasha could not help but give her flower the benefit of the doubt. Just as in any studies, she had to find proof and facts. She could not just rely on theories.

But she did not tell the Mistresses that.

She just nodded for that was what they expected.

“Seduce him until he is willing to tell you all of his secrets, Sasha.”

Sasha doubted that. The man did not want her for anything but find—

She paused in her thoughts. The hairs at the back of her neck stood.

He was looking for someone in Belcourt.

Should she tell them?

She knew it was stupid, but a voice in her head told her no. The voice told her to wait.

And Sasha trusted her instinct more than anything or anyone for it was what saved her every time. It was what saved her that night fifteen years ago and took her here at Belcourt.

Listening to the voice in her head, Sasha instead asked a question. “And if I succeed in this mission, is there any chance that I can be returned to the Court of Libraries?”

Her heart was hammering against her chest as the two ladies stared at each other.

“Surely, you only need me for this mission,” she added, voice almost pleading.

Lady Eastwell slowly nodded. “Perhaps we can have a discussion with Lady Aisling. She may agree to re-evaluate together with Lady Mariam.”

“But no promises, Sasha,” said Lady Mariam. “It was not our decision to officially transfer you here.”

Of course, Sasha thought. The Palace made the decision. The High Priestess gave the order. Or it could be the seven Maidens. These women held the power in Belcourt. The High Priestess was the queen of Belcourt, the seven Maidens her loyal servants, the only women to have personally laid their eyes on the High Priestess herself.

The heart of the colony deserved to be protected.

No one else knew what she looked like or where she currently was in Belcourt for it was a fact that the entire estate hid many secrets and Sasha, in her years being here, had not been to many of them. Not because she did not wish to, but because certain parts of Belcourt were not open to all.

They all had to blindly follow her lead for it was all for the best of Belcourt—for all the children and women who had nowhere else to go.

Sasha left Belcourt with renewed determination.

She had to either prove West Blackwood was innocent or not.

And then she could return to the Library.

She could return inside Belcourt.

Away from the outside.

Safe from the outside.

---

The blond young valet watched West finish washing his face.

With face drenched, he looked up. “What?” He knew the valet too well.

“Nothing, Your Grace.”

West turned and grabbed the washcloth from the man’s outstretched hands. He roughly wiped his face and brushed the damp locks of his light brown hair off his face to join the dry waves before he glared at the young man. “Out with it, Darren, or I will have you roasted for supper.”

Darren’s blue eyes looked away as he answered, “It is nothing, Your Grace. It is just that I noticed Lord Keene was… simmering last night.”

“He is always simmering with rage. That is how much he hates the world.” He threw the towel aside and walked to the set of clothes Darren had laid out for him.

“He does not like your plan, Your Grace?”

“And what do you know of my plans, you innocent lad?” he asked, turning to face Darren, eyes narrowed.

Darren’s face turned white. “N-nothing, Your Grace! Lord Leighton was talking about your ‘plan to damnation’ after he exited your study.”

“Were you pressing your ears at the wrong doors again?”

“N-no, Your Grace! I was merely waiting for you outside.”

West scoffed. “My friends may not agree with my plan, but they will support me.”

“If you say so, Your Grace.”

“I say so because they are my friends.”

“If you say so, Your Grace.”

He scowled at his valet. “I would wish for nothing but to throw you out in the gallows of Coulway, Darren, but the knowledge that you have too much information about me is more frightening.”

Darren nodded. “If you say so, Your Grace, but should I remind you that Coulway or Sutherland has long expunged the gallows?”

West pointed at the door. “Get out.”

“If you say so—”

“Bloody get out, Darren!”

The valet jumped and rushed out of the door. Knowing the man was still outside, West collected himself. “Now, should we start again with you acting like a valet for once, Darren?”

“If you say—Yes, Your Grace!”

“Enter.” The door opened again and Darren stepped inside. “Not a bloody word.”

Darren nodded, but the words ‘if you say so, Your Grace’ in the valet’s voice still echoed in West’s head. “I can never get rid of you, can I not?”

Darren was fighting a smile as he nodded. Again, his words rang in his master’s ears.

“I shall be out tonight,” he informed the valet. Darren blinked multiple times than necessary. West let out a breath of despair. “Speak.”

“May I know where you are headed to, Your Grace?”

West scoffed. “Wouldn’t you want to know now, yes?” He turned away from the valet. “It is best you do not know. You know too much for your own good.”

“If you say so, Your Grace.”

“Has there any letter for me from my attorneys?”

“Is this about the new villa, Your Grace?”

West glowered. “Of course, you know. Yes, Darren, this is about the villa. Well?”

“The letter is there, Your Grace.” West looked around and snatched the letter lying on the table beside his bed. “And I have you know that it has remained untouched since I received them.”

“You do not need to touch anything to know everything, Darren. You see through doors. You can very well see through letters,” he murmured as he opened the letter.

“My eyes and ears are quite normal, Your Grace. I am merely overly sensitive.”

Dismissing the valet’s explanation, West allowed the man to put on his coat while he read the letter from his attorneys.

A small smile curled at one corner of his lips.

“Good news, Your Grace?”

West’s eyes slanted toward Darren whose gaze was already on the letter. He folded the letter and reveled at the dismayed look of his valet. “Yes. Pack me a few clothing articles.”

Darren blinked. “You are staying at this villa?”

“No, not alone. You are coming with me.” Darren may be the most annoying man, prying on his business when he ought not to, but he could be trusted. God knew how much the man knew about West and his plans but had not shared it with anyone. West picked up Darren from the streets many years ago and since then, the young man had been nothing but trustworthy. His propensity to eavesdrop was merely his way of trying to protect his hero.

“And why would we need to live in a villa, Your Grace?”

“I am quite sure you will find out soon enough,” West said with a sigh, eyes fixed on the window.

Snow started to fall again.

“Will you stay long where you are going?” asked Darren.

“No, but no need to wait on me.” He knew that would never happen. Darren always waited until he returned safely.

West’s estate was not far from the city of Coulway, but it still took nearly an hour for him to reach the town center and a few more to reach Sasha’s villa.

He looked up and down the street before he stepped out of the carriage, certain no one was about to see him enter the villa.

This was why he needed the villa in Coulway, he reasoned as he waited for the door to open.

The same young woman greeted him with a smile.

“Lady Sasha is waiting, sir,” said the woman.

West wondered for a split second if the woman knew who he was and was merely feigning ignorance by addressing him as a common gentleman. The thought quickly vanished. Soon, he would not need to come here.

Belcourt would never know of his plans.

But whatever his plans were, vanished into thin air the moment he saw Sasha standing in the middle of the parlor wearing something different.

Her thick brown hair was down, touching the bare shoulders that her dress allowed. It mattered not to West that she finally decided to have a new dress, but it very well caused him alarm that she looked quite stunning.

It was not the gown.

It was the way her brown hair cascaded down freely, teasing her shoulders, teasing him.

On the two occasions that they met West had been fighting an internal battle. She was not as beautiful as many other women he had laid eyes on, but she was the most interesting. The way her bluish-gray eyes looked at him, wary one moment and confident and furious the next, often crossed his mind. Her bow-shaped lips moved with control and he had wondered what it would do to her face if they were to allow a genuine smile.

She was not the most gorgeous, but her face had been a constant image in his mind and her proud, angry voice a constant whisper.

And now she decided to put her hair down.

Blast the dress.

She could wear rags and still be as enticing.

His jaw clenched, and his body tensed.

He had to remind himself that this woman was trained to seduce men and he hated the thought that Sasha had to do the same to others before him. Had she been forced? Or was she willing?

Now, she was paired to him and sent here in Coulway to please him in bed.

That was not going to happen.

He knew enough of Belles to know what they were capable of.

They could ruin a man and he could not let this one do the same to him.

No, not him.

Especially not him.

“I am quite surprised you called for me,” he said, striding into the parlor.

“Please, sit,” she said, motioning her hand to the seat next to the settee where she settled. He noted the awkward gesture. Was she not used to this?

Curious, he thought.

He settled in the winged chair and looked at her. He could not help it. This woman looked interesting, acted interesting, and thought interestingly.

Who had thought that women were all the same?

Or perhaps this was her way of seduction. And he was falling victim to it.

He had to tread carefully as she knew he was facing a rather cryptic Belle. Not one he had expected at all.

It did not pass West’s notice when she stuck out her tongue to moisten her lips. His eyes stayed at those longer than necessary and only left to gaze into her eyes when she started to speak.

“I have given your proposal another thought,” she said, drawing him back to what was important. Not her lips, not her face, her hair, or the way her hands absently played with the skirt of her dress. His mind came to full alert at the mention of his proposal.

“And?” he asked rather impatiently.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at his tone. She looked around the room. They were alone, but her action told him she, too, was being careful. “I accept it.”

West did not show the triumph that burst inside him and instead said, “Then I am pleased.”

Speaking louder, she said, “Your proposal to find a different venue for our… rendezvous is a reasonable one.”

West immediately picked up her hidden message and nodded. “I am pleased that you do find my proposal to your liking, my lady,” he said with a smile. “I have purchased a villa in town and I hope it is fine with you that it is staffed by me.”

Her eyebrow cocked high. “Of course.”

“I appreciate that you respect the privacy I require for this… relationship to work.”

“Of course.”

“A carriage shall come by on the morrow. I will tour you around the villa myself.”

“Very good.”

He knew she was itching to get rid of him by the way she shifted in her seat.

He stood and gave her a slight bow. “Very well, good night, my lady. I shall see you on the morrow.”

---

Sasha paced around the parlor long after West left.

She shook her hands in the air, trying to control the shaking.

She was truly doing this.

She was engaging in a scheme with the man and Belcourt was not aware of it. She was on a mission to spy on him and he was not aware of it.

Of course, she was shaking.

A voice in her head told her she was being stupid. She should tell Belcourt.

No , the other voice whispered. Know more first. Know what his real plans are. Gather all information you can before you present your study.

Because this was what it was. A study. She simply had to treat this as one of her research.

“Are you truly going to let him procure a villa for your rendezvous?” Iyana’s voice asked, causing Sasha to jump in surprise.

“What?” Had Iyana been listening?

“Please, do forgive me, my lady,” Iyana said, face flushing. “I was on my way to serve tea when I heard.”

“It is fine, Iyana,” she said. “Yes. He… well, he is not quite comfortable here. He would rather we meet in a place he owns.”

“But he must have an estate.”

“Yes, but he takes pride in his title. He does not wish it to be tarnished by me.”

“Because you are a Belle?”

“I am afraid so.”

Iyana’s face crumpled in distaste. “I do not like him.”

Sasha sighed and looked out the window. “You do not have to,” she murmured.

If she insisted that they take their meetings here, she would merely be drawing him into her world. And that was not her mission. Her mission was to walk into his.

He procured a villa for them to meet because he did not trust her staff. But it was one step closer into his life, was it not?

Hopefully, soon enough, she could grace his home where his secrets lay.

---

Of course, it was not at all painless to sashay into a home that was not her villa where she knew she would be with trusted people.

It was unspeakably scary that for a moment Sasha feared she might faint in the hallway, but it was the presence of the young, smiling valet that gave her a semblance of ease.

At the very least, she was welcome here, she thought as she followed the blond valet further down the hall. The young man kept looking over his shoulder at her, smiling whenever he got caught. Never apologetic, just smiling.

He must be curious as to who she was. Or he could be used to this. After all, it was not uncommon for any men of West’s status to have a place such as this for their mistresses.

She was suddenly curious. Did he keep his own mistress—or mistresses?

Sasha shook her head. Why would she care?

Sasha was not surprised by the room the valet revealed.

Of course, it was the study.

And West looked so… important and untouchable where he sat behind the desk.

He looked up and nodded at the valet who just smiled at Sasha before leaving the room.

“Please, sit.”

No ‘Good morning to you, my lady. I hope you found the carriage ride comfortable. Are you feeling cold? Would you like some tea?’. No, nothing of the sort.

Sasha squared her shoulders and stiffly walked to the chair. She had not worn her red cloak today. An obvious mistake as she was freezing to death. She stared longingly at the lit fireplace across the room. “Is it possible to take our discussion near the fire?” she hastily asked, afraid that he could hear her teeth chattering.

He frowned at her.

“I am freezing,” she coldly explained.

He blinked. “Of course.” He stood.

Sasha hurried near the fire.

“Forgive my ignorance.”

“I expect less from you, sir,” she said as she settled in the chair nearest the fire. She noted that his face hardened. “I meant that I do not expect you to look after me,” she explained. The warmth from the fire did not melt the coldness in his eyes. Good lord, this man could be the god of winter. He truly lived up to his title, didn’t he?

He held out a piece of paper. Sasha took it and began to read. He watched silently as she did so, her expression changing with every statement. Chagrin. Amusement. Agreement. Anxiety.

She looked up at him with a frown. “No sexual endeavors.”

“It simply means that we cannot engage in any sexual activities. I free you of that obligation.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why? Do you not agree?”

“I do,” she replied too hastily than necessary. “It also states that I cannot approach you outside of this villa.”

“As I have already expressed—”

“You do not wish my reputation to tarnish yours,” she finished, frowning at the paper. “Provide results within two months.”

“I believe that is reasonable enough. Belcourt is not that big of a place for you to find one person.”

Sasha scoffed incredulously. This man did not know what he was saying.

“Belcourt is—” then she stopped herself. He did not have to know. Two months ought to be enough to collect any evidence of the crime the crown prince believed he was involved in. Two months ought to be enough for her to keep him distracted by this task while she was working on her true mission. Sixty days would be long enough before Sasha could go back to the Court of Libraries, one she intended to do. “Very well, two months shall suffice.”

“You cannot tell Belcourt or anyone that is connected to the place.”

“Of course.”

“You shall receive your initial payment the moment that you sign the agreement. You will receive more after you fully deliver what I ask of you.”

Sasha shrugged. She did not need his money, but if that was how he wanted it done, she would not stop him. He had to believe she needed the payment.

She looked up at him. “I am pleased with this agreement. I had thought that you might want something else from this relationship of ours.”

She thought she saw disdain flash before his eyes as he stared down at her.

A forced smile curled her lips. “Apparently, you do not wish to be serviced by a whore in the way whores typically service men. I am very fine with that.” When he remained impassive, Sasha added, “After all, I do not need a lover who cannot give me pleasure because he cannot will himself to do so.” He opened his mouth to speak but she raced him by quickly saying, “It is agreed then—our relationship is nothing but business. You pay me to find the person you are looking for. And who will I be looking for?”

“I will not tell you until you sign.”

Sasha held out her hand. When he merely looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes. “I would need a pen.”

His jaw tightened.

“Should we ring for your valet to get it for me?”

Stiffly, he turned and walked to his desk. When he returned, he held out a pen with a metal nib and she stared at it with renewed genuine interest.

It was rare for one to own one for they came at such a high price. Her goose feather quill would be put to shame by this piece of magic, she thought as she held it, containing her smile of satisfaction as she held it between her fingers.

While she signed her name at the bottom of the paper, she enjoyed the act rather than the task. She now had an idea of what she should procure with the payment she shall receive from him.

Once done, he grabbed the paper from her, along with the pen which she reluctantly returned, and said, “This agreement has as much weight as any contract. My attorneys will keep this safe.”

Sasha shrugged. “Well?” She looked up at him. “Who do you wish me to find in Belcourt?” He took his time answering.

For a second, he hesitated. “A woman.”

Sasha could not help the incredulous laugh that escaped her throat. “A woman? Are you trying to be funny, sir? You know Belcourt is infested by women.” She scoffed, shaking his head. “I would need for you to be a tad more specific.”

“A woman who shares my blood,” he replied in a deadpan voice. His face lacked any hint of what he felt for the task he wanted her to fulfill or the woman he wanted her to find. “My sister.”

VII | The Grimes

Sasha was staring at him, confusion and disbelief were woven together in her peculiarly beautiful face.

West watched her blue-grey eyes narrow as understanding washed over her face. “There is only one reason why she is there.” The condemning curl of her lips bewildered West. “She is a bastard.”

He blinked. “She is. We do not share the same father.”

She chuckled, her eyes darting to the paper in his hand. Was she considering changing her mind? Because of this? “Her origin should not affect how you meet the task you will be paid to do.”

Her small gasp of disbelief and contempt told him she had more opinions on the matter than she necessarily should. “They do affect me in many ways, sir.” She was throwing sharp icicles with her cold gaze. “You do not know how these children feel knowing they are there simply because the people who gave them life were too callous with their actions.”

Was she one of them? He wanted to ask. No, he did not have to know. Knowing more about this woman was not necessary. Their transaction was purely a formal negotiation.

“I am not requiring you to find a child, woman,” he said, his tone reminding her who was paying who. “Our mother, Elizabeth Blackwood, gave birth to my sister in Belcourt. I merely had a year in my life when they both disappeared, so do forgive me if I did not stop them as what your look is suggesting I ought to have done.”

She stiffened. “You never saw them again?”

“If I did, I do not have any recollection.” He walked to the table where he carefully laid the signed paper and his pen. Turning to face her, he found that she was looking at him intently. His arms crossed over his chest and he rested his hips on the edge of the table. “I have reasons to believe my sister never left Belcourt.”

Sasha blinked. “If she is merely a year younger than you, she must now be—”

“Eight and twenty,” he interrupted, answering her unfinished question. “You are to look for a grown woman, Sasha, not a child.”

Her long, shaky sigh traveled through the still air toward him. He did not mean for his body to react in any way. He was a man, after all, a part of him thought with wonder. A simple sigh from this woman was enough to make him go tight.

He shifted his legs and crossed one over the other, leaning back against the table. “It seems that you have more thoughts of disapproval,” he bit out.

He wanted her out of here the soonest he could.

A brief thought flashed his mind. Should he have excluded the sexual clause from the agreement? He could very well need the service of a woman. It had been a while since he had one.

Then the thought was quickly drowned by the bigger, compelling part of him. Never with this woman. He could seek sexual gratification from anywhere else, but never from a Belle.

“Why were they in Belcourt?”

The question was not futile, but West was currently in an illogical battle with himself caused simply by a bloody sigh from a woman sitting ten paces away from him. It was stupid and unwarranted for him, a duke, to be this bemused… distracted.

“As I have said, my lady , I was merely one when they took refuge in Belcourt. No one, especially my father, revealed the reason why. My mother was dead to him since she was found to be carrying another man’s child,” he lied. “Your next question, of course, is why am I only looking for the sister? We know she left Belcourt shortly after she gave birth. She was never seen again. And your next question shall be, why have I not sought out my sister sooner?” He saw her nod. She was naturally curious and she should know that this curiosity of her could land her in the worst places. But the same curiosity could help him find his sister. “I have for many years. Belcourt is the last place in my search. I had to make certain all other places were covered.”

A long silence filled the study. “Why?”

West let out an exasperated sigh. How many more questions did this woman have? “Why what?” he snapped, brows fused with impatience. His jaw tightened when she moistened her lips to ask, “Why do you wish to find her? What do you intend to do with her?”

His eyes lingered on her lips long after she asked her question. Then he blinked and snapped back to reality.

He had enough. He uncrossed his legs and came to full height. “That is not your concern, my lady ,” he nearly growled, biting out the last two words with enough sarcasm. “Your task is to find my sister in whatever way you know how. You have access to Belcourt and I expect that you can find her with ease.”

She shook her head. What did that smile mean? It was as if she knew better. “I will do my best.”

“No,” West strongly insisted. “You deliver. That is what I expect from you. It should not be too hard.”

When she looked at him with a knowing smile pasted on her lips, he wondered if it would indeed be that easy for her. But it was just Belcourt. It was just a bloody orphanage. “You have not set foot into Belcourt, have you?”

“I do not need to, now that I have you,” was his cold response.

“You are now a gentleman of Belcourt—a flower —and with that comes rare privileges.”

“I know what privileges come with the bloody title I bought from that place.”

“Then you know you can have entrance into the Court of Flowers.”

He let out a small scoff of incredulity. “What? A bloody drawing room full of women and other gentlemen? Doing what?”

She laughed pathetically and West frowned. “A drawing room! Is that what you imagine the Court of Flowers is?”

“I care not which part of the orphanage it is, only that it is the only part of Belcourt I can enter and nowhere else. That is proof enough that coming to the place is useless and a waste of time. I shall not risk walking into a bloody classroom filled with orphans in search of a woman. If you expect me to mingle with the other gentlemen and women, expected to be disappointed. You may be used to it for Belcourt is your home, but know that witnessing licentious activities with children merely a few doors away is not acceptable to some.”

She laughed some more. Shaking her head, she managed, “I ought to drag you to Belcourt one of these days, sir.”

“That is unnecessary—”

“Oh, it is,” she said, this time turning very serious. Her eyes held his intently. “Because it seems that you have so many opinions of Belcourt and I wish for you to sift through them on your own by seeing the place for yourself.” She stiffly stood. “So that you may realize the great amount of task you require me to fulfill. And so that you do not appear ignorant in front of those who have actually been to the place.” She stared at him up and down. “It is a pity, really, that for someone with such high standing in society, you lack basic knowledge of Belcourt, a place you obviously personally abhor.”

He scoffed. “What more is there to know about Belcourt? It is an orphanage with a few other specialties.”

Her smile froze and something crossed her eyes. She blinked before West could decipher what it was. “You mean to find your sister and rescue her from such a place.”

That was partly correct. “Yes.”

“You abhor the idea of her turning into a Belle.”

Good God, yes.

“But—”

“What?” he asked when she did not finish her statement.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just about to say something that would merely cause another long argument.” She took a long breath and sighed. “Very well, I shall make certain that I deliver .”

West nodded. “Good. Two months.”

She nodded. “Long enough.”

---

“Ah, so you met Aliya.” Ruby’s statement was spoken in a rather mysterious tone. “I do not dislike the woman, Sasha, and I do not expect you to do so as well. She is rather charming and nice. Too nice, as a matter-of-fact, that you are sometimes left wondering if it is genuine or not. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes,” she replied. She had the same sentiments.

“She is very good at what she does. The best, I should say. It is believed that she never failed a mission.” Ruby sighed dramatically. The woman was just like her parlor. It was painted red, the furniture intricately detailed in every angle, exuding a dramatic sophistication that almost felt like the one who designed it was desperate to be identified as the same. “By the by, Sasha, have you heard the current rumor from Belcourt?” Ruby’s excited tone drew Sasha’s attention back to the woman. “It is said that someone from the Service is asking to be re-courted into the Court of Flowers. And it is all because of you! You started something quite extraordinary.” Ruby sipped her tea and with fine grace, placed it on the table before turning to stare at Sasha again. She would never be that graceful, she thought. “After over fifty years, a lady—you—were re-courted! Before you, there was only one woman who managed to do that.”

Karolina. Every Belcourt lady knew the name.

Wherever she may be now, the woman was no longer alone in the feat.

Ruby’s lady companion, May, a woman Sasha was familiar with from the Common Court, walked into the parlor and announced that Ruby had a visitor.

“Oh, yes, of course! I forgot he is coming today.” Ruby shot to her feet and turned to Sasha with a smile of apology.

Sasha immediately understood. “I should be going,” she said, standing. “Iyana must be fretting as we speak. I did not tell her I will be coming by to call on you.”

Ruby’s nodded, smiling at her with gratitude. “I shall see you at the Garden Ball. You will be coming, yes?”

“I have no invitation.”

“Oh, fret not. That can be easily handled. The Garden Ball is the first grand ball of the season. All gentlemen from all over the kingdom will be coming here at Coulway to do business. The season is the best six months of the year, wouldn’t you agree?” Then Ruby laughed. “Of course, you have not experienced it yet. But you will. Expect an invitation for the ball within the week. And prepare your best gown!”

Ruby escorted her out of the parlor and at the main hallway, a man was already standing there, waiting.

He was tall and lean. He was not bad to the eyes either. In fact, he looked rather handsome with his dark, curly hair and deep blue eyes. There was an air of confidence around him that made one think twice before making an approach. And the way his eyes landed and penetrated Sasha’s entire form made the hairs at the back of her neck stand.

“I was not aware you were with a friend, Ruby, dear,” he said in a low voice, tone light and comforting, a contrast to his gaze which was still on Sasha. As though he was stripping her of her light blue gown. As though he was planning to inflict something.

“She is just leaving,” replied Ruby. It was one of the rules to never reveal a Belle’s name unless she does so herself.

“Please, forgive me,” said the gentleman, walking over to them. “Daniel Willoghby.” He bowed before Sasha.

Sasha turned to Ruby who merely gave her a small smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Willoghby,” Sasha replied with one awkward curtsy. “Sasha.”

The way she only offered her name was enough for Willoghby to guess who—or what she was.

His smile widened, showing perfect teeth. He turned expectantly at Ruby who remained quiet and then chuckled. “You Belles truly do maintain your mystery. And most loyal! She ought to be telling you more about me,” he said to Sasha.

Ruby let out a dramatic sigh. “Daniel is the owner of the Sutherland Post, Sasha. I am certain you have heard of it?”

“Of course,” Sasha said. It was the only good thing Sasha got to read every morning since she came to Coulway.

“And also of The Grimes,” said Ruby, a knowing, naughty grin on her lips.

Sasha’s eyes widened at Willoghby who was evidently pleased to have elicited such response. He must be used to it. And he reveled at the reactions he got.

But did he know the enormous things Ruby could extract from him and give to Belcourt in secret? Of course, he did not. If he did, he would not be here.

The Grimes was known even in Belcourt. It was a weekly magazine that used cartoons to portray the grimes of Sutherland. Any copy was not allowed inside the Common Court, but it was nonetheless everywhere in the other courts, most particularly at the Village.

“Then I do hope I do not get to your bad side, Mr. Willoghby, for I would hate to be drawn in your magazine in any form whatsoever.”

The man laughed, his deep blue eyes once more peeling each surface of her. “I am not one to abuse my power, but I do hope that we can be friends in the future. Ruby’s friends are always welcome in my circle.”

It was the first time Sasha heard Ruby force out a laugh.

Her friend tugged her away from Willoghby saying, “Sasha was just on her way back to her villa. Perhaps the three of us can enjoy a cup of tea in the Flower Garden.” And to Sasha, she said, “He does enjoy being there.”

“I truly do,” said Willoghby, nodding his head at Sasha. “Have a good day, my lady. We shall see more of each other.”

Perhaps it was in the way he said it that made Sasha’s stomach churn in response.

“He is rather odd, I must admit,” Ruby whispered as she helped Sasha with her red cloak, “but he gives me the best and most expensive gifts. And other useful things. And what of your flower? Is he good to you?”

Sasha was able to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape her. “Of course.”

“No other flower? Just the one for now?”

Sasha blinked. “There could be more?”

“Well, it depends on Belcourt!”

Surely, there would only be this one, Sasha thought. Considering the sensitivity of her mission, she could not imagine Belcourt throwing in another man for her to entertain.

And now that she thought of it, she was glad her flower had a different kind of entertainment in mind. Otherwise, she would be at her wit’s end trying to figure out how to deal with him.

“Now, do tell me.”

Sasha blinked.

“Tell you what?”

Sasha looked over her shoulder. Willoghby was gone, probably somewhere in the villa. “There was something in your eyes when I mentioned your flower. Is he not nice? That can happen, you know.”

Sasha sighed. “He is cold and borders arrogant.”

“Truly now…” Ruby mused. “Then you ought to know better. You control the relationship, Sasha. These rich gentlemen think highly of themselves and are most often arrogant. But never,” Ruby lifted a finger, “ever make him force you into anything you do not want to do. And you do the same. It has to be a mutual relationship, but you still have to know that you have the power. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Belcourt is always behind you. They will always think of us first before any of these men.”

Sasha nodded.

She knew that.

Belcourt had proven to them countless of times that they were the priority.

“I truly must go and see him now,” said Ruby. “He is quite eager for a good chat as he always is.”

Sasha nodded. “I will see you soon.”

“Yes, of course.” Ruby guided her to the door. “Now, go. And remember what I said about your flower!”

---

That night, Sasha received another visit from Gabrielle.

The woman was wearing trousers and a shirt underneath her green cloak.

“Wherever have you been?” asked Sasha, amazed at the woman’s attire.

“I had to travel on horseback.” Gabrielle threw her cloak to the side and looked around the room. “You have a very nice parlor, Sasha. You must know that not all villas look the same as yours. Some Belles tend to… should I say… exaggerate.”

Sasha laughed. “It is because they have the money to spare.”

Gabrielle nodded. She sat at the settee and crossed her leg over the other, regarding Sasha with a curious look. “Has your flower said anything?”

She pretended to focus on smoothing the skirt of her dress. Ruby’s words came back to her.

Belcourt is always behind you. They will always think of us first before any of these men…

Making up her mind, Sasha looked at Gabrielle. She would know what to do. Considering she just met them both, there was no question that she trusted this woman more than she trusted West.

“He made me an offer.”

Gabrielle’s shoulders squared, suddenly alert. Her pale green eyes focused on Sasha. “What offer?”

“Money,” she supplied. “In return of finding someone within Belcourt.”

Sasha saw Gabrielle’s jaw tighten, eyes narrowed as she thoughtfully asked, “Who?”

Before she replied, Sasha had a feeling that Gabrielle might already have an inkling. It was merely a passing curious thought, but one she had to admit bothered her.

She answered anyway. “His sister.”

VIII | One Night with a Duke

Gabrielle knew more than what she was willing to share, Sasha concluded as the woman simply nodded.

Yet what more could she expect from the Court of Arms? They held many secrets and rightly so because their task was to protect Belcourt, the children, and the ladies.

“He does not require or wish to engage in a sexual relationship with me or any Belles. He became a flower for his one goal.”

Gabrielle frowned at this. “You have to get yourself invited into his home. Do whatever is necessary. Find out what he intends to do. Surely, there is a plan.”

“That is my current predicament. He procured a villa for our meetings.”

Gabrielle sighed, shaking her head. “He is proving to be challenging, then.”

“He is quite smart.”

“Most of them are.” Gabrielle focused her gaze back on Sasha. “You did agree to his proposal?”

“I initially refused, but after I was given my mission, I agreed to him.”

“He already made his purpose known before you came to Belcourt? Before you met us in Lady Mariam’s study?”

Sasha swallowed. “Yes.”

“And you did not tell us?”

She nodded. “Because I knew I was going to receive a mission. I had to know what I had to do first before I said anything.”

“Did he make you sign a contract?”

“An agreement, yes.”

Gabrielle nodded her redhead slowly, her eyes thoughtful. “Then he had been planning this for quite some time.”

“He must have. If we are to believe him, he has been in search of his sister for quite a while. Belcourt is his last resort.”

“Were there any information about the sister?”

Sasha told Gabrielle everything West told her.

“Elizabeth Blackwood?”

“His mother, the one he shares with his sister. They do not share the same father,” she informed Gabrielle. “Surely we can check if the woman indeed existed. She was never mentioned in any of our lessons on history.”

“She does exist. I am quite certain. He would not provide you with a non-existent name. Her name would be in the public records.”

“He believes she left Belcourt alone.” When Gabrielle did not reply, Sasha wondered aloud, “Does this have something to do with the sister’s father?”

“If she is indeed a bastard, it would be very hard to know who the father is. Most of these women do not share such things.”

“He refuses to tell me anything more. I am expected to find his sister with just his mother’s name.” She scoffed. “He is giving me two months.”

“That is not enough.”

Sasha shrugged. “He had not seen Belcourt.”

“You ought to have asked for more time.”

“I reckoned that I would have already completed my mission on him in two months. I do not have to find his sister, do I?”

Gabrielle nodded. “You are correct. But should you find that you need more time for this mission, you demand more time from him.”

“Then two months should suffice. For now.”

“But it shall not be enough if you cannot access his home, Sasha.”

Sasha smiled. “Then I should try harder, yes?”

---

Mrs. Barbara Compton was a jaunty old woman who did not only bake the best apple tarts but also seemed oblivious about her neighbor’s standing in society.

In Sasha’s first week in Coulway, she had met quite a few people, some random and others within the circle of the Belles such as Ruby’s friends from the different balls she attended.

With the random people she met, she most definitely noticed the change in their demeanor the moment they learned where she came from. Most cordially excused themselves and were never seen again. Others were interested, always wanting to get as much information as they could about the mysterious orphanage.

Was it true that the bastard of the king was hidden there?

Was it true that Belcourt had dungeons? Their rooms located underground?

Was there a lake in Belcourt?

How rich is Belcourt?

How vast?

How nice?

How cruel?

After her first week, Sasha had decided that engaging in any random conversation with anyone she met in shops or anywhere near the villa was not wise. Iyana had pointed out that she was too accommodating.

“You know that words travel fast, my lady. Everyone who approaches you in the streets is already aware of where you came from.”

And it was true. In merely a few days, it seemed that everyone she met knew who she was—and what she was.

Everyone suddenly had an opinion.

But obviously not her neighbor, Mrs. Compton.

The woman had been religiously sending all sorts of tarts she baked herself to Sasha’s villa. Twice, she asked if Sasha wanted to join her for a walk to the park, and both times Sasha courteously refused.

But she could only refuse the kind lady too much. She would hate to see the disappointed look in the woman’s face again and she most definitely did not like the look of near-desperation in Mrs. Compton’s eyes when she asked for the third time that afternoon. This woman was lonely, Sasha guessed as she grabbed her fur coat and joined the woman for a walk.

“I know you are from Belcourt, Sasha,” Mrs. Compton said, voice knowing. “Is that why you refused my invitation twice?”

Sasha’s face heated. “I would hate for you to—”

“Oh, I am too old to think about my reputation, dear.”

“No, I would hate for you to find out and be disappointed that I never told you.”

“Oh. Well, you should have known I know.”

Sasha smiled. “And you simply do not care.”

“Why would I? Did you choose to be in Belcourt?”

Yes.

“No orphan deserves to be judged simply because the other orphans before them act the way they are when they go out in society. Such as every child is not answerable to the actions of their siblings.” Mrs. Compton tapped Sasha’s hand with her rough, wrinkled hands. “I have heard other stories about other Belles, darling. They are not always horrid.”

“Truly? From whom?”

“Well, my son, of course! He is a baron, see? He works is a member of the House of Commons and works closely with the House of Lords.”

“He does?”

“Yes. And he speaks highly of some Belles. And I believe my son more than anyone. He is a respectable gentleman who earned his title all to himself. I should make certain you meet him in the future whenever he comes calling.”

Sasha could only smile. If the baron was respectable, he might consider the same thing as West—keep his distance from a Belle.

“He tells me,” said Mrs. Compton, “that some Belles are even better than the aristocrats!”

Her eyes widened with amusement. “Oh, no, he did not!”

They had reached the park faster than she expected. The woman may be old, but she was not weak.

“Just look at those two fine gentlemen,” said Mrs. Compton. “They inherited their titles simply by coming out of the right womb.”

Sasha was laughing at what Mrs. Compton was saying as her eyes searched. And then her laughter caught in her throat and she started to cough.

Not far away was West riding on horseback. Alongside him was another man on a black horse. No one had to point out their station, for the horses were enough to speak of their status.

“The Duke of Eaton and the Earl of Keene,” Mrs. Compton whispered in a not so low voice beside Sasha who was struggling to catch her breath, all the while looking for a way out of the path the two were taking—toward them. “Both fine young men, I should say. Eaton, I believe suffered his father’s bad reputation but worked his way up again by supporting the right people in the House of Commons. His support has given us the best policies thus far. Everyone now follows whatever Eaton supports. As to the other fine lad beside him, Keene is known to be with the best-polished reputation. His family had been naught but a stellar example of good conduct and reputation for generations. His support for Eaton was a great help, as a matter of fact.”

For a moment, Sasha forgot that West and his friend were coming nearer as she turned her head at Mrs. Compton, entirely amazed. “Do you read these things from somewhere or does the baron share them with you?”

Mrs. Compton laughed. “When you are my age, dear, you are left with days of endless boredom.” And then she added in a whisper, “This park is filled with stories.”

Sasha’s laughter rang out and it was only then that she remembered West. She stopped laughing, turning her head. Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders, ready to pretend that she did not see him.

Her companion clucked her tongue. Sasha focused her gaze back on the woman, her ears very aware of the clicking of hooves against the cobbled path of the park.

“Too bad such fine gentlemen are destined for a boring life with a boring aristocrat lady who was groomed to be boring simply to fit society’s standards.”

Sasha got lost in her thoughts as she saw the two black horses pass them by from the corner of her eye. She stole a glance. West’s back was on her, straight and proud. He had not seen her.

Good.

But why was she disappointed?

Shaking her head, she focused on the answer she intended to speak before the distraction passed by earlier.

“It is not anyone’s fault now, is it? For we are all bred and reared to be something, Mrs. Compton,” she said with a small smile. “Mayhap it is the standard that is at fault, for if it is nonexistent, so shall the expectations that come with the rearing.”

Mrs. Compton grinned. “You are a smart woman, Sasha. You truly ought to meet my son.”

---

West stood before the window of the villa, looking down at the cobbled street, his face impassive, his mind addled with many things at once.

He watched as Sasha stepped down from her tiny carriage and rushed up the stairs where the door must already be open to permit her entrance.

Her dress was different from when he last saw her at the park that morning.

He was quite surprised to see her there and it was odd to find her in a company of an old woman. She was engaged in a conversation then but West was sure she saw him and deliberately ignored him.

As she should have , the voice in his head whispered.

With one hand, he massaged his shoulder and turned away to go back to his seat behind the table. As he settled, the door to the study opened.

Darren’s smiling and knowing face greeted him, followed by Sasha’s serious and proud mien.

Her hair was up again, a disappointment. But it bared her neck and shoulders to him. No wonder she always felt cold. She could barely cover herself.

His gaze turned into a glare when he caught Darren still standing by the door. His valet smiled back. West cocked an eyebrow. Darren understood and hesitantly turned to leave.

As Sasha settled in the seat near the fire, she began to take off her gloves.

“I will have to stay a little longer, lest my staff shall wonder, and I would hate to have rumors start at Belcourt.”

He frowned, content that there was enough distance between them. “What rumors?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug.

“Do I have to force it out of you?”

Her stinging gaze sailed straight toward him. “And you believe force is potent enough to get what you want?”

“It was rhetorical, my lady.”

“It was a statement with words that meant what you meant them to be,” was her immediate response.

West’s jaw tightened. “Very well, you are one who takes things too literally then.”

“No, I simply have this innate instinct to protect myself.”

From whom? From what? He wanted to ask but stopped himself. Had any of her previous flowers hurt her before?

“Forgive my careless words.” When she simply nodded, he continued, “Now, will you answer what rumors shall spread if you stay less than you should in this villa?” he asked with a slight edge of sarcasm.

“They will think you do not want me.”

He was stupefied. “Who would think that? Belcourt?” She did not answer, but he saw it in her eyes. “The other Belles.”

“They will think I am an unwanted Belle.”

No, you are not .

West cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off her and her bare shoulders. Her hair. Her eyes. Her lips. Bloody hell, even her bare hands, and fingers.

“You can stay the night if you wish,” he offered, his voice cold and crisp, echoing in his own ears. “I will not, of course, but this villa is at your disposal.”

She looked around. Was that disappointment he saw in her eyes?

“But I see that you find it lacking.”

There was that sigh again and his body, traitor at her presence, tensed, reacting at the simple gesture as if she touched him; as if her fingers brushed against him.

“Your library is empty.”

West blinked, looking around. “There are sufficient books for you to devour although there is a great lack of fictional materials that you may be looking for.”

“That will be quite all right. I used to read things on economics and…” Her voice trailed.

West was impressed. “Economics? Belles do read economics?”

She stood and he watched her slowly make her way to the bookshelf across the wall from him. “Some do.”

“And where did you get your books?”

She cleared her throat. “My previous flower.” Her back turned to him; West’s eyes devoured the sight.

His jaw clenched. How many flowers had she had before? Did she tease them the way she was doing now?

He saw the muscles of her shoulders move, noticed how the dress stretched around her waist as she reached for a book, teasing him with a glimpse of what he could only imagine.

His muscles bunched without warning as she bent her head, exposing the back of her neck, elongating her spine before him.

Good mighty lord, he was sitting behind his desk almost ten paces away from her, and yet he was reacting as though she was standing there stripped and bare before him.

Jumping to his feet while internally cursing himself, West went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a brandy.

“Would you care for a drink?” he offered, biting the offer through his teeth.

“You do not sound generous at all,” she said and he turned just in time to see the teasing smile on her lips, a look he had never seen from her before.

Blazes of fire surrounded him in that one moment. He was burning. And he had not even taken a sip from his drink yet.

“I am being generous.”

She shrugged. “I should refuse, but since you kindly asked, I am inclined to accept. A glass of what you are having is good.”

“I have sherry.”

“Not my cup of tea,” she said, a scoff escaping her throat at her own intentional use of the idiom.

His lips quirked at the remark and he cleared his throat. As he poured another glass for her, a thought occurred to him.

He disliked what she was, but he did not have to dislike her.

He may have to fight a constant battle trying to ignore the obvious physical attraction, but he did not have to fight the obvious wit and other qualities she possessed.

They did not have to be friends.

They could simply be comfortable enough so they could work together.

She was still reading when he approached to hand her the glass of brandy.

Without looking, she reached for it, her fingers brushing against his as she enclosed them around the glass.

West felt as though he was burned and he immediately retreated back to his table. But then he stopped, turning to go near the fire.

He looked at her, growing uncomfortable with the silence. “Do you find it interesting?”

“I have read this before,” she said, closing the book single-handedly with a snap.

West swallowed his drink as she reached up to put the book back. The side view of her was even worse.

He gulped another drink, loving the scathing heat that traveled down his throat, satisfying the thirst for something else.

“You are a duke.” She was walking back, her bluish-grey eyes reflecting the fire. He knew he should have stayed behind the table where it was safe, but somehow, he felt he needed to test his reserve.

“It is not important.” The crisp tone was the soldier he needed to ward off the power her very presence had over his treacherous body. “My title does not have anything to do with our relation—I believe affair is a better term.”

A small, bitter smile formed on her lips as she sat across from him, a queen with a faux crown sitting in a throne made just for her. And she looked regal and deserving in it.

That was her charm, West finally realized.

She believed what she was, and so she was.

And so, he did. Which was why he had to be careful.

“You mean to say that your title shall have to remain untouched and untainted by me.”

West’s jaw tightened. Did she just demean herself again? Was this the same woman who took offense at his statement about using force?

No, she was not degrading herself for the bitter smile on her lips was still there. She was judging him. “I do not have to tarnish your reputation with… mine, yes?” She carefully sipped from her glass and swallowed. “A whore.”

He fumed. “You said it. I did not.”

Her brows cocked high in mock amusement. “You were thinking about it. Are thinking it.”

“You Belcourt women may pride yourselves with the pristine reputation of Belcourt, but there are enough people who know that it is far from that. You breed women to use men,” West coldly said. Her expression remained unchanged. “Is that the kind of insult you wish me to throw at you every time we meet?” he scathingly asked.

She simply shrugged.

“Do not provoke me at every turn, my lady . I may have an opinion on Belcourt, but it does not mean I treat its women like the other gentlemen who pay them for pleasure.” When she blinked, West saw her eyes clear and her expression softened. “I am treating this affair as naught but business and I expect not to be taunted simply because you believe I have the wrong impression of Belcourt. Can we not simply have a good chat with our glass of brandy?”

She was motionless for a long time before she finally blinked and shrugged. “Very well, if that is what you wish. What would you like to talk about?” she asked, sarcasm clear and precise.

West sighed. “How you intend to find my sister.”

“Ah, of course. Business it is then.” She smiled at him. He was nearly undone. Any form of a smile from this woman was virulent.

---

“You will be foxed before we can finish this discussion,” he sternly said as Sasha poured herself another glass.

She agreed.

But it was the only way she could ignore his presence or the confusing emotions she felt toward him.

She wanted to hate him for having such a horrid opinion about Belcourt. But she also pitied him for being too ignorant.

And she was also curious. And wary.

Why was he looking at her like that?

She had felt the intense manner he looked at her ever since she walked into the room hours earlier.

It sent shivers down her spine when they discussed her plans to find his sister, not because she was cold, but because he pulled off his cravat and nonchalantly unbuttoned the top of his shirt. As though her very presence did not warrant for him to appear respectable!

He was rude.

And he was also too bloody handsome.

“Did you hear me, or are you purposely ignoring me?” she heard him ask.

Sasha nodded. She was feeling the effects of the spirit.

Her vision was getting cloudy and her speech would slur if she spoke now.

Closing one eye, she carefully finished her task and returned to her seat.

Her knees wobbled.

A giggle escaped her lips and she hated the sound. Yet she couldn’t help it.

Almost there, she told herself, taking one step after the other toward the winged chair.

The room spun around her and Sasha stopped. “As I was swaying—I mean, saying, I will need a visit to the Library. It is where all records of all Belcourt children are,” she managed to say, hoping that her words were enough to cover the slight sway.

Obviously, it was not because he was now standing before her, looking down at her with a frown.

Sasha looked down at the glass in her hand. She should stop drinking; else she might speak about things she should not in his presence.

Belatedly realizing the fact, she gasped. “I should not be drinking.”

“And you only realize that now?” his voice asked above her.

The glass was snatched out of her hand in one fluid motion.

Sasha’s head snapped. The room refocused and so did his face. She peered closer at him. “Do you realize you are quite stunning?” The question was out of her mouth even before she realized she was thinking it. His eyes darkened.

Why was she not afraid?

Warm.

She was far from the fire, but she felt warm.

It was not the brandy.

It was him standing too close.

Sasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart started to race.

Was she having one of her fainting spells?

The room was indeed getting darker. And her knees seemed weak.

She swayed and he held out a hand to steady her.

“You are foxed, Sasha.”

Sasha.

She liked how her name sounded in his voice—his irate voice.

It could be the brandy or another fainting spell.

Or it could simply be just him, but the room was moving again and it was stretching her breath with it until Sasha felt that she could take it no more.

His hand tightened around her arm. He stepped closer.

He did not have to, really.

Sasha looked up.

And he did not have to look at her like that, she thought.

“I cannot breathe,” she confessed.

His eyes dipped down from her eyes to her lips. His jaw clenched. His eyes darkened.

Sasha saw it all beyond the fog of bewilderment.

“It must be your corset.” He said it so nonchalantly, so naturally. She was awed by the control in his voice for his eyes were far from that. His eyes were telling her things that were wild and dangerous.

“It is not the bloody corset,” Sasha said through gritted teeth. Suddenly, her mind cleared and she pushed away from her, putting as much distance from what she now realized was the source of her instability.

She swallowed, blinking a few times.

She moistened her lips, slanting her eyes to him. A tingling sensation ran to the tips of her fingers when she saw his eyes anchored on her lips.

“Perhaps we—we sh-should discuss this s-some another day,” she stammered, rushing to the door.

“Then I will see you the same time on the morrow?”

“Perhaps,” she said over her shoulder.

As Sasha rushed down the stairs, any remnants of the brandy melted by the rush of blood, she realized something she should have been prepared for.

This was unexpected.

And irrevocably dangerous.

IX | The Hidden Flower

“You seem distracted, Sasha, dear,” Ruby noted, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Is it your flower? Is he proving to be a challenge?”

Sasha blinked, snapping back to the moment. She had not realized that she had been staring blankly in the air, thinking about West and the surprising visceral reaction she experienced three nights ago.

Ruby sighed and smiled at her with understanding. “Mayhap we should postpone the talk about the upcoming ball and talk about this current quandary you have.”

Sasha opened her mouth to say that there was nothing she wanted to talk about her flower, but Ruby held up her hand, stopping any objections.

“What is it? Is he not to your liking?”

Apparently, he is more to my liking , was the first answer that came to Sasha before she scoffed, shaking her head.

“Then you are not to his liking?”

She frowned. “I cannot be certain, but now that I think of it, I might not be to his liking after all.” Not that she cared, really. What concerned her was her own reactions to the man—his stares, his words… his very presence. It was dangerous for her and her mission because she may potentially lose control of her faculties as she did three nights ago.

“Whyever would you say that? How does he act around you?” Ruby asked, frowning.

Sasha lifted one shoulder. “He stares at me as though he is angry.”

“Or hungry ,” Ruby corrected with a chuckle. “New Belles often cannot distinguish the difference between the two.”

“No, he must have been quite full. It was after supper.”

Ruby’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I meant hungry for you, dear.”

“Oh.” Sasha cleared her throat, shifting in her seat, heat rising to her cheeks. “Then you are entirely mistaken. He is most often angry with me. And he clears his throat too often. He would not meet my eyes. He shifts in his seat as if he is ready to up and leave. Or make me leave.”

Ruby’s lips opened in astonishment as she listened. “Sasha, you innocent girl! Oh, you have been in the Library too long. I cannot imagine how innocent the others are if you are this… this naive!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Dear, I wager that your flower is this close—” Ruby showed her the very small gap between her two fingers, “—this close to pouncing on you and you there you are thinking he does not want you?”

“How do you—”

“Simply believe me, Sasha,” Ruby interrupted, holding her hand with a dramatic sympathetic smile. “Now, what you ought to fret over now is how you can make him suffer even further so that he shall give you what you want.”

Sasha was suddenly interested.

What she wanted was to go back to the Library. And the only chance she had of going back was if she could finish her mission. And she could finish the mission if she found proof—or lack thereof—of West’s crimes against the kingdom. And she could only do so if she could get access into his estate where most of his secrets may be hiding.

“How? How do I do that?” she eagerly asked.

“Sasha, how much do you know about the sexual act between a man and a woman?”

Sasha blinked.

“You have been in the library for five years and I know how you ladies spend your time. Do you even read books on romance?”

Again, another blink.

Ruby sighed. “There are many pleasures one can have in the act, Sasha. It is not always abhorrent as what your face tells me.”

Her face flushed. “I did not mean—”

“A woman can feel many things with the right man, Sasha, trust me, and the same could be said for a man,” Ruby assured with a knowing smile. “He will do anything for a brush of a hand, a touch—a kiss.”

Sasha absorbed everything Ruby said.

“And most often, women use this weakness to exercise power over a man. We give them a taste, but not to its fullest. The man shall crave more, wanting everything. But we do not give it. We cannot. Not yet. Because we want more. If we give in too early, there will be nothing more to crave and chase. The leash we have around them will become loose and they will go astray.”

“Then you suggest I do not engage in a sexual act?”

“Not too early, of course. Not until you feel ready or feel you can control him.”

“Then how do I achieve that?”

Ruby smiled. “Tease, Sasha. There is nothing more potent than the power of teasing. A man will do anything to move the teasing forward. They will die for a taste of heaven the teasing hints.”

Sasha gulped. She had a signed agreement with West. They could not engage in a sexual act. Yet she could not tell Ruby that perhaps this was not a strategy she could use.

Although the teasing was something she could consider.

Would she be able to taunt him? Entice him to be a little more open?

It would not hurt to try, would it?

---

“Can we find out more about Elizabeth Blackwood?” Sasha asked Gabrielle the following night. “Could she have been a Belcourt lady?”

Gabrielle blinked; pale green eyes curious. “Why? If he believes she left Belcourt, why would he wish to know about his mother?”

She shook her head. “It was I who thought we should know more about the woman. If we find out more, it might help me find the person he is looking for.”

“Sasha, need I remind you of your true mission?” Gabrielle regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You are to spy on the man and not for him.”

“I am not spying on Belcourt. I am telling you, am I not? I need to give him something. Otherwise, he will grow impatient than he already is. I need to accommodate his demands the best I can so he learns to trust me.”

Gabrielle sighed, nodding her redhead. She had tied her thick red curls behind her and was wearing breeches and a shirt yet again. “It is possible that Elizabeth was a Belcourt lady. I shall try to find out more.” When Sasha only answered with a nod, Gabrielle gave her a small smile. “Please forgive me if I seem to be pressing you. I understand that your mission is not at all easy. You need to make a man trust you and that alone can be quite hard.”

Sasha nodded again. “I do understand why you find the need to press me.” She looked around her parlor. “Perhaps I can look into Elizabeth Blackwood in the Library. I know where they keep all the records of all present and previous Belles.”

“No, Sasha, you cannot go to Belcourt yet. Your flower may be watching you. Why do you think I come here to see you instead of asking for your presence at Belcourt?” Gabrielle closed her eyes for a while and when she opened them, she gave Sasha a gentler look. “Sasha, do you think you will be able to make things a tad more comfortable between you and your flower?”

At first, Sasha could not comprehend the woman’s words. But one look and the meaning sank in. “I am planning to. I shall try my best, but know that I was never trained for this. It feels like I am walking on water and the fear of sinking down is constantly in my mind.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Please, do try, Sasha. You were chosen by Belcourt for this task because they believe you can do more. Allow things to be a little bit wicked.”

Sasha groaned inwardly.

Gabrielle’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Once you do, he will be impatient. And with impatience comes careless actions. We want him to be careless, do we not?”

“He is already impatient, I am telling you, and yet he is still as calculative as he was when we first met.”

“You know what I meant with the impatient I was talking about.”

Of course, she did.

She sighed. “I feel lacking with every passing day, Gabrielle, but know that I try my best.” No, she never truly tried her best and she knew that. All she ever did was argue with West. And if they were not arguing, she was trying to stay away from him because he could make her feel things that she feared might be her downfall.

She stared at Gabrielle, the only person she could talk freely about her mission. “Can I ask an honest question?”

The woman nodded.

“Why are we suspicious of him? If he is merely trying to look for his sister? Could it not be the reason for the letter the crown prince had intercepted?”

Gabrielle moistened her lips before she spoke. “I also only follow orders, Sasha. I do not know everything.” But there was something in the woman’s pale green eyes that told Sasha there was more she was not telling. “Focus on your task. Get proof of any plans he may have against the kingdom. Any trivial thing can be useful. Do you not wish to return to the Library?”

“We do not even have proof that he is plotting something, Gabrielle. Simply because his mother fathered another man’s child? Because his father was loyal to the previous king? Because he receives letters from London? Too many men in Sutherland are in the same situation as he is. I honestly do find this matter ridiculous.”

Gabrielle’s face hardened, and so did her voice. “You are not in the position to question Belcourt in this regard. You are from the Court of Flowers, and the Court of Libraries before that. Neither court has the authority to question or demand such things.” For the first time, Sasha had a glimpse of what Gabrielle truly was. Her light green eyes were far from affable, her beautiful face suddenly free of any hint of the woman who had always been friendly with her, replaced by something tenacious and unforgiving. The shiver that ran up Sasha’s spine was justifiable for Gabrielle was indeed someone she should not nettle. “When Belcourt asks you to do something, you do it. It is how you repay the years they cared for us.”

Sasha nodded, utterly understanding the woman’s loyalty to Belcourt. Neither of them would be here now if the orphanage had not opened its door for them. But neither of them would also be here if Belcourt had not thrown them into a bizarre world that was far from what they had expected when they were still in the Common Court.

Gabrielle’s face began to soften and a long, awkward silence fell between them.

Finally, it was Gabrielle who spoke. “I hope that you now identify your boundaries, Sasha.”

“I do. Pardon my carelessness.”

“Forgiven.” Gabrielle looked out the window. The snow had fallen again. “I was trying to prolong delivering the news I am asked to give you for I am certain it shall cause you more distress.”

Sasha stiffened in her seat, but in her mind, she was preparing herself. “What is it? Tell me now.”

Gabrielle looked away from the window and met her gaze. “Belcourt wishes to inform you that you will have to entertain another flower.”

Sasha’s entire form froze. It was as if someone cracked the frozen lake beneath her feet. “W-what?”

“He wishes to remain anonymous, Sasha. You cannot speak about him to anyone. No one at all.”

Sasha frowned. “Why?”

Gabrielle gave her a forced smile. “I am certain he would want to tell you himself.” Sasha nodded, swallowing foreboding feeling. “Would you wish me to tell you who he is?”

No, she did not wish to know.

But yes, she needed to know because it seemed that Gabrielle knew Sasha was familiar with the man.

“Who?”

“Albert Louis Davercher.”

Sasha’s heart stopped. “You mean—”

Gabrielle nodded her head. “Yes, the crown prince.”

X | The Garden Ball

His Royal Highness, Prince Albert of Sutherland, was not the kind of man Sasha had imagined him to be.

She had not been in any venue where she might have chanced upon his face—or any of the royal family. She only had the Sutherland Post to help her imagine what he might look like.

He was not handsome like West was, but his eminent presence was enough to make one stare with awe.

He was tall, his body fit. Not too lanky as what they said King Louis was. He had dark blonde hair that was almost brown in the dimly lit drawing room in Sasha’s villa. His deep blue eyes looked innocent, yet there was a cunning glint to them. His nose was just as the drawings in the Sutherland Post drew them to be—perked up, as proud as the chin that was high in the air as he studied the room, turning about with his hands behind him.

Clad in a simple black coat over a white shirt and dark trousers, he donned nothing else to display who he truly was.

If Sasha had not been forewarned of the identity of her new flower, she would not have recognized him.

“Tell me, Sasha,” said the crown prince, “how old are you?” His eyes veered back to her.

He just looked at her and she could feel the room start to get dark. Good lord, please, not now!

“Three and twenty,” she weakly replied, blinking too often than necessary to fight off the darkness looming in the corners of her vision.

The prince nodded. “You are eleven years younger than I.”

Sasha swallowed, panic starting to settle in.

What did he want?

Was he here seeking to be pleasured?

Or was he here for her mission?

Her question was answered almost instantly. The prince stood in front of her, while she sat in the winged chair, one he offered moments ago.

“I decided to speak to you myself because the task assigned to you is highly delicate and I find that it warrants my personal attention.” He spoke with such eloquence that made Sasha wondered if it was acquired or learned. His voice was not so deep, his tone just at the right pacing. And when he spoke, his voice demanded attention, but never coercive. One simply found themselves listening.

“West Blackwood, your gentleman—and do not expect me to use the term you Belcourt ladies use to speak about the gentlemen of Belcourt for I find it funny my tongue cannot roll the word properly.” Sasha nodded for she agreed. “West Blackwood is the only son of the former Prime Minister from the previous monarchy, Addison Blackwood, with his wife Elizabeth Blackwood.” He paused to check if she was listening. “Elizabeth Blackwood was a former Belcourt lady. I am certain you have heard of Karolina?”

Sasha’s breath caught in her throat. “Karolina was the first woman to have been re-courted.”

The prince nodded. “I heard that it is not done often.”

“It is not.”

“And you are the only other person to have been re-courted,” he added, his deep blue eyes glimmering with amusement.

“I am.”

“I only know very little about Belcourt, yet I find these things truly amusing and quite… shall we say, intriguing?”

Sasha did not offer a reply. Belcourt was intriguing as he said, but it was difficult to explain the society they have inside the institution, much more to a man who was so far different from all of them.

“Elizabeth, or Karolina as you may know her because of the history she made in Belcourt, has given birth to another child that was not her husband’s.”

She remained unmoving, determined to keep her face straight as she was not certain how much Belcourt had told the prince about West’s task for her.

“And you should know, Sasha, that Elizabeth Blackwood gave birth to the daughter of her husband’s enemy.”

Who? She wanted to ask.

When the prince spoke no further, she said, “Your Highness, Addison Blackwood made many enemies during his reign as Prime Minister—even after.”

The prince nodded. “That is true. And imagine how he must have felt when he found out that his wife was pregnant with the child of one of those enemies.” Prince Albert’s smile was filled with knowing. He knew she desperately wanted to know who the father was. “But you need not know who the father is,” he said in a teasing tone. “That is not your mission. Your mission is to find out what West Blackwood is planning against the kingdom.”

Then why did he have to tell her about Elizabeth?

As if hearing her unspoken question, the prince said, “And you need to know why Addison Blackwood was adamant with his plans to ruin the kingdom after his wife left, choosing her daughter, leaving him with their son. And you must realize how Addison influenced his son throughout the years. And it was only recently that a sign emerged that West Blackwood may be continuing the plan his father started but never managed to finish prior to his demise.”

Sasha moistened her lips.

“He joined Belcourt for a reason and it is probably to find his sister.”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know about the agreement Sasha made with West.

Belcourt never told the prince.

Why?

The prince must have sensed they were holding out information from him which could have drove him to Sasha.

Was he here to get more information directly from her?

Her questions were merely muddling her mind. What was she to do? She was caught between too many traps that she could easily get lost in, confused with who to trust and who to be careful around with.

The prince turned around. “I do hate having a conversation with nothing else to do,” he said, walking over to the chess table. “Should we play chess? You know how, yes?”

Sasha nodded. “Yes.” But she did not feel like winning at that moment because she was having a feeling that she was just a pawn in an elaborate game.

And to make matters worse, Sasha was no longer certain she knew whose side she was playing for.

---

The Garden Ball was the ball that greeted the new year and the most awaited Sutherland season.

Very much like the one observed in London, members of the elite class from all over the kingdom came to Coulway with their families in tow. With the parliament in session, esteemed people from the highest of stations come together for grand entertainment in the kingdom’s capital from January to July, although it could be longer as most preferred to stay until the end of summer.

As a member of the House of Lords, West was expected to always be present in most of the grand balls, most particularly this one.

“Say, West,” Tanner whispered beside him, barely opening his lips, “would you be so kind as to point me to the direction of your…” His friend looked around before saying the last word, “Belle.”

West’s jaw tightened. To be reminded of Sasha an inconvenience at the moment. He was focused on two things tonight: be seen and be left alone by the wolves who wanted to introduce their daughters to him.

But now that his Belle’s name was mentioned, he was suddenly aware of his surroundings more than ever.

The Garden Ball was hosted by the Duke of Remington, cousin to the king, and the most influential member of the House of Lords. One word from the man could put the House of Commons in a precarious situation. To be invited to this ball was a dream to many, thus West doubted if his Belle was on the premises of the grand mansion.

Ignoring Tanner, West turned just in time to see someone walk into the ballroom.

“I am telling you; his presence here speaks highly of Remington’s secrets,” Tanner said, observing West’s sudden attention on the newcomer.

“You and your bloody rumors.”

“Inviting the owner of the Sutherland Post is one thing, my friend, but inviting the owner of The Grimes is another. Unfortunately for us, the bastard owns both, which makes me wonder what dirty secrets of Remington he keeps as a weapon.”

“Willoghby is not—”

“What?” Tanner prodded.

West could not respond. His eyes were fixed on her. Not the woman standing beside Willoghby, but the one behind him.

Her presence in this bloody ball ought to be considered a sin, West thought as her entire feature was revealed to him.

She was a walking epitome of all things he despised yet yearned.

Her shoulders were bare, her neckline sinfully teasing. The crimson gown glorified her alabaster skin. The thick brown hair that had rendered him stiff countless of times were tied to one side, embellished with pearls he wanted to pick one by one.

Yet it was not her peculiar beauty that left him immobile, futile even. It was not her hair or the glow in her eyes as she turned to listen to the woman that walked beside Daniel Willoghby. There were fairer ladies in attendance tonight in more striking gowns.

There was simply something in the woman that extorted something in him. The mere mention of her reminded West of a sigh. The very sight of her carried her proud, strong voice to his ears. And to watch her move and talk from a distance conjured an involuntary desire to walk and be near her—just to hear her voice.

“Good lord,” Tanner gasped beside West, “it is her, is it not?”

West was no longer listening as he watched the trio make their way into the ballroom.

The woman beside Willoghby once again turned to whisper something in Sasha’s ear. Sasha’s eyes widened before her mouth opened in a gasp West could not hear but still had the same effect as if he heard it breathed into his ear.

He cursed under his breath when his feet took two small steps toward her direction.

Peeling his eyes off her, he eyed Daniel Willoghby. He was not aware that the man was a gentleman of Belcourt. And there was no question that he was for he was with a woman Sasha was friendly with. But it was as though the man had his eyes not on the black-haired woman walking beside him, but on the other.

“You must tell me,” Tanner spoke beside him, “why you are looking at them as though you are about to commit a heinous crime.”

His jaw tight, West turned to face Tanner who was wearing an amused look on his face. “As you have said, Willoghby ought not to be here.”

He turned and walked away, intent on putting a great distance between him and Sasha.

As was just.

As was agreed.

“Your feet could dig a hole into the marbled floors, West,” Tanner continued to taunt beside him, keeping up with his pace. “So pray do tell, why is your Belle with Willoghby?”

“I do not know.”

“He is a gentleman of Belcourt then?”

“I care not.”

“I tell you, West, this is not good. If your woman is servicing the owner of The Grimes, you are in so much trouble. Have you seen that green gown? He must have brought it for her in exchange for information on you.”

West made a sudden stop and so did Tanner. “First, she is not my woman,” he snarled under his breath, looking about to make certain they were not being overheard. “Second, she is not in a green gown.”

Tanner blinked in confusion. “She is not?” He looked over his shoulder in search of Willoghby. “Is it the other lady then? The one in red?” When Tanner turned back, West was already making his way to the refreshment table.

His friend easily caught up. “It was the other woman?” Tanner asked in disbelief. “But she—well, she is not particularly… well, you know what I mean.”

For the second time, West stiffened.

Seeing his reaction, Tanner held up his hands in defense. “She is not bad in the eyes, West. No woman is. But now I understand why you did not even bother to approach her. She is… shall we say, imperceptible?”

If it would not hurt his reputation to blow his friend’s face in the middle of this ball, he would have already done so. But since he had a reputation to keep and standard to adhere, West contented himself with digging a finger into Tanner’s chest. “Three, you keep away from the Belle.”

Tanner frowned at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Gladly, Your Grace.”

West grabbed the drink served to him and emptied it just as fast. “I have someone waiting for me. Go and have your fun, Tanner.”

As soon as he was out of Tanner’s sight, West disappeared into the crowd, making his way to another refreshment table. Grabbing a drink which he intended to finish slowly, he eased through more guests, answering a few curtsies, murmuring a response to questions, but never stopping. If he did, he would immediately be surrounded by a hoard of guests who desired his attention.

At the last moment, he hesitated.

What the bloody hell was he doing?

Walking about, a part of him reasoned.

Looking for her, answered another voice.

Internally cursing himself, West decided to disappear into a corner, partly hidden by a large white column. Behind him was a window that overlooked the vast garden. Outside, the moon washed light over the snow, turning the darkness into a field of white.

With no Tanner to berate him, West easily found her.

She was still with Daniel Willoghby and the other woman who was talking, not caring that neither of her companions was listening. Sasha was absently looking around, her entire feature similar to a lady in her first season. Surely, this was not her first ball.

Willoghby could not keep his eyes off Sasha. Why? West wondered. Even Tanner would agree that the woman was plain compared to the other woman. Could it be assumed then that Willoghby saw what West could in her?

The thought did not rest well with him.

His eyes returned to Sasha only for his entire body to freeze and his heart to stop as he found that she found him. Their eyes locked for what seemed like an hour or more. Without realizing he had been holding his breath, West’s brow twitched.

The only greeting he could offer.

She must have seen it for something registered in her eyes and she stepped forward.

Then she stopped.

She could not approach him outside.

For that one single moment, West regretted the bloody contract.

The other woman called her attention and Sasha hesitantly tore her eyes off him, paying her companion attention. She nodded to what the woman was saying and started to walk away.

West followed, slave to his own two feet.

She was walking toward the refreshment table.

“Eaton!” West thought he heard someone call out his name.

Willoghby had left his Belle and was now following close behind Sasha, eyes predatory, gait intent.

West quickened his pace, bumping into the host himself.

“Eaton!” West made the mistake of stopping. The host of the ball was standing behind him. “Good lord, Eaton, you are too young to be going deaf,” Remington said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I was wondering when I would chance upon you. We have much to discuss!”

His eyes still on Sasha and Willoghby closing in on her, West said, “We could discuss more of this when the session starts, Your Grace.”

“Ah, but the bill I wish to discuss with you is of great import. I am certain you have heard of the recent commotion in the Lord of Commons—”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am very much wanted in the playroom.” Willoghby had reached her. West turned to Remington, forcing a smile. “But if you would join us, we can discuss the bill everyone seems eager to talk about.”

Remington nodded. “Of course,” conspiratorially adding, “Would very much want a good reason to part from the wife.”

West forced out a laugh. “Then I shall expect you for a game of faro.”

The music for the first dance had started and West hurried across the ballroom before any of the dancers reached the floor for a dance, frantically searching for Sasha and Willoghby.

Both had disappeared from his sight while he was talking to Remington.

When he spotted them, Willoghby was leading Sasha out of the ballroom and into the main hallway.

With long strides, he managed to follow them from a good distance.

“And where is Ruby?” he heard Sasha ask, tone innocent.

“She is in the drawing room waiting,” Willoghby replied as he led Sasha down one of the eastern corridors. “She says she has trouble breathing.”

“But she was fine not a few moments ago!”

“She thought asking you to get her a drink was a good idea. She told me to go after you.”

“Then you should not have left her side!” Sasha’s furious voice echoed all the way to West. “You did not even escort her there, did you?”

“Another lady escorted her. She demanded for you and I obliged.”

West frowned. He was certain he saw Ruby chatting with a few ladies back inside the ballroom.

He slowed down entered an empty room when the pair stopped outside the last door.

“Perhaps you should go call for a doctor.”

“Not necessary. She merely wanted to go to a quiet place. I am certain she shall be fine the moment she sees you.”

West heard her sigh. “Very well.”

---

When Sasha walked into the room, she immediately realized Willoghby’s plans. There was no one there. The room was too dark.

“Mr. Willoghby—” she said as she turned, but the man was already closing the door. “I would not do that if I were you,” she sternly said.

Willoghby simply smiled and went on to close the door.

“I would listen to the lady, sir,” came West’s voice as the door forcefully swung open, taking Willoghby with it.

His face was not clear in the darkness, but Sasha knew that angry voice too well not to recognize it.

She stepped back as West turned to face Willoghby who was letting out a nervous laugh. “I was merely going to scare her,” he said. “And who are you—”

Willoghby was not given enough time to finish his question as West grabbed him by his collar, pushing him to the side and through the open doorway.

Sasha saw the recognition flash across Willoghby’s eyes when West’s face was revealed to him in the lighted corridor. “You—”

“I would suggest you play your games on your own Belle, Willoghby, for mine is easily scared.”

The look of surprise on Willoghby’s face vanished with the slamming of the door.

The light from the adjacent wing and the moonlight streaming through the windows was enough to show the furious look on West’s face the moment he whirled around to face her.

Sasha took a step back, but then she realized she had nothing to fear. She did no wrong.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

She was used to the darkness, she thought, but she would never get used to the weakened state of her knees. She stumbled, glad that the darkness in the room hid the flush of embarrassment in her face. “I am not easily scared,” she murmured weakly.

“I disagree. You look ashen.”

Sasha swallowed. “You followed me,” she said, voice slightly shaking.

Goodness, what if he had not arrived? What if Willoghby succeeded?

“I am not breaking any of our rules. You cannot approach me. The agreement never said I cannot.”

“Very well, if that is how you wish to put it,” she dismissively said in haste. “You can leave now, sir.”

His eyes narrowed down at her. “I should warn you to stay away from Willoghby.”

“I have already given myself that very warning the very first time I met the man. Thank you still.”

“I mean that if you ever tell him anything about our agreement, I would hate to make you pay the price.”

Of course, Sasha thought with dismay. The agreement. “You must know he is a gentleman of Belcourt. He would dare not break the rules as we Belles would hate to break the ones we live by. We do not talk about other Belles and our gentlemen in the presence of the others. You can be assured that I am being careful. After all, my eyes are on the price.” She added the last sentence with a bitter taste at the back of her tongue.

Sasha moistened her lips, her eyes getting heavy as she stumbled back. The effects of Willoghby’s wicked intentions earlier had not yet waned. Her mind was still filled with horrible images of what he could have managed to do if she fainted with fear and anxiety. Jesus, he would not have had to restrain her! He could have had had his way and she would not even be awake to remember any of it.

“Are you all right?” West’s question infuriated Sasha.

“Yes,” she snapped, aimlessly walking toward the nearest settee. She needed to sit down. “Please, I do appreciate the rescue, but I wish to be alone.”

His strong hand came around her arm, keeping her steady and pulling her back. She whirled around, intending to demand release, but she crashed against his chest. Sasha placed her palm flat on his chest and pushed, albeit weakly. “Please, sir, I need a moment…”

“You are not fine.”

“Of course, I am not,” she snarled. “I was nearly attacked.”

His hand tightened around her arm.

Sasha sighed and looked up. “What now?”

“You are shaking,” he noted, his breath barely a whisper above her.

Sasha swallowed. Her tongue stuck out to moisten her lips and it did not pass her notice when his eyes moved down to watch her do it, his lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks.

Her palms were no longer pressing against him—they were feeling. His heart echoed hers, ramming fast and hard against his chest.

“You act so calmly,” she whispered, eyes on his lips. “But your body says otherwise.”

Ever so slightly, his head bent lower and Sasha gulped. Her lids felt heavy, her knees weaker. She leaned forward against his length for support. A definite mistake. She was not having a fainting spell; she was certain of it. She was experiencing something entirely different. Was this what Ruby was talking about?

Her eyes went to his. Was he experiencing the same thing?

“How can you tell?”

It took Sasha a moment to remember the statement that evoked such a response.

He bent lower and her neck instinctively stretched to meet. He was so close, his lips a hairsbreadth away.

“It mirrors mine,” she breathed out.

It was only when his arm tightened around her that Sasha realized she was in his arms.

The breath that left her lips was shaky with a wanting she could not name.

“What are we doing?” he asked. No sarcastic note in his tone. No coldness. It was naught but mere curiosity.

“Teasing?” she tried.

His lips twitched.

A smile.

“Teasing.”

“Like chess.”

His brows cocked high. “Truly?” He bent lower and his nose played with hers. Teasing.

“You try to take as much as you can.”

He stilled, his lips hovering above hers, barely touching. “That is not how I play chess, Sasha.” His hand went to her nape, gently tilting her head up. “I go straight for the queen.”

With those words, Sasha hardly had time to react to what he did next.

XI | The Game

He dipped his head down and Sasha silently cursed herself when she felt greatly disappointed.

His lips did not land on hers.

It playfully traced her jaw until he reached her ear.

The shiver that ran up her spine, spreading outward to the tips of her fingers, was quite powerful that she almost stumbled and fell if not for his arms and his entire length in front of her.

“Is it then safe to assume that you are treating this a game?” he asked, his lips brushing against her lobe, his hot breath soaking her skin with fresh sensations.

Sasha pursed her lips, refusing to answer.

“Do you wish to play it then?” he asked. “Since you seem to claim you are quite good at it.”

“I did not—”

“I do accept the challenge.” He leaned back, his gaze descending back down on hers. “I am quite proficient in teasing as chess is not the only game I play.”

Sasha’s breath was snatched out of her and questions erupted in her muddled mind. He was at an advantage, she thought. As a man and as a duke, he must know how to win. He must have never experienced losing.

She saw the challenge in his darkened gaze, igniting her own, feeding her pride. “You simply have to provoke me at every turn, do you not, sir?”

His lips twitched. “As you do, my lady .”

Suddenly feeling strong enough to flatten her hand on his chest, Sasha managed to push free from his hold. Taking a step back, she stuck out her chin and smiled at him. “Then consider the challenge spoken.”

A wicked grin stretched his lips. “You will lose the very moment you make the first move.”

Oh, he didn’t know, a voice whispered in Sasha’s mind. Her lack of experience might be her advantage after all.

Sasha sighed. This man was not aware that she was unfamiliar with the touch of a man’s lips against hers. How did he expect her to initiate one? She matched his grin with her own. “I believe otherwise.” Looking straight into his eyes, Sasha willed herself to lift her chin in a haughty mien. “May the best player win, sir.”

With her legs shaking, Sasha walked to the door.

Holy blazes, what had she gotten herself into?

---

After the Garden Ball, Sasha made certain that she recovered from Willoghby’s wicked actions and the man she encountered in that dark room.

For it was a different man.

It was not West.

It was a different side of him she had never seen before.

“Are you quite all right?” Prince Albert’s voice asked, drawing her back to the present and back at the game of chess. She stared at the pieces before her.

“You are going straight for my queen.”

“Is that not the purpose of the game?”

She shrugged. “But it is a game still. It is more fun with a little bit of teasing from each side. We take as many pieces as we can. Make the opponent sweat a little.”

The prince’s deep blue eyes studied her for a long time. “Something troubles you.”

Sasha rolled her eyes in frustration. Everyone was saying the same thing. Iyana had pointed it out during breakfast. Ruby, Gabrielle—everyone thought she was in trouble.

And she was. In many different things. She was drowning in them.

“Is it Blackwood?” the prince asked nonchalantly, taking her knight with his pawn.

Sasha had to be careful. He may be trying to extract information she ought not to tell him. “Perhaps. I have not found anything more about him, I am afraid.”

Prince Albert shrugged. “I care very little about that matter at the moment. I am only here for chess.”

It was a lie, of course. He could play anywhere he wanted, with anyone he wanted.

His lips twitched knowingly. “You do not have much experience with men, do you, Sasha?”

“You know where I came from, Your Highness.”

“Address me as Albert, Sasha. I am your gentleman, am I not? I know that Belcourt considers no one above them, even the king himself.”

Sasha sighed and looked at her remaining pieces. She was losing this game.

“Since you are obviously not in the mood for chess, should we do something else?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I shall teach you the ways to a man’s heart, my dear.”

Sasha scoffed. “Whatever do you mean?”

The prince looked at her in the eyes. “Lust is one thing a woman can use to control a man, but love, my dear, is more potent. Has no one ever told you that?”

She shook her head. Love. It was unheard of in Belcourt, for things were done with loyalty.

The man before her sighed. “This may prove to be a very challenging lesson, after all.”

“I can barely summon myself to act like a proper Belle, Albert . How do you expect me to make a man fall in love with me? And West Blackwood at that!”

His chuckle echoed around the still room. “You disregard your own capabilities, Sasha. You are not just a Belle, do remember that. You are not just a Belcourt lady.” A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “You are a woman.”

“You are not the first to tell me that.”

“Because it is true. And a man like West Blackwood, however calculative he may be, however cunning, can fall in love. And when a man is trapped in love, my dear, he can do things he would otherwise not do.”

Sasha swallowed. “And how do I do that? How will I be able to make him fall in love with me?”

He shrugged. “That is up to you.”

She scowled. “You told me you will teach me the ways to a man’s heart.”

“Ah, did I?”

“Yes.”

“Then forgive me, dear. I meant that I shall assist you.”

She frowned. “How?”

“Well, I do have certain powers to make things happen.”

“Which are?”

“For one, do expect an invitation to a week-long ball where West Blackwood is expected to attend. Gather all your beautiful dresses and for God’s sake, prepare a lot of confidence.”

“That is all? An invitation to a ball?”

“Which shall last for a week, dear. Trust me, Sasha, he will find himself coming for you.”

“Not when he is surrounded by people within his station. He would dare not be seen with me.”

The prince winked. “Then make him come to you.”

“How?”

Prince Albert stretched in his seat. “Has anyone ever told you about the power of jealousy?” Sasha merely blinked in confusion. “Obviously, no one did. Shall we begin?”

---

“What does the villa look like? Can the windows be opened from the inside? Have you gone to the basement? And the doors! Goodness, are the doors with locks? You ought to demand for your own keys, my lady. And how about the footman—”

“Iyana, the villa is like any others,” Sasha interrupted wryly.

The woman shifted in the seat across from Sasha. “I do not trust this flower of yours, my lady.”

“But do remember, Iyana, that Belcourt trusts him to be a gentleman. He is simply odd.”

Iyana looked out the window of the carriage. “And is that his valet standing in the doorway, grinning like a crazed man? He has an eerie air about him.”

Shaking her head, Sasha reached for the carriage door and without Iyana’s help, descended into the cobbled sidewalk. “I shall be fine, Iyana. And no, you do not have to step down,” she added as she gently closed the carriage door.

Iyana poked her head out of the window. “We can wait outside, Bree and I. Is that not right, Bree?”

Briana leaned to the side of the carriage from where she was sitting in the driver’s seat with a grin. “We can, aye. But we can also go home, have tea, and then come back for Lady Sasha.”

Sasha nodded while Iyana sighed in frustration.

“He does not hurt you in any way, does he, my lady?” asked Iyana, light brown eyes fretful. “Do you know how to fight your way out of that villa if he ever does anything untoward? Oh, but what if you… what if you faint? What would you do then?”

“Fret not, Iyana, I am well whenever I am with him,” she said, aware that she was partly lying. There was no moment she could think where she was with West and she felt utterly calm.

Iyana was scowling at something behind her. When Sasha turned, she found Darren still smiling, waiting for her by the open doorway.

Sasha sighed. “He is a nice young man, Iyana. You need not scowl.” But Iyana could not be calmed down. Sasha could not understand why the woman was dissuading her just now after she had been to West’s villa a couple of times. “Truly, this is ridiculous.” She walked over to Briana and ordered, “Please be here by ten,” and continued, walking near Iyana, “and if I do not come out by then, you can start to panic.”

Iyana’s eyes widened. “Do not take this as a joke, my lady! It is our responsibility to keep you safe—Bree!” Her maid was not able to finish her statement as the carriage began to move. “Briana!”

Sasha could hear Briana’s chuckles as they drove away. With Iyana’s screams of warning still audible, she turned and walked to where Darren was already waiting for him.

“Your servants are quite an interesting pair, my lady,” Darren said moments later while he escorted her down the hall. “I have never seen a woman driver in my life.”

“Oh, you have not seen enough, I tell you,” Sasha replied.

“You must be quite content with them.”

“I am beyond content. I should surmise His Grace feels the same toward you.”

“Ha!” The valet hung his head back in mock laughter. “He has threatened to cook me in many ways you could a valet, my lady. I am quite certain he only keeps me because I know many of his secrets.”

Sasha’s eyed the valet’s back with interest. “You do now, do you?”

“I do, yes,” he said, nodding. He looked over his shoulder to reveal his grinning, proud face. “He picked me up from the streets when I was just a boy. Had me trained with his staff in his estate. And now here I am, making his days a torment as he would say.”

“He must merely be jesting.”

“Well, he might, but I would dare not push too hard in fear to find if he truly is.”

“Then we should hurry. We cannot make him wait.”

“Yes, of course.”

“But are we not going to the library?” she asked when she noted that they were not taking the usual route.

“His Grace is in the garden, my lady. Please allow me to make the pardon. He must not realize it is freezing outside as he is naturally cold.”

Sasha chuckled. “Then we must hurry before the shrubs completely wilt before they have their chance at spring.”

---

His valet’s laughter drew West’s attention away from his thoughts, causing his brows to knit together in a frown.

It was unknown if the pair ignored his presence in the lone chair of the tiny garden, or if they were simply immersed in their conversation to mind that they were no longer alone.

He took the opportunity to study Sasha as she murmured something to Darren whose laughter merely increased in volume and length. He caught a glimpse of the laughter in her face before it slowly ebbed away when her eyes met his.

As Darren continued to laugh and say something in between chuckles while they slowly made their way to West, Sasha’s eyes never left his.

The glimmer of laughter was still there in her eyes, but a layer of something was there. Something curious and mysterious, something exciting. And it mirrored his.

The silent conversation between them was clear. The game was still on. It was in the air between them. He knew that at that moment, she could also feel the hundreds of strings pulling them together, searing them both with the flames running through them, slowly consuming and barely controlled.

“Your Grace, Lady Sasha has arrived,” Darren’s laughing statement announced.

“I can see that, Darren,” he said, never leaving Sasha’s gaze.

“Thank you, Darren,” Sasha said to the valet, tearing her eyes off West to give the valet a sweet, gentle smile.

West scowled at Darren, wondering what on earth had he been doing with Sasha for him to receive such regard from her.

The valet bowed low and retreated from the garden.

“You scowl too much.” Her voice drew his attention back to her. She was covered in a red cloak today, her hair tied behind her nape. She looked normal, more unassuming, and West found he rather liked it. “You are scaring spring away with it.”

He scoffed. “What has caused you to share such heartfelt laughter with my valet?”

“Oh, nothing of import. We were merely talking about—the impending ruin of spring.”

She was deliberately taunting him again.

“May I sit beside you?”

His entire body tightened. Without getting a response from him, she walked to the wooden bench and settled beside him. She looked around. “Spring is indeed on its way. You should consider putting more flowers to this place.”

“I reckon I will find no use of this place in two months.”

The gentle expression in her face suddenly disappeared. Her jaw tightened. She straightened her back and pulled her shoulders back. “Ah, yes, of course.”

“You have not been answering my missives.”

“I didn’t think I should.”

He snapped his head at her with a scowl. “You deliberately ignored them? I hope you have a good reason. One that produced results of the task I paid you to do.”

She turned her head to face him, leaving merely a few inches of air between them. He saw her surprise at the close distance, but she did not flinch.

---

She sat too near him, Sasha thought belatedly. Pursing her lips to fight the urge to look at his nose and lips and the other features she may have missed before, she said, “I have been visiting Belcourt in search of your sister. Your missives were ignored because you sent them too callously. For someone who procured a villa to escape my staff, you surely have not been discreet, sir.”

His eyes wandered down her lips before trailing slowly up back to her eyes. “And what have you found so far?” he asked impatiently.

“Nothing. I need more time. As you may know, getting access to Belcourt records is not easily done.”

“Your two months is running out, Sasha.”

“Have a care, West, I am but one person searching for one woman amongst hundreds of others.”

She was pleased when his eyes narrowed at her use of his name.

“What?” she demanded, arching her brow.

“You have not found anything of value since you signed the agreement.”

She blinked. “Then pardon me, Your Grace , for I have been quite occupied of late. As you know, I barely had time to settle in Coulway before you gave me a proposition.”

And where had she been before Coulway, he wanted to ask.

How many other flowers did she have there?

Then a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes. “Are you, perhaps, entertaining another gentleman?”

Sasha blinked and shrugged, leaning away back into the back of the bench, adding distance between them. “That is not your concern.”

“It is when I–”

“You must have read the contract you signed with Belcourt,” she interrupted, frowning at him. “You should be aware that you are not the lone flower in the garden.”

Something inside him was boiling and it was apparent in his eyes. “No wonder you have been incompetent.”

“I have not been incompetent. I merely lack the time.”

“Then demand for Belcourt to have this other gentleman transferred to another.”

Sasha looked at him incredulously. “Whyever would I do that? He is naught but been good to me. I have no grounds to have him paired with another Belle.”

His eyes were blazing even before she finished. “Good? Good to you? In what way? Paying you for whatever service you give him?”

“Oh, more than that, sir,” she said, taking the chance to provoke him. “He also entertains me.”

His eye twitched. “If you cannot do the task I am paying you to do, Sasha, you will have to answer to my attorneys.”

“As I have told you, sir, I have been to Belcourt doing my search,” she lied. As Gabrielle had said before, she could not go to Belcourt for now.

“Then prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you have been coming there.”

She blinked. “However would I do that?”

“Take me with you.”

“To where?”

“Take me to Belcourt.”

XII | Belcourt

“Make me understand why it is difficult for you.”

She swallowed. He saw the apprehension in her eyes.

“Why? Afraid that your incompetence will be proven?”

Her reaction was as he expected. She scoffed and West realized how easy she could be read. She was not difficult at all. And he surmised that it would not be long before he could master Sasha.

“You wish me to prove to you how great of a task you are expecting me to fulfill in four fortnights?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes.”

She slowly nodded. “Very well, prepare to be surprised.”

With no warning, she stood and started walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“I do not intend to freeze to death in your garden,” she said over her shoulder. “Unless you wish for my corpse to be discovered in two months, you would allow me to stay inside where it is warm.”

West stood with a huff and followed her inside.

“Would you be a dear, Darren, and serve us tea in the drawing room?” asked Sasha to the valet who appeared to have already been waiting for them inside.

The man immediately jumped to his feet to do her bidding.

West tailed Sasha into the drawing room. “Whatever you did to him, you ought to share with me.”

Hearing her chuckle was surprisingly satisfying. Was this how Darren felt?

How her other flowers felt?

Good Lord, she had another flower. What could she be telling this other man?

She sat in the settee while they waited for Darren. He watched her work on the tie of her red cloak. Then she stopped with a frown. “Do I hear a dog barking nearby?”

“Seven,” he replied, taking the chair opposite the settee.

“What?”

“The dog’s name is Seven.”

“And where is this dog?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere where?”

“Leashed somewhere.”

Her eyes widened with horror and she jumped to her feet. “And whose dog is this?”

West blinked in surprise. “Mine.”

She gasped, horrified. “You leash your dog?”

West sighed. “He is not accustomed to strangers.”

“Then why did you have to bring him here?”

“He can be quite uncontrollable.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not around.”

“Then you take him everywhere?”

“No. There are only two people who can control him. Both of whom are in this villa.”

Sasha sighed, placing her hand on her forehead. “Release him at once.”

It was his turn to look at her with incredulity. “Do you wish to be dead?”

Seven barked once again.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“In my chamber—where in the bloody hell are you going!” he demanded when she suddenly whirled around and stalked to the door.

He jumped to his feet and almost ran up the stairs to follow her. How she ever managed to walk that far was out of his comprehension. “Sasha, stop at once! Seven is not one you should trifle with!”

She was not listening as she followed the sound of the barking. When she paused and checked the first door to the right of the corridor, West rushed on to her side. “Do not make me drag you back downstairs, Sasha. I am warning you.”

She turned to face him, her face hard and determined. “You leashed a dog.”

“And it is not a crime!”

Her jaw tightened. There was something in her face that told him there was more to this than just him putting a leash on his dog.

She circled around him and proceeded to the next door.

West jumped as she got the right door, but he was not fast enough. Sasha flung the door open and Seven’s bark turned into a growl.

He nearly crashed against her in the doorway where she stood frozen.

The dog was growling at her from the center of the room, his leash tied to the bedpost.

“Well, hello there, my friend,” Sasha greeted, making a move toward Seven.

West grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Let go of me,” she ordered sternly.

“Bloody hell, Sasha, he is dangerous.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “He is a spaniel, sir, and you act as though he could topple you over.”

“What I am saying, woman, is that he is a dog and he bloody bites!”

“He–” she pointed at the black dog in the middle of the room, “is a dog! Of course, he bites!”

The tiny dog growled even more, baring its teeth at Sasha. “And he obviously does not like you.”

“Because his master is showing him how to behave around me,” she said, pushing him through the doorway. “Give me a moment.”

Before West could stop her, the door was slammed shut before him. He heard the lock turn. “Darren! Come up this bloody instant!” he roared, trying the door. Seven was growling even more now. “Bloody hell, Sasha, do not go near the dog! Darren!”

He could still hear Seven growling and he froze as he heard Sasha’s footsteps walking inside the bedchamber. “Now, now, you little devil. Why do you look so afraid?”

“He is not afraid, Sasha! He is bloody angry!” West shouted at the door. When he heard nothing but Seven’s incessant barks and growling, he shouted, “Darren!”

“Your Grace!” the breathless valet said at the top of the stairs.

“Get the keys!”

“The keys, Your Grace?”

“The bloody keys, Darren! Now!” He rattled the door.

Darren immediately jumped to his feet when he realized which door he was referring to and what was inside it.

“Sasha, I am utterly serious! Stop whatever nonsense you are doing—” he stopped to listen, noting that it had gone quiet inside, save for Sasha’s soothing murmurs.

He could hear Darren coming back up the stairs and soon came back beside him with a set of keys.

“Do not come inside!” Sasha’s voice ordered as the valet worked with the keys. Darren froze and looked at West. “Your Grace?”

“Open the door, Darren,” he coldly ordered. Darren moved and searched for the right key.

“Dare not open that door, Darren!” Sasha said. Darren stopped and looked at West helplessly. Seven let out another bark. “Your Grace?”

They heard a crash from inside the chamber.

“Open the bloody door, Darren,” he growled.

With shaking hands, Darren resumed his search, bent low on the door handle.

“You naughty thing!” he heard Sasha cry out.

“Sasha, if you get one bloody bite, I am not taking you to a doctor!” he warned.

It had gone quiet inside once again. Darren was still bent over the keys in panic.

“Give me that,” he gritted out, snatching the set of keys from the valet.

Starting over with one key, he worked with ease, his heart hammering faster.

“Surely she will be alright, Your Grace,” Darren said beside him, voice sounding doubtful. “Seven is but a spaniel. I am certain Lady Sasha can—”

He snapped his head to the right to glare at the valet.

Darren moistened his lips. “Best be quick, Your Grace.”

They heard Seven whimpering from inside. West worked the fourth key.

“Seven is whimpering, Your Grace.”

“I can bloody hear that, Darren. Shut your bloody mouth for once, please.”

“Now, now, do not be too cross…” he heard Sasha say.

“I am warning you, Sasha. Do not go near the bloody dog,” he growled as he worked with the sixth key. “How many bloody keys do we keep in this household!” he hissed at Darren.

“Quite a few, Your Grace.”

“Bloody tarnation—” he began when finally, the eighth key worked.

Great relief washed over him, but just as he was about to turn the handle, the door burst open and Sasha reappeared. His gaze searched her from head to foot. She seemed unharmed.

A triumphant look was pasted on her face. “I told you to give me a moment,” she said, tapping the side of her cloak. Seven, his little black spaniel wormed itself through the open doorway and sat beside Sasha’s feet, looking up at her with eyes glimmering, tongue out, breathing heavily.

West and Darren shared a look before they faced Sasha again.

“How did you—” Darren began, poking his head into the doorway to see the mess inside.

“I freed him from his leash,” she said, walking away. Again, West and Darren shared a look when Seven followed her. “I believe he is quite grateful. He must be hungry. Are you hungry, my friend?” She stopped at the top of the staircase to bend down and scratch Seven’s head. The dog whimpered with pleasure at her touch. She threw West and Darren a look of disdain. “Give Seven his food, gentlemen.” And then she added, “And pardon me for the mess inside the chamber. I tripped when he tried to bite my dress earlier.”

She walked down the stairs with Seven right beside her, tails wagging with pleasure.

“Your Grace,” said Darren, “this is a miracle.”

West’s jaw tightened. He stalked after Sasha.

“Did I hear you correctly? He tried to bite you?”

“My dress! He tried to bite my dress!” Seven turned and growled up at West and his eyes widened. “And you are scaring him again. Come here, Seven,” said Sasha, scooping the dog from the step of the stairs. She looked up at West. “His food, sir. He is quite hungry.”

Darren was stopped beside West, still gaping, both of them following Sasha and Seven down the stairs with their gaze.

“You heard the woman. Get the dog’s food, Darren,” West ordered.

The bloody woman did not just win his valet’s heart. She also coveted his dog!

---

Three days later, West was inside his carriage in search of Sasha.

Her maid had reluctantly informed him—with a scathing tone—that her mistress had gone out for a walk.

Where?

She could not tell. Sasha often wandered around the town center whenever she was bored.

Bored? She had the time to be bored now, did she?

They had taken three trips around all passable roads in the town center and by their forth, West was fuming. Where could she be spending her time at this time? It was nearly night time. If he could trust her maid’s information, she had been gone for three hours!

Tapping the roof of his carriage, he poked his head out of the window to order the driver to make another trip back to her villa.

The driver had to make another trip around the park before they could turn into the road that would lead them to their next destination.

And it was then that he saw her.

Tapping the roof once again, West gave his order to go slower to the side of the road, beside the woman wearing the gray dress.

He did not have to check if he was right for he was certain it was her. She was not out as a Belle today, he noted as the carriage approached. He signaled the driver to move slower.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” he demanded at her through the window.

She jumped in surprise, turning to her side to look up at West.

Her expression immediately changed to confusion. She looked about before calmly saying, “This is not your villa. You cannot approach me outside. Need I remind you of your rules, sir?”

She continued to walk. The carriage dutifully followed.

“You have not come to the villa when I requested you to,” he gritted out. “How else do you expect me to approach you?”

“I will come by on the morrow.”

“Please do forgive me, my lady, if I am starting to be a little distrustful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can I not have my moment of peace for one day, please?”

“One day? You have been absent for three days, Sasha.” His eyes narrowed into slits. “What have you been doing in these past three days?”

She let out an incredulous huff. Her head snapped to fix him a scowl. “The first day, I saw my other flower. The second day, I saw a friend. Third, I spent with myself. I was actually enjoying the last day until you rolled over.”

“You did not mention anything about going to Belcourt.”

“Well, I do intend to do that.”

“When?”

“When I can!”

His jaw tightened. He had enough. He knocked for his driver to stop the carriage and as it did, he opened the door. “Get inside,” he ordered.

Sasha continued walking.

Again, West ordered for the carriage to move.

“Get inside, Sasha.”

“Oh, I would hate to besmirch your lovely carriage. It would forever stench should I grace it with my presence.”

“Your sarcasm is unappreciated, Sasha. Get inside. Now.”

She sighed. “I cannot blame you for thinking you can order everyone around. Your station provides you the privilege. But I am not one of your subjects, sir.”

“Then, please , my lady, would you be so kind as to climb up the carriage and grace it with your magnificent presence?” West stretched his lips as wide he could, all the while his eyes dryly stared at her when she turned her head to glare at him.

She faced the carriage which had immediately stopped when she did. She looked around again. Certain that no one was about, she sighed and climbed inside the carriage. West smiled with contentment, watching her get settled across the from with a huff. “I should tell you that I am doing my best, sir,” she began the moment West closed the carriage door.

“Well, it is not enough for me.” He tapped the roof and ordered, “Belcourt.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “You cannot be serious!”

West smiled at her. “Oh, but I am. We are going now.”

“I am not dressed—”

“You look fine enough, Sasha,” he wryly interjected.

“But—”

“I would rather you do not waste your time outside of Belcourt, Sasha. If you refuse to go there, then I shall make certain that you go there now.”

“You must realize that while Belles have their own place in Belcourt, it is also uncommon for us to stay there. Belcourt will start to question—”

“Thus I am coming with you. I demand that you take me to Belcourt and you did. Why would they ever question that? I am welcome there, am I not?”

She blinked. “Well, not everywhere.”

He scoffed, leaning back against his seat. “If you say so.”

She slowly shook her head. “You do not know what you are expecting in Belcourt, sir.”

His lips twitched. She was clearly distressed. Something was keeping her away from Belcourt, he thought. “I will be the judge of that, Sasha.”

Her shoulders dropped with a long sigh. This time, when she shook her head, her lips curled into a knowing smile. “Very well, I would be happy to see how you find Belcourt.” She leaned back into her seat. It was only then that West realized she was holding a book. She opened it and he thought he heard her murmur, “Ignorant fool.”

---

Their journey was excruciatingly slow.

West had to fight the impulse to knock on the carriage roof and bark an order to the driver to circle around and go back home, all because he did not want to see the smirk on Sasha’s face if he did that.

She had been doing nothing but read her book, the sway or jolts of the carriage never deterring her.

“What is it, sir?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“What is what??” West wryly asked, looking at her impassive face, her eyes downward.

She turned a page. “You are looking at me.”

“Because you are sitting right across my vision.”

She moved to the left and his eyes instinctively followed. He had a good look at the book she was reading and his brows rose in surprise. “You are reading Kant.”

He watched her brows fuse together. “And?”

“He is a philosopher.”

“I can very well see as I am reading it.”

“Critique of Pure Reason is a very challenging read.”

“For a prepared mind, it can be quite interesting,” she murmured through her lips.

West was suddenly interested. “And how to do you find his views?”

Sasha snapped the book close and stared at him. “I would very much willing to tell you if you allow me to finish three chapters at the very least.”

West shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You are irked.”

She blinked and shook her head in disbelief. “I have you know, sir, that I had the rest of my day planned.” She shook the book in her hand. “I have already imagined myself reading this book in my bed with no distractions.”

“Then you do admit that I distract you?”

Her eyes widened. “Very much so, yes!”

Her admission stupefied him.

She said it so nonchalantly, so innocently.

She huffed in frustration, turning her head to look out the window. “My maids must be going crazy. I ought to have someone inform them where I am the moment we reach Belcourt.”

But West was barely listening as he watched her. Her gray dress could not be compared with the elegance of his carriage, yet in his eyes, she seemed to have been crafted just to be in it. Her neck bared to him, her hand firm on her new book. A woman of beauty and taste.

“Why?” he asked.

Her head snapped toward him. “Well, because I told them I shall return in a few hours. My maid would go berserk if I am not in the villa by—”

“I was not asking about your household staff, Sasha.” His gaze captured hers and held it. He watched the confusion form in her eyes. “I was asking why I distract you.”

She was about to open her mouth to answer, but she must have realized the meaning in his gaze. Her eyes darkened as they stared at each other, the small space between them a barrier of something they were both fighting against.

The game was on.

He could easily reach out, wrap his hand around her arm, and pull her toward him. The carriage was large enough to mount her on his lap. His hands would have enough room to explore. It would take no amount of persuasion for he would be a willing man.

The image of her bow-shaped lips slightly open, gasping for air above him, her neck bare to him, her shoulders glistening with sweat, made him feel like a bloody crazed man in chains.

Her gaze made him wonder. What could she be thinking? What was running around in that mind of hers?

When he was starting to believe Sasha was easy to read, she was yet proving to him again that there was more he had to uncover.

And he was not willing to.

She was a distraction, yes, but she was also his only chance of finding his sister.

She may currently be proving she was incompetent, but he could not blame her. She was not used to this kind of business. The one she was used to was nothing similar to what he was paying her to do.

A small smile tugged at one corner of her lips. West would have forgotten his question if she did not answer by saying, “You do distract me in many ways, sir.” Her bluish-grey eyes were telling him she had more to say and he craved for them. Yet she was teasing him, making him wonder… making him impatient.

She was the first to look away, gazing out of the window.

“We are here,” she announced.

The carriage stopped and two women in green cloaks came into view of the window.

Sasha had to only show her face and the two women nodded, running back to the giant gates.

Whatever West had been feeling moments ago was replaced by something else as Belcourt finally opened its gates.

XIII | The Flower Garden

West was aware that Belcourt hid many secrets.

He never thought that it hid something as humongous as this.

Tanner was the last person he would believe when it came to certain facts about Belcourt, but did his friend not once say that Belcourt had two gates?

Rider and West never believed the man, but as West had just passed the first gate and had now been traveling a road, nearly a mile long, he could see the second one in the distance.

Hating for Sasha to see the surprise in his eyes, he nonchalantly looked out of the window. Beside him was a vast plantation of winter wheat. He turned and saw the same plantation on the other side of the carriage.

Sasha was quiet as they approached the second gate and when the carriage drew to a stop and four green-cloaked women approached, she spoke, “Your carriage driver will have to be escorted to a designated place. We shall be taking another carriage upon entry.”

“Lady Sasha, welcome back to Belcourt,” a woman’s voice greeted Sasha when the carriage door opened.

West barely had time to react, more so ask his question as to why they would need another carriage into Belcourt.

One green-cloaked woman took the reins from the driver. Giving his driver a reassuring nod, West followed Sasha inside another carriage driven by another woman wearing the same cloak.

He stared at Sasha as the carriage pulled away from the gates, his own carriage taking the opposite direction. Driving on, his question was soon answered as they passed by a large manor.

His eyes followed the view outside the window. They had just driven past the driveway into the manor when he expected them to stop.

Sasha’s voice filled the small carriage. “We call it The Manor, formally known as the Common Court.” He turned to look at her. She recognized the inquisitive look on his face. “The orphanage,” she answered his unspoken question with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I have given you warning. Belcourt is not what you think it is.”

As they were just passing by the side of the manor, West caught a glimpse of a few young girls playing in a pile of snow, their laughter ringing in the cold winter air. A few of the girls were carrying little ones in their arms as they talked and laughed.

“It is where we all have to spend most of our days until we reach our eighteenth birthday.” His gaze returned to hers. She was looking out the window at the now disappearing manor, a reminiscing look in her eyes. “It is where all Belcourt girls are taught on subjects such as arithmetic, science, housekeeping, economics, physics—even astronomy. Geography was my favorite before I stumbled upon the science of the mind.”

West hesitated to ask for he would have wanted her to believe he cared not about a woman’s life in Belcourt, but the curiosity had already taken over him. “And once you turn eighteen?”

The mocking smile on her lips returned. “Wouldn’t you want to know now, would you?”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

She sighed, turning to the window.

West’s gaze followed.

He ground his teeth. Whoever had been telling Tanner things, that person must have been to Belcourt. There was indeed a lake.

And beyond, he could see buildings with walls mostly hidden by trees that lined the road. Further down west, he was certain he was looking at a bloody forest.

“The Common Court seems to be the only thing that people outside Belcourt are aware of,” Sasha’s calm voice broke the silence. “Very few are aware of the four other courts scattered in the estate.”

West frowned. To feel anger was indeed petty, but he could not help it. The longer he was here, the more Belcourt was slapping him with the truth—that he had been naught but an ignorant bastard. “Other courts?”

Sasha nodded. “The very moment a girl from the Common Court turns eighteen, she will have to transition into one of the four main courts.” After a small pause, she added, “And we are on our way to one, sir—the Court of Flowers.”

“The bloody court of what?” he demanded, frozen and dumbfounded.

Sasha’s soft chuckle reached his ears. “The Court of Flowers is the home of the Belles. At the very least, the people outside of Belcourt had gotten the title correctly.” She stared at the lake again. “Do you know why the Manor is located far from the rest of the other courts?”

“I can barely grasp the information you are giving me to even think of an answer, Sasha.”

She looked at him with a smile. “Belcourt was sparing the children from the realities of Belcourt. Such as any society. Because that is what Belcourt is. We are a society.”

It seemed it was impossible to frown more, but his brows dipped even lower. She was enjoying this. She reveled at his confusion and ignorance. “Any moment now, we are to pass by the Village.”

From a distance, West saw a brick wall with a wooden gate. It was not too high, but it was high enough to keep anyone from seeing the entirety of what it was trying to hide. He could see a few roofs scattered everywhere within the walls.

“It is home to the ladies of the Court of Service. You will soon realize that they are the women in the black cloaks. They provide everything Belcourt needs. They are the foundation of our society. Without them, we shall cease to exist. It is also where we learn most of the things we need to learn to survive such as tilling the land, sewing, cooking, and others.”

“Your maid and your driver are from that court.”

She nodded. “You are starting to understand, I see.” As the carriage drove beside the wall of the Village, Sasha turned to the other window at the opposite side of the road. West saw a bent path with a lamp post at the junction. “That road is toward the Court of Libraries.”

Making conclusion, West said, “The place where everything about Belcourt is kept.”

Sasha smiled. “You are smart, after all. I am impressed.”

He scowled.

She chuckled.

Then her smile slowly disappeared as she looked at the trees lined at the side of the road. “The Library hides behind these trees.” West heard the longing in her voice. “It is not easy to be courted into the place. And one would have to have a good reason for visiting it, one which is rarely done. The Librarians, you see, do hate it when someone distracts them from their work.”

“Their work? And what is their work?”

She smiled. “Oh, many things, most of which I am in no liberty to tell you.”

“And how are you ladies courted ?”

“We prove ourselves, of course. We work hard for the court of our desire and if Belcourt sees it fit, we land into one.”

“And if Belcourt does not see you fitting the court of your desire?”

“We are courted into the court where we are expected to flourish.”

Her answer did not sit well with West. Were these women forced into situations they did not want?

She leaned back against her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “We should wait a little while for the next court.”

He blinked and frowned. “Why? How far is it?”

Her thinking face returned, one West had grown familiar with. Narrowed eyes, pursed lips. “The Flower Garden is nearly two miles down the road.”

“Two miles—are you bloody serious?”

Sasha shrugged. “You must now start to realize what I was trying to say when I said it is not easy to do the task,” she said in a low voice only for him to hear. “The very fact that I would have to walk the two miles from the Court of Flowers every time I go to the Library should be enough reason.”

“But a carriage is—”

“Not always at our disposal.”

He looked out the window. He could see the edge of the woods, but not a sign of any building nearby. From the distance, he could see a few black-cloaked women walking down the road, taking the same direction as them.

This was bloody outrageous. Who would have thought—

Well, did Tanner not tell him about Belcourt? Had his friend not said there was a lake within? Had the bastard not told him that Belcourt was a society in itself?

He wondered how his friend would react now.

But Tanner did not have to know.

Part of his contract with Belcourt was to keep everything about Belcourt a secret.

A bloody drawing room. He had pictured the Flower Garden to be a bloody drawing room!

West spent the good of the fifteen-minute carriage ride reconstructing the Belcourt he had in his head, for this was not it.

In his mind, it was naught but a large building with hundreds of rooms filled by young girls and grown women. He had imagined the place to be hiding secret rooms for the gentlemen to visit their Belles. In fact, he imagined a bloody brothel.

Still in quiet disbelief, West could now make out a large building at a far distance.

Sasha noticed him staring.

“How large is the place?”

“You mean the Flower Garden?”

He did not reply. He just stared at her.

“Large enough to fit thirty ladies with their own bedchambers. There are two parlors, two drawing rooms, a gaming room, a dining hall, and a kitchen. I can say that it is not the largest of all courts, but it definitely is the most luxurious.

“And what is the largest of all courts? The Village?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He frowned. “The Manor?”

“No, not the Manor.” She lifted her shoulder into a shrug.

He blinked, realizing something. “You said there are four courts. You mentioned only three.”

“There are five, including the Manor.”

“Then you only mentioned four.”

She smiled, enjoying his impatience. “The Palace.”

“The Palace?”

“Not Sutherland’s palace. The Court of Arms.”

His brow cocked high.

“The women in the green cloaks.”

“And it is also safe to say that I cannot ask what they do, is it not?”

“Well, of course, you can ask, sir,” she said with a wicked smile. “But the answer will depend on your question. All you have to know is that it is the last place you would want to go to in Belcourt. You would not like the consequences.”

The carriage made a turn. He watched as Sasha looked out the window, looking uncomfortable.

“You do not like it here.”

“I am not comfortable in the Flower Garden, yes,” she admitted, her hands restlessly fixing the skirts of her dress. “I am not dressed for the occasion, you see?”

West ignored her unnecessary worry over her dress and veered his eyes back to the court they were destined to go to. The carriage slowed down, entering a curving driveway that slowly revealed a building that arched in half a circle. In the middle was a circular garden that was currently half-covered in snow.

And as they neared, West realized that another building arched behind the first one.

“The inner building is what the Belles refer to as the bud . The outer building they call the petal .”

The carriage had finally stopped outside the open garden.

“You speak as though you are not one of them,” he told her.

“Part of what?” she asked, reaching out to open the door.

“The Belles.”

She scoffed. “I am one of them.”

“But?”

Her eyes held his for a few moments. Then she blinked before he could even decipher the secret she was not telling him. “There is no but , sir.”

Sasha climbed out without assistance. West followed. As his feet finally touched Belcourt ground for the first time, Sasha was already waiting for him. “Welcome to Belcourt, West.”

---

She had just given him a very hasty tour of the inner building.

“I suppose you do not wish to be seen by the others?” she asked without waiting for a reply and proceeded to name every room they passed without opening one door. “And I suppose you wish me to do what I need to do?” Again, without waiting for his reply, Sasha led him down the hall that led to the outer building where all chambers belonging to each Belle could be found.

“You shall stay in my chamber while I visit the Library,” she informed him as they walked down the east hallway. To their left were the doors for each chamber. The right side, on the other hand, captured West’s awe. The wall was lined with windows that spanned top to bottom, giving West the view of the distant lake, the Village, and the woods.

As Sasha walked silently beside him, he thought he finally understood the reason for her aghast when he conveyed his impression of Belcourt.

“You call the gentlemen of Belcourt flowers because of this place.”

Sasha’s lips curled into an amused smile without sparing him a look. She kept walking, eyes down the hall. Stopping outside the third door to the end of the corridor, she turned to face him. “No, they call the place the Flower Garden because Belcourt sees the gentlemen as flowers.”

“I have always wondered why.”

She reached for the door and swung it open, revealing a giant four-poster bed in the middle with white lace draping at all sides. Instantly, he cared not that the room was as grand as the place. His mind was not drawn to the giant window that overlooked the winter wheat plantation outside.

His entire body tensed, watching Sasha walk into the room, toward the bed.

Then he noticed something else.

There was hesitation in her steps.

His brows fused.

Surely, she had taken other flowers in this room before. Surely, they did more than just walk in and chat.

“Since you have so graciously dragged me here today, I suppose we should stay the night,” she said, turning to face him. Her tone was sure and exact—confident. Yet her gaze and the way her fingers fiddled with the side of her gray dress made her seem like she did not belong in that room.

This was her charm, he thought.

She could make any man think they were standing in front of an innocent woman. She made him feel like he wanted to show her what this room was made for. She made him feel like he wanted to be the first.

A slight feeling of anger flickered in his gut. They both knew she had done this many times. He hated that she acted as though he was the only man—as if he was the first. And he hated that he was having the exact reaction she was hoping for.

The game.

Yes, of course.

He had to remember the game.

She was playing fair and square and he might be losing.

Moistening his lips, West stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Feigning nonchalance, he loosened his cravat. From the corner of his eye, he saw her staring at his hands. “Very well, I can spare a night here.” He smiled, gaze resting on her face. “Why do you look surprised? Were you expecting I demand that we return to Coulway at once?”

She merely blinked.

“You have finally made me understand why you thought my task for you—”

In one fluid motion, she had managed to reach him to cover his mouth with one hand, muffling the rest of his words, whispering, “For someone who bought an entire villa as a precaution, you are proving to be very careless at the wrong places. We are in Belcourt. Need I remind you?”

Before West could begin to react on the fact that she was touching him, or that she was too near, Sasha stepped back.

Moistening her lips, she looked around the room. “Please, do make yourself at home. Should you need anything, ring for one of the service ladies. They will be happy to do your bidding. But you cannot touch them. Is that understood?”

“Why would I touch them?”

A scoff escaped her throat. “Oh, you do not know the number of men who tried. Should you encounter anyone here and they inquire where I am, you simply tell them you do not know. And stay here. Do not wander around.”

“And when will you be back?” he asked as she walked to the door.

“I will find a messenger,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. She was going to the Library. “It would take me a little more than twenty minutes at a good pace. I shall not be long. A Belle ought not to leave her flower unattended in the Garden, after all, so I will try to return soon.” She opened the door and paused. Giving him a fretful look, she sighed. “You shall be fine, I guess.”

XIV | Afternoon with a Belle

West stayed inside Sasha’s bedchamber, doing naught but pace around. He found no articles owned by her. No gowns, no dresses. Not even a bloody hairbrush.

It was as if she never stayed in this chamber at all.

With nothing to do, he stood in front of the gigantic window, staring blankly at the vast winter wheat plantation that spanned for miles beyond the walls of Belcourt.

For a long while, he just stood there.

And then he scoffed.

He should have known.

It was the only place his mother took refuge in when she was due to have her child.

When nowhere else was safe for her, Belcourt was.

From that little detail alone, he should have known that Belcourt was more than an orphanage who made girls into ladies who serviced privileged men.

Was it not because of Belcourt that the former king was forced to leave his throne?

Was it not because of Belcourt that his mother did what she did?

The sound of the door opening drew West back from the vague painting of his mother that still hung in one of the drawing rooms in his estate, bring him back to where he was at that moment. He turned and found a surprised woman standing in the open doorway.

West blinked at the radiant beauty standing a few feet away from him. He knew of her, he thought. She was known to men in his station.

Aliya.

Her auburn hair bounced as she took a step into the room.

He had seen her grace some of the biggest balls around Sutherland.

It had always been a debate amongst gentlemen about her true identity. Was she truly a Belle, or was she not?

She could not be. She was too beautiful, even for a Belle.

She never announced herself in balls. She would simply grace inside. She would jest about her life in Belcourt, but she would say it in a way that would make one question if she was narrating a fairy tale.

But to West, it was never a question. Of course, she was. She was the master of seduction. And now, she was here in Belcourt.

“Oh, pardon, sir,” she said, looking around the room, sparing him less notice than most women did. Or perhaps it was something common to Belles, he thought, reminded of Sasha. “I was hoping to find Sasha. I was told she has arrived. The other ladies and I were hoping she joins us this afternoon.”

“She had somewhere else to go,” he said, stepping away from the window. “I am quite certain she will be back soon.”

Aliya nodded. “You must be wondering why I am addressing you,” she said. “We have been introduced before.”

“Yes, I do remember.” Malcolm Walcott, the Marquess of Hartcaster was a member of the peerage who was friends with Aliya at the time of their introduction. Hartcaster was secretly being cursed by men in his station for trotting around balls with a beautiful woman he claimed to be a close friend while his own wife and son were at home. There was, of course, a hidden reason behind their contempt. All those men would not hesitate when given the same privilege as Hartcaster.

The woman smiled. She was indeed an incomparable beauty, yet—and it may be a detested claim amongst his species—the woman never interested him. Perhaps it was her extravagant way of showing herself, leaving no room for imagination. Or simply because she was desired by all other men. “Famous. You do remember, after all.” She looked around the room and then at him. She had the sort of confidence that Sasha did not have. “Well, I do hope that you feel comfortable here, West. I can address you by your name, yes? Or would you rather be addressed by your title?”

This woman knew how to please a man. “My name will suffice.”

She knowingly smiled. “Of course, it shall.” Her eyes went to the window. “That window might be big, West, but it will bore you to death. Would you like to join me and the other ladies for some tea and sandwiches downstairs? I am certain Sasha would not mind.”

She was not even asking if he did mind.

“There are no gentlemen. The season has just begun and most of them are quite busy at the moment, although we expect a flock of them starting on the morrow after their initial slug of spirits.”

He was about to respectfully declined when a thought occurred to him. These ladies could provide him with information.

West allowed a small smile. “Very well, I shall allow you to entice me to tea and sandwiches.”

---

Moments later, West was almost praying for Sasha to return. He was surrounded by Belles who could not even talk to him. They contented themselves in regarding him with interest.

“I cannot introduce you to them, of course. Only your Belle or another flower can do so,” Aliya explained to him. “None of whom are present at the moment. I should have given this more thought when I invited you.”

When he pulled his lips on a tight smile, Aliya chuckled.

“I do feel your frustration, West, but that is a rule we all abide by.” She looked at the other Belles in the room, five of them in total. “Now, ladies, would you care? This gentleman is utterly uncomfortable with the staring.”

“Ah, but Aliya,” said one of them, “you must realize we are curious.”

“He is Sasha’s, Summer, if that is what you are curious about,” Aliya replied.

Summer’s eyes widened. “Oh, I did not realize the Fainting Belle was finally assigned to—”

“Would you like a stroll outside, West?” Aliya interrupted, giving Summer a darting look.

West considered Aliya’s proposition, eyes on his cold cup of tea. Then his eyes went around the room. This was absolutely ridiculous. These women followed Belcourt’s rules down to the very last word. How had he ever convinced himself they would break it? Because Sasha was doing it?

He might have landed into the perfect, easiest Belle, after all.

He stood and offered his arm to Aliya. “I suppose the air outside is only mildly colder than my tea.”

As the two of them made their way to the garden, Aliya withdrew her hand from his arm and ambled beside him with no sign of apprehension.

“How do you find Belcourt, West?”

“Interesting.”

She nodded. “It is.” She turned her head to look at him. “And Sasha?”

Who would have thought that he would be strolling down a garden with one of the most beautiful Belles and yet his bloody groin reacted when she spoke Sasha’s name?

Aliya chuckled. “You do not have to answer,” she said, “I believe I found the answer.”

They finally reached the garden and their pace slowed down.

“But do be careful,” she said, voice serious.

West frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

Aliya sighed, her eyes fixed up ahead. “Being a gentleman can provide you with many privileges, West, but it can also land you in the worst situations if you make the wrong decisions.” Her head turned to face him and she frowned at his expression. “I hope you are not thinking that it is a threat. I have seen enough gentlemen of Belcourt make decisions simply because they thought their titles are enough protection.” She smiled at him then. “There is but one simple rule, of course. You do not hurt the Belles. Or any Belcourt lady.”

West tore his gaze from the woman and kept walking. “Do you think I will hurt Sasha?”

“Oh, it is not a question. You may hurt her in one way or another.”

He scoffed.

“When you tire of Belcourt or of her, you will have to leave her. Men, in my experience, often find themselves bored after some time.”

This lips tightened, his jaw clenched.

His gaze darted back to Aliya. The knowing smile on her lips reminded him of just how long this woman could have been doing this; how many flowers had come by.

“Has anyone hurt her before?” he asked.

“Oh, I cannot tell,” she said with a shrug, her answer as vague and mysterious as Belcourt. “So perhaps it is best if you help her manage your relationship. She is young, you see. She may not know how far she should go. She has much to learn. It would be best if you prepare her for the worst early on.”

West frowned at Aliya. “Why would I be the one to help her? Should she not have enough experience by now?”

Aliya smiled and nodded. “Her experience is quite different from the rest of the Belles, West. That is all I can say. I am a concerned Belle, that is all. I consider all of them my sisters.” She walked on ahead of him. “Now that I have said what I wanted to say, should we discuss something else?”

West followed behind her. “How long have you been in this court?” he asked.

“Oh, wrong question, West,” Aliya said with a smile. “The answer would lead you to calculate my age and a woman never reveals her age.”

“A woman aging well might.”

“True, but I try to keep as much secret as I can.”

“Then do tell me, since you have asked how I find Belcourt,” he cautiously started again, “And I have said I do find it interesting. I wish to know if there are any other places I cannot venture to.”

“Has Sasha not told you?”

“She has.”

“Then do ask her the question again. I am in no liberty to tell you.”

West nearly gritted his teeth. Aliya was the last woman he should be talking to. If there was anyone who could ever be more loyal to Belcourt, it was this woman.

He let the silence linger for a little while before he asked his next question. “Why have you stayed?”

“What?”

“Why have you stayed here. I am certain that one of your gentlemen would have been quite happy to give you a generous gift by freeing you from Belcourt.”

She laughed. “You believe that walking out of Belcourt is freedom?”

“At the very least, you will be free of its rules.”

“And have those rules replaced by hundreds more you all observe in the kingdom?” She shook her head. “But I shall answer that question, sir.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “I am here because I am satisfied.”

His thick brows raised slightly rose. “You do like being a Belle.”

“Oh, I take delight in it.” The knowing smile returned to her lips. “As you do with your title and the privileges that come with it.”

West nodded. “A good answer, but you cannot be a Belle forever.”

“Who said I shall live forever?” she replied incredulously.

West did not reply for it was certain the woman knew what he meant. They would grow old. Their beauties would fade. Fresh new gentlemen would come and demand for younger Belles.

Where did it leave the other Belles before them? Where could they be now?

Where would that leave Aliya?

Where would it leave Sasha?

He would have to pay her, he thought. She could have a better life elsewhere than Belcourt.

If his own mother had been content with Belcourt, he would not be here. He would not be looking for his sister.

If she was content here, none of this would have happened. If a better future could be seen for the Belles, his mother would still be here. But that was not the case. The one man who had memories of her was now gone, her beauty represented by a mere painting in his estate. But the woman was no longer here. She had disappeared, nowhere to be found.

“Spring is coming very soon. You should see Belcourt in the spring. This garden will bloom with the most beautiful of flowers,” Aliya informed him, changing the subject.

West made no comment as his gaze was stolen by a figure walking toward them from the entrance of the court.

The skirts of her gray dress flew behind her.

As she neared, her face became clear.

He was not quite certain, but it seemed that she was scowling.

---

Sasha was not happy.

He left the bedchamber when he had always been adamant that his pristine reputation could not be marred by anything closely related to Belcourt.

Yet there he was, the bloody bastard, taking a stroll with another Belle. And not just any Belle. Aliya!

She was gone for merely two hours. Two hours!

“Sasha!” Aliya greeted with a smile.

Eyes still on West, Sasha forced a smile on her lips. “Good afternoon, Aliya.”

“I was wondering when you will show up. You left your gentleman alone in your bedchamber. I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty to offer him tea and sandwiches.”

“And a walk around the garden, I see,” Sasha said through her teeth.

“He and I have been introduced before. I took the advantage and accompanied him while we waited for you.”

“Oh, now I see. I hope you had a grand stroll,” she gritted out, each word more grating than the last. Marvelous! They knew each other before. Famous, indeed.

Aliya allowed an awkward chuckle, one Sasha could not determine whether to be genuine or practiced. She did not care. She was silently slicing West’s face with her eyes. “Do forgive me. I was merely trying to rescue him from the other ladies. They had been making him uncomfortable.”

Sasha turned to Aliya, giving the woman a gentle smile. Then she turned to face West again and her scowl resurfaced. “He would not have felt uncomfortable at all if he stayed in the bedchamber where I said I shall return soon.”

West tried to open his mouth but Aliya interjected, “It was I who insisted that he join us. Please, do forgive me, Sasha. I was merely concerned. You left him alone. Where have you gone to?”

Sasha froze. “I had to find a messenger. My staff in Coulway had to be notified that I cannot come home tonight.”

“Oh, famous! So you can join us for supper as well!” Aliya turned to West. “And I assume you will stay the night in Belcourt, West?”

Sasha’s eyebrow cocked high when she heard West’s name from the woman’s lips. She fixed West a hard look, eyebrow inching higher.

“I believe our dinner shall be delivered to Sasha’s bedchamber.”

“Well, you can always change your mind,” said Aliya, turning to Sasha. “The other ladies wish for an introduction with your gentleman, Sasha. I hope that you can oblige them.”

“That shall depend on my gentleman, Aliya,” she said, turning to the woman to give her a smile. And then she suddenly felt guilty.

This woman was the first to welcome her here and this was how she was repaying her. Because of what? Because she accommodated West?

“And we shall try to join you for dinner, of course,” she added, tone apologetic.

Aliya nodded. “Very well, I will return inside. Are you not coming?”

“West is yet to see Belcourt. We have plans to walk around.”

There was something in Aliya’s gaze that caused Sasha alarm. “Then go along. It shall get dark soon.” The woman gave West a look before she turned and walked away. And as she did, she added, “Have caution, the two of you.”

Sasha froze at the tone Aliya used. Her gaze followed the woman as she made her way back inside the estate.

“She invited me downstairs. I made the choice to accept,” West said beside her, pulling her attention back to where it was before she heard the threatening tone in Aliya’s words, back to the fury that was building up.

Sasha did not understand why she was vexed, but she was. And it intensified even more upon hearing him try to reason.

She remained quiet, avoiding to speak words she may later regret.

“We barely had anything to discuss, Sasha. I could not directly talk with the other ladies. Aliya was kind enough to—”

He stopped when she suddenly whirled around to face him.

West skidded to a stop before he crashed into her.

She looked at him from head to foot. Then she scoffed.

She turned around and continued walking.

“Pardon me if we are not leisurely strolling down a garden, but could I talk to you about my trip to the Library?”

West was immediately by her side. Clearing his throat, he said, “Very well.

“I have been looking into records in the pretense that I am looking for mine.”

“You do not have your records?”

“No, of course not.”

“And? And did you find her records?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

“I found something else.”

“Which is?”

“I found the records of all births in Belcourt and there was indeed a child born in Belcourt in the year 1781.”

“I already told you that—”

“I had to confirm that a child was indeed borne here, West. I could not simply rely on your words. It is best to be guided by facts rather than other people’s theories.”

“Good lord. You sound like a mad scientist.”

“Well, I was one—”

Sasha closed her mouth, regretting her words.

“You were what?”

“Nothing.”

She could feel his gaze on her. “Sasha, is the Court of Flowers your first court?”

Sasha sighed. “No.”

“Then where—”

“I was courted into the Court of Libraries.”

“Then how—”

“For a week,” she lied. “I stayed there a week before I was transferred to the Flower Garden.” She glared at him. “You cannot repeat that to anyone. You are not supposed to know. It was a long time ago.”

“Then women can be re-courted—”

“Very rarely. Stop asking questions about Belcourt.”

“Why? Afraid that the Palace will know?”

She frowned. “Who told you about the Palace?”

“You did. You also did not tell me anything about it, making me surmise it is where whoever rules Belcourt can be found. Why else would you bloody call it the Palace?” His light blue eyes narrowed at her. “I am not daft, Sasha, surely you know that.”

Sasha sighed. She placed her hands on her hips. She was tired. She indeed went to the Library. She did her search and she did not lie about what she told him.

But it seemed that he also had other motives being here. He deliberately accepted Aliya’s request to join her and the other Belles for tea. And while she initially thought he did it because of Aliya, she now realized his foolish plans.

“What other things have you been asking the other Belles?”

“You must know I could not ask them directly—”

“You should be careful around them, West,” she stonily interjected. “You would not wish for any of them to know what we are planning. As much as you are placing yourself in danger, you are putting me at risk all the same.” She helplessly dropped her hands to her side. “Very well, do you truly wish to know about the Palace?”

“You said you cannot tell me—”

“I can tell you what I can tell you. What do you want to know about it? I shall give you the answer that you want so long as you ask me . Not the other Belles. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Who resides in the Palace other than the women from the Court of Service?”

“We call them the Soldiers,” she informed him. “Each court has what we call the Mistress. I am certain you recognize the Mistress of the Court of Flowers.”

He nodded. “Lady Mariam. She sent me my acceptance letter.”

“And these four mistresses answer to the Maidens.”

“Maidens?”

“There are seven in total, all of whom are barely seen around Belcourt. We cannot touch them, we cannot see them. We only see them once in our lives—when we get courted. All ladies in Belcourt has no wish to see them for the second time.”

“Why?”

Sasha hesitated. She knew it was not against the law to tell him for he was a gentleman of Belcourt, but she was uncomfortable all the same. He was here because he was being investigated by Belcourt and the kingdom. She should not be trusting him. But he was going around asking questions that might raise suspicions amongst Belles. And that could potentially lead to problems.

“Sasha?”

She blinked, drawn back to the moment. “The seven Maidens oversee the High Court. They are the ones who deliver the punishments when one breaks the law. The gentlemen may also be subjected to trials, you must know.”

“Preposterous,” was his guttural reaction.

She blinked. “What?”

“High Court? Belcourt has a bloody court system?”

“Belcourt is a society. Have I not told you that?”

“Gentlemen can be subjected to trials by this court, you say? It is not written on the contract.”

“Your contract states that you are to abide by Belcourt rules and will have to face the consequences. It is clear now what those consequences are, is it?”

“And these Maidens make the decision on who gets punished?”

“No.”

“Then who—”

“The High Priestess,” she interjected, looking him in the eyes. “That is who the Palace is keeping safe.”

XV | Green as Grim

“What punishments?” West later asked her during their quiet dinner alone in her bedchamber, after West made the decision that he would rather have a quiet meal than being introduced to the other Belles.

“What?”

“The punishments you get should Belcourt find you guilty of a crime.”

She shrugged. “We have the dungeon amongst others.”

“Dungeons have long been abolished—”

“Then a prison—is that what you call it now? Anyway, it is located underground—a dungeon.”

“Dungeons were proven too harsh—”

“Then whoever committed a crime should have taken caution. Punishment works best when you suffer, is that not right?”

He chewed his food slowly, just looking at her. “What are the crimes that would land you in this dungeon?”

“Murder.”

“That is all?”

“Every other crime also punishable by the Kingdom of Sutherland. And a few other things.”

“Such as?”

“Looking into records of children born in Belcourt because you were paid to,” she replied in a whisper.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

Sasha straightened. “I am not jesting.”

He scoffed. “Well, I am certain you always think with caution .”

She took a sip of her wine. “I do. Why do you think I am winning our little game?” Before West could open his mouth for a witty rebuttal, she leaned over the table to say in a low voice, “And I have also found that it was indeed a little girl who was borne here in 1781.”

West leaned forward until their faces were merely inches apart. “And I believe I also told you I am looking for a sister,” he retorted, matching her tone.

“Facts, West. I had to look for facts as a foundation for my search.”

He let out a long sigh and leaned away, realizing too late that his heart was hammering against his chest. Hard, resonating. Bloody tarnation, he just stared close into her eyes, nothing more!

“I hope I have satisfied your curiosities,” Sasha calmly told him, seemingly unbothered by their short close interaction. “So, please, Your Grace , avoid asking other Belles questions that you could otherwise just ask me. Belles are women. They gossip.”

He lifted a finger. “So do men. And you do not know how much.”

“I believe you when you say that.”

West looked at her for a long time, the silence around them broken only by the constant laughter from downstairs.

“You are cross, are you? Your hands are in fists more often than usual in the course of our interaction.”

“I am still cross,” she corrected, throwing him a darting look. “I have been for quite a while now since you snatched me out of the streets in Coulway.” When he did not reply, she met his gaze. “I told you not to get out of the bedchamber earlier.”

“Yes, you did—”

“You claim you do not wish for me to taint your precious reputation, and yet you come down very willingly after Aliya requested you to join her for tea and sandwiches.”

“You are not shouting. You can shout if you want. I would not care. It will help with the anger,” he said, his mind thinking of a diversion, one that he desperately needed at that point.

“I do not have to. That is how bloody cross I am.”

“Why are you bloody cross? Because I did not heed your order to stay in the bedchamber?”

“You,” she said in a low voice only he could hear, taking another sip of wine, firmly replacing the glass on the table before she continued, “dragged me here today because you claim I have not been…” she leaned closer to whisper, “…doing my task. I obliged. I went to the Library—on foot— and upon my return, I find you strolling in the garden with another Belle, probably asking her questions that would have made her draw conclusions on her own. Aliya is one of the most experienced and smartest Belles in the court, Your Grace. I just hope you did not say anything that could have pushed her to knock on Lady Mariam’s door.”

He frowned at her. “Is this why we are not dining with the other Belles? You believe you are different from them? That they would immediately draw conclusions against your favor?”

Her voice returned to normal. “It was you who decided that we have our dinner here, not I. I would have gladly introduced you to the ladies. Would you wish for me to do so? Very well, first thing on the morrow, I shall. So you can begin to socialize and ask them questions. Ah, wait,” Again, she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Why don’t you take your money back and do your own search? It will save me the trouble.”

“You make no sense.”

“I am cross, I may not make sense. Change the subject entirely or we can continue to talk nonsense.”

West took the challenge, but he waited until he thought she had calmed down and asked, “Why were you re-courted, Sasha?”

Sasha blinked. “Why? Do you not think I do not deserve to be a Belle? I shouldn’t, yes? Because I am not as beautiful as the others, is that what you are trying to say?”

Even she had to admit that this was ludicrous. West took a lungful of frustrated air. She was angry and was provoking him at every turn. “You are once more judging me, Sasha.”

---

“Then I beg your pardon,” Sasha said, standing up.

She was doing it again. She was being irrational when she should not be.

They ought to have gone home.

She was given advice not to come to Belcourt and she should have heeded.

“You are jealous.”

Sasha froze.

Was she?

No, that could not be.

She scoffed.

“You are bloody jealous,” he repeated, his tone filled with amazing realization.

Sasha whirled around. “I am not! How dare you suggest that I am!”

West stood and she knew she should escape for it was there in his eyes.

The game was still on, she thought.

She did manage to escape, but it was in the wrong direction. The wall behind her was as formidable as the man before her.

West stepped closer.

“I think I know what you intend to do, sir,” she said, voice nearly shaking. “You are going to tease me, and you shall fail. So, please, tonight is not the best time for this game. I am weary at the moment.”

He bent his head beside hers. His breath was warm against her shoulders, a hint of something she could only start to imagine. He was not touching her. His hands were on the wall beside her face. Sasha felt the tip of his nose touch her neck as he rolled his head to the side and murmured, “What game, Sasha?”

The breath that escaped her lips was shaking and she shifted her body, wanting to press closer into the wall to maintain a semblance of a distance between them. That was a mistake. She felt his broad chest as she moved. Sasha took a lungful of air, trying to calm herself. She could start to see the darkness closing in on her, but this time it was a different kind for it brought along a different feeling. This time, she was not dreading what would happen next. She was in a way anticipating it.

She caught herself. That was what he wanted her to feel. He was pushing her to do something.

His head moved higher. His lips touched the lobe of her ear as he added, “I am merely teasing as what you would call it. I would not do anything more because I would hate to lose this game.”

His breath was hotter against her ear. Her eyes closed. Her teeth bit her lower lip to keep herself quiet as West stepped closer, pressing his length against her. Her dress was protection enough. His was a reinforcement. Yet she still felt him. His warmth seeped through the fabrics, igniting something within her, something new.

If she was going to faint, she wanted it to be now. It would probably be the best escape from this man.

He was doing this to win the game. He was doing this to make her lose.

The thought did not help put out the fire starting in her midriff. It merely obliged her to feel.

If he could do this to her, she could very well do the same to him. So, why could she not do the same?

Sasha tried to move and froze.

His face was too close they were sharing the same breath, his lips merely an inch away.

She stood motionless when he dipped his head toward her, his lips almost touching hers. Sasha could trip and they would be kissing.

But that was not happening for neither of them would want to be a loser.

His hand moved away from the wall. The fingertips traced her exposed jaw. A current of sensations ran down to her fingertips.

Her hands went to his shoulder and she felt his muscle clench. She was bracing herself for her knees were feeling weak. She did not mean to… did she just touch him and he reacted?

“You must realize it’s power, yes, Sasha?” he asked, his moist breath brushing against her lips. His fingertips traveled down her neck. “The power of teasing.”

Sasha swallowed. “I do enjoy it to an extent,” she lied through her teeth. Or was she telling the truth?

His light blue eyes seemed to have gone dark as they traveled down to her lips. “Of course, you do,” he murmured, dipping his head just slightly so his lips brushed against hers for a very light touch.

The room spun around Sasha, the current surging throughout her body. She gulped. He smiled, she silently cursed.

“But one of us should know when to stop for the temptation to move forward is quite strong,” he said, pressing his hips against her and her eyes widened as she felt the evidence of his arousal. Of course, she knew of it. They were taught about it. They laughed with mirth and embarrassment in the classroom back in their days at the Manor, but they never thought of it seriously for they knew that merely a few of them would have to see what arousal looked like. Or in this case, felt like. “Standing this close to you and doing nothing is akin to punishment in a dungeon,” he said. “But nothing can go far unless you kiss me first.” His lips moved to the side of her cheek, brushing the skin, sending yet another wake of tingling sensations down her spine. “Will you not do it, Sasha? It is not against our agreement. It is just a kiss.”

He was correct. Why was she fighting this?

It would not be against their contract if she kissed him.

It should be nothing. A kiss can mean nothing.

Sasha swallowed, her lids closing as she felt faint. But why was she not on the floor when she should have countless minutes ago? Why was she feeling more than just the room moving around her? Why did it feel as though it was slowing to a stop only to spin once again, making her dizzy?

She could stop this now, she thought. She could save herself more trouble if she kissed him now. Then the game would be over. He would win.

And she would lose.

And that was not happening.

“No,” she managed through clenched teeth, feeling the breath snatched out of her as he pulled away from her with a smirk.

He sighed. His light blue eyes dark, withing their depths is a mysterious promise that she had once more deprived herself of. “I could always try again.”

“Or you could end it anytime and lose as I would not mind kissing you,” she snapped, pushing away from the wall. Walking over to the bed, she added, “The bed is huge enough. I am certain it can accommodate us both. You must have slept with other women before.”

“Whatever is it that you are suggesting, Sasha, I must remind you that it is something far bigger than a bloody kiss.”

“Whatever do you mean? I am only suggesting that we sleep in the same bed. Whatever it is that you think I am suggesting, imagine it done and consider yourself too tired after the act. Then sleep.”

He scoffed at her in disbelief. “One moment you were saying you would not mind kissing me. The next moment you talk about how that bed can accommodate us.”

“They were two different thoughts!”

“I pictured one continuous act, Sasha.”

Sasha gasped in disbelief. “We are having another useless banter.”

He nodded. “I agree.” His eyes landed on the bed. “You must know it will not be easy sharing the same bed.”

“It should be easier than sleeping on the floor, or is it not?” She walked to ring the bell. “I am calling for a bath and a change of dress. Would you like clothes as well? They can provide one for you.”

“Yes, please.”

---

West had never been forced to stand like a bloody statue before. It all took one woman to do so and for such petty reason.

She was having a bloody bath.

He may be successful in diverting her anger earlier, but it seemed as if he was being punished for it. He was the one who needed a bath—and a very cold one at that.

West could see her silhouette through the screen of the partition placed around her tub through the glass of the window. He could clearly see her moving inside, completely naked.

He closed his eyes.

He had to remind himself that he was here because he dragged her here.

Then a scoff escaped him.

She was jealous. Who would have bloody thought?

He shook his head.

The only thing that was keeping him from kissing the woman was his own pride, one, he believed he had enough of to last him a couple more weeks. Any more would send him to the brink.

“Why are you called the Fainting Belle?” he asked.

“How did you—of course, the Belles,” she said with a sigh from behind the partition. The sound of water as she moved made his throat dry. He swallowed and shifted in his feet. “I was called the Fainting Fairy before that.”

“Why the change of name?”

“I fainted when they told me I was re-courted.”

He chuckled. “No, you did not.”

“You cannot imagine the horror.”

“Then why the Fainting Fairy before the Fainting Belle?”

“I have fainting spells. Not too frequent, but they happen too often in comparison to those who do not faint at all.” He saw her silhouette stand and he ought to look away, but he could not. His mind did not have enough imagination, after all, for she was shaped better than he had thought.

He was in trouble, was the thought that was running in his mind when he heard Sasha commented, “You have been asking about me.”

He did not answer. She was drying herself as she spoke and was now moving on to get dressed. He looked away.

“What happens if you decide to stay here?” he asked. “Surely, you will grow old. You will lose your gentlemen. You must have somewhere to go.”

“Of course, but that should not be your concern, sir. I understand that you are curious at the moment after your discovery of Belcourt, but I assure you that you need not be. You are not to be my flower for long, yes?”

West opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Aliya was wrong. Sasha was too prepared to part with him. He did not have to teach her how to detach herself from him.

A knock came on the door and West rushed toward it. “Lady Sasha is currently unavailable” he announced, walking over to wrap a firm grip around the handle.

“Lady Mariam wishes to see her, my lord,” the woman’s voice said from outside.

“Why?” Sasha asked.

“I was only asked to tell you that your presence is expected in her study, my lady.”

“I will be there in a moment!”

“Very good, my lady.”

His brows meeting in a line, West asked, “Why would she want to see you at this time of night?”

“Not a good question, West. Cannot answer it,” she replied with a grunt. “Could you please see if the maid is still outside?”

West opened the door a cracked. “No. Why?”

“I cannot close the middle buttons of my dress.”

---

Sasha nearly yelped when she heard his voice behind her. “Allow me.”

“No, you will not—”

“I am already doing it,” he cut in. “I can manage three bloody buttons.”

Sasha swallowed, her grip around her long damp hair tightening as she felt the back of his fingers against her bared back.

“Thank you,” she curtly said, taking a step away from him the moment she felt the last button hook in place. “I will ask for a maid to replace the bath. Do not take your time bathing. I will be back soon.”

“Sasha,” he called.

She turned to face him. A look of concern in his eyes. He was silently asking, “What if she found out?”

“That is not possible,” she assured him. Mariam already knows , she silently added in her head.

Sasha quickly made her way up to Lady Mariam’s study.

Breathless, Sasha knocked and waited. Her left shoulder was damp from her hair which she tried to comb in place, realizing too late that she was not presentable enough.

“Come in.”

And even before Sasha could close the door, Lady Mariam’s authoritative voice demanded, “What have you been doing, Sasha?”

XVI | The Invitation

Sasha froze and the ringing in her ears began, the light fading.

“We knew this was bound to happen,” Lady Mariam said, but she was not addressing Sasha.

Sasha’s heart nearly stopped when she saw Lady Eastwell standing in one corner of the room, silently observing. “You must realize, Mariam, that Sasha is still adjusting.”

“She has responsibilities. There is no room for adjustments.”

Sasha blinked. “I beg your pardon?” Sasha asked in disbelief as Lady Eastwell merely sighed and shook her head.

“What have you been doing of late, Sasha?” Lady Mariam demanded.

“I—”

“You have been doing naught but go around with Ruby in Coulway. You barely see your flower. Why is that?”

“I—”

“And why did he get a villa, Sasha? Why did he feel the need to do so?”

“He does not wish to be seen with me or—”

“Your villa should suffice.”

“My villa is—”

“And why were you found walking alone outside the Flower Garden while your flower is in your bedchamber?”

“I had to—” Sasha looked at Lady Eastwell for help. The woman simply shrugged.

“And why—”

“My lady!” Sasha exclaimed; eyes closed. “Please, if you would allow me to finish my replies, you may not find the need for more questions.”

She saw the anger in Lady Mariam’s eyes when she opened hers. “Thank you,” she respectfully said, straightening her shoulders, gathering what was left of her composure. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Eastwell smile. “Foremost, my lady, my gentleman had insisted that we come here. I had to oblige for he needs to believe I am doing what he expects me to do.”

“Of course, it is expected that you are to take your flower here. They are entitled to that privilege. I was not inquiring why you took him here. Why would I?”

“Yes, Sasha, why would we?” Lady Eastwell asked in the same confused voice.

“I thought I was given instructions…”

“By whom?” Lady Eastwell asked, staring at Mariam.

“Do not stare at me like that, Eastwell. I did not give such orders.”

Sasha blinked in confusion. “I—I must have misunderstood the instructions given me.”

“And whatever do you mean by his expectations of you?” Lady Mariam added.

Sasha frowned, becoming more confused. She searched Lady Mariam’s eyes and found nothing but innocent curiosity. She could see the same look in Lady Eastwell’s face. “Concerning my task…” she faintly replied, baffled.

Lady Eastwell frowned. “Your task? Do you mean your task as a Belle?”

At that moment, at the lack of suspicion in the woman’s tone, Sasha realized something. A shiver ran up her spine, muddling her mind even more. “Yes,” she replied in almost a whisper.

Lady Mariam frowned. “And how have you been doing that? Has he invited you into his home, Sasha?”

“It is not easy for a man in his station to simply invite any woman into his estate, particularly a Belle. He is protecting his reputation.”

“And what does the prince have to say to this?”

“The prince is being patient ,” she said, putting enough emphasis on the last word.

“Then, must I remind you, Sasha, that your loyalty is still with Belcourt and not the prince? And Belcourt is not patient.”

“What Lady Mariam wishes to convey, Sasha, is that we cannot waste time. You cannot solely serve the prince. You cannot venture around Coulway thinking you have another day to spare on the morrow. The days you stay away from your flower are days wasted. Do you no longer wish to have this mission over with?”

Sasha blinked. “Of course, I want this to be over. But it is not that simple.”

“It should be if she has been properly trained,” Lady Mariam said with frustration, addressing no one in particular. “This is what happens when the Palace intervenes and takes matters into their hands. They pluck out a new girl from another court and expect her to do the best. One she obviously proves to be a failure at.”

Sasha’s jaw tightened. “I am trying my best, my lady. His Royal Highness has promised to help.”

“Of course, he should.” Lady Mariam stared at her for a long time. “Has West Blackwood been doing anything curious of late?”

“Nothing when we are together, my lady.”

“Which is why you must spend more time with the man.”

“And what of any demands, Sasha?” Lady Eastwell asked. “Has he expressed any demands from you? Anything unusual at all?”

Sasha swallowed and shook her head.

“Then any odd interest on Belcourt?”

Again, Sasha shook her head.

“The Palace in particular?”

Sasha frowned. “He knows of the Palace. I told him about it, but he has not asked anything more.”

Lady Mariam looked at Sasha intently. “Sasha, your gentleman joined Belcourt for a reason. You need to find that reason.”

Sasha nodded. “But there is also the possibility that his reasons are the same as the other flowers, my lady.”

Lady Eastwell shook her head. “No, not West Blackwood. The prince is confident that he has motives here.”

Sasha nodded, wondering if the Mistresses knew about the child.

From what Sasha could tell, they had no idea at all.

Lady Mariam motioned with her head. “Go. And for God’s sake, Sasha, make yourself presentable next time around. It may be good that you took a bath with your flower, but a Belle cannot present herself in front of anyone else with her hair dripping wet!”

“Have a good night, Sasha,” Lady Eastwell said with a small smile. “We expect a good report from Gabrielle the next time she calls on you.”

Sasha nodded, giving the mistresses a small curtsy.

She walked with a mixture of confusion and a feeling of dread.

She knew three facts so far:

First, the two mistresses never gave her an order to stay away from Belcourt.

Second, they were not aware of her agreement with West, about Elizabeth Blackwood and the daughter she gave birth to here in Belcourt.

Third, Gabrielle was lying to all of them.

---

Sasha returned to the bedchamber with a frown.

“What happened?” West asked, drying his hair with a cloth.

“Nothing that should concern you,” she said, walking straight to the bed. “I am tired. I am certain you are, too, after your walk around the garden.”

“You are starting again,” he said, voice filled with warning.

He heard no reply as she pulled the covers over her shoulders and closed her eyes.

“You are going to pretend to be asleep. Go on, then.” When she did not move, he narrowed his eyes. “Coward.”

She did not even flinch.

“Sasha, you might actually fall asleep if you keep this pretense.”

When she remained unmoving, West shook his head and went to the other side of the bed.

She was correct when she said the bed was huge enough for them both. Two more people could fit between them.

As he lay utterly wide awake, he realized she must now be truly asleep.

Earlier, while alone and taking a bath, West had a moment to recollect his thoughts without her distracting presence.

He considered the new challenges he had to face now that he discovered what Belcourt truly was.

It was not only vast; it was also an organized society with its own strict laws effectively implemented and heeded.

Apart from Sasha having to walk miles to get to the place that held all records of Belcourt, she also had to go through hundreds—if not thousands—of records.

Would two months suffice?

He finally understood Sasha’s initial surprise at the time limit he had set for her.

Yet, he had no time to waste.

His plans would not work if he could not find his sister on time.

---

Sasha nearly panicked when she woke up that morning.

Jumping out of bed, she was about to walk out of the bedchamber while trying to fix her unruly hair with both hands when she heard West ask, “Where are you going?”

She stopped and whirled around, eyes wide. He was sitting in one corner. “Do not say you have been there this entire time.”

“Unless you saw me leave and come back, yes, I have been here the whole time.”

She dropped her hands to her side and sighed.

“You thought I left.”

“I thought you went out again .” She walked to the washbasin. “You follow orders, after all.”

“I do not enjoy them as much as I give them, but yes, I know how to follow orders.”

Sasha washed her face with water. She heard him stand and approach her. As she straightened and opened her eyes, he lifted his hand, revealing a cloth. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking it to wipe her face. “We should break fast downstairs. The ladies would want to be introduced to you.”

“That is not necessary.”

“It is,” she insisted strongly. “If you do wish to evade suspicion, you would act like any flower would. You would want to be introduced to the other Belles. Was that not what you wanted yesterday when you joined Aliya for tea?”

“I am starting to believe that my acceptance of her invitation shall never be forgotten,” he grumbled.

Sasha ignored his statement. “It is quite common for the gentlemen of Belcourt to hunt for other Belles they might wish to be paired with should they grow tired of their current one.”

“And that is not necessary in my case.”

“Perhaps,” she curtly replied, turning to go to the door. “Well, are you not coming?”

He returned to his seat and crossed one leg over the other.

“You are not making this easier for me.”

“I have already concluded that it would not be.”

Sasha sighed and rang the bell. “Very well, breakfast in the chamber it is.”

The door suddenly burst open and Ruby stumbled inside, startling Sasha.

“Oh, good! You are here!” Ruby said, bursting into her bedchamber. “The other ladies have been talking about you and your—” Ruby stopped, now noticing West’s presence in the middle of the room. “Your flower,” Ruby finished with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh, he is indeed handsome as they said. The Duke of Eaton, I heard.”

West wryly glared at Sasha. “So much for utter secrecy in Belcourt, Sasha.”

Sasha sighed. “Ruby, this is West Blackwood. West Blackwood, meet Ruby.”

“A friend from Coulway, sir,” Ruby said as she curtsied. “I was the first to give Sasha a tour around when she first came.”

West merely nodded.

“How does it feel to be a gentleman of Belcourt, West?” Ruby asked, stepping further into the room.

“He might want to answer your questions later, Ruby,” said Sasha, “after we have broken our fast.”

“Perfect then! You can come join us downstairs. I am certain the other ladies would want your company!”

“I am afraid I prefer dining alone with Sasha,” West said, voice far from apologetic.

Sasha gave Ruby a conciliatory smile. Ruby smiled back. “It is fine, of course. You must still be feeling quite overwhelmed. And I am certain you are, too, Sasha, yes?” Ruby took a step back toward the doorway, her eyes on West, “Considering you are her first—”

“It was nice to see you again, Ruby. I hope to call on you soon in Coulway,” Sasha interjected just in time, softly pushing the woman through the doorway. “Do forgive me. He is quite cross,” she lied in a whisper. “Bad morning.”

Ruby chuckled and nodded with understanding. “Very well. Now that I think about it, it is best that you two stay in your chamber. Aliya is downstairs. We do not wish for your bloody handsome duke to land in her arms, do we now?”

Sasha gave the woman a small smile before closing the door. Turning, she frowned at West. “You were not as cold to Aliya as you were with Ruby.”

His light blue eyes looked narrowed. “Have you forgotten that it was Ruby’s gentleman who attacked you, Sasha?”

Stunned, Sasha blinked. “It was not Ruby’s fault.”

“Did you report the man to Belcourt?”

“No. I will if he tries another untoward advance.”

“I might not be there when he does.”

Sasha felt something good and warm spread inside her, but she had to mask it the soonest that she realized she was not entitled to feel it. “I do not expect you to.”

He looked like he was about to say something more, but he did not, perhaps thinking the same way she was.

“I am your first what?” West asked instead. “Ruby said I am first to something. I am your first what?”

Sasha moistened her lips. Then she smiled. “My first flower in Coulway, of course,” she easily lied. “Are you not a curious one this morning?” She walked to ring the bell. “Now, we should have our breakfast and leave Belcourt the soonest we can. I have things to do in Coulway.”

---

Sparing no time, they left Belcourt the moment they finished their meal without seeing another Belle.

“You said you found the records of births in Belcourt. It must mean there were other births,” West asked in the carriage.

“Of course. Many women take refuge in Belcourt before giving birth.”

When she said nothing further, West cocked his brows higher.

“What?”

“You have insisted that should I have questions, I should ask you and not the other Belles. Now, you must understand why I would opt for the latter option. You barely answer my questions.”

She sighed. “I answered your question.”

“I prefer a more elaborate one.”

She sighed. “The women who do not want their babes leave their children in Belcourt after they give birth. Is that answer enough?”

“And if the child is a boy?”

“Belcourt cannot keep them. They are handed over to another orphanage.”

“And why does Belcourt only keep the women?”

“Why does the House of Lords only have men?” she rebutted.

West shrugged. “It has always been done.”

“Then we have the same answer,” she said with finality, opening her book. “I am getting used to our interactions. Perhaps we can spend more time together now.”

West narrowed his eyes. “I would prefer it if you spend more time looking for the person I want you to find.”

She looked up and their gaze met from across the carriage. “Of course. If you say so, sir.” Looking back down on her book, she turned a page. “Until I can return to Belcourt without raising suspicion, I have to content myself with asking other Belles. I am to see another Belcourt lady two days from now. She is merely a year younger than your sister. I might be able to inquire if the window of chance will permit. Most Belcourt women know ladies who were courted merely a year or two before or after them.”

“And who is this lady?”

“You do not have to know.”

“And you cannot meet her sooner?”

“I have appointments.”

West’s jaw tightened. “With whom?”

“Someone.”

“Is it your other flower?”

One corner of her lips tugged into a smile. “If you do not cease asking about my other flower in such a scathing tone, sir, I would assume you are jealous.”

West was suddenly enraged, reaching out to snap her book close, leaning too close to her he was almost at the edge of his seat. Circling his hand around her wrist, he gently pulled her toward him. She looked surprised, tensed.

Good.

“I am not a jealous man, Sasha, but I hate it when someone’s attention is divided when I expect it to be fully on me.”

She blinked. “My attention is on other matters other than you, Your Grace . I am focused on finding your sister, not you.” Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she looked down to steal a glance at his lips. Her eyes fluttered up to meet his. “Why? Would you rather I focus on you as a proper Belle should?”

As if burned, West let go of her hand before he could do something more.

He leaned back against his seat. “I expect that your tongue does not go astray while you are with this other gentleman.”

“My tongue is always occupied with other things when I am with this other gentleman, West, fret not.”

If there was anything close to a useless thing that he could throw, it would have already been sent flying out the window because that was West’s initial response. The next, to his surprise, was an intense desire to strangle a stranger’s neck, an unnamed stranger at that.

His hands closed into a fist.

“This other gentleman is distracting you from your task,” he nearly growled.

She scoffed, opening her book once again. “And you are not? You who distract me in every way he can?”

He smirked. “Then I must be winning the game.”

“No, you are losing it with your recklessness.” And as he opened his mouth to answer, she closed her eyes and sighed. “I would rather sleep the entire journey after all. Our useless banter is as incomprehensible as my book.”

West shut his mouth, fuming in disbelief.

She dared just outright tell him that he distracted her, that his teasing affected her, and then she dismissed it just as callously?

“I will be out of Coulway for an entire week. I expect a report from you upon my return,” he said a while later.

Without opening her eyes, she asked, “Will you be attending the Humbrick Ball?”

“Yes.”

“You are the last person I would expect to attend it.”

“It may not be the party I prefer, but it is one that most members of the House of Lords do not pass.”

“If you say so.”

“I do not attend the ball because I want it. I attend it because it is easier to talk matters of the state—why am I even explaining myself?”

“Precisely.”

He watched as she frowned, her eyes still closed.

“What?” he demanded.

“I was having a good dream,” she murmured. “Hearing your voice, it is turning into a bad one.”

“Not quite funny.”

“Now, it is morphing into a nightmare.”

West glowered.

“You must be scowling at me for a monster is approaching as I speak.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “I am tempted to risk my pride and lose the game as I speak, Sasha, because the more you do, the more I find your lips quite enticing.”

He smiled when she pursed her lips and said nothing further.

---

Sasha closed her bedchamber door  and sighed.

Her body was sore after the long ride in the carriage and her ears were suffering even worse after Iyana’s scolding the moment she arrived. Her maid continued her tirade until Sasha assured her that it was not going to happen again.

With another long sigh, Sasha closed her eyes for a moment to clear her mind.

She could not think of anything else but Gabrielle.

The woman had lied to her.

Why?

Opening her eyes, she decided that it was best to confront the woman. There was no use guessing.

Her eyes landed on the card atop the bedside table and she walked toward it.

She picked it up and for the second time, read its contents.

The prince and Belcourt wanted her to seduce West’s secrets out of him.

West would rather she go back to Belcourt and search for his sister.

He would be greatly disappointed, Sasha thought as she placed the invitation back on the table.

Then she scoffed with a small smile, imagining the look on his face when he saw her next week at the Humbrick Ball.

XVII | Announcements

“No, Bree, Lady Renee is still the Marchioness of Rothsker. She never bore her late husband an heir before his passing.”

“Yes, I understand,” Briana said to Iyana. “Her nephew inherited Rothsker and is now missing.”

“Mayhap hiding somewhere. I heard he has so much debt the Marchioness had to rescue Humbrick from him, thus making her the mistress of the manor.”

“But her nephew is the Marquess. She cannot claim the title—”

“Whyever not? Of course, she can! Would you not agree, my lady?”

Sasha looked away from the window of the bedchamber assigned to her, tearing her eyes off the garden below. “What?”

“Bree is insisting that Lady Renee is not the Marchioness of Rothsker.”

“She is still the Marchioness as there is no known heir, and the present Marquess, her husband’s nephew who has gone missing, has none either. She retains her title.”

“See, Bree? I was right!”

Briana rolled her eyes. “Of course, you are.”

“And contrary to what they say, I believe the Marchioness herself is keeping her nephew prisoner somewhere in this estate.”

Briana and Sasha shared a look.

“Well, it could be true! If he marries, the Marchioness shall lose her title, yes?”

“But she would still have Humbrick. It is a rather vast estate. She also owns the tiny island across from here, are you aware of that?” asked Briana. “She would not find a need for her title. Her husband left her enough.”

“Yet her nephew might take it all back if he resurfaces. Best keep the man hidden. That is if he is still alive.”

“Goodness, Iyana, where have you been getting all these stories?”

“I heard the other maids talking earlier.”

“Best we mind our own business,” Briana said, looking around the room. “Where is the other trunk?”

“Which trunk?”

“The green one.”

“I do not know. Did we bring a green trunk?”

“Yes, we did! You carried it yourself!” Briana cried in frustration. “Now we must look for it.”

“Go on, then. I will have to help Lady Sasha with her gown and hair.”

Briana helplessly sighed.

Sasha sent her a smile before she left.

“Now, my lady, we should start preparing you for the ball tonight. I have heard enough about Humbrick Ball. They say that many things happen here.”

“As I have heard.”

“But we never truly heard of the details, have we?”

“Mrs. Compton’s maid, the petite one who always has a green ribbon on her wrist, has a cousin who works here and even her cousin refuses to share any detail of what happens during the Humbrick Ball. Do you think the Marchioness executes harsher punishments that Belcourt?”

Sasha just absently nodded and shook her head.

“I should say Belcourt has things to learn from Lady Renee. Whatever she has done to make everyone who attends Humbrick follow her rule, Belcourt must know. I cannot gather one story—not one! How is that even possible? Most people outside Belcourt are by now aware that we have a lake. Yet with this famous Humbrick Ball, no one would dare say a word.”

“No one wants their sins spoken, Iyana,” she said. “Everyone has a vice they do not want to share.”

Iyana scoffed. “Women in particular, of course. I am not blind. I saw the carriages of mistresses lined up outside.”

Sasha just smiled.

“Which is why we must prepare you good, my lady. It is the first ball in Humbrick tonight. First impression, they say, lasts.”

Sasha absently watched as Iyana opened the trunk filled with her new ballgowns, displayed them on the large bed, and talked to herself about how they should do her hair for each one.

She felt useless.

She was doing nothing because her maids would not allow her.

She was not making progress with her mission.

Sasha sighed. What would she tell West if she met him here? He was expecting her to find his sister and she was not even certain if she should.

And then there was Gabrielle who had deliberately lied to her. Why did the woman tell her not to go to Belcourt when it was clear that the mistresses of both the Courts of Arms and Flowers had no idea? And why did she not tell both mistresses about Sasha’s agreement with West?

---

The week-long Humbrick Ball was the party that no one dared to talk about after it was over, and one spoken too often before it started.

Coinciding with the other balls happening in Coulway, the people who were not invited this week could only imagine who was here. People would forever remain wondering if any of their sons or daughters; brothers or sisters; husbands or wives had been to Humbrick. They shall never know for nothing escapes Humbrick, the place of temptation and vice.

Tanner and Rider were fast to find West after he went down from his chamber, dragging him to a packed drawing room filled with affluent individuals, most of whom titled lords who came to the ball without their wives which was a very common and deliberate circumstance.

Humbrick Ball was designed for men in the highest of stations to display all types of despicable behaviors, bringing their mistresses to be the most common one.

For unmarried men, it was an occasion that they could enjoy without being stalked by women and their mothers, an opportunity to meet potential lovers, and even men they could potentially have business with. West, in the five years he had been attending Humbrick, only came to find people who would cast the same votes as him during parliament.

In the middle of the drawing room was the woman that everyone was fond of—Aliya. Dressed in white, her shoulders bare for all men to gawk at. She was showered in attention as she talked with a glass of brandy in her gloved hand. She immediately spotted West and his friends make their entrance. Her eyes glistened with recognition and she took a step forward.

“Your Grace,” she said, giving West a curtsy. “It is such a pleasant surprise that you came early for the ball.” She turned to the large man beside her. “You do remember you introduced me to Lord Eaton, my lord, yes?”

The Marquess of Hartcaster regarded West with his blue eyes. As a man with a reputation to be aggressive and brutal, Hartcaster was nothing like that. The man could be as soft as a bloody kitten when parliament was in session. He was always the first to cave in.

“Eaton,” Hartcaster said, giving West a nod. He turned to Tanner and Rider. “Keene, Leighton.”

“I believe you have not introduced us to your friend, Lord Hartcaster,” said Tanner, eyeing Aliya with interest.

Hartcaster turned to Aliya who nodded before proceeding to an introduction. West looked around the room, nearly kicking himself. He was not interested in who else was in the bloody room. He was only interested in one person.

But surely, she would not be here. She was fairly new in Coulway and it would take great connections to be invited to Humbrick. Nearly everyone who received an invitation had, in one way or the other, was familiar to Lady Renee.

“I believe there is a game of faro starting in the next room, my lords,” Aliya said to Tanner and Rider.

“I do not play the game,” Rider dryly retorted before he walking away to get himself a drink. Tanner, on the other hand, was desperate to please Aliya, saying, “Then I suppose you will join us?”

Aliya flashed Tanner a gorgeous smile. “I will if you will save me the spot.”

Tanner was instantly at the door, leaving West alone with Aliya and Hartcaster just as Aliya wanted it.

“I wish to apologize to you for the way I have disregarded Sasha’s feelings back in Belcourt, West,” Aliya said. “Perhaps I should have not done it.”

“Her sentiments were not directed at you,” West dismissively said. “She was merely tired. I’m afraid it was I who insisted that we go to Belcourt without informing her servants. She had to walk for miles to find a messenger to deliver the news of our whereabouts. It was not you who she was cross with. It was I.”

Hartcaster chuckled beside Aliya. “Then I hope you made certain you paid for it, Eaton.” He patted West’s back with one mighty smack. “I am glad you have become a gentleman. We need more to make these ladies happy.” He wrapped an arm around Aliya and pulled her to his side. The woman chuckled gaily, relishing the attention they were drawing from the other guests.

“By the by, I am sure you wish to meet a few gentlemen from Belcourt,” said Hartcaster, looking around the room. “Emsworth! Chalbarth!”

Two young men West was fairly familiar with walked toward them. “I am certain there is no need for introductions,” Hartcaster said to them. “But it is good to know we all have something in common, despite our differences during parliament.”

Aaron Stanway, Earl of Emsworth, snapped his head at West, realizing Hartcaster’s statement. His blue eyes rounded in surprise and amazement. “There is no way in bloody hell you are a flower!”

The brown-haired man beside him started to chuckle. “If Hartcaster says he is, then he is, Emsworth.” He offered a slight bow at West. “Trent Durham, Earl of Chalbarth, Your Grace.”

“I am familiar with your father, my lord. Please, just Eaton.”

“Very well,” Trent said with a wide grin, “Eaton it is. I prefer Trent, but Emsworth here always insists that Chalbarth becomes me.”

“No, it does not, Trent,” Aliya said with a grimace. “The name sounds old.”

“And what have we here?” asked a red-haired woman, joining their little circle.

West was becoming more uncomfortable. Rider was standing alone beside the liquor cabinet and he sent his friend a look, silently asking for help. Rider merely shrugged, sipping his brandy with a grin of contempt.

“Jade, West Blackwood,” Chalbarth was saying.

“It is an honor to finally be introduced to you, Your Grace,” the black-haired beauty beside Trent said.

“And where is Ruby?” Jade asked Aaron.

The blond man shrugged. “She should be here somewhere, hiding from Willoghby. The bastard said he would not be attending and yet he is here. Makes me feel like the most unfortunate flower of all, really, sharing the same Belle with that bloke.”

“I would not let Willoghby hear that if I were you, Emsworth. You would not want your caricature on The Grimes on the morrow,” warned Hartcaster.

“I care little,” Aaron replied, transferring his gaze to West. “And have you brought with you your lady, Eaton?”

West’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to reply when Jade said, “Of course, Sasha is here. Whatever do you mean? I saw her jump out of her own carriage earlier.”

West froze. “And that is the very reason why I ought to excuse myself,” he said, stepping away. “I reckon Sasha must be quite ecstatic for me to find her.”

“Oh, of course,” said Aliya, waving him off with one hand. “Go and get your lady, West. We shall see more of each other this entire week, I am sure.”

With a bow, West escaped the drawing room.

His steps digging on the marble floors, he set out to find Sasha.

---

Sasha lingered outside the ballroom, debating with herself.

The footman was announcing everyone’s entrance. She did not like that at all. She paced, her heavy tortoise gown dragging behind her, causing discomfort in her back. The corset around her waist was making it difficult to breathe.

No had told her they shall be announced.

If she would be lucky to spot Prince Albert tonight—if he was in attendance—she might strangle the bastard.

“Sasha,” a familiar voice called to her, and Sasha whirled around.

Gabrielle was standing a few feet away, free of her green cloak. She was wearing a black gown embellished with red and white floral pattern. Her red, curly hair was tied tightly behind her, a few curls left to the side of her face. She looked divine. Yet she also looked like a bloody liar.

Sasha forced a big smile. “Good evening, Gabrielle. I did not know you were invited to this ball.”

“Belcourt can do anything, Sasha.”

“Are you here to make certain I am doing well?”

“I am here in case you need help.”

She nodded, looking around them. “I may need a ton of it.”

“You shall be fine. You look wonderful tonight. One look at you and your flower will certainly start treating you as you deserve to be.”

Sasha scoffed, both at Gabrielle’s statement and the woman’s incredible ability to act so nonchalantly innocent.

Did this woman realize the position she was placing Sasha in? From the very beginning? Did she know how it felt like to be lying to every bloody person she was talking to? All for what? For a man’s secret that may not even exist? And for a secret Belcourt would not even share with her?

But then, Sasha thought, perhaps she was the only one feeling the animosity. Perhaps she was the only one who hated the lying and the betrayal. Perhaps everyone was doing the same. And Gabrielle was doing it tremendously well.

“Sasha! Thank goodness you are here!” They turned to find Ruby rushing toward them.

Ruby stopped, recognizing Gabrielle. “Gabrielle? But why are you—oh,” she stopped, covering her mouth, leaning closer, “Are you here on a very special matter?” She eyed Sasha, eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, you two are working together.” She chuckled. “Am I interrupting something of import?”

“No,” Sasha. “We were just talking about my dress.”

“Good,” Ruby said, grabbing Sasha by the hand. “I do have a request. Would you mind, Gabrielle?”

Gabrielle smiled at Ruby and shook her head. “Of course not, Lady Ruby. I will see you around?”

“Famous,” Ruby chirped, pulling Sasha away. “Now, I do have a request. You must know that I do have two flowers, yes?”

“Willoghby and the other I have not met before,” Sasha absently replied. She looked over her shoulder to find Gabrielle gone.

“Yes, yes, you are correct. Willoghby has expressed to me that he shall not be attending Humbrick this year and I willingly accepted the invitation by my other flower, see? Because I much prefer him of course,” Ruby kept talking, guiding Sasha back to the entrance of the ballroom. “But Daniel is here. He just showed up!”

Sasha stopped walking and frowned. “By Belcourt rules, Ruby, you are not responsible for the man. You have already made an appointment with another gentleman.”

“Yes, but he found me this afternoon and demanded that I accompany him tonight.”

“Surely you told the man you cannot.”

“Of course.” Then Ruby grimaced. “Well, perhaps I did tell him he might enjoy your company tonight.”

Sasha’s eyes widened! “Surely you did not!”

Ruby flinched. “I am sorry, Sasha. I thought your flower would not be here, but I found out that he is, and I am about to go insane—”

“Bloody tarnation, Ruby, what have you done?” Sasha groaned, spotting Willoghby walking toward them. “He is here.”

“Who?”

“Willoghby!” she hissed. “I could strangle you, Ruby, really, I could.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Willoghby interjected with a smile, his deep blue eyes on Sasha. His dark curly hair, whatever he put on it, was looking disgustingly greasy tonight. “Sasha, dear, you look particularly beautiful tonight,” he said, smiling at her, ignorant of the fact that he was boldly staring at another woman while his Belle was standing right beside him.

Sasha nearly scoffed at the gall of the man. He stood there as though the Garden Ball did not happen. As if he did not trick her into a room with an intent to harass her. It was as if that night never happened! If there was one thing that was clear to Sasha tonight, it was the state of Willoghby’s sanity.

“Mr. Willoghby, as a matter-of-fact, I was about to tell Ruby here that I cannot accompany you tonight. You see, I am here with my gentleman. Surely, you must understand.”

Willoghby blinked in confusion. He turned to Ruby. “Then what of me, Ruby, dear? You have Emsworth for tonight. Who shall take me?”

Ruby helplessly turned to Sasha. “Well, Sasha…” she said, looking about, “I do not see your gentleman anywhere. Perhaps you can spare Daniel a little time.”

“No,” Sasha strongly replied, stepping away from Willoghby when he made a move forward. “No, do not come near me, sir,” she said, holding out her hand. She turned to Ruby. “I am very much sorry for this, Ruby, but you must know that your flower once tried to attack me in secret. As much as I would like to grant your request, I would hate to be sharing the same air as this man.”

Ruby looked utterly stupefied as she turned to Willoghby with a scowl. “Daniel?”

But Willoghby, the bloody lunatic, just stood there smiling. Then he frowned in confusion as he turned to Ruby and say, “I am not certain I heard Sasha correctly, dear.”

“He is insane,” Sasha said, gathering the skirts of her gown. “Utterly insane, Ruby, I tell you.” She started to walk away but Willoghby caught her arm.

“Let go of her, Daniel!” Ruby hissed.

“But Ruby,” Willoghby said, voice turning cold it sent chills up Sasha’s spine, “I demand to have an escort tonight.”

“That will not be me,” Sasha said, pulling away from his grip and stumbling back. “Good lord, you are insane.”

Ruby scoffed in disbelief, her eyes wide with horror. “Daniel, if you do not leave now, I assure you that Belcourt will hear of this. At the moment, there is someone from the Court of Arms within the premises. She can easily find a way to take you to Belcourt.”

The smile returned on Willoghby’s lips. “I am not afraid of Belcourt, dear. I own The Grimes. Do not threaten me with a woman with naught but a dagger as her weapon.”

Sasha and Ruby turned to each other in disbelief. “Oh, Sasha, did you hear him? He owns The Grimes!”

“I heard it, Ruby, he owns The Grimes!” Sasha retorted, forcing out a laugh. “Oh, how funny.” Then her face straightened. “But you must have realized, sir,” she said, cocking an eyebrow, “that you sold your life to Belcourt.”

For a moment, she saw the flash of panic cross Willoghby’s overly confident mien before he laughed out loud, drawing attention from some guests lining outside the ballroom, waiting to be announced inside.

“What seems to be the matter here?” a man’s voice asked from behind them. Ruby whirled around and her face was suddenly filled with relief. “Oh, good lord, thank God you are here.” Willoghby sneered, recognizing the blond man who now stood beside Sasha’s friend, putting a protective arm around Ruby.

The man smiled at Willoghby, seemingly undermining the situation as though he was used to it. “What seems to be the problem now, Willoghby?”

“Oh, the problem, you ask?” Willoghby said through his teeth, “Our dear Ruby here has promised me the company of Sasha who, instead of being gracious about it, is now accusing me of something abhorrent.”

Sasha scoffed with incredulity.

The blond man turned to Sasha and his smile widened. “Ah, is this Sasha, Ruby?”

Ruby nodded. “Sasha, Aaron Stanway.”

Aaron Stanway bowed at Sasha, completely ignoring Willoghby. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Sasha allowed the man to kiss her gloved hand. “As I am, sir.”

“Is Willoghby being a pig again?” he asked, turning to Willoghby, giving the man a taunting look. He clucked his tongue. “Not a behavior Belcourt appreciates, sir.”

Willoghby glared at Aaron. “I came here expecting a Belle.”

“You only have one Belle, Willoghby,” Aaron said, the charming smile completely disappearing. “And at the moment, she is with another gentleman. Be a good sore loser and go on your way.”

Willoghby continued to glare while Aaron regarded him with naught but a cold, calm gaze. Finally, he tore his eyes off Aaron and slid it to Sasha. With a smile, he took a step back, hands in the air in surrender.

“Good lad,” said Aaron, holding Sasha and Ruby’s elbows, guiding them away from Willoghby.

“Sasha, is it true? What he did to you? Why have you not told me? Why have you not told Belcourt?”

“Nothing happened. West arrived in time to rescue,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“When did it happen?”

“The Garden Ball.”

“And you never told me!” Ruby gasped in horror. “I should report him.”

They stopped at the end of the line of guests.

“That, you should,” Aaron said with a sigh. “I have warned you about him, Ruby, have I not?”

“Well, yes, but he has never done anything untoward thus far.”

“To you, yes, but apparently, he has other activities in mind with other Belles.” Aaron looked at Sasha with concern. “I do hope you realize that not all gentlemen in Belcourt are anything close to that pig.”

Sasha smiled, albeit weakly. “I am beginning to realize that.”

“Now, I am certain Eaton is here somewhere, but since he is not, I would gladly escort both of you ladies into the ballroom.”

Sasha looked at Ruby who held out her hand to hers. She gripped Sasha’s hand tightly. “Fret not, Sasha, we shall deal with Willoghby the very next day. We will send a message straight to Belcourt. God willing, we would never have to deal with him again.” And adding only for Sasha to hear, Ruby whispered, “He shall be a great loss, but you are more useful to Belcourt than he will ever be.”

Sasha nodded, looking about for a sign of Willoghby. He had disappeared, probably mixed in the crowd that was growing behind them. She moistened her lips in anticipation, not quite sure if she should continue with the ball.

She had not stepped into the ballroom, yet she felt as though she had gone through so much. First was Gabrielle being here and then Willoghby. A perfect concoction to keep her awake tonight.

“Move along, ladies,” Aaron said in a cheerful voice.

Sasha had to smile. This man was a breath of fresh air.

“I believe you have your hands full, Emsworth,” the very familiar voice spoke behind them. Sasha froze as Ruby and Aaron turned.

“There you are, Eaton. I was hoping to be announced with two beautiful ladies tonight. What a shame—”

“You can be announced with both ladies, Emsworth.”

“I will?” Sasha heard Aaron ask in surprise.

She did not move, nor did she turn around. But she felt him take the empty spot to her left, standing in line with her.

“You did not tell me you are attending Humbrick,” his deadpan voice said beside her, loud enough for her to hear, but not quite enough for anyone else to.

“I was sleeping when the conversation came up,” she replied, pretending to fix her gloves. “Are you planning to be announced before or after us?” she asked.

When he did not reply, she turned her head and looked up at him.

He was not looking at her. His gaze was focused up ahead.

Sasha sighed. “Very well, you can be announced before us,” she said, stepping back. Sasha could see Ruby looking at her with concern.

The line got shorter and they eventually reached the door of the ballroom.

West murmured his name to the footman who then proceeded to announce his arrival.

“The Duke of Eaton!”

Sasha did not move forward.

She watched as West walked into the ballroom.

She watched as how everyone within her eyesight, including those already inside, paused to turn.

A bitter smile curling at her lips, she noticed the distance between them grow, finally grasping the fact that they were indeed worlds apart.

“I wonder,” Aaron said beside Sasha, taking her elbow by his hand. “Did the two of you fight?”

“A little,” she lied.

“Well, whatever it was about, I am sure he would get over it soon. You look beautiful tonight, Sasha, darling. He would not be able to ignore you for long.”

Ruby took her hand again as if in consolation.

But Sasha did not have to be consoled.

She did not have a fight with West. What they had was an understanding. His world was his outside Belcourt and she was not part of it.

From the start, they knew who they were and where they stood in Sutherland’s society.

“Come, Sasha,” Ruby whispered. “Let these people know your name. I see your flower is quite the brooding kind. Let us show him how that temperament can be harmful, shall we?”

Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin high, Sasha followed Aaron and Ruby. She did not care how they should announce themselves. She just wanted this night to be over with.

Aaron murmured names to the footman, taking a little longer than everyone else.

The footman looked at both Sasha and Ruby before he nodded.

“The Earl of Emsworth with Lady Ruby and Lady Sasha of Belcourt!”

XVIII | Humbrick Attack

West was on his way to a group of acquaintances when he heard the announcement. He heard Sasha’s name, but what caused him to pause and freeze was when he heard it followed by Belcourt.

Everyone around him turned, craning their necks, their faces filled with interest, their eyes ready and eager to judge.

His jaw tightened and his lips pressed together.

He heard the whispers and he heard her name repeated in hushed whispers. West’s nostrils flared, a shaky breath escaping. And then he moved, away from her, ignoring the glances that were no longer on him. The stares went past him and unto the people that just entered—unto her.

“Lord Eaton,” a man from the House of Lords he barely shared anything with greeted him, inviting him into their group. “We were just talking about the flocks of Belles this season.” The man motioned his head to his companions, all lords, all members of the peerage. “What were you saying just now, Harlowe?”

The muscles of his cheeks pulled for a tight smile, the best he could muster at the moment, as he listened to Harlowe talk about his wife sharing stories of Belles walking around Coulway as though they owned the streets. “Disgusted, that she is,” said Harlowe. “I could not agree more, as a matter-of-fact. What say you, Eaton? Would you not agree that the stupid fools who pay their way into Belcourt to get these ladies are naught but well… just fools? Look at Emsworth. I can only imagine his late father’s revulsion. He thinks he can bring along two Belles because he is in Humbrick and none of us would dare recount what we witness here.”

West slightly twisted his back to look over his shoulder. A wrong move. He saw Emsworth. He saw Ruby. And he saw Sasha. She seemed isolated, detached from the rest, even from her companions. Yet she was there, forcing a smile on her lips, nodding at those who greeted them, listening intently. And that bloody gown ought to be burned. It was not screaming for attention, yet he hated it. In fact, it was paled in comparison to the blood-red gown Ruby was wearing. It must be the color and the way it stealthily catches attention. It must be the way it was cut, revealing her neck and collarbones.

“I am certain, Harlowe,” he finally said, voice grave, signaling a warning, “that Emsworth must not care at all of your opinions. As you said so yourself, we are in Humbrick. What happens here stays here.” His forbidding gaze glided from one man to the other. “If I were you, I would be very careful.” His lips cracked to allow a knowing smile. “You have little idea of the number of gentlemen who enjoy Belcourt’s privileges.”

Harlowe sent his companions darting glances. He licked his lips and with a shaky smile, asked, “Are you saying, Your Grace, that you are amongst the gentlemen of Belcourt?”

If one could hear the actual sound of breaths being held around him, West could have formed an orchestra. He took a glass of brandy from the server that walked past them, all the while aware of the anticipation of the men before him. He stole Sasha another glance, confident that his companions could wait a little while for his answer.

But then, they could live on for a few more days in mystery.

“Now, wouldn’t you want to know, Harlowe?” he asked in a flat tone, the sly smile on his lips taunting Harlowe’s patience. “We are at Humbrick, my lords. Anything is possible here, but nothing can come out.” he asked, warning in his voice. The four men shared a look of frustration. “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I can find better entertainment elsewhere.”

While making his way through the crowd of guests, away from Harlowe and his companions, Lady Renee started her speech, voice booming over everyone else, demanding to be respected.

Humbrick Ball would never be complete without the marchioness’s infamous opening speech. He glanced at the elevated platform where the large woman stood in front of the orchestra. Her gown a flurry of the most expensive linens that made her look like an unlucky peacock. Her blond hair was just as unnecessarily extravagant, perhaps agitated a little too much. But she was Lady Renee and she was known to be excessive. The apparent splurge for the week-long ball spoke of the hostess and her pride. That pride came from the fact that her yearly ball had always been successful, one aspired by many. One that was spoken of too much outside, but one that remained to be clouded in mystery because there was only one clear rule to follow at Humbrick: keep one’s secret and they shall keep yours. No other clubs in Sutherland had managed such feat, yet it took one woman throwing one of the largest balls in the kingdom to do what many of these men-owned businesses could not.

While it was true that a few secrets leaked out once or twice, there was nothing extensive that truly did, for those who dared to speak of the things they witnessed at Humbrick never regained their reputation. They attacked one, they were attacked by the rest. It was a simple rule, really and one religiously followed by all in return for an extravagant venue that gave them freedom to enjoy a little bit of more wickedness.

West found Tanner and Rider standing idly in one, quiet corner, arguing about the current situation in the south, a matter that most of the members of the House of Lords and the House of Commons would soon have to debate on.

“Finally,” sighed Tanner the moment he saw West. “Make this man understand, West, please, I beg of you. Make him change his mind. Voting yes to a port in the south is the best solution. The people need ready access to—”

“I will cast my vote when the time comes,” West interjected, eyes darting around the ballroom, checking hair colors before craning his neck to look at faces. “You will cast yours and Rider will cast his. I see no reason for lobbying for a vote amongst your friends. We all know how that ends.”

Tanner looked at Rider. “It’s her.”

His eyes still wandering around the ballroom, he absently asked, “Who?”

“Your bloody Belle. You are scouring the entire hall like a vulture, my friend.” Tanner turned to Rider. “You saw her earlier, did you not? She was announced with Emsworth.”

Rider nodded, eyes on West. “How could she complete the task you are paying her for if she is here, West?”

Suspending his search for Sasha, West turned to Rider. “She is doing what she can.”

Tanner and Rider shared a frown. “Truly? And you believe her?”

“Not entirely, no. But I have no choice at the moment,” he curtly replied, squeezing between Tanner and Rider.

“Where do you think he is going?” Tanner asked.

“Where else?” he heard Rider scornfully reply.

“Oi! Eaton!” Tanner called out. “Do not miss the card game tonight or we will butcher you alive!”

West lifted a hand in response, eyes glued on the back of Sasha’s head and like the vulture that Tanner said he was, he stalked her while she walked around with Ruby and Emsworth, with the Earl guiding the two women to the right kind of crowd who would welcome their presence.

And like in the Garden Ball, West stayed idly by, watching, witnessing.

For what else could he do?

---

Sasha tried her best. Truly, she did. And she thought she was doing it right. Ruby had been giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, smiling at her with encouragement whenever she was engaged in a conversation with other guests.

Once, she thought of Ruby as someone she knew—a woman who reveled at being a Belle, being the center of attention. Now, Sasha realized that the woman understood how she felt, making Sasha wonder what Ruby had to go through on her own when she was a new Belle. The thought took Sasha into a different position where she learned how to appreciate what Ruby and the other Belles were doing—were still doing. It was true what they say, after all. You would never truly understand until you have experienced it in flesh.

She may not be like other Belles, but there was a possibility that she would have to be one for a long time. The future of returning to the Court of Libraries was vague… distant. Unsure.

“…and she bawled!” the baroness before them animatedly said, waving her gloved hand around while everyone else listened with amused smiles. “She dropped in the middle of the ballroom, her hefty gown a pool around her. Right there for everyone to witness!”

Aaron laughed. “All that because she tripped?”

The baroness shrugged. “Or mayhap the incident that happened before the trip could have aggravated the bawling.”

“And what happened before the trip?” nearly everyone chorused.

The baroness narrowed her eyes, leaning closer, urging the others to do so. “You see, she was in the garden before that, yes?” Everyone nodded, including Sasha. “And it was believed that she was in rendezvous with a secret lover.”

“Oh,” gasped Ruby, muffling her chuckles with her hand.

“Something must have gone wrong,” said the baroness. “I noticed the right sleeve of her dress torn. Why, I wondered.”

“Why?” Ruby asked.

The baroness blinked, her wrinkled gray eyes filled with mystery. “Well, I do not know! A lady such as I could only imagine!”

The others groaned in disappointment.

“The important thing to note here, my friends, is that she nearly toppled the king to the ground when she tripped.”

Aaron snorted and chuckled with the other gentlemen, all of them imagining the scene.

“You see now why you should attend royal balls?” the baroness asked. “It is not a bore after all now, is it?”

Ruby nodded. “Aaron, you ought to secure an invitation next time.”

“You know I rarely attend royal balls, Ruby, darling.”

“Did I say an invitation for you? Oh, no, my friend, I meant you ought to secure an invitation for me!”

Everyone laughed and even Sasha could not help but chortle along. Ruby acted as if she could not understand the cause of the humor as she continued to frown at Aaron.

“Now, now, Ruby, I would hate for you to attend a royal ball alone. You would cause something outrageous.”

“Then you can also secure an invitation for Sasha,” Ruby retorted, making everyone chuckle once more. “Sasha can make certain I am at my best behavior.”

Eyes drifted to Sasha, making her the center of attention once again. “Oh,” she said, “I was thinking you will be the one keeping an eye, Ruby.”

Aaron guffawed placing his hand on Sasha’s shoulder for a friendly pat, a gesture she saw him doing to Ruby often.

“You do have a humor, after all, Sasha, dear,” the baroness tearfully said, chuckling as she did so. “You ought to ease off more often. It becomes you.”

“Sasha is the witty friend who does not say much,” Ruby explained, hooking an arm through Sasha’s, “but when she does open her mouth, she can be quite effective.”

Sasha flushed as their companions, all five of them, eyed her with renewed interest.

“I speak less because it takes quite a while for me to process a quip,” she replied, causing another round of laughter.

“I see what you mean now, Ruby,” Aaron said, giving Sasha another pat on the shoulder.

Sasha looked around, her eyes looking for two particular men. She looked for any sign of Willoghby and his dark, curly and overly greased hair. The man was nowhere to be seen. The other man, she was not certain of. He could be out there flirting with other women or he might be nowhere at all in the ballroom. For all she knew, he was in the gaming rooms as most men were.

They chatted longer than she had hoped, but the baroness and Ruby did a fine job keeping everyone’s interest. Sasha’s greatest test was when Aaron and Ruby left to dance the waltz. Left alone with the baroness and her husband and a few others, Sasha prepared to be interrogated. But none of that happened.

The baroness grabbed a gentleman who passed by them, introduced him to Sasha, saying, “This fine lady here needs to dance, John. Would you be a darling and take her hand?”

Sasha’s eyes had widened as the man dutifully turned to Sasha with a smile. “There is no need—”

“Oh, do go on. John is my son’s dearest friend. He would gladly do the honor of dancing with you,” the baroness said. “Now, off with the two of you.”

John’s dark brows rose, giving Sasha a friendly challenge.

“Very well, then,” she said with a smile. “But you must know, my lord, that I am not a very good dancer.”

“Then that makes the two of us,” John replied, taking her hand with a bow. “And please, I am not a lord.”

John was a terrific dancer. He guided her when she needed it. He talked to her, asked the proper questions, gave the perfect responses. He was a gentleman in all sense. He never asked about Belcourt although it was obvious he knew where she came from. He did not ask who she was with. He just danced. And he returned her to the baroness, gave her a bow and left, having fulfilled the baroness’s request.

“Was that Sir John you were dancing with?” Ruby asked, breathless from her dance with Aaron.

Sasha blinked. “He is a knight?”

“Yes. I believe he was knighted after they successfully returned from Spain.”

“Which battle?” Sasha inquired.

Ruby’s deep-set blue eyes rolled to the left in concentration, trying to remember. “Trafalgar?”

Sasha’s eyes widened in amazement. “He fought alongside the navy in Trafalgar?”

Ruby nodded. “He and a few others the kingdom could spare at that time to help Britain.”

Sasha found Sir John laughing with a different crowd. The man was not as handsome as West was, but his smile was contagious. And he was a gentleman and he was a hero. He fought at Trafalgar!

“They said he was to be married before he was sent off.”

“But?”

“Well, news seemed dire at the time, if you remember. And news was slow to reach Sutherland. Many had feared they lost to Napoleon. The lady married another man.”

Sasha snapped her head at Ruby, disbelief in her eyes.

“We could not have blamed her, really. Wars are never pretty.”

Sasha’s gaze lingered on Sir John a little longer but was forced to focus on something else when Ruby and Aaron dragged her to a couple standing nearby. “Sasha!” Jade exclaimed, her heart-shaped face flushed, hand around a glass of sherry. “Oh, this is famous. Too many Belles in one ball!”

“She is a little foxed,” Ruby pointed out while Aaron introduced Sasha to Trent Durham, Earl of Chalbarth.

Jade reached out to Sasha, telling Trent, “Ruby and I are three years older than her.” Pulling Sasha to her side, she continued, “But we knew of her. We heard of her. She is the Fainting Fairy. Have you heard? She fainted too many times in her classroom, or so I heard. And worse, she fainted when she was re-courted—”

“Jade, darling, you seem too foxed,” Ruby hastily cut in.

“I am not.”

“You are and Trent should have known better than to have allowed this,” Ruby insisted, throwing Trent a darting look.

Trent sighed, scratched his brown head and said, “I might have.”

“No, I am fine, truly, I am!” Jade’s high-pitched voice insisted.

“Of course you are, darling,” Ruby said with a nod and a patient smile. “But I need a short break. Will you join me?” She looked at Sasha. “Sasha, will you come with us?”

Sasha nodded. “Of course.”

Ruby then stopped, scowling at both Aaron and Trent. “Well?”

The two men immediately jumped and helped Ruby guide Jade out of the ballroom.

“Sasha, come along. We do not want Willoghby to find you alone again,” Ruby said over her shoulder.

“Why? What did Willoghby do?” Jade asked with a giggle. “Did he place his hands under Sasha’s skirts?”

“Hush, Jade,” Trent warned. “You will not want to hear the things you say once you have recovered.”

“I have many things to say, Trent. Most of which is about you,” Jade murmured. They had now exited the ballroom, Aaron walking up ahead, opening doors to find a quiet room to settle.

By the time Aaron stopped, waving them over a door he held open, Jade was already in tears, sniffing and murmuring incoherent words.

“Oh, I hate it when she is foxed,” Ruby groaned. “You should have known better, Trent. Truly, are you daft? Did you not learn from last year?”

“She promised one glass of sherry. She had been holding the same glass for hours!”

“Of course, she was,” Ruby growled, struggling with the crying Jade. “Jade, stop it!”

Losing patience, Trent bent down and swept Jade off the floor. The straight tresses of Jade’s red hair fell from their clasps as she buried her face in Trent’s neck, her arms tightening around Trent’s shoulders. “You’re leaving me soon, aren’t you?” Jade asked.

Sasha saw Trent stiffen before he continued to walk. She fell behind, staring at Jade’s crying state, carried in the arms of her gentlaman.

“What happened?” West’s voice asked.

Sasha jumped in surprise. “I would not even ask why you are here. You seem to know the perfect moments to magically appear.”

His eyes were on Aaron who nodded at West before he closed the door.

“You are familiar with Aaron?”

“And Chalbarth. And Hartcaster,” he replied, tone dry and uninterested. “What happened?”

“Jade is foxed, that is all.”

He nodded. Then he looked down at her, his light blue eyes shadowed by his thick brows. “You Belcourt ladies seem to have the same tolerance with spirits.”

As Sasha thought of an answer, his hand went to her elbow. He walked down the opposite direction of the corridor with Sasha in tow. “I should be joining them now.”

“You cannot spare a moment with your gentleman?”

“I believe I did not arrive in Humbrick with you as my gentleman, sir.”

---

West did not offer a reply until he found another empty room.

A lamp was left burning in one corner, offering enough light.

He pulled Sasha inside and locked the door.

“Well, is this not so familiar?” she asked, glaring at him. “What is it?”

“Have you made inquiries?”

Her scowl was replaced by confusion. Then her eyes lowered and a pronounced sigh escaped her lips. “Of course,” she murmured to herself before lifting her gaze to meet his. “No, I have not. As you may have not noticed, I have had quite an interesting night.”

“Yes, you have,” he ground out, clenching his hands. “And I am certain you will add that you will even be more preoccupied this week. You are here with him, are you not? How else could you have secured an invitation?”

Sasha let out an incredulous scoff. “You surely do know how to confuse a lady, sir,” she shot at him.

“Is he a secret gentleman?”

He knew the answer when he saw her freeze, confirmed it when she asked, “How did you know about the secret flowers?”

“I spent one afternoon with three very chatty gentlemen of Belcourt, Sasha. It was enough a time to know about the hidden gentlemen.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowed, all the while a voice in his head was screaming for him to stop. What was he doing? Was he insane?

He was only trying to find reasons to be near this woman.

He would pretend to be angry, and partly he was, but mainly he was simply restless. He had to be near her. He had to taunt her because at the moment, he was so close to yielding and be the loser of this game.

“What would it take for you to stand a few feet away?” he heard her ask in a shaky voice, her gaze darting around the room but his eyes.

“Why?” he asked, looking down at her, his face impassive, his eyes digging into her, and his bloody heart hammering fast inside his chest.

She was courageous enough to meet his gaze. She must be tired of their games, he thought. But he read the same things in her eyes, the same ones that mirrored his. “You…” her voice trailed, her eyes wandering off somewhere once again as she swallowed, growing uncomfortable. West saw the cords in her neck. He was familiar with the struggle for it was a shared one. “You are stealing the air I breathe.”

Once more, she stunned him with her brutal honesty.

He scoffed, remaining where he was in front of her, too close yet not close enough.

“You are teasing me, West. Please, move a step back. I do not want to play this game tonight.”

“Why?”

Anger flashed her eyes. “I told you why!” She pushed him away. “Move.”

West smiled. “Sasha, you can step back if you truly want to stay away from me.”

Realizing he was telling the truth, she stuck her chin out. “No, sir, you step back.”

“You are too proud, Sasha.”

“That makes the two of us,” she shot back. “What do you want, really, West? Have I not told you I will get to my task the soonest I can? I would not be able to do so if you keep dragging me about to answer questions that I am yet to find answers to. And you add more questions that are entirely irrelevant on the things we have agreed on. So, please, answer me, what is it you truly want?”

You , the treacherous voice in his head answered.

West knew he was on dangerous grounds.

This was not necessary, the teasing.

Taking her here was not necessary.

Being with her was not necessary.

Yet his body seemed to be out of his control where this woman was concerned. He was coming up with all sorts of reasons. His mind would say he needed to question her. He needed to ask about her mission. He needed to know if she was doing her task.

All of those he could easily learn in one sitting—a weekly formal meeting in his villa in Coulway.

Yet why was he doing this?

He knew why.

It had been a long evening, watching her be near other men, watching her dance with Sir John Grayson, the war hero who survived Trafalgar. He was tired watching her laugh and converse with the knight. He was secretly enraged, really. Not with her, but with those men who stared at her as if she was a drop of water in a drought. Everyone in this bloody ball knew who she was—what she was. They knew that she could be owned and that was what exasperated him, made his neck pulse as he stood there, seemingly helpless, detached from her and her world. Worse of all, West knew she was already owned. No, not by him, but by Belcourt.

Soon, when this was over, when he found his sister and Sasha took the rest of his money, she would be out of his reach. The stark difference of their world was enough to keep them both apart, but there was comfort in knowing that she was here, within his reach, within eyesight because he held an agreement with her signature on it. For now.

“You are not answering my question,” she snapped, clearly irked.

Good point, he thought. What did he want? That was her question.

Bloody tarnation, he could not even answer his own questions.

But how could he when he could barely comprehend the questions that hovered above him—between them.

How long? How far? Questions so vague he was not willing to unveil for it was alarming. Risks were required in the search for answers. One, for example, was a question that had been at the back of his mind for a while now.

What did she taste like?

A simple one, really.

Would he dare to take the risk and find out?

That was why he was standing too close. As if being near her would give him a hint. The smell of her, the touch of her.

It was not enough. He knew there was only one way to find out.

But would he dare?

No, of course, he would not.

If he did, he would certainly get more questions.

How would she feel against his hands? What words would she whisper in his ears as he took her? How would she taste like in the morning after? In the afternoon? Would she taste the same the next evening?

They would not have enough days to satisfy his curiosity for his mind would make up more questions if he gave in to this one.

It could be that he had allowed his thoughts to be reflected in his eyes for her next words were spoken as if she was there with him as he thought of them, experiencing the secrets of his mind, for she said, “We had an agreement.”

Those words were enough for West to take a step back.

The sigh that escaped her lips was obscure. Was it relief? Or was it regret?

Her gray eyes stared at him, certain and strong. “No more games.” It was not a request. “Think all you want that you won the game. I yield. You won. I would have none of this anymore.”

---

After Sasha left West, she joined Ruby, Aaron and Trent in the empty drawing room to take care of Jade. They stayed for nearly an hour convincing her that she should retire for the night.

It was hard to console her when she was crying with anguish one moment and then laughing the next, but it was Trent who finally decided that he had to gather her back into his arms and carry her upstairs to her bedchamber.

“I should make certain he stays with her,” Ruby said. “Will you be fine, Sasha? Aaron said you were with West earlier.”

Sasha nodded, eager to return to her own bedchamber.

Ruby nodded. “Do not wander about on your own, Sasha. We still have to sort things concerning my other gentleman.” Sasha assumed then that Ruby was a woman who rarely forgets.

Alone again, Sasha made her way back to her bedchamber, feeling weary.

Gabrielle.

Willoghby.

Jade.

West.

What more could happen tonight?

Surely, it was over for her?

One of the corridors she had to pass before she reached the stairs for the west wing of the manor opened to the gardens.

It was empty, with everyone else inside the warmth of the ballroom, enjoying the music and drinks.

Sasha thought she heard footsteps behind her and she took up pace.

Her heart began to hammer. She did not have to hear. The air carried the smell of cigar and brandy. Gathering the skirts of her dress, Sasha decided it was best to run.

But she was not able to do so.

A strong arm wound around her waist and a hand followed to cover her mouth.

Willoghby whirled her around, overpowering her struggle and dragging her into the garden.

Her last sight was the empty corridor.

And her first thought was that West was not there to save her this time.

XIX | Soldier Secrets

West could sense Tanner looking at Rider and then motioning his head toward West. He sensed his friend doing it too many times for it to be normal.

His darting look went over his cards and at Tanner, his lips curling with fury.

“What is it?” his friend asked, blinking his light brown eyes with feigned innocence.

“You are bloody mocking me, Tanner,” he snarled.

“Ignore him,” Rider said, throwing the remainder of his cards on the table, ending the game.

Tanner threw his with a groan. Leaning against his seat, he stared at West. “Where have you been?”

“With Sasha,” he nonchalantly replied, laying his cards down to join the others on the table. “Why?” he asked the same time Tanner asked his.

“Ignore him,” Rider repeated, eyes on the door. Then he frowned.

Seeing Rider’s expression, Tanner and West turned to see what caught his attention.

“Who is that?” Tanner asked, straightening in his seat with interest.

West frowned. He did not recognize the woman. And perhaps no one in the room did as well.

“West? Do you know her?” Tanner asked as the red-haired woman scanned the room.

“I do not know all Belles, Tanner,” he said through his teeth. Then he stiffened as the woman’s green eyes fixed on him.

“You definitely know her.”

“I said, I do not.”

“Then why is she coming toward you?” Tanner inquired.

“West Blackwood,” the woman greeted, standing before West. Her eyes did a quick scan of the table before she fixed it back on him, cold and authoritative. She was a Belle, he concluded. They were the only women courageous enough to address him without a title. “Come with me at once, please.”

“Why should he?” Rider demanded before West could open his mouth. His friend’s tone was nowhere near amiable as his icy stare was. “You are interrupting our game, madam.”

Without taking her eyes off West, the woman said, “You have won the game, have you not?”

Tanner’s eyes widened as he snapped his head at Rider’s direction.

“I assume your game is over.” She stepped back, face as expressionless. To West, she repeated, “Come with me at once, please.” The other gentlemen in the room had paused their game to listen to or ogle with interest. While it was not uncommon to find a woman in the gaming room, it was unheard to find one who was ordering a duke to stand up and follow her.

“The duke is staying here, madam,” Rider icily replied. Tanner, on the other hand, could have already reached the ballroom if his shifting in his seat be counted as steps. “Whatever business you have with him shall have to wait.”

“My business with this gentleman ,” the woman’s grating voice answered, tearing her eyes from West to Rider, leaving a trace of icy trail at their wake, “is one that does not concern you, sir .”

West saw Rider’s hand clench into a fist while Tanner gasped with amazement, eyes veering wide to Rider.

West let out an exhale of annoyance, staring up at the Belle. “Has something happened?” he asked.

Her green eyes returned to his. “Do you wish me to answer that here?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, something happened.”

It might be the flash of consternation that crossed the woman’s green eyes, or it could be her insistence on haste, that alarm kicked in and jostled West from his seat.

“West—” he heard Rider call out before the door closed behind him.

“Where is she?” His heels dug unto the carpeted floor.

“I will not tell you until you answer me first,” the woman said behind him.

West whirled around, eyes ablaze. “Where is she?”

“Where have you been in the last twenty minutes?”

An incredulous frown crumpled his face. “You know where I’ve been the last twenty minutes, woman. You found me there. Now, tell me—where is she?”

The woman’s eyes darted around them, thoughtful. Her jaw clenched. “The bloody bastard.”

“You may think being ambiguous is saving you at the moment, lady, but I am this close to forcing the bloody answer out of your mouth. Where is she?”

She stopped to look at him up and down. “You are not even asking what happened.”

“Unlike you, I know my priorities. That can be answered later. Now, I will ask one last time—where is she?” West could swear that his growl could be heard right down to the end of the hall, but the woman did not flinch.

She simply walked past him, her movement fast and stealthy. Bloody hell, who was this woman? His mind asked as he followed, matching her pace.

After walking past the ballroom and an empty garden, they entered a series of corridors that led to a set of stairs and to the west wing. Two more turns and they stopped outside a door.

He chased the woman for the handle, turned it open and burst inside.

Breathless, West scanned the room, eyes wide, panting with… what? Fear? Concern? He could not tell anymore.

He found her curled in the middle of the bed and went straight to her only to be blocked by Aaron Stanway who was far from looking pleased. “Why did you leave her alone?” the Earl of Emsworth demanded.

“Step aside, Emsworth,” he said through his teeth, his eyes on Sasha’s curled form in the middle of the bed. At the other foot of the bed stood her scowling maid and at the side, holding Sasha’s hand was a crying Ruby.

“Or was it you? Did you do it, Eaton?” Aaron stonily said, blocking his path.

“I said, Emsworth,” he said, pushing the man’s chest, “step aside!” He rushed to Sasha’s side and to Ruby he asked, “What happened?”

Ruby was choking and crying, unable to provide an answer so West gently squeezed himself beside the woman to reach out for Sasha’s hand. Her chin was buried deep into her chest, her shoulders shaking. She was murmuring something, but he could not hear her.

“Sasha,” he gently said, taking her hands from Ruby’s. Aaron took Ruby and held her in his arms at the side of the bed. “Sasha?” West asked, peering closer. His eyes restlessly roamed over her. The left sleeve of her dress was torn. A small scratch on her arm made his jaw go tight, but there was nothing else visible he could see. He looked over his shoulder and demanded, “What the bloody hell happened?” When Aaron refused to answer, he turned his eyes at the scowling maid. The woman just continued to scowl so he turned to the red-haired woman standing at the other side of the bed.

“I found her being attacked in the garden.”

As if he was standing on a frozen lake, West felt the ground beneath him crack open, dropping him down an endless pool of ice. “Attacked? By whom?”

“You tell us, Eaton. You were the last person we know she was with,” Aaron scathingly said.

“She left me to join you in that bloody room, Emsworth,” he roared over his shoulder, his hand tightening around Sasha’s hands when she flinched. “It was the last I saw of her.” He turned to the red-haired woman. “Did you see his face?”

“No.”

Considering they were accusing him, he concluded that they knew only as much as he did. Bending close to Sasha, his left hand gently found her chin. “Sasha, look at me.”

She rolled her head to the side.

“Sasha, who did this?”

“Be a good girl…” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“What? What did you say? Sasha?”

“She has been muttering the same words over and over,” choked Ruby. “It must be him.”

“Who?” West asked.

“Who, Ruby?” the red-haired woman repeated when Ruby just buried her face in Aaron’s chest. “Ruby, who?”

West stiffened. “Willoghby. The bastard is here.”

He straightened, rage fueling him to go and find the man himself, but Sasha caught his hand in a strong grip. “No. Don’t.”

He frowned. “Why?” he growled.

She closed her eyes, more tears rolling down her cheeks. He hated seeing her lying there so helpless. The last time they spoke, she was blazing with ferocity, announcing that their game was over. And now, here she was, gripping his hand as if it was saving her from falling off a roof. “No.”

“Are you telling us it was not Willoghby?”

Her shoulders shook, her hands letting go of his, and she rolled deeper into the bed, curling to her side once more.

“Damnation, Sasha, who did it!” he demanded, causing the maid, Aaron and the red-haired woman to scowl at him.

“No one… no one did it,” was her frail attempt.

West scoffed in disbelief. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Leave us.”

“That is not happening—”

“Leave! Now!” he roared at the red-haired woman. He looked at Aaron, leveling his gaze with equal measure. Finally, Aaron’s shoulders dropped, and he said, “Ten minutes, Eaton.”

He guided Ruby out the door.

The maid, still scowling, said, “Ten minutes,” voice filled with warning.

The redhead refused to move.

West turned to her. “I will not repeat my order.”

“I am not following it,” she said, walking to the door. “Five minutes.”

Now alone with her, West climbed the bed and gathered Sasha in his arms, forcing her to sit and face him. “Sasha, who did this to you?”

Eyes still closed, she murmured again, “Be a good girl… He told me… he told me to be a good girl… I can’t… he told me…”

His jaw tightened. Voice shaking with fury, he asked, “Sasha, look at me.” He shook her until she opened her eyes. Bluish gray globes swimming in tears. “Who did this—” he paused and sighed. “Are you hurt? Where are you hurting? Tell me. Do you feel any pain?”

She shook her head, a whimper escaping her lips. “I’m tired.” She twisted away from his hold and slumped back into the cushion.

He could feel himself starting to shake. “Is it your other gentleman?”

“No!” she cried. “No, not him. Please, West, I… I’m tired. I’ll be fine tomorrow,” she murmured. “Go. Leave me. Please.”

He knew she was mustering what was left of her strength and rational thought.

“I am not leaving, Sasha,” he said, settling beside her, back against the head of the bed. He gathered her hand in his and sighed.

He squeezed when she started crying, burying her face in the pillow, muffling the sounds.

Throughout the night, in her sleep, she would repeat the words, “Be a good girl… be a good girl… He told me to be a good girl…”

West spent the rest of the evening trying to stop himself from scouring the estate for Willoghby.

The bastard would have his day.

---

The next morning, barely out of bed, Sasha was facing a group of people who wanted answers.

Yes, she was fine.

She was, truly.

She was simply shocked.

“You fainted!” Ruby cried. “You were unconscious when Gabrielle found you.”

“I carried you in my arms when we found you after Gabrielle alerted us,” Aaron said. “You were unconscious, Sasha. You cannot not tell us who attacked you.”

She blinked, gaze fleeting to every corner but West who was silently sitting beside the bed, his eyes dark, his entire feature grim.

She moistened her lips.

“Is he a gentleman of Belcourt?” Aaron demanded.

She blinked. “Please, I will… I will personally settle this matter. I will go straight to Belcourt and make the report—”

“It’s that bloody bastard,” West said, suddenly on his feet.

“West, no. I said I will settle the matter myself!” Sasha cried out when he went for the door.

He whirled around. “He should be brought in, Sasha.”

“Belcourt will handle him,” she retorted with indignation. “No one but Belcourt. Do you understand?”

“Why!” he boomed. “Because that is how Belcourt wants it done?”

“Because Belcourt’s punishments are more brutal!” she shouted back. Her chest heaved as she met his furious gaze, hers equally angry. She wanted to have her hands on Willoghby herself, but that would not be possible. She had to do this right. “Because Belcourt will not let him go unscathed.” West scoffed in disbelief. Sasha closed her eyes. “I wish to be alone, please.”

She was still in the same dress she was in last night. Iyana had loosened her corset, but she needed to change. She needed to breathe.

Ruby looked at Aaron and the two of them exited the room. Iyana stood with Briana in one corner, both ladies motionless as stone. Sasha sighed, opened and her eyes and begged. “Please, Iyana, Bree, I need a moment.”

Iyana and Briana hesitantly made their way out the door.

Sasha veered her eyes to West who returned to his seat beside her bed. “West, please.”

He continued to scowl at her.

“It is the morning and I do not wish to spoil it. I need a moment to prepare for the rest of the day.”

She saw his jaw clench.

“I want to be alone,” she coldly told him.

He stood up without a word and left, slamming the door behind him.

“I need you to stay, Gabrielle, please,” Sasha said to Gabrielle was on her way to the door.

Gabrielle turned and approached the bed. “You wish to know what happened.”

Her jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Gabrielle nodded. “I heard your scream.”

Sasha frowned. “I do not remember screaming. I only remember him saying… I remember him whisper something to me. I do not recall screaming.”

“I heard you scream, Sasha. And so I ran to the direction of the garden where I found him atop you. You were already unconscious. He saw me and ran away.”

Sasha began to shake and she fought it. To not know how far Willoghby had gone was the worst of all.

“I assure you that he was not able to do anything more, Sasha. When I was certain you were fine, I ran after him. I encountered Ruby and Aaron on their way back to the ballroom and asked for them to go to you. By then, Willoghby was gone. I tried to find him, but he was fast. This estate is filled to the brim and he took that to his advantage. But I need to know, Sasha. Are you certain it was him?”

“As certain as I am that you have been following the entire evening, yes.”

Gabrielle’s lips pressed firmly together. “I knew you had a conversation with West Blackwood. I needed to know what about.”

“Understandable, of course, but the conversation was fruitless. I am working on that, fret not,” Sasha said with a sigh, looking around the bedchamber. “Thank you. For last night.” The woman may be hiding secrets, but the fact remained that she saved her.

Sasha stared at Gabrielle. There was no trace of deceit.

The woman was a Soldier, after all.

But who was she a soldier for?

Sasha was trapped.

She was left with no one but herself.

She was plucked out from her quiet life in the Court of Libraries and thrown into this game, and now everyone was using her for their own secret game.

She must be ready, she thought, for there was only one ending to this.

All players in this game had roles to play, Sasha included.

She was the pawn, but if she was wise enough, a pawn could take down the queen.

XX | To Dance with a Belle

Her morning was spent having breakfast with Jade and Ruby, both of whom concerned about what happened the other night. Jade had to repeatedly convey her apologies, claiming that if she had controlled herself last night, Sasha would have not been left alone.

Sasha had to repeatedly assure them that she was fine. And yes, she shall send a report against Willoghby the soonest that she could.

When Aliya pulled Sasha to the side during an afternoon tea in one of the drawing rooms, Sasha realized that news traveled fast even outside of Belcourt.

“Are you certain you are all right?”

“Yes.”

“This is not the first Willoghby has done something, but this is surely the first that he went overboard. I insist that you make a report, Sasha. It is all for our safety.”

“Thank you for the concern, Aliya. I will make the report within the week. I will send my servants to Belcourt to deliver it the soonest I can.”

Aliya nodded and firmly said, “You are a new Belle, Sasha. There is more you must learn. I hope this is a lesson.”

Sasha swallowed. “It is.”

Aliya eyed her with suspicion. “I hope you are not saying that to appease me.”

“No, I am not.”

“Very good.”

Aliya never approached her or any of the Belles after that. It seemed that she had a world of her own. She had her own circle of admirers and friends.

All throughout the morning and even that afternoon during luncheon, Sasha had not seen West. It was understandable, for there were hundreds of guests in attendance, the most that Humbrick could accommodate.

That night, Sasha was relieved that her servants, most particularly Iyana, seemed to now believe that she was fine, recovered from last night’s attack.

Of course, she was not. She would still shudder at the memory of being dragged into that garden…

But it was a consolation to know that Willoghby had failed again.

Or did he? Sasha asked herself, remembering the last words the man said to her.

“I will be up all night waiting,” Iyana told her before she left for the ball downstairs.

“There is no need, Iyana. Ruby promised to personally accompany me back to my chamber later. Jade swore she would not be drinking a drop of sherry.”

“And of your gentleman?”

Sasha shrugged. “I do not expect more from him.”

“So do I.”

Sasha sighed. “He was not the one who attacked me, Iyana. You must know that.”

“I know. But he was not there to save you.”

“It is not his duty to.” She smiled at Iyana. “Please, go and get your well-deserved respite. I will be fine. Aaron assured us that his own footman saw Willoghby climb into his carriage this morning. He is no longer in Humbrick, Iyana. There are no more threats.”

Iyana nodded, although still looking unconvinced.

Sasha left, hoping her maid would get the rest that she needed because tomorrow, Sasha was planning to send them back to Coulway without her.

---

West found Sasha with Ruby and Jade. The entire morning, he had done nothing but have Darren follow her around in secret. His valet was only happy to do so, always eager to return and report that Lady Sasha was having tea with her friends; that she went for a walk with Sir John, the navy hero and that the man had shamelessly plucked a poor budding flower for her, with not a care that the flower had barely had its time in spring; that she walked to a nearby lake with her friends; that she retired to her chambers and must be preparing for the ball; that she was now at the ball; that it was best he did the stalking alone for he feared Lady Sasha saw him wandering about.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted, eyes on Sasha who remained motionless beside him. Everyone had looked up to greet him with a curtsy. “If you would please allow me a moment, Sasha?” he asked.

Ruby and Jade turned to each other. Then Ruby regarded him with suspicious eyes. He sighed. “I will not be leaving her alone. You can stone me to death if I do.”

“Good,” Ruby said, stepping away. “Let us go, Jade. I heard there are useful stones in the garden for us to collect. Just in case, of course.”

West waited until Ruby and Jade were far enough before he turned to Sasha and ask, “How are you?”

“I am fine,” she said, looking around, focusing on everything around her but him. “I believe you said we cannot be seen together in a venue such as this.”

“And I thought I made it clear that said limitation only pertains to you. I can approach you anytime and anywhere.”

Sasha sighed. Without looking, she said, “If you are here to talk about Willoghby, you can leave.”

West’s jaw tightened. No, he did not want to talk about Willoghby. He had intended to deal with the bastard on his own that morning after he left Sasha’s room, but the man was already gone by then. Like a bloody coward that he was hiding behind his Sutherland Post and The Grimes.

“I am not going to talk about that bastard, Sasha. At least not tonight.”

He saw her shoulders relax. She did not have to hide the effects of last night for they were clearly there—in how she stood, in the way her voice would rise when she uttered Willoghby’s name. But also apparent was her struggle to keep up the façade that she was dealing with it well. And perhaps she was. She was doing a tremendous job. He would hate to be the one to let the curtain fall and reveal the vulnerability that hid behind it because Sasha was too proud to let anyone find her weak.

For the first time, she looked up and stared at him. Then she looked around. So did he. “Humbrick is not like other balls. Everyone may be curious at first, but everyone minds their own business here.”

Sasha fixed her gloves with a small smile. “I heard Lady Renee makes certain that her one rule is followed by everyone.”

“It is. We all live Humbrick the way we desire to, and we leave Humbrick to live the proper way we are expected to.”

“If you say so, of course.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “You sound like my bloody valet.”

“Darren is a dear, but I am better at stalking than him.”

West shrugged, eyes on her lips. “He did it willingly. It was his idea, not mine.”

She bit her lip to control her smile and he felt a shudder course through him, tingling and nearly painful. “If you say so.”

There was a teasing glimmer in her eyes. West had to look away, clearing his throat. He looked around the ballroom. Everyone was preoccupied with something, most of whom in search of their dance partners as the previous one ended, signaling for the next one.

No, do not dare , a voice hissed in his ear.

Just one. It would not hurt.

It will be suicide.

West had to listen to only one voice so he turned to Sasha and asked, “Would you care for a dance?”

She blinked in surprise and looked behind her as if expecting someone else had asked the question. And when she realized it was him, she frowned. “You mean, here?” she inquired, looking around with a laugh. “You cannot be serious, sir. People will see.”

Yes, she is correct. Listen to her.

“Do you know how to dance?” he asked instead.

“Well, of course! But I cannot dance with you in this ball—or any other ball.”

Again, she is right. Do not be the fool.

“Everyone may already have an inkling of our relationship, Sasha. You Belles may be more in control of your mouths, but I am afraid Hartcaster can be a little too chatty after a few bottles of brandy.”

She gave the crowded ballroom another glance. Lords guided women who were not their wives to the center of the room, ready for a dance. Women laughed gaily, openly. “The atmosphere tonight is different,” she said.

No, it is dangerous, that’s what it is.

“Indeed.”

“I do not feel the staring. Nor do I hear whispers.”

“I am certain they have grown out of their initial curiosity. They have settled, shall we say. Any opinions of the world outside Humbrick have evaporated by now.”

“No one to judge.”

Hundreds of eyes, Eaton. Hundreds!

“Yes.”

She sighed and dropped her shoulders. “Very well. Since you do insist. But let me remind you—it is your reputation that is going to suffer should a rumor spread after this party.”

Listen to her, you fool. She seems to be wiser. It is not too late. Retreat!

With a confident grin, West took her hand and led her to the middle of the room to join the waltz. “The rumor may have already begun, Sasha. But then again, this is Humbrick. No one will confirm for no one will claim to have noticed anything.” She was not able to react verbally as he suddenly twirled her around to join the others. She gasped in surprise. “I thought you said you know how to dance,” he pointed out.

She is a Belle. She knows how to do dance and many other things at that!

“I do, but I always danced the man’s part!” she hissed as he took her gloved hand and lifted it to the side. “In Belcourt—oof!” she gasped again as he twirled her to the side and pulled her back, only to throw and spin her around. She glared at him.

“I saw you dance with Sir John,” he nonchalantly said.

“He is a terrific dancer,” she shot at him.

“Dare not step on my foot, Sasha,” he warned when she stumbled.

“I am considering both feet as we speak,” she growled through her teeth.

West smiled and sent her whirling on her toes again, but this time she was prepared. She turned when she needed to and landed perfectly into his arms.

His entire body reacted when her eyes glided up at him.

You are bloody damned.

“You ought not to be looking at me,” he reminded, gazing deep into her eyes.

Damned indeed, the bloody idiot…

“They are looking at us,” she said, although the glimmer in her eyes was far from concerned. The tension that he saw earlier was long gone either.

“I said Humbrick minds its own business. None of the eyes looking at us now would dare say anything after they leave this party,” he whispered, pressing her closer as they moved around with the other dancers. “Everyone in Humbrick has a secret to keep. How does the church say it—do not do unto others what you do not wish others to do unto you?”

The voice in his head groaned with chagrin. Stop, just stop.

“I see where your confidence comes from.”

He nodded. “They keep my secret, I keep theirs.”

“If you say so,” she retorted, lifting one bare shoulder.

Her eyes wandered down between them to watch her steps then looked back up at him. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed. From the dance? Or by being too close to him?

No, with your bloody vulturous staring!

West swallowed, his heart beginning to hammer as the memory of last night came back to him.

He heard her voice echo in his head, drowning his conscience.

No more games… I yield. You won. I would have none of this anymore.

His hand reflexively tightened around hers. She looked up at him, eyes curious.

Why? What is wrong? Her gaze asked.

Everything was wrong. This is wrong.

He should not be dancing with her. He should not be holding her this close. He should not be hearing her breathe. Bloody hell, he should not be thinking of being closer… skin to skin, one breath, one kiss…

He blinked.

Why did he ask her to dance again? He was not foxed nor was he in a good mood.

You are being bloody stupid and impetuous, that is why.

No, that was not the answer.

The answer to the question was dancing in his arms, perhaps innocent of his thoughts.

Is she, really?

He could not tell, no.

“Bloody tarnation,” he cursed under his breath.

“What?”

He bent his head and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You are stealing the air I breathe—again,” she pointedly said when West absently bent lower to smell her hair. He could not help it. “If you would just—” she stopped, bending her head as West nuzzled his nose against the featherlike strands near her ear. He heard her swallow and her head moved ever so slightly to brush her cheek against his chin, his lips.

They missed five steps of the dance at the very least and he did not bloody care. She was there, too close. A potent potion of temptation.

This was a bloody stupid idea , the constantly angry voice in his head screamed. She is a stupid idea!

West was barely in control after the last part of the dance and they all curtsied. Wasting no time, he did not let go of Sasha’s hand and instead pulled her out of the dance floor and through the flurry of gowns, suits, drinks, and laughter. By now, most were too accustomed to seeing everyone mingle with anyone that no one seemed to care that the Duke of Eaton was hand in hand with a Belle.

“West!” she hissed behind him. “What are you doing?”

He did not answer. She might run away.

Stop now, you idiot, the voice ordered. Return her at once to where she belongs.

No, she belonged elsewhere at the moment.

He was in near panic as he led her out of the ballroom and down to the right corridor which led them to the main hallway. He cursed under his breath as his eyes surveyed the area, frantic to find any path that would reveal a good place. Heart beating fast and hard against his rib cage, ringing his ears, West’s mind was no longer in control. It was a willing slave, tired and weary, finally in surrender.

Pulling Sasha down a narrow corridor, his eyes frantically searched for a room—any room.

Finally, he found a door. He pulled it open and found five gentlemen smoking cigars.

Blast it.

He slammed the door without a word and continued further down the carpeted path.

Sasha nervously laughed behind him. “What is happening, West? Where are we going?”

He could tell she knew what was on his mind. He could sense it by the tight grip of her hand around his. If she was feeling anything akin to how she felt last night when she was attacked, she would have long pulled away. She was not doing that now. Neither of them was thinking about last night or Willoghby.

They were still in the dance. Close. A breath apart. Alone.

Her grip held no fear.

The anticipation built with each step he took, taking them to the end of the corridor and to the last door. He opened it.

Dark.

Empty.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

The kindling heat building within West since the start of their dance suddenly erupted into flames.

Sasha had gone quiet behind him, her breathing heavy and short, her grip tight.

The room was too dark. And it was perfect.

He pulled Sasha inside and kicked the door closed behind them. He whirled her around like he did multiple times during their dance. Her gasp caught in midair before she crashed against him.

The voice in his head had given up. There was nothing else but the silence of the room and their heaving breaths.

He walked her backward against the nearest wall with a long line of bookshelves, his eyes already consuming her in the darkness, stealing her breath. And she was doing the same. One mere touch and he would erupt. One breath and he would go insane.

Heaving and panting, West rested his forehead against hers, feeling his control slowly slip away. His gaze held hers, making certain that he saw she understood what he was about to say.

“The game is over,” he harshly whispered.

XXI | Afternoon Walk

He held his breath.

Waited.

Her eyes searched his, asking if this was part of the game.

The hint of moonlight revealed her eyes and they were dancing, alight with fire.

Then she sighed.

Resignation.

Sasha’s hands wound around his neck with a slight tug and West let out a sigh—or a groan of relief before his mouth crushed down on her.

It was potent. It was spontaneous. The fire surged and consumed, eating any remnants of reservations he may have had with this woman.

The groan that escaped them both was evidence of the days they had to deprive themselves of this.

They should have known that the teasing would never be enough.

This was the real game.

His mouth opened wide. He angled his head to take more and he grabbed the chance when she answered, opening her mouth to welcome, to meet.

He swore he heard himself moan, tormented by sensations.

She tasted like sherry. She tasted woman. His arms tightened around her, pressing her hard against his length, desperate for her to feel the yearning, the need.

With a whimper, Sasha squirmed restlessly in his arms, pressing her hips deeper into his, almost grinding, driving him insane. With a guttural sound rolling from deep within his throat, West pushed her against the wall. A book fell with a thump on the carpeted floor.

“You taste better…” he managed, “…than I imagine.” His mouth traveled down her jaw, his teeth scathing her skin. He tasted down her neck and lingered at the spot where she pulsed, the rhythm matching the hammering in his chest. Dipping his head lower, he found the hollow dip of her collarbone. Her chest heaved as he took his mouth lower until he met the edge of her neckline. And then he suckled. Sasha pushed away from the shelf and pressed into him, the movement subtle and graceful.

His hand reached for the skirts of her gown and searched until he found her bare leg underneath, pulling it high, hitching it on his hip as he stepped closer and against her. A rumble of frustration escaping his throat, cursing the layers of fabric between them because he needed to feel more.

The kiss would not be enough.

He straightened to search her languid eyes. Nostrils flared, breath hot and shaky, he claimed her mouth once more. “You are winning this game twice,” he rasped against her lips.

Sasha did not answer as she welcomed his hungry kiss. He was devouring her, suckling her soul, her words. He would hate to hear her say stop . His hand under her skirts moved higher.

“Bloody hell, Sasha, how many layers do these gowns have nowadays?” he asked, his hand searching the secrets of her drawers.

She swallowed, breathless. Hot air blowing out of her swollen lips. “Quite a few—” the rest of her words were left unspoken as her head fell back and her mouth spontaneously parted, letting out a whimper. “A few layers…”

He did not let her finish as he claimed her mouth again, stealing her words, her breath.

“And have I ever told you how I hate your gowns?” he asked against her mouth.

She was no longer listening, he thought. He stilled his hand and she whimpered with need.

Sasha swallowed. Chest heaving, she opened her mouth to speak. “No, but I have had an inkling you hate them,” she rasped O, biting her lower lip, inhaling deeply, letting out a rough breath of frustration and need. Her eyes met his in the darkness, fluttering close then open, pupils wide and glimmering with unspent pleasure. “I ended the game last night,” she said, gasping at the last word when his hand moved. Her hips buckled and her hands gripped his shoulders tightly. “I guess we both lost this game.”

West nodded. “The game was never our forte.” She nodded, swallowing with anticipation, lids half-closed, mouth slightly open as she started to move against his hand, having found a rhythm.

West knew he had to stop. Now. If he wanted to leave this room as a man who stood by his own words. He had made her sign an agreement, and yet here he was, giving her pleasure while depriving himself of his own.

He was never the martyr, but he must be because having her like this seemed enough.

For now.

She leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “But I believe we lost too early in the game…” she rasped against his throat, spreading a hot blanket of air over his skin, sending him closer to the edge.

His other hand went behind her neck, tilting her head back to meet his mouth. “No, Sasha, we lost too late.”

---

West returned to the ballroom and rejoined Tanner and Rider. Clearing his throat, he took the drink offered by the server, his gaze trapped to the subject of his attention. The said subject was staring straight back at him, moistening her lips as she pretended to listen to what her friends were saying.

His muscled went tight, now aware of what those lips tasted like.

“You keep disappearing, West,” Tanner said, looking at him with curiosity. “To a point that it is almost alarming.”

Ignoring his friend, West took a sip from his drink, his gaze never leaving Sasha.

I should have disappeared for the whole night , he silently replied to Tanner’s comment.

“Yes, he is definitely out of it,” Tanner said to Rider in an amused voice.

“Out of what?” West asked.

“Out of your bloody mind.”

“Believe whatever you want, Tanner.”

“West,” Rider’s composed voice spoke. “I hope you are being careful.”

Blinking away from Sasha, West turned his gaze to Rider. “I am.”

Rider sighed. “I am not going to talk you out of this. That is too late for that. You have made your decision, but at the very least, I am hoping that you have not forgotten your true purpose here.”

West frowned, suddenly guarded. “I may appear to be doing something unconventional, my friends,” he bit out, “but I know what I am after.”

Tanner scoffed. “You seem to also be after something else. Or have you gotten it already?”

West blinked away and returned his gaze to Sasha who was now staring at Ruby with a small smile. “No,” he curtly replied, intently watching Sasha’s every move. Her hair looked slightly disheveled, but nothing that would suggest she had been ravaged in a dark library. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, both could be blamed on the wine.

Tanner and Rider followed his gaze, all three of them observing, their expressions all different. Rider was as blank as he always was, Tanner obviously amused with a wicked smile at the corner of his lips, and West almost brooding, lips pressed, eyes dark.

It was Tanner who broke the silence with a clearing of his throat. “Say, West, what was the name of that chit?”

“Who?”

“The one from last night. At the gaming room. The redhead. I do not see her about.”

“I cannot tell you that.”

Tanner chuckled, looking at Rider who was suddenly looking grim. “Rider, she must be the first to have addressed you like that, eh? Both of you, as a matter of fact. At the gaming room? Do you recall? Or do Belles disregard titles altogether?”

“The said incident is something I would rather not recall, Tanner,” Rider bit out, turning around to leave. “The same goes with that woman.”

Tanner moved close beside West, eyes back on Sasha. “Your Belle seems lovely tonight.”

West did not comment.

“Bloody tarnation,” Tanner said with a chuckle, pushing West away, “Go and get the woman. I loathe the sight of the two of you mentally stripping each other naked from across the ballroom.”

West turned to Tanner with a tight smile tugging on his lips. “Or mayhap we can spend more time in the gaming room.”

Tanner shrugged. “Whatever you say, my friend.”

---

The next morning, Sasha looked for Gabrielle but she could not be found.

In fact, she had not laid eyes on the woman since their talk yesterday morning.

The same day, Sasha ordered for Iyana and Briana to go back to Coulway. The two servants hesitated, of course, but after Sasha made them understand that she would be more comfortable traveling with Ruby knowing Aaron would be there to protect them should Willoghby do something drastic. Three women traveling after the party in Humbrick was over was most definitely not the best option. And there might be letters from Belcourt or issues in the household that needed attention.

After breakfast, West joined Sasha and Jade and their gentlemen in one of the parlors while they were having tea. Standing beside Sasha, he rested his hand on the back of her chair. “I heard that you have sent your servants away.”

Sasha frowned at Ruby and Jade. Both ladies shook their heads. She turned to Aaron and Trent. Trent shook his head. Aaron, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably in his chair and coughed.

“First of all, Sasha,” Aaron said, clearing his throat and lifting a finger for emphasis, “I thought he is aware of your plans.”

Sasha stiffened, a current spreading to the tips of her fingers, as West transferred his hand to rest on her right shoulder. Squeezing gently, he asked, “What plans?”

She moistened her lips. “I needed someone to deliver my report against Willoghby to Belcourt,” she lied under her breath.

Another squeeze. “And how do you plan to go home after this party?”

Sasha waved her hand at Ruby and Aaron. “My generous friends have graciously offered their carriage.”

Another squeeze, this time a little tighter. “And you thought I would not have offered mine?”

Aaron and Trent shared a wary look.

Ruby and Jade bit their lips and pretended to look at their teacups which seemed to have suddenly become interesting.

“I did not want to bother you.”

Aaron let out an awkward laugh, turning to Ruby. “I did tell you, did I not, Ruby? He would be cross.”

Trent nodded, supporting his friend’s attempt to make light of the matter. “No gentleman is pleased to know someone else took over their responsibility.”

“You have no responsibility for us,” all three Belles chorused sternly.

West’s hand slid to the center of her back. “If you would, Sasha, please join me outside.”

She shook her head. “No.”

His hand spread over her back, sending another frenzy of little currents. “Please.”

Her friends cautiously looked at each other and Sasha sighed, slowly standing up.

Stiffly, she made her way to the door. Once outside, she crossed her arm over her chest. “What?”

West’s light blue eyes narrowed at her. “While I find the immediate need for you to send a report to Belcourt understandable, do you think it is wise to have your servants leave you here alone?”

“Willoghby is no longer in Humbrick.”

“Yes, but what assurance do you have that he will not return?”

“I am more cautious, West, fret not. I would not be as unprepared as I was on the night of his attack. Twice is my limit.” She arched her brows. “Do you have more things to say?”

He looked down the empty corridor and behind him before he returned his gaze to her. “You are going home with me.”

She blinked. “Surely you brought your sealed carriage with you. I cannot ride that one.”

“And you will ride Aaron’s sealed one?”

She shrugged. “He does not have a rule that he cannot be seen with a Belle.” Seeing his jaw tighten, her hands dropped to her side. “You may have forgotten your own rules, West. Need I remind you of them? Humbrick does not offer its scandal protection outside its premises. The moment we roll out of this place, your reputation will be doomed.”

“You are not leaving with Emsworth.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Are you acting this way because of last night?”

He frowned at her. “I am acting this way because you disposed of your servants and your carriage.”

“And secured a safer method to come home, yes.”

“You are leaving Humbrick with me.”

“We still have four more days to argue on this matter.” She turned to the door. “Are you going to join us for tea?”

“No.”

“And will you be joining us this afternoon? Lady Renee has arranged an excursion to the island.”

His face crumpled with incredulity. “Are you bloody serious?”

Sasha blinked, confused. “I believe the ocean is not frozen. And they said that Lady Renee has one of the best schooners in the kingdom.”

“You cannot be seriously considering having an excursion while it is still winter.”

“Winter is over. No one is forcing you to join,” Sasha wryly said, opening the door. “Have a nice day, sir.”

---

Sasha was waiting with probably fifty or so guests aboard the luxurious schooner after Lady Renee. Wearing a wide straw bonnet trimmed with a green ribbon tied under her chin, resting over her white lace mob cap, she had let her hair loose. Her white lace dress was probably the wrong choice, she thought, as she imagined the state of the island they were going to.

The Sailor Garden, the small island merely an hour away from the mainland, came with Humbrick when Lady Renee reclaimed it with her own money after it was taken away from the missing Marquess of Rothsker.

Most of the guests were discussing the schooner’s exemplary rigging when suddenly the captain, a lanky man with white bushy beard that reached his chest, hollered, “Is everyone on board? We are to leave for Sailor Garden in ten minutes! Ten minutes!”

Ruby clutched Sasha’s hand with her cold ones. “Do you think we should not have come?” Her friend, always in red, was looking too pale in her matching black bonnet.

Sasha looked ahead. “The sea is calm this afternoon, Ruby. And the island is just right there,” she said, motioning with her head. True enough, the island was visible from the mainland.

Ruby moistened her lips. Then her friend clutched the railing before them, eyes tightly closed. “Where is Aaron! I think am about to swoon.”

“He is by the refreshment table,” West’s deep voice said behind them.

Ruby turned and left in search of her gentleman. Not far from them stood Jade and Trent, wrapped in an embrace, giggling and whispering into each other’s ears.

Through the rim of her bonnet, she saw his booted leg step beside her. “I thought you said you are not going.”

“I was not. In fact, I should be with my friends for a ride around the estate.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I never accepted the invitation of my friends. And I never said I am not joining this excursion.”

The boat came to a slight jolt as the anchor lifted. Sasha’s hand gripped the railing before her. West’s hand came to rest on the small of her back when she swayed.

Instantly, the memory of last night in the library came flashing before her eyes.

She remembered the sound of books falling on the floor, the hot rasp breath in her ear, and the rough, soft feel of his mouth against her lips, her jaw… her neck.

His hand…

Sasha felt heat flush her face. She was turning into a whore, she swore she was.

The schooner began a soft glide away from the dock. People ran up and down the decks, pulling strings. Guests began to feel at ease and move about, carefully walking around to join different circles with food and drinks in their hands.

The strong wind blew her bonnet off her head, the green ribbon nearly choking her neck as it did. She struggled to put it back with one hand.

“Allow me,” West said, voice deep and bare of emotion. He turned and reached for the bonnet and snuggled it back on the crown of her head. Next, his hands pulled at the ribbons to adjust them under her chin. As he did so, Sasha moistened her lips, feeling the back of his fingers as they worked. Done with the knot, his hands remained suspended in the air, his fingers lingering just under her chin for a slight caress.

Sasha’s eyes slanted upward and met his smoldering gaze. His eyes were searching hers and she saw her own thoughts mirrored in their depths.

He was thinking about last night.

How it started.

And how it ended.

Blinking away, Sasha cleared her throat and turned to face the ocean.

He did the same and the two of them stood there, inches apart, staring straight at the island up ahead.

---

“You still believe this was a very crazy idea, do you not?”

“Very much so, yes,” West grumbled hours later, gritting his teeth as he pulled his booted foot out of the mud.

Sasha hid her amusement by looking up ahead of the path they were taking. The smell of spring was in the air. The grass had begun to sprout from the once-frozen ground. Soon, the island would be covered in green; flowers would spread and boast their beauty under the bright sun.

From the distance, Sasha could see Ruby and the rest of the people in their group of ten having a hard time.

“Fret not, sir, you are not alone,” she told him, facing him to display the wide grin on her face.

He looked down at her feet and frowned. “How is it that your feet look the same since we left the mainland?”

Her eyes slanted downward, following his gaze. A small chuckle escaped her throat. “It is not the feet, I believe. It is the talent. I have learned how to navigate through the most dangerous grounds, shall we say.”

He scoffed. “Have you now?” Straightening to full height to return on their track, he added, “One of the many things Belcourt teach you?”

“No, of course not. You should see my carriage driver’s boots even after a trip downtown. And she did not even leave her seat behind the horses.” His lips quirked at her wit. “I have once walked all of twenty miles in the rain.”

He stopped walking to rake his eyes over her face, one brow slanting with skepticism. His expression caused Sasha to softly laugh. “Surely you are overdrawing.”

She shook her head. “No, I really did walk those twenty miles in the rain.”

Still looking unconvinced, West asked, “And when was this?”

There was no need to think of her answer for that day would forever be in her memory, her mind constantly counting the days since then. When she replied, the hint of her laughter was gone. “Fifteen years ago. Before I came to Belcourt.”

A long pause. He must be curious, she thought.

Or simply did not care, the voice in her head whispered when he continued walking without another question.

---

They arrived in an open field where a picnic was already set up for them. Dozens of other parties who arrived first from the schooner were already having a grand feast, most of them scattered, taking a walk with their partners or friends.

They were surrounded by trees that blocked the strong breeze from the ocean around the island.

By the time they had their fill and tea was served, a few men decided to hike further up the path that would lead to the cliffs. Some women were trying to dissuade them, saying it was utterly dangerous. The wind was strong, and anyone could fall by accident.

“We should join,” Sasha announced, surprising West.

“No,” he sternly said.

“I have never been to a cliff.”

“And it would be your last one should you fall.”

“I will not come to the edge.” She began to walk away, following the tiny group of men and at least three women who had already started the hike.

West looked around but Ruby and Jade simply shrugged, saying, “Let her be. She can do whatever she likes.”

Half an hour later, West was holding Sasha’s arm as she looked down at the cliff, screaming something he could not hear.

With his right hand, he motioned for her to step back.

“What?” he read through her lips.

“Step back! Bloody hell, Sasha, do you wish to be dead!” he shouted over the strong wind.

Her hat was hanging behind her head, blown by the wind, and secured by the ribbon around her neck. Her brown hair was all over her flushed grinning face.

When she made another attempt to step closer to the edge, West pulled her back.

She did not fight him when he began to drag her back to safety.

“Did you see the giant waves?” she asked behind him.

“No. What I saw was your soul floating up from the bloody ocean if I let go,” he said through gritted teeth. His hand tightened around hers. “We should return to the picnic. The others must be on their way back to the schooner.”

When she made a move to follow the other hikers already making their way back down to the camp, West pulled at her hand, the motion whirling her around to face him. “Your face is sunburnt,” he commented under his breath, a frown on his face as he reached for her bonnet. Pulling the ribbons free from under her chin, while she tried to gather the strands of hair floating around with the wind, West placed her bonnet back over her head. “Hold,” he ordered. With one hand, she held her hat in place while he tied the ribbons under her chin.

With her chin tilted up, their eyes locked to each other.

The wind seemed to have gone quiet.

“What is it?” she asked, a small smile still tugging at her lips.

He realized he liked her this way. He was pleased to know that she was confident enough to hold her back while she placed her life at risk in the thrill of the moment standing on the edge of that cliff.

“What?” she laughingly repeated when West did not reply.

“Why did you walk the twenty miles in the rain?” he found himself asking.

She was stunned by his question, West realized. Then he saw the regret cross her eyes, clouding the joy that glimmered there earlier. She was wishing she did not share that story with him.

“I did not have a carriage back then,” was her witty reply. She started to turn to say, “We must keep moving. We don’t want them to leave us behind here,” but West caught her hand and pulled her toward him.

“You got scared last night,” he said.

Her brows cocked high, surprised by the sudden accusation. She incredulously gasped. “Of course not,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Can we discuss this while walking? Or perhaps not at all.”

“No.”

She dropped her shoulders. “I told you I needed to go.”

His eyes raked her face. Her lips looked inviting, and he knew in his mind—good Lord, he knew how they tasted, how they could be pliant and sweet. “You scurried away.”

Her eyes, curious now, but could easily be unguarded, languorous, and wild when she was searing with passion. “Then what did you expect me to do?” she asked.

West’s eyes dipped down to her lips. “You could have said something.”

Her frown slowly disappeared, replaced by something else entirely. “Something such as?”

His finger hooked the strands of hair across her face and tucked them behind her ear. Her face moved against his hand ever so slightly. “You tell me.” It was amazing how he could still maintain his barren tone, masking the intense want for this woman. What he was suggesting now was complete madness, yet he was acknowledging that now. He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, saying, “What would have you said?”

“Good night?”

His lips brushed against hers again.

The tip of her tongue moistened her lips. “I could have said we cannot do it again.” He nodded, nuzzling his nose against hers. “But I did not, did I?”

West’s lips stretched against hers. “No, you did not.”

“And we could do it again, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Because it is not against the agreement.”

He planted a soft, moist kiss on her lips. “No.”

“Sasha!” The distant call from the field below caused her to flinch, but West held her by the arms, keeping her pressed firmly against him. As her name was called one more time, West opened his mouth over hers and claimed her mouth… hard, deep, and needy.

His nose flared as he breathed her scent, intoxicated by the smell of the ocean in her hair, aroused by the mere taste of her tongue, the touch of her hands clasping his coat, pulling him down toward her to deepen the kiss.

His arms wound around her, crushing her, wanting more, needing more than a kiss.

Their once harmless game had escalated to this and it seemed it was not going to be over soon.

In fact, it had just begun.

XXII | Stealing Kisses

On the fourth day, Sasha was certain that Gabrielle was no longer in Humbrick. She had not seen the woman, nor had Ruby and Jade.

Sasha constantly found herself staring blankly at nowhere, deep in her thoughts.

Why did Gabrielle follow her here?

And why did she disappear almost the same day as Willoghby?

It could merely be a coincidence, but Sasha did not know what to think anymore.

Gabrielle said she was sent here for Sasha. Well, Sasha was still here, and the woman was not.

The boredom she felt as the days went by was of no help as well. The events that Lady Renee arranged for the guests over the week seemed to become more of a task. It was tedious enough to frequently change and dress in the right set of clothing for certain activities, much more so see the actual activities through.

The only thing that kept her from leaving was her mission—which was West. But he, too, was making things a little challenging. Yes, they may have kissed—and enjoyed it—but it did not mean that he was always around her. Since their trip to the island, he had not approached her.

Sasha chanced upon him in one of the breakfast rooms that morning, but he was surrounded by men within his station as he constantly was.

Ruby and Jade pointed out that West was not being the typical flower, but Aaron and Trent reasoned that the duke simply needed more time to adjust.

That afternoon, Sasha and her friends joined a game of Bowls.

Sasha was standing under a tree, taking refuge from the heat of the sun, when she felt his presence behind her. Even before she heard his voice, she knew it was him. “Your team seems to be losing,” he whispered in her ear.

She inclined her head to the left, her cheek brushing against his stubbled chin. “I agree.”

“You must realize then that you are no use to your team anymore,” he nonchalantly murmured, stepping beside her, back straight, eyes on Aaron who was cursing the ‘jack’, their target white ball, quietly in wait yards away. “That is probably the fifth time Emsworth missed.”

“Sixth.”

His forefinger furtively hooked around her little finger, tugging her hand in the folds of her dress, before the rest of his hand closed around hers.

Their head held straight ahead, West took a step back. Sasha followed, hands clasped together, hidden in her skirts.

“Where are we going?”

He took another step back, nearly stepping on a woman’s foot. “Pardon,” he murmured before taking a turn, pulling Sasha further away from the game.

Sasha could feel the rush. The beating inside her chest was now a familiar episode, a sign that she was about to be ravished by a duke.

A part of her was telling her she should not be doing this, but her mission was a lingering presence at the back of her mind, a constant reminder of why she was here. The man who sent her the invitation to Humbrick was expecting this very result. The people in Belcourt were waiting for what she might uncover. Gabrielle made certain she was at Humbrick before disappearing. She was supposed to be here—be with him.

And Sasha felt she was seeing progress. She had finally managed to peel one layer of the man who, from the start, seemed to be too formidable, too tough.

Yet why did she feel like she was not walking briskly back into the manor to do a task? Why was her heart racing? Why was she anticipating the moment?

It ought to be a task, but it was not, because, at that moment, her only mission was to be alone with this man. Not to search his secrets, but to discover the pleasure he could offer.

Good Lord, she was turning into a whore. Or perhaps she already was.

As West guided her down a narrow corridor at the back of the manor, Sasha swallowed. She stared at the back of his head, reminding herself that this man could be dangerous. He could be using her as much as she was using him.

And he could also be innocent.

And if that were so, Sasha feared the possibility of dealing with the fact. Because in this big game she was playing in right now, she was bound to betray someone.

And it would be him.

Some days she wished he was not innocent, but in moments like this, when he was acting not as a duke; when he was showing her a part of him that desired her for the woman that she was, she prayed that he was and that everyone else was wrong.

She willingly followed him inside an empty bright parlor and immediately found herself crushed into his arms, his mouth diving straight unto hers, claiming her with such raw hunger.

Her hands over his chest, following a trail up his shoulders and neck, pulling him down toward her, answering his kiss.

Their thick, heavy breathing was broken by the sounds of their feet stumbling toward the nearest settee where they both tumbled. “Oof!” Sasha shrieked when she felt herself falling backward, but West quickly caught her, guiding her back toward him, twisting unto the seat and pushing her back along the length of the settee.

He loomed over her for a moment, a handsome mess of ruffled light brown hair. His hands gathered her skirts, bunching them as he pushed them higher up her legs, giving him enough space to settle between them and join her, bending down to tease her jaw and neck with tiny kisses.

Sasha squirmed, a shaking breath escaping her lips while his hands slithered underneath, touching bare skin, wandering higher.

She knew they could not go far, but she wanted to. She did not know where it would lead, but she wanted to get there. Wherever it was, she wanted it.

In his languid, darkened, blue depths, Sasha read the same.

But they both took what they could at that moment.

She would not convince him to break his own rules, but she could try to entice him to do so.

Reaching up, she cupped his face in both hands. His fingers slipped through her drawers. Heat flushed her cheeks. Her teeth bit down the whimper that escaped her throat.

With a guttural groan, West dipped his head down, one hand resting beside her head to support his weight. His mouth coaxed her mouth open and when they did, his tongue dove inside, and she welcomed it with fervor, writhing beneath his hand, sinking deep into the settee.

“Port wine,” Sasha murmured against his lips.

His hot breath brushed over her lips before he claimed her mouth again.

“Lemon,” she murmured again.

Biting her lower lip, he rasped, “What the bloody hell are you talking about, Sasha?”

Grasping the back of his neck, she tilted her head to the side and kissed him, this time taking the courage to wander into his mouth, seeking, tasting.

“Nutmeg,” she finished, smiling against his lips.

“What?”

She met his gaze. “You had Negus.”

With a growl of frustration, West crushed his mouth against her. And as if she had committed a crime, punished her by taking his hand off her, eliciting a whimper of protest.

He settled between her legs, pressing just enough to let her know the state of his groin. His jaw was tight, the muscles of his shoulders bunched. He ground against her heat, a raw, guttural sound escaping his throat. He seemed to be in pain but relieved at the same time. He swallowed and opened his eyes to look into her eyes.

“You figured that all from a kiss?” he asked. “I am impressed.”

Sasha’s hips buckled as he ground his hips. There was too much friction, too much heat. Yet it was not enough. She could not feel enough. It was his trousers. It was her gown. Too many layers to peel, too many rules stopping them from doing so.

“No, I simply know how to make a Negus,” she managed to reply. “I know Aaron had one before the game.”

For the first time, Sasha heard him laugh.

Her eyes nearly filled with tears hearing it.

Was it another layer she managed to peel from this man?

As the shaking of shoulders began to subside, so did their senses begin to heighten. Suddenly she was even more aware of him between her legs, a presence that demanded attention.

The laughter in his eyes died, replaced by the same familiar fire just moments ago. His hand traced her chin, her jaw, traveling down her neck, her collar, leaving a trace of anticipation and stopping right at the edge of her neckline. As his fingers started to tug the material lower, Sasha tried to hide the apprehension by saying, “But should I say that it is not a very nice Negus?”

His shoulders began to shake with laughter until his forehead fell on her shoulder, burying his face there. “Stop with the Negus, Sasha.”

“And why on earth would Lady Renee serve you, fine lords, a drink that tastes as though it was concocted for children? I barely tasted the wine.”

His laughter intensified, his hand now cupping her breast.

“I did not know Humbrick is a bloody children’s party.”

His laughter was an incantation to her ears, willing her to want to say something wittier. Something that would make it last longer.

The sound of a clearing of a throat caused them both to stiffen. West was fast to jump push away from Sasha, twisting his body around to look at the direction of the door.

“Well, you should have locked the bloody door,” an amused voice said.

“Bloody hell, Tanner,” West cursed, turning away to face Sasha. In a swift motion, he managed to pull her skirts down while she righted her neckline with shaking hands. “Would you?” West demanded at the man standing in the doorway.

“Of course,” the voice replied, and Sasha heard the door shut close.

His laughter long gone, West came to his feet and helped her from the settee.

“Who was that?”

“Tanner.”

“A friend, I assume.”

“A child,” he growled under his breath. He reached out to smoothen her hair. “He would still be outside waiting.”

“He did not see me, did he?”

“No, I don’t believe he did.”

“Then I’ll stay here. You may go and join him.”

---

West watched Sasha as she sat right back in the settee, her back straight and her hands folded on her lap.

He shook his head and reached for her hand. “I have to return you to the game.”

She tugged her hand back. “But your friend—”

“He knows about you,” he cut in, pulling her to her feet.

Her hesitant steps followed close behind him as he guided her to the door. And just as expected, Tanner was already outside, and he was not alone.

Rider was leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor, hands deep in his pockets. “It was his bloody idea,” his friend was fast to say, motioning his head at Tanner.

West hid Sasha behind him, more to prevent her from seeing the stinging look he threw his friends.

Tanner shamelessly craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Sasha, a wicked smile on his lips. “Well? West?” his friend asked.

West pressed his lips together and glared at his friend.

Rider was of no help. He was not getting involved. And he was obviously enjoying West’s predicament, his own way of saying he got himself into this trouble.

With a gentle tug, West pulled Sasha to stand beside him.

“Sasha, may I introduce you to my… friends,” he said, biting down at the last word, “Tanner Macmier, Marquess of Leighton and Rider Fairborne, Earl of Keene.” And giving his friends a darting look, he finished, “My lords, I present to you Lady Sasha.”

“Sasha of Belcourt,” Sasha said beside him, giving the men a curtsy. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, gentlemen, but I fear I should leave. I have a game to lose,” she added with a smile.

With her chin set high, she walked past Rider and Tanner and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

“Well, one hurdle done and over, right, Rider?” Tanner asked. “It was not that difficult, was it, West?”

“You are such a child, Tanner,” West said, walking away.

“Were you laughing earlier, West? I believe I heard you laughing. Did you hear what I heard earlier, Rider?”

Rider pushed Tanner away. “Stop it.”

“Now that I have seen her up close,” Tanner said, catching up with West and falling into strides beside him, “She is quite a beauty, is she not? Her eyes are a wonder, I must say.”

“You stay away from her, Tanner.”

“I would hate to have your fist against my face, West. I have had a taste of that quite too often in the past.” His friend allowed a few seconds before he said, “But if you can help me with the red-haired chit, the one from the gaming room, I promise never to pay your Belle any more attention again and—” Tanner stopped when West stopped walking to turn to him with a stern look in his eyes.

“Stop it, gentlemen,” Rider dryly said, walking past between them. “We have matters to discuss. I received another letter from London.”

West suddenly became alert. “When? Why have you not told me—”

“We went looking for you, did we not?” Tanner asked, following them down the corridor. “And we found you, did we not?”

“Shut up for one moment, Tanner!” West and Rider chorused.

The three of them searched the manor for an empty room and locked themselves inside to read the letter from London.

XXIII | Thunder and Rain

The thunder and rain started early the next day.

Everyone was forced to stay indoors, back into the comforts of the countless rooms in the Humbrick estate. Most had turned to their old favorite parlor games and music and dancing. By luncheon, it seemed that the storm was not letting down.

Sasha made an untoward decision to pack up and leave when Ruby said that she was leaving with Aaron who had to immediately return to Coulway for an important estate matter. The decision to go with the pair was encouraged by Sasha’s own concern for Iyana and Briana who had not yet sent any note of whether they had arrived safely in Coulway.

After she was done packing, glad to finally be leaving Humbrick and the constant sounds of the hundreds of people all over the estate, Sasha set out to find West to tell him that she was leaving for her quiet life in her villa.

“I already know, Sasha, that you can be quite insane and a little adventurous on some occasions, but this is just beyond ridiculous.” He waved at the window that displayed nothing but the heavy rain and wind, washing the landscape outside with no other colors but white. It did not help that thunder rumbled as West spoke his last word.

“Coulway is just under an hour away, West.”

“Which could be two under this weather. Or eternity if you bloody die out there.” He shook his head. “You are staying here.”

Sasha hesitated. “Ruby and Aaron are not planning to leave now . We are waiting for the storm to lighten a little before we depart. And I heard a number of people have decided to leave as well.”

“Did you hear that?” he asked as another thunder rumbled outside. “I do not think this storm is going to mellow any time soon, Sasha.”

“I need to know if Iyana and Briana have safely arrived. I have not received a note from them.”

He nodded. “I understand your concern, but if you set out now in this weather, darling, you are putting yourself in danger. You go home the moment the storm stops.”

“But—”

“I will strap you to your bed if you as much as set foot outside this estate, Sasha. Do not take my warning lightly.”

Sasha looked out the window once more. Perhaps he was right. “The moment the storm stops, you take me home.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “At the very last drop of rain.”

Sasha nodded and started to turn, intending to find Ruby and Aaron to tell them that she was not coming—and perhaps also try to encourage them to do the same—when West caught her by the arm and pulled her close to him.

Her eyes widened in near panic, looking around the busy parlor. Everyone was discussing a new game the Lord of Hern suggested, all eager for more entertainment. “What are you doing?” she hissed when he bent his head close to her ear.

“You smell of roses.”

“Compliments to the Lady Renee’s rose soap,” she said, pushing away. “West, we are not alone—”

Sasha managed to stop the yelp of surprise when he swiftly turned, carrying her with him. Suddenly, she found herself pressed against him just outside the open doorway of the parlor that opened to an extended room which was currently unoccupied, but still very much open.

His mouth found hers as though it was the easiest thing to do. Sasha chuckled against the kiss, her arms wounding around his neck, laughing at his bold, absurd act. But the laughter was soon gone as he pressed her against the wall. Their breathing turned heavy and needy, his hands seeking.

“Stop,” she said, pushing him away. “West, we are being ridiculous.”

“No, we are not. Everyone else is. Hern’s bloody game is never going to start because no one seems to understand it,” he murmured against her neck.

Sasha chuckled. “West, we must stop,” she said with a grunt, pushing hard. When he allowed a little space, she ducked under his arm and laughingly ran to the center of the empty room. “No, you stay away,” she said with warning, warding him off with one hand. “I have to find Ruby and Aaron.”

West sighed. “Very well.”

With a secret smile, Sasha left him, wondering if that was their last kiss.

If the storm would come to an end soon, so would their time in Humbrick.

---

Unfortunately for West, the bloody storm left as fast as it came.

Before everyone came down for the ballroom, the last drop of rain had fallen. Sasha, who had not even bothered to dress for the ball, was fast to find him. She was still in the same dress she was in that afternoon in the parlor, but this time she was wearing her lace mob cap and bonnet.

“Sasha, the roads may not be in the best condition at the moment,” he tried, but then he sighed when her eyes narrowed to slits. “Very well.” He looked around, thinking of another way to dissuade her.

“You may lend me your carriage if you cannot leave this place,” she said. “Ruby and Aaron are long gone.”

“Sasha—”

“Very well, I shall ask Jade if she can ask Trent to lend me his.” She whirled around and he followed.

“Go and have your things carried to the door. I will call for my carriage.”

“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder before lifting her head to continue her journey back to her chamber.

As West watched Darren load his trunks on the carriage, his mind drifted from one thought to another, all of whom of varying degrees of stupidity.

He was about to go home, his last trunk being strapped on to the carriage, and yet he was still thinking of ways to stay at Humbrick. And in the five years he had been attending this bloody party, he had never considered staying up to the last day. He always left on the third.

Sasha’s face appeared through the window. For a flashing second, something in him stirred at the sight of her in that carriage—his carriage.

Her brows raised, she silently sent him a message.

West sighed, looked up at the sky. It was still as bloody clear as it could ever get. Bounding down the stairs, he joined her inside the carriage.

“We are ready, my lord,” Darren said outside with a big smile.

West only nodded. His valet ran and joined the driver.

In no time, they were pulling away from Humbrick.

---

Sasha could not tell what was on his mind.

It seemed as if the West that she knew in Humbrick had decided to stay behind.

She was once again with the Duke of Eaton.

He had been staring at her for the good twenty minutes of their journey.

As Humbrick was not too far from Coulway—the main reason why many could afford to leave the vibrant scene of the season for a week-long party—Sasha began to feel the regret. Should she have stayed until the last day? With him?

Mentally shaking her head, Sasha knew she made the right decision.

She had managed to make him kiss her—multiple times. And that spoke volumes. He desired her. And that desire did not just stem at Humbrick. It had always been there. They had both felt and suffered through it in Coulway.

She just needed to figure out how she could bring back what they started in Humbrick.

She could not fail now.

The silence between them was starting to get uncomfortable that Sasha hoped she had not packed her book with her gowns. She looked out the window, at the wet and fresh scene that passed which was passing too fast in her opinion.

“I plan to go back to Belcourt and look at more records,” she said.

One thick eyebrow lifted. “And the report on Willoghby?”

Sasha blinked away from his gaze. “That will also be delivered.”

With nothing else to say that might at least extract a longer sentence from him, Sasha bit her lip and focused on the view outside. Her fingers fiddled with the lace of her gown.

“Sasha.” Hearing him say her name was no longer a strange thing, but the tone he used when he said it brought forth a wave of tingling sensation throughout her limbs, to the tip of her fingers and toes.

Sasha turned and found him looking at her. Sasha gulped. She knew that look.

He extended his arm, palm up. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand.

With a sigh of impatience, he leaned toward her and grabbed her hand. In one fluid motion, Sasha found herself on his lap.

“Kissing is not against the agreement,” he whispered, adjusting her position so she straddled him, the skirts of her gown a big pile between them. He pulled at the ribbon of her bonnet and let go, letting it fall freely on the floor. “This carriage is enough for that,” his low voice said before his hand came to rest at her nape, pulling her face down to meet his kiss.

Suddenly, they were back in Humbrick.

The intense heat consumed them, the same heady desire burning them to move. She could not get enough of him. Could she ever?

His hands went under her skirts, faster and smoother than the last. As if they had practiced the same motion hundreds of times before. He slid down the seat so she could snuggle fit against him.

But that was just as far as they could go.

Despite the wanting, the ever relentless reminder of their limitation hovered above them, stopping them.

Yet that did not stop Sasha from taking what she could. She ground her hips, loving the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat, swallowing his breath into her mouth, tasting him as he unbuttoned her dress from behind, popping three buttons from the top, allowing her sleeves to slide down her arm.

And suddenly, his head dipped down and Sasha let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure.

How in the bloody hell—

The bastard managed to expose her breast and was now—

Good lord, he was doing—what was he doing?

Sasha found herself caring less.

It felt sinfully wonderful and exciting.

Her fingers raked his hair, her hot breath escaping her parted lips, brushing against his curls.

“West, this is insane,” she whimpered, moving her hips against his groin, the rough fabric of his trouser grazing her skin at the right places, making her want to feel more. Just a little more painful, just enough to… bloody hell, she was not even sure what more she was searching for.

“We have to return to Humbrick,” he whispered against her breast. The hairs on the surface of her skin stood to their ends as his breath washed over her damp skin, cooling it.

She shook her head. “I have to return…” Sasha buried her face in his neck as his fingers searched amidst the flurry of fabric and his mouth covered the tip of her breast.

Sasha could feel it happening again. The journey to the peak that she would never reach because he would stop. And he did.

Like that night at the library in Humbrick, Sasha felt the hungry need for more. But she was too embarrassed to demand it. For how could she?

She signed an agreement.

She pulled his head back from her breast. She dipped her head to claim his mouth with hers, shuddering with unspent pleasure.

It was the furthest they could go.

---

By the time they reached Coulway, night had fallen and Sasha was back in her seat across from him.

Her bonnet back on top of her head, her dress properly fixed. Apart from the missing top button of her dress, she was looking rather presentable.

And West was looking like the Duke of Eaton once again.

The rain had started just as they were driving down to her villa.

She looked out into the darkness and at the lit windows of her home. She was far from relieved as she was not yet certain of Iyana and Briana were indeed home.

“Thank you,” Sasha said to West when the carriage came to a stop outside her doors. She tried to smile, but he was making it difficult.

He was back to his duke- ish mien.

The bloody bastard. He just ravished her in the same carriage and now he was looking at her as if she was a particle in the air.

West nodded in acknowledgment as Darren opened the door for her.

“Very well, good night,” she said before she climbed out of the carriage. “Thank you, Darren. You may leave my trunks outside. My maid will collect it,” she added to the valet as she rushed up the stairs, just in time for the door to open to reveal Iyana. “Thank goodness you are safe,” she said to her maid, hugging the woman. “And Briana? Why have you not sent me a note!”

“We are fine, my lady! We sent a note. It must have been delayed. You know how the post can be during this time of year. Rush inside, my lady! It is pouring!”

Sasha looked over her shoulder. The carriage was still there as Darren and the driver were still unloading her trunks in haste. And West was hidden inside.

She sighed and entered the door, brushing droplets of rain off her dress, all the while thinking about how she could get a consistent West from Humbrick in the days to come.

---

Hours later, Sasha was drinking her tea in the parlor as the rain continued to pour heavily outside.

Iyana and the others had long retired upon her insistence. She needed a little quiet alone with her book.

But she found she could not focus as the events in Humbrick came back to her. She turned to look out the window. Fear was fast to attack her, enveloping her like an icy cold blanket.

Willoghby, that bastard.

She had never felt such immense fear before. Not for fifteen years.

And that bloody pig just had to remind her of what it felt like to be utterly alone and helpless. Sasha closed her eyes to keep the memory of Willoghby dragging her into that garden, only to open them again when his voice echoed in her head, saying, “Be a good girl…”

Sasha jumped in her seat at the sound of the knocking on the door. She stiffened, suddenly alert.

She was no longer in Humbrick. She was no longer protected by the hundreds of people that constantly surrounded her. West was not here. So were her friends.

Her servants might take a few minutes to get to her. And there was no assurance that they may be of help.

She flinched hearing the brass knocker pounding outside three more times.

Looking around, Sasha stood and grabbed the fire iron by the fireplace.

Her knuckles white as she grasped her only weapon tightly, Sasha felt her legs shake as she stealthily made her way to the front door.

She jumped when three more knocks came.

Her back pressed to the wall, she inched her way to the window and peeked.

Then she frowned, her fear suddenly replaced by pure bewilderment.

Her shoulders dropped, relaxed.

Three more impatient knocks.

Sasha unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Suddenly, the strong wind greeted her, carrying with it fine droplets of rain. “What in the world are you doing here?” she demanded, scowling at West who was drenched from head to foot.

XXIV | Stormy Concession

His gaze was intense under his bowler hat that was dripping with rainwater. The rain raged on and the thunder rumbled above them, illuminating the dark clouds.

Sasha’s mouth was slightly parted in disbelief and her brows fused in confusion.

Finally, he moved, taking a step through the doorway and into the tiny hall. His footprints darkened the carpet. Sasha lay stupefied by the door as he shook off his coat and hung it on the rack behind him. His bowler hat followed.

Sasha blinked, trying to make herself believe that she was not seeing an apparition.

West raked his fingers through his damp hair and finally went still, looking at her. His white long shirt was slightly damp with parts clinging to his chest and shoulders. He pulled at his cravat. Why was he taking off his cravat? Surely, he was not intending to stay long? The cravat joined his coat.

“Why are you here, West?” Sasha asked, finding her voice.

He went to the open door and closed it, the sound distinct, almost unnerving. He turned the lock and faced her. “Willoghby may come back.”

“What?”

Whirling around, he walked down the hall and into the parlor. Sasha jumped to her feet and followed, the frown on her face deeper. “That is preposterous.” She saw him pick up the book she had been reading, leafed through the pages, snapped it close, and threw it on the settee. He walked to the window and looked out. “My report against Willoghby must have reached Belcourt by now,” she lied. “He should be facing the consequences of his actions soon.”

West turned to face her. His gaze cruised her entire form, from head to foot and back up to her eyes. Then he blinked. “Do you have tea? Can you offer some?”

Sasha blinked, lost for words. She looked around her as if someone else was there to help her. “I will… I will brew some for you.”

He did not follow her when she went to the kitchen to make the tea. She did not find it necessary to wake any of the servants for the task because she needed the time to clear the confusion and think.

Why was he here?

They had parted merely hours ago. What could have happened?

Willoghby? Was he that concerned?

Sasha was biting down on one nail when the kettle whistled. She jumped in alarm.

A few minutes later, she was back in the parlor with a tray of fresh tea and some biscuits.

He was standing in front of the window, looking out, his hands in his pockets. At the sound of the tray being laid on the table, he closed the curtains and turned.

He watched as she poured him a cup. His hands brushed against hers as he received it. Sasha went to the fireplace to poke the fire, but then she realized she had left the fire iron in the hall. She fetched it with hurried steps, came back to the parlor, and proceeded with her task.

The silence between them was unnerving, giving Sasha more time than necessary to come up with any possible reasons why he was here. Done with the fire, she turned and looked at him. He was still standing, his tea on the table.

“Why are you really here, West?”

Again, he just looked at her, his light blue eyes almost searching, yet also a veiled expression of intent.

Sasha found herself holding her breath as he took in a lungful of air. Raking his fingers through brown waves, he exhaled long and slow.

Finally, he bent down on the table, his hand planted on a piece of paper that she never realized was there. He slid it across the wooden surface toward her before he straightened.

Sasha walked over to the winged chair, sat down, and picked up the paper, her hands slightly shaking, her heart picking up speed inside her chest.

She frowned down at it.

“I am here to present a new contract,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for them both.

Sasha blinked, reading the first line. “I can see it is a contract.”

“I ordered the previous one be changed.”

Her eyes shot straight toward him, her face crumpling with immense curiosity. “I do not understand.”

Ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed. “You would if you start reading.”

Giving him a stingy look, she lowered her gaze and started reading. Sasha blinked, her frown deepening. “It is still the same as I remember—”

Finally, she saw it. Or she did not see it. Her heart stopped and her breath caught in her throat. She felt the familiar rush of thrill over her body, creeping and prickling her skin in their wake. Her gasp escaped as a long, soft sigh.

A nervous laugh escaped her throat. Blinking up at him, she started to say, “You must be jesting—” but the look in his eyes immediately contradicted her statement. Sasha swallowed.

“I am utterly serious, Sasha,” he said. The cords in his neck were visible. His hands were in fists, hidden in his pockets. Good Lord, he was tensed! West Blackwood, Duke of Eaton, was tensed!

Sasha scoffed, still in disbelief. She looked down at the paper, then back at him. “West, I do not see the ‘no sexual relation’ passage I should be seeing.”

“Do not question my agreement, Sasha. I was the one who had it drafted hours ago.”

Her breath hitched. How many times could this man leave her breathless in a day?

“And do not ask why,” he said before she could open her mouth to ask just that. “It would be a very dumb question.”

Sasha nodded, convinced that he was not playing. Moistening her lips, she said, “West, you were insistent—”

“Can a man not change his mind?”

“But should you not think about this first for a day or two? A week?”

“I do not have a day, Sasha.” He was almost growling as he said it.

Sasha let out a shaky breath. Blood was rushing in her veins in a not so very healthy way and she closed her eyes as she felt a shudder. Composing herself, Sasha opened her eyes and met his gaze, fixing him with a serious, intent look. “We are no longer in Humbrick, West.”

He let a few seconds pass by, just staring deep into her eyes. “I know.”

Sasha nodded and looked down at the paper.

Then she stood up and walked out of the parlor.

---

West’s mouth dropped open as he gawked at the empty doorway.

Then he scoffed in disbelief.

Blinking, he looked around the room as though he was expecting an audience. Did she just leave him alone in the parlor?

Did she realize the struggle he had to go through just to be here tonight? Just to deliver that bloody paper?

He walked up to his attorney’s home in the rain and demanded for a new agreement be drafted that very moment. He waited hours for the man to finish and stamp his name on the document.

Then he spent one more hour pacing around his villa.

And when he finally made up his mind, he rushed to his carriage with the storm raging on, as if the heavens were condemning him, rallying against his decision.

He still went, knocked on her door, soaking wet.

He gathered the audacity to present the document.

She laughed at him and left him alone in the parlor with naught but tea and biscuits and a weak fire kindling in the fireplace.

“Sasha,” he called, starting for the door. “I did not suffer that carriage ride and the days in Humbrick just to be dismissed in—”

She suddenly appeared in the doorway with a pen in her hand, her face utterly serious and beautiful to the core.

Frozen in his spot, West’s eyes went back to the pen in her hand.

“You do not blame me for this,” she said, voice clear and strong.

His gaze came back to meet hers. He nodded.

Sasha held his eyes with scrutiny.

He nearly flinched when she moved and stiffly walked back to the winged chair.

He made a slow turn, letting out a shaky breath as she bent over and planted the tip of her pen on the paper.

His heartbeat stopped, his breath suspended. His jaw clenched tight.

It was as though a giant foot had been pressing down on him, but when her hand began to move and he saw the black strokes on the paper, West felt the weight lifted off him, giving him back his breath; offering back the light in the parlor, the warmth of the fire.

---

Sasha had to carefully write her name because her hand was shaking.

She could feel it. The anticipation prickling her senses.

The room was quiet save for the crackling of the dying fire in the fireplace. She should feel cold, but she was not. No, far from that. As ink flowed out of the tip of her pen, her mind rushed to what would come next and the power she was about to give him.

From the very first time they kissed, Sasha had been an open student. Always curious, always willing. Never afraid. She allowed him to show her the promises of pleasure with no inhibition for she knew their limitations. They could never go far in Humbrick and they never did. She took comfort in that.

Now, she could not tell. There were numerous reasons why she should not be doing this. She was becoming one of the Belles and she never intended to do that. This was supposed to be temporary, a means to a return home.

Yet the woman in her was demanding for this. The selfish part of her was screaming for more than just stolen kisses.

When she saw him outside in the rain earlier, Sasha had to admit that she saw this coming. The silent conversation their eyes had was enough to suggest that this was bound to happen.

He was doing this because he was man enough to admit that he was a man.

And she was a woman.

The moment her pen stopped, before she could place it on the table, West was on her side, pulling her from the chair to meet his hungry kiss.

The pen dropped and bounded on the carpet. They would later leave a stain, but that was no longer Sasha’s concern. She closed her eyes from what little remained of her inhibitions and sighed with relief, one so great she did not expect it.

A sound that was a groan and a growl rolled out West’s throat as he pulled her toward him. She felt his jagged breathing on her face, his fingers through her hair, his hand on her hips restless, clutching at her dress.

He broke off from the kiss, swallowed hard, breathless. “Take me to bed.” One would believe he was begging. Probably he was because Sasha felt it too. The need, the devastation… the madness.

Her hands shaking, Sasha found his hand behind her and pulled him out of the parlor. They stopped once at the bottom of the stairs, twice in the middle, and once more in the dark corridor for a searing, searching kiss. A prelude to something colossal, something Sasha may later regret, but one she knew would forever change her.

Would it be magical as the romance novels claimed?

Would it be scientific? Anatomical?

Iyana had left a candle burning on the table beside her bed. The window was left open, allowing a gush of cold wind inside her chamber when they entered.

He kicked the door, shutting it close. The lock clicked in place. She watched him take the three steps to the window and shut it close, muffling out the angry roars of thunder and rain.

They were cooking a different storm. A perilous one.

“For the record,” he said, voice low and gentle… thrilling, “you signed your name?”

Sasha nodded, a pin falling off from her hair.

West reached her but did not touch her.

Her tongue stuck out to moisten her lips as her eyes flickered with annoyance. “If you are planning to play teasing, West, I should remind you that we have had enough of that to last us a lifetime.”

The smile that stretched his lips almost made her cry. It was a rare gem, that smile.

Lifting his hands, he plucked out the rest of the pins that dangled in her hair, dropping them to the floor one by one.

“You are feigning patience,” she impatiently bit out. A voice in her head scolded her. Why was she rushing? She knew the answer.

She did not want the fear to find time to creep in.

He nuzzled her nose, brushing her cheek with his smiling lips.

“And you are not even talking.”

“Have a heart, Sasha, I am speechless,” he said in a teasing tone, his mouth against her lips. “And I am not feigning patience.”

“Then you must be feeling sleepy.”

“I am giving you time for retreat.”

Sasha opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly froze. He looked at her with alarm. “I was merely jesting, Sasha—”

“West, the agreement!” she hissed.

He was suddenly running toward the door and Sasha heard his footsteps down the stairs. She hastily brushed her hair with her fingers, collecting herself.

When he returned, he was breathless. She sighed with relief seeing the paper in his hand. He folded it and slipped it in the pocket of his trouser, eyes on her, turning dark. The teasing had just ended, Sasha thought as he closed the door and locked it.

He came for her next, his arm wounding around her waist, slamming her against his length, and at the same time, his mouth lunged for hers to dance and taste with hers.

The West from Humbrick was kissing her, hungry and rough, bold, and shameless.

With a sharp breath, West easily pulled the ribbon that held her pelisse in place around her waist. He cursed under his breath as he worked at the buttons and Sasha heard more when he tried to pull the fabric off her arms.

“What has your maid been trying to do, woman? Wrap you as a present?” he asked as he tugged once more. Sasha laughed. “You are not helping.”

She bit her lip and gracefully managed to free her arm of the long sleeve. The first layer of clothing now on the floor, West glared at the remaining ones.

“You’re wearing stays in the evening,” he dryly said, pulling her toward him, his hands roughly pulling at the strings behind her. “I am not trying to be funny,” he warned, biting her lower lip when she chuckled. Another long, consuming kiss postponed the removal of the stays. When she was finally free of it, Sasha started to feel the panic in her throat.

She was almost naked now.

His mouth traveled down her throat, kissing the high collars of her chemisette. One tug and the fabric fluttered to the floor. Sasha’s chest heaved as his hands went to her chemise. “At the very least you are not wearing a bloody petticoat.”

Sasha bit her lip, waiting in anticipation.

West groaned as his hands glided up and down the side of her, pushing her chemise higher up her thighs. “Sasha, you’re not wearing drawers.”

She shook her head as his hands slid underneath the chemise, flesh meeting flesh. It was when his hands rested on her hips did she realize she was not the only one shaking. His hands were barely touching her, shaking as they went higher, the fabric of her chemise collected around his wrist. Higher and higher, his breath shaking, her breath held.

The very moment she was bared to him, Sasha felt tears at the back of her eyes. He did it so gently and with pure patience that her fear of shame never materialized.

Before her senses pulled her back to reality, Sasha was scooped off the ground and carried to bed, laid down there with ease that opposed the rough kisses that followed when he crouched on top of her, a tiger claiming his kill.

Sasha was unaware of how or when at the point of all of it did West manage to discard himself of his clothes and boots. Was it when he knelt on the bed, his eyes looking down on her sprawled over the covers as if he took delight at the sight of her? Was it when he bent down to kiss her slow, then hard? While he trailed kisses on her throat, her shoulder, the side of her breast, her hips?

Sasha could never tell what happened after or before anything for her mind could barely comprehend the thousands of sensations. She was nowhere near the speculative state, much more so when he settled between her legs. His mouth lavished her breasts, her neck; worshiped her mouth, devouring her soul, intoxicating her with the feel of his skin against her, of his hands on her hips.

Her thoughts staggered at the incoherent words he rasped in her ear. His hands were everywhere, caressing, kneading, molding her for something that was yet to come. Fire, all-consuming fire.

But the pain. Good Lord, the pain was undeniable. It robbed her of everything else they had built up thus far, pulling her back to reality, to the logic that she was hurting, her brain telling her that no, it was not pleasure—it was utter, true pain.

Having anticipated it, knowing it would come, was not enough. Her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, the pain so far from subsiding.

An unstoppable cry escaped her lips.

Above her, West was unmoving. Her eyes fluttered open and found him stunned above her.

Sasha swallowed, her nostrils flared. “You cannot blame this on me,” she reminded him.

His lips parted then closed and his jaw clenched. A shaky breath escaped him as he moved his hand to rest on her hips. They were shaking. “Bloody tarnation, Sasha—how—how is it—you’re a virgin.”

“ Were ,“ she corrected.

A flash of anger crossed his eyes. “Now is not the time to be smart.”

Sasha closed her eyes, assessing the pain. Then she groaned. “I did not imagine it to be this painful, really.”

Suddenly, his head was beside hers. He had not moved, his hips stuck between his legs. She cautiously planted her hand on his back and he flinched.

“Do not touch me yet, Sasha. I might finish off and you will regret it.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions and let me think.” His breath was hot against her neck as he buried his face against it with a long groan of suffering. It was apparent she was not the only one in pain.

“Why do you need time to think?”

“I have never lain with a virgin.”

“Then it is a comfort to know this is the first time for us both.”

Another long groan and then his shoulders began to shake. Sasha frowned, realizing he was laughing. “Are you going insane?”

Pushing back, he hovered above her, his eyes glimmering with laughter. “You are not helping.”

She squirmed beneath him and he held her still with one hand, his eyes in near panic. “Stop moving. You will be hurting yourself.”

She glared up at him. “I believe it is I who can tell if I am hurting.”

He blinked down at her as she tried to move her hips again, gaze filled with anticipation. “Well?”

She grimaced, bending one knee. Then she froze. “Goodness. It’s painful, West. What should we do? Perhaps we are doing this wrong?”

“I believe it is I who can tell if we are doing this wrong,” he said, copying her words. “Perhaps you need a little more time.”

“No! I can—Why are you laughing?”

“I do not mean we should postpone tonight, darling. I do not think I can be that patient.”

She sighed, trying to move. Then she grimaced.

“Do not push it,” he whispered gently, picking a damp strand of hair from her forehead. He cupped her face and planted a kiss on her mouth. “We can wait a little while.”

Sasha was doubtful. Perhaps they should postpone. But his mouth was doing something to her. He kissed her gently, nipped at her lip, grazed his teeth against her chin, sucked at the pulse on her neck, licked at the hollow of her collarbone until it settled and closed over her breast and she moaned, the numbness turning into a needy throb. Her fingers dug his waist, her hips lifting.

The pain was still there, but so was him—his mouth, his hands… him, West. She was being worshipped patiently. She was turning pliant and weak again, the pain degraded to mere discomfort, no longer a distraction.

She whimpered in protest when his mouth left one breast, then sighed when he paid the other attention. Then she whimpered, fighting with herself. Wanting his mouth against her but hating the thought of him stopping. She strained beneath him, turning restless with need.

She choked on words that demanded and begged.

And when he began to move slowly, the hunger intensified. She had a goal here, but what was it? She had a destination, but where? Where was he taking her?

He was the teacher. He guided her through it all with his hands, whispering words of encouragement.

Sasha wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her whimpers and his heaving breath were the constant echoes in the room. She sighed his name as much as he groaned hers. Words to a broken song.

Then she was there. In a powerful plunge, she was there, seeing the stars beyond the storm. Soon, he joined her, dropping on top of her with a shudder.

Rolling to his side, West scooped her to face him and claimed her mouth, lazily as if waking up after a good slumber, but insistent and hungry enough to give a glimpse of an erotic dream.

“I will never blame that on you,” he said, biting her lower lip. His hand ran up and down her hip. “Are you all right, darling?”

Sasha nodded, smiling lazily. “Do you suppose I’d be sore on the morrow?”

He groaned. “Yes.”

“Then can we do it again?” she asked. “I’d hate to sore for just that one, West.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a good hearty one. Then he was laughing against her mouth. “No, Sasha, we cannot.”

“We cannot?”

“I would need a bit more time, I am afraid,” he said.

Sasha’s eyes fluttered downward between them. “Oh.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest and she planted her palm over it, feeling the vibration.

“But we can do something while we wait,” he said, pushing her on her back.

“We can?”

With a wicked grin, West tucked her hair behind her ears. “But you cannot scream.”

Sasha frowned. “Why?” she anxiously asked.

He just smiled at her before he bent his head and kissed the valley between her breasts while his hands kneaded. Sasha bit her lips as he traveled lower.

“West…” It was meant to be a question. It came out as a plea as his hands opened her legs wider and his mouth cruised even lower.

That night, Sasha screamed twice.

---

“Then how could it be that you are a Belle for this long and still be a bloody virgin?” he asked that morning while he watched her take a warm bath.

“Not all Belles whore themselves the conventional way,” she said with a chuckle.

But he was not laughing along with her. He was scowling. “Not quite funny.”

Sasha sighed. “Let us simply say that I never found any interest in such activity.”

West frowned. “Now that makes me wonder what kind of flowers you have been getting. Bloody incompetent stones.”

She laughed and he smiled. She was glowing today. The storm from last night had cleared the sky and it was now shining a radiant light on her skin through the small opening of the curtains, the little he would allow.

Her face turned serious. “Not all gentlemen are after activities in bed, West.”

“If you told me that before last night, I would never agree. But perhaps you are telling the truth.”

She chuckled. “Men like you may never understand that there are some in your species that have other needs.”

“Such as?”

She shrugged. “Companionship? Friendship?”

“Ones you can easily find outside of Belcourt.”

“But ones that are rarely true.”

He was about to say something more but chose not to. He stood and walked over to where she was, grabbing the towel cloth along the way. “Get out of there before you fall ill. The water had turned cold.”

Sasha stood and he wrapped the towel around her, trapping her in an embrace. He planted a kiss on her lips before he stepped back and used the towel to rumple her hair dry. She struggled with him for a while, laughingly slapping his arm away until he stopped and wrapped her with the towel. He guided Sasha out of the tub and pulled her close.

“Your clothes will be damp,” she warned against his mouth.

“I care less.” He whispered back. “Are you sore?”

“A little.”

“The truth, Sasha.”

She smiled into the kiss. “Yes.”

He groaned.

“You are starting to hate virgins, are you?”

He growled against her neck. “No, but I am starting to hate that you are indeed funny.”

“And it is a bad thing?”

Stealing another kiss, West sighed. “Precisely, Sasha. It is not a bad thing indeed. Bloody hell, you taste better.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just found an answer to a question.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Questions?”

He kissed her again. “Hundreds.”

XXV | Friends for Foes

Three days later, Sasha was ordered back to Belcourt.

She immediately went, her mind rushing to different possibilities. Did they suspect her unusual visit to the Library? Had Gabrielle done something? Had and she West been careless? Did any of her servants in the villa hear something? Noticed something?

When the carriage arrived in the Court of Flowers, Sasha jumped out before Briana could even open the door. With quick steps, she navigated down the halls of the court until she reached Lady Mariam’s study.

With a knock and a quick response from the woman, Sasha entered the room, hoping to appear as calm and collected.

“Have a seat, Sasha,” Lady Mariam ordered from behind her chair.

Sasha moistened her lips and settled across the woman, her back straight and shoulders held back.

Lady Mariam’s face was impassive, but her blue eyes were anchored on her with scrutiny. She clasped her hands together and said, “Sasha, why have you not reported Daniel Willoghby?”

Sasha went cold, suddenly robbed of words. Shivers ran up her spine as Willoghby’s words echoed in her ears.

Be a good girl…

Lady Mariam looked at her and sighed, looking like she was facing a helpless case. “I had to find out through Ruby. She came by yesterday to inquire if Belcourt had started its inquiry on Willoghby.” When Sasha remained mum, Lady Mariam shook her head. “Do you have any inkling about how I must have felt, Sasha? One of the ladies was harassed under my nose and I was blind to it. What would the other Mistresses think, Sasha? Hmm? And of the Maidens? Of the High Priestess? I took the honor of being a Mistress because I found it my duty to provide my ladies the best. I do not expect deceit or the lack of truth. And I do not expect any of my ladies to do something so irresponsible they are putting their fellow Belles at risk.”

Sasha swallowed and bowed her head, deciding making excuses was not the best way to move forward at this point. “My apologies, my lady. I will make the report this very day.”

Lady Mariam stared at her. “You will not leave Belcourt until you hand your report to the Court of Libraries. You have no idea of the headache you are causing me at the moment, Sasha. And now Willoghby is nowhere to be seen. He has been elusive, and he is a master at it. The man is not the owner of the Sutherland Post and The Grimes for no reason.”

Sasha’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise.

“The bastard is not stupid. He knows what he did and is very aware of the consequences. But if you have sent us the report early, Sasha, he would be in our custody before he even had the chance to leave Humbrick. I would have sent for someone from the Court of Arms to get to him.”

Sasha felt the room spin around her. Someone from the Court of Arms was at Humbrick. Yet Lady Mariam was not aware of it.

“I have nothing more to say to you, Sasha, regarding this matter on Willoghby. You have been careless and irresponsible. I am aware that you are wise enough to understand the words I have left unspoken. I only hope that you do not keep anything else from me in the future. This is a warning, Sasha. I would hate for you to suffer a consequence should you do the same negligence. Belcourt rarely offers second chances.”

Sasha nodded, already aware that she was lying to her new Mistress all over again.

“And do you have any updates on West Blackwood?”

Sasha had to tell the woman something, so she said, “Our relationship has greatly improved since Humbrick. I expect it to bear fruit soon.”

For the first time, Lady Mariam’s eyes showed approval. “What kind of improvement are we talking about?”

Sasha’s face flushed.

The woman blinked and waved her hand dismissively. “I understand. It is expected that you please him in whatever way you can so he will be inclined to please you as well.”

“I hope to be invited to his estate soon.”

Lady Mariam nodded, “I am pleased that you are taking your mission rather seriously, Sasha. I only hope you begin to also think of your responsibilities to your fellow Belles. Ruby has been concerned about her safety and yours. I do hope you can feel the same.”

Sasha was mentally kicking herself long after she left Lady Mariam’s study.

How could she have been too stupid? Not once had she thought of Ruby. Not once had she feared for the woman’s safety. Why? Was she feeling so unattached to the Belles that it never occurred to her? Was she too proud that she had been unknowingly disconnecting herself from the Court of Flowers—from what the Belles were?

And to make her feel even worse, she met Aliya in the hall just as the lady was on her way to her waiting carriage outside.

“A moment, Sasha, would you please?”

Aliya took her to the garden and wasted no time. “I know why you are here.”

Sasha froze.

“You are once more the talk around the Flower Garden. Do you enjoy it, Sasha? The attention?”

She blinked, shaking her head.

“Then perhaps you ought to stop being selfish,” the Belle coldly said. “You deliberately neglected to report Willoghby when we know you should have. Why, Sasha? Did he threaten you?”

Sasha went cold.

Be a good girl…

Aliya must have seen the answer in her face for the woman continued, “Did he threaten to destroy your flower?” Sasha blinked, surprised. With a mocking, knowing smile, Aliya scoffed. “Did he threaten you with your flower? Did he say that he would ruin him if you did not cooperate? If you told Belcourt?” Aliya shook her head, a look of disappointment in her eyes. “Be careful, Sasha. Do not give everything to West Blackwood. Like Willoghby, he was willing to face unknown consequences to be a gentleman of Belcourt. You do not protect him. That is not your duty as a Belle. Do not go for to the point that you are also risking another Belle’s safety. Your gentleman will not be there to save you if you are stuck in a trap you have set for yourself.”

When Sasha merely bowed her head, Aliya sighed.

“You are far too young, Sasha. But that ought not to be enough reason for you to be so insensitive and foolish. You were from the Court of Libraries before you came here. I reckon you are wise enough.”

She was saying the same things Lady Mariam said to Sasha, but Sasha could not even summon herself to tell Aliya that for mayhap she needed to be told twice.

“And if you still cannot see yourself as a true Belle or a member of the Court of Flowers, Sasha, and if you still find it hard to accept that your life has changed because of it, I would not force you to develop great concern for the other Belles because it will come to you at the right moment. What I will ask of you, Sasha, is to think of the children in the Manor. Think of what will happen to them should Belcourt be at the point of instability because the adults who should be protecting them cannot be responsible enough.”

Aliya’s words remained with Sasha while she was finishing her report against Willoghby. The woman’s words rang in her head like a mantra even until she was back in Coulway and in Ruby’s villa.

Ruby’s face was as equally disappointed as Lady Mariam’s and Aliya’s. She waited for Sasha to speak, her tea untouched.

“Please, forgive me, Ruby,” was all she could start with. “I have been irresponsible.”

“You had me believe that you would report Daniel, Sasha. You lied to me.” The hurt in her friend’s voice was genuine. “Did he threaten you with West?”

Sasha had long figured out that what Willoghby did had never been unheard of in the Court of Flowers. She nodded.

Ruby sighed. “I should be angry at you, Sasha, but all I can summon to feel is disappointment. I would have done the same if he used Aaron against me. I, too, would think that Aaron would not deserve it for he is my truest friend.”

Sasha blinked. “Friend?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “It always has the same effect whenever I say that word. Yes, Aaron is a friend. Not all flowers are after one thing, you must know that.”

“Yes, but—”

A small smile curled at Ruby’s lips. “We do look terrific together, do we not?”

“And you seem to be—”

“Aaron became a gentleman because of a stupid wager with his equally stupid friends. We have been friends for years. That is our relationship and nothing else. He does not get jealous of the other gentlemen and he knows me too well to be a lover. He is the only truest man in my life. He does not see me as a woman who must whore herself to him, and I feel the same. We are each other’s glimmer of light in such a very hectic world.”

Sasha nodded in understanding, secretly still in disbelief. Who would have ever thought? One look at the pair and it was obvious. Or mayhap Sasha was only seeing things. Perhaps she misunderstood the stares Aaron gave Ruby. Or the way her friend would constantly look for his company. Maybe they were dependent on each other on a level Sasha was yet to understand.

“But Sasha, I still worry. Willoghby cannot be found. Do you have an inkling of the number of estates he owns all over Sutherland? He could be anywhere. I would not be surprised if he has other places to stay in Coulway and the thought drives me crazy at night.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, lowering her eyes.

“No, Sasha, I am not worried for myself. I am worried for you. Willoghby is a lunatic who only wants something from you, one he obviously does not find in me. He never used force whenever we were together. Not once, Sasha. I noticed the way he would look at you and he never looked at me the same way. Although there were claims he had been giving other Belles the same attention, nothing close to what he has done to you happened. But do you know the feeling you feel whenever you are facing evil? I have been feeling that ever since I met him, most particularly whenever his attention was focused on something he was obsessed with—may it be a story, a scandal, or another woman. If it is not for the secrets he can share with me, I would have long requested to be paired with another flower. But Willoghby can be useful to Belcourt. Oh, how I wish we insisted to Gabrielle that he be taken to Belcourt that very same night. And the woman ought to have done something.” Then Ruby shook her head, smiling. “No, it has already happened and all we can do is learn from it. Most particularly you, Sasha. This might not be the last time you will have to face this. Simply always remember that you are not alone. We Belles should protect each other at all costs.”

Leaning over to take her tea, Ruby said, “Let us talk about other things. You are already forgiven.”

Sasha pasted a grateful smile on her lips and taking the advantage to change the subject, she asked, “How did you know Gabrielle? From the Manor?”

Ruby rolled her eyes thoughtfully. “No, Gabrielle is often the person tasked to be the liaison for Belles on a mission. She delivers missions personally.”

“The missions?”

“Well, not all the time, of course. Little missions such as the one I received when I was asked to take you around Coulway—trivial ones. The most sensitive missions are always discussed with the Mistresses.”

Sasha frowned. “Gabrielle gave you the task to take me around Coulway?”

“Yes, she did. She specifically told me that you must be very anxious and told me to try to befriend you. She asked me to make you feel welcomed here in Coulway as it will be your first home as a Belle. I am sure Belcourt wanted you to feel at ease, thus they made certain I force myself into your new life,” Ruby explained, her cheerful and innocent demeanor now back.

But Sasha could not bring herself to agree with Ruby, her mind on Gabrielle, and the woman’s true motives.

XXVI | Belles Wheels

Sasha was roused from her sleep when she felt something moist and ticklish on her foot. Wriggling her toes, she buried her face deeper into the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent.

The tickling on her foot resumed and Sasha bent her leg with equal moan and growl.

The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back against his length. She felt his warm breath flow through her hair and shoulder, tickling her skin.

As she began to fall back into sleep, a heavy weight bounded on her hip. She blindly found Seven, patted his head until he calmed down and settled behind her, resting his chin on her hip while nestled somewhere between two pairs of legs tangled underneath the covers.

Seven whimpered and Sasha reached out to shush him again.

West’s arms pulled her closer, his lips pressing on her shoulder blades. Sasha smiled against the pillow, transferring her hand to his cheek and resting there as sleep began to settle in once more.

Warm hand cupped her breasts. She squirmed in half-protest and pleasure. “Will no one allow me to sleep for an extra hour?” she groggily complained.

She felt his smile against her neck.

His hand traced her waist and her hip, circling around to the inside of her thigh. Requiring not much effort from him, Sasha allowed him to lift her leg as he eased to claim her, awakening her senses.

She could feel her cheek turn crimson as a stream of heat ran through her veins, igniting her sleepy limbs.

His lovemaking was slow, so different from last night when he took her to the villa and claimed her against the door of his bedchamber, impatiently insatiable. She never complained for she welcomed it, reveled at it.

The Sasha from the Court of Libraries may have never imagined that she would ever find pleasure in an activity where slight pain was involved—a tease of a bite, a little bit of roughness. Sasha the Librarian would have fainted in fear that she was going insane, that her mind was consumed by the devil.

The Sasha from the Court of Flowers could now say that lovemaking was not a sin at all. It was not obscene or filthy, rather it could be so gentle as this one and unrefined and raw as last night and still be magical. It was anything two consenting lovers wanted it to be. If it was the work of the devil, then Sasha’s soul would already be burning in hell for making love with West Blackwood was deliriously and sinfully glorious.

Their once quiet and sleepy breathing was turning into quick, shallow pants as their body moved in a dance under the covers. Sasha arched her back, reaching for his hips as he quickened his pace. Seven bounded on top of them and they both gently pushed the dog away, directing him to the foot of the bed to patiently wait.

Sasha muffled her screams in the pillow, her other hand clutching hard at the bedcovers beneath it.

When it was finally over and they lay panting, slick and sated, Seven returned to lick on Sasha’s face. West blocked the dog’s face with his palm and pushed Sasha on her back so he could hang his head over her and kiss her lips. “It’s morning,” he greeted, biting her lip.

Sasha kissed him soundlessly and stretched. His eyes traveled to her exposed breast, kissed it, and lazily dropping beside her. He rolled to his side, kissing her shoulder. Sasha bent her head planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. “You should wash your face.”

He laughed and left the bed, shamelessly naked. He pulled her out with a tug and playfully took her to the washstand where they gargled and drank water, the task taking too long as their hands tried to distract each other. Once, Sasha sputtered water on the floor when his arm suddenly caught her from behind and lifted her away from the washbasin so he could resume to washing his face.

Seven readily bounded to Sasha, jumping up and barking to gain her attention.

“Just take him home with you,” West commented as he wiped his face dry, watching Seven sit beside Sasha’s feet while she splashed water on her face. “Seven,” he called, but the dog ignored him, his large, round eyes staring at Sasha. “Seven.” Still no answer, West dropped the washcloth over the dog’s face, blocking its eyesight.

Seven struggled, circling around the same spot with the towel over him. “What are you doing!” Sasha exclaimed, bending down to rescue the dog. She snatched the cloth and slapped it on his arm, Seven growling at West beside Sasha’s right leg.

“Should I call Darren so he could sit beside your left leg and bark at me?” he asked, eliciting a loud laugh from Sasha.

He smiled, pulling her against him, both completely naked in the middle of his bedchamber with the daylight streaming through the windows. He kissed her, but before it deepened, Sasha ducked under and rushed to the bed. She wrapped the cover around her and walked to the window, her hair a mess of waves as she looked out to check the streets. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked. “I am to meet Ruby and Jade for tea this afternoon.”

When she heard no reply, Sasha turned. Her brows pulled up in an arch when she found him just staring at her, his face classically blank but his eyes curious. “What do you call them? The little particles in the air,” he asked, motioning with his head.

Sasha looked about and saw what he meant. The specks of dust that would have otherwise been unnoticed were now visible, floating within the ray of sunlight that streamed through the open window. Her gaze retraced its path back to him and she smiled, then shrugged. “I do not know. That is a rather good question.”

“Dust lights, I would say,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They are dust,” she wryly said.

“Floating and glowing around you. I call it magic.” He grinned. “You are a painting.”

Sasha’s face flushed.

“Don’t go. Stay here,” he said, his gaze cruising her figure by the window. Sasha imagined the entire day with him. They would never leave this chamber, she knew that. The heat she felt was probably from both the sunlight and him. But who could ever tell, really?

But Sasha shook her head. “I have to go home, West. And I have to find your sister,” she said, knowing it would break the magic.

It did.

He said nothing further.

---

After breaking fast, he accompanied her back to her villa.

She stopped herself from telling him no when he climbed out and helped her down, avoiding any argument. They had not had any since that night during the storm. She would hate to have one now simply because she was reminding him of his own rules.

“Sasha! Oh, Sasha!” Mrs. Compton’s voice called from her doorsteps.

Sasha nearly panicked, frozen in place. She wished West would leave now. Mrs. Compton was old and her eyesight may not be working well at the moment. There was still a fair chance that the woman did not see him.

But the gentleman standing beside Mrs. Compton was young enough to recognize West. “Your Grace,” the tall man said, leaving Mrs. Compton’s side to rush to West. “Baron Owen Compton,” he introduced with a bow.

West just nodded, eyeing the man with a blank expression.

The man turned to Sasha just as Mrs. Compton reached them. “Sasha, dear, I have been hoping to see you. See, my son has come by for a visit.” Mrs. Compton held Owen Compton’s arm and tugged. “Son, this is the lady I have been telling you about.”

The baron smiled at Sasha, his blue eyes glistening with interest and recognition. “Of course. You had no name come out of your mouth other than Sasha, Mother.” He turned to Sasha and bowed. “I am very pleased to finally meet you, Lady Sasha.”

Sasha threw West a look. He was looking grim, his brows fused together. “And the pleasure is the same, my lord.”

“Please, Lady Sasha, I prefer Owen.”

Sasha felt West’s hand behind her back. “I would rather call you however I am comfortable with, my lord .”

Mrs. Compton was smiling at her and her son. “Would you wish to join us for luncheon, dear? I made your favorite.”

Sasha saw the glimmer of hope in Mrs. Compton’s eyes and she sighed. “Very well, I shall join you.”

It was then that Mrs. Compton saw West and her eyes widened. “The Duke of Eaton!”

Sasha blinked, biting her lips to hold her laughter.

“Goodness! How long have you been standing there!”

Sasha cleared her throat, hiding her smile by turning to West and said, “Mrs. Compton, I have missed to introduce you—”

“West Blackwood,” West interjected, taking Mrs. Compton’s hand for a light kiss. “Mrs. Compton, yes?”

The old woman nodded, love in her eyes as she smiled at West. “Sasha, dear, I was not aware you know this dashing young man.”

Sasha laughed with the baron. “He is a… dear friend, Mrs. Compton. Just recently we met at a ball. He found me walking this morning in the park and offered to take me home.”

West’s hand returned to the small of her back. He did not like the lie.

“He was about to go on his way, were you not, Your Grace?”

West’s gaze dipped down at her. “Yes,” he said through his teeth.

Sasha then turned to Mrs. Compton and her son. “I will see you for luncheon.” She curtsied and stepped back. “Have a lovely morning!”

Sasha whirled around and ran up the steps of her villa. Iyana was already waiting for her by the door, looking not so pleased.

“This is the second night you have been spending the night in his villa, my lady.”

“Yes, Iyana,” Sasha said, looking out the window to find West’s carriage driving away and Mrs. Compton being guided back into her villa by her son. She turned to Iyana and smiled. “I have a full day today, Iyana. I would rather not hear your sentiments.” She ran up the stairs. “I already broke fast! And I will have luncheon with the Comptons!”

---

Sasha arrived at Mrs. Compton’s doorsteps later that afternoon in a simple dress. Since morning, the sky had not shown any sign of rain, indicating an entirely good day.

The maid allowed her entry and guided her to the parlor. Sasha walked inside, expecting Mrs. Compton, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw the baron alone inside.

“Lady Sasha,” he said, standing up from his seat. “Please, have a seat.”

Sasha smiled, taking the seat across from him. “Is Mrs. Compton all right, my lord?”

He blinked. “Of course. She will be down in a few minutes.”

Tea was delivered and served. Sasha shifted in her seat ever so slightly, growing uncomfortable.

The baron, although quite young, reminded her of Willoghby. His face was pleasant, his smile rather shy, but the look in his blue eyes as he eyed her did not settle well with Sasha. She decided that if Mrs. Compton will not be joining them any time soon, she would change her mind about the luncheon.

“I hope Coulway is treating you well, Lady Sasha.”

Sasha smiled and nodded. “Very well, my lord.”

Owen Compton leaned against his seat. “I believe my mother has given you details about me.”

“She did.”

“She told you I am a member of the House of Commons?”

She nodded. “She is very proud of you.”

His eyes went to her feet. Sasha pulled her feet under the skirts of her dress and cleared her throat, feigning interest at the painting on the wall.

“She also told me you are from Belcourt.”

The shiver that ran up her spine was also familiar. It was the same chill she would get around Willoghby. “Yes, I am.”

“And the Duke of Eaton is your gentleman, is he not?”

Sasha stiffened. Then she forced a smile. “I am not in liberty to divulge any information about Belcourt or the duke, my lord. I would hate for his name be spoken with mine.” She added the last sentence with a little more weight.

The baron chuckled. “You can be at ease, Lady Sasha. I am not one to gossip.” He crossed his leg over the other. “I wonder how much he has to pay to be your… friend .”

By this time, Sasha was no longer smiling, neither was she trying to fake it. “The duke is not—”

“I can pay for you as well, you know. I would hate to be a part of Belcourt, but I would love to also be your friend , Lady Sasha. In fact, I could give you whatever I would have to pay Belcourt. It can all be yours. Belcourt would never have to steal your hard-earned money.”

Sasha’s mouth hung open in disbelief. How many men like Willoghby and the baron was in Coulway? She did not even want to find out. “Are you suggesting what I hate to think you are suggesting, my lord?” she asked, voice shaking with growing anger.

He displayed an easy smile, one so deceiving Sasha believed it had been fooling his own mother until now. “I can give you more than what the Duke of Eaton and the others give you. If you would have me, of course.”

“Then the answer is no, my lord, I would not have you.” Sasha stiffly stood up. She lifted her chin and said, “I believe I will have to cancel. Please, relay my apologies to your mother. Lie to her if you must.”

Sasha’s entire form stiffened in alarm when his hand caught her wrist in a tight grip—a very tight grip.

If she was not so angry, Sasha thought she may have already started to experience the dimming of the room and the ringing in her ears. She felt the rush of blood through her ears and the intense anger that colored her face, giving no room for a fainting spell. “Let go of me, sir,” she growled under her breath. “Now, or I will scream.”

His hand tightened even more around her wrist that Sasha feared he might break it. She winced in pain. “My mother will be heartbroken if you do not join us for luncheon, my lady.”

Sasha’s other hand gripped his wrist. “Let go. Now, sir.”

Owen Compton looked at her for a very long time, his hand tight around her wrist, causing her hand to go numb and white. “Are you quite certain you wish to go?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling at her hand. “Now.”

Suddenly, her hand was free, and Sasha stumbled back. “May you have a good day, my lady. I would advise you not to leave your home today. I know it’s tempting to be outside what with the weather, but it might just… rain.”

Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, sir?”

Owen Compton frowned at her. “A threat? Whyever would you think that, Lady Sasha?”

She looked at him from head to foot. “Your mother speaks very highly of you, sir. Please, do not tarnish your reputation before her eyes. She is too old to see your true nature.”

“Is that a threat, my lady?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

---

Her encounter with Owen Compton did not stop Sasha from coming to town to meet Ruby and Jade at the tea house. To her surprise, Aliya was also there.

“We were unfortunate to run into Aliya here,” Ruby said in jest. “She was alone and we took pity.”

“Sasha,” Aliya greeted with a small smile. “I hope you are doing well?”

“I am,” she said, settling in the chair beside Ruby.

“We were just discussing Daniel,” her friend said.

“Belcourt still cannot find him,” Jade added, voice fretful. “It is uncommon of Belcourt to not find him by this time. They almost always never fail.”

“Not finding him is not failing, Jade,” Aliya retorted. “But I do agree that he has to be found. He has to face his crimes.”

Aliya was looking at Sasha as she spoke. Once she was done, she smiled. Being in the same table as the woman, they paled in comparison to her beauty. It was as though the chandelier above had fallen on one of the seats. She was glowing. Just the red cloak and still she had everyone’s attention. Even the women behind her had to turn their heads over their shoulders to steal a glance.

But Aliya seemed unperturbed, or maybe she was just ignorant of the staring. Her eyes traveled down to Sasha’s gloved hand. They stayed there for quite some time. Then she looked at Sasha. “Sasha, what happened to your hand?”

Sasha instinctively wrapped her hand around her wrist and it was too late when she noticed what she did. “It is nothing.”

Aliya narrowed her eyes. “Have you forgotten what I told you?”

“It was not Willoghby,” she snapped. “I would never repeat what I did. It’s… it was not a gentleman,” she said under her breath, just enough for only her companions to hear.

“Who?” three cold voices demanded.

She blinked. “No one you know of, I am sure.”

Aliya’s stunning light brown eyes flashed with impatience. “The name, Sasha.”

Sasha swallowed.

As she looked at the three women scowling at her, Sasha began to realize that it might have been better if she lied.

---

“Are you certain—utterly sure—that this is not against Belcourt law?” Sasha asked for the third time that night.

And for the third time, her companions, all of whom hidden in the shadow of their hoods, nodded. The night was bright, casting their shadows on the cobbled street across the brightly lit building of the gentlemen’s club.

“Pull up your hood, Sasha,” Aliya ordered, voice calm and intriguing, a contrast to the raging wreck of turmoil Sasha was feeling. “Ruby?”

Ruby nodded with a confident smile before she walked across the street lined with carriages.

“Wheeler’s is only second to Stark’s,” Aliya informed Sasha. “But it is equally busy.”

“I heard Compton was blackballed three times at Stark’s,” Jade said, staring at the building across the street.

Sasha was no longer listening as she watched Ruby walk up to a group of carriage drivers. She talked with them for a while, turning around as if she was looking for something, then thanked them for their time with a graceful curtsy.

She turned to the general direction of Aliya, Jade, and Sasha. Then she turned and walked down the side of the street. The drivers followed her with their gaze, their attention entirely preoccupied.

“Come, ladies,” Aliya murmured, turning to walk toward the lined carriages, taking the opposite route that Ruby was taking.

“What about—”

“Ruby will be fine,” Jade said, giving Sasha a wink.

Aliya walked ahead, steps purposeful.

“I heard many stories like this from other Belles,” Jade whispered to Sasha. “She is notorious for this sort of things.”

The hood of Aliya’s cloak turned as she said over her shoulder, “While it is easy for a gentleman of Belcourt to answer for any misconduct, it is a challenge to give lessons to those who are not a part of Belcourt. We must learn how to take matters into our own hands in a manner that is discreet and graceful—if possible, of course. Do you understand what I am saying, Sasha?”

Sasha nodded, holding the edge of her hood to keep it in place.

Her heart began to hammer against her chest.

Was this truly happening?

Surely they could not do this?

But they were doing it.

Aliya had stopped outside an empty stagecoach, one parked between two others of its kind. The driver was probably amongst the group of men gawking after Ruby.

Aliya’s hand carefully came to rest on the horse, caressing the animal with soft, soothing whispers.

“We are truly doing this, are we?” Sasha asked when Ruby appeared behind them, breathless from her trip.

“What are you talking about? Doing what?” Ruby asked, a wicked glimmer in her eyes.

Jade choked with laughter as she helped Aliya with the horse.

Aliya just smiled at Sasha and together, she, Jade, and Ruby began to work on the horse’s bellyband and straps. With a sigh, Aliya paused and looked over her shoulder at Sasha. “Sasha, would you please?”

She jumped and came forward, biting her lips to hold the laughter that was beginning to form. They were truly doing this!

Holding the horse with a firm grip on the reins, Aliya gave them more instructions on what to do, reminding them that they had done the same task many times during their Manor days.

“It has been years, Aliya, please have a heart,” hissed Ruby, the wicked smile on her lips long gone as she grunted. “My carriage driver always does this task—oh! Well, that does it,” Ruby said, dropping the strap to the ground.

Sasha stared at their work. “Now, what do we—”

She was not able to finish her statement because Aliya gave the horse another pat before letting go of the reins. The horse, now with its blinders off, rose to his hind legs and galloped down the streets. One driver noticed and howled for the others. Only one man who recognized the horse jumped up and ran after it. The others laughed, watching the spectacle unfold.

Aliya wiped her hands on her cloak and turned to the others. “Well, that was not so difficult, was it?”

Sasha swallowed and then she started laughing in disbelief.

“Hush, Sasha,” Jade whispered as they stepped away from the horseless carriage.

“What do we do now?” Ruby asked Aliya.

“We wait for the man, of course,” Aliya said, looking about. “He would come out soon, I am certain of it.”

Surely, the driver was running back to Wheeler’s in panic, about to inform his master of the situation.

“We ought to have let the horse take the carriage,” Sasha said.

“Why would we do that?” Aliya asked, eyes on the driver talking to the doorman. “It was born without a burden. It should be free with none.”

The four of them waited until Owen Compton himself walked out of Wheeler’s and talked with his driver who pointed at the carriage and then down the road. They smiled when Compton bounded down the steps and walked across the street with purposeful strides.

Soon, he was approaching the carriage with the four of them standing close by. His steps halted the moment he saw the four cloaked figure, his carriage driver doing the same, peering at them with curiosity, trying to see their shadowed faces.

“Who are you?” demanded Compton, his eyes darting to his stagecoach.

Aliya was the one who took the step forward. “Good evening, sir,” she greeted, her voice deadly creepy.

“I am asking who you are, woman. What have you done to my horse?”

Aliya approached Compton. The carriage driver veered his eyes to the three of them standing by the carriage. Ruby waved at him demurely and his eyes widened with recognition.

Sasha watched Aliya step very close to Compton and leaned to whisper something. Compton’s eyes widened in surprise and horror. Aliya leaned back and stepped away. “Good night, sir.” She turned to Sasha, Jade, and Ruby. “Ladies?”

The three of them followed Aliya, walking past the distraught Compton and the speechless driver.

“What did you tell him, Aliya?” Jade asked as they quickly walked away.

“What he should expect should he approach another Belle.”

“Which is?”

Aliya did not respond.

“Aliya,” Ruby prodded. “What did you tell him?”

Aliya just smiled. She stole Sasha a glance. “What a Belle should. That is all you have to know. Now, I will not always be around to be of help as I am only in Coulway for the season. You should know how to fend off men such as Owen Compton, most particularly you, Sasha. Never think you can do it on your own. You must have an ally.”

Sasha, Jade, and Ruby shared a look of awe, having found a new kind of admiration to Aliya.

---

Sasha returned home from her little adventure.

For a few hours, she was able to forget the weight of her situation, having found a new footing amongst her fellow Belles. For a moment she caught a glimpse of a life she would lead should she fail to return to the Court of Libraries. It could be exciting. And it could be full of friends like Aliya and Jade and Ruby.

An adventurous life outside of Belcourt.

She had never thought of it that way.

Shaking her head, Sasha allowed Iyana to help her undress, giving the woman a recount of her escapade.

Iyana laughed and said, “I have heard of rumors about Lady Aliya. A few service women said that she is a generous mistress. And a very dangerous one at that. They would never tell for they are too loyal to her. I am glad that you are chummy with her now, my lady. She is a very strong Belle, they say. Very capable as well.”

Sasha nodded, facing the window as Iyana worked on her stays. “I am starting to see that now—”

She suddenly went cold, her words dying in her lips.

“What was it, Lady Sasha?” she heard Iyana’s faint voice behind her.

The ringing in her ears started and she blinked away the darkness. She looked out the window once more.

He was still there.

Standing there just staring at her.

Willoghby.

XXVII | Little Secrets

“Lady Sasha?” she heard Iyana ask with concern when Sasha staggered backward. “My lady, is everything all right?”

Sasha immediately jumped to the window and pulled the curtains close, her heart hammering against her chest.

“Iyana, did you lock all the doors?”

“Of course—”

“Are you certain?” Sasha asked, whirling around, eyes shaking with fear.

“Yes, Briana and Gail did—”

“Check, Iyana. Now.”

Iyana frowned. “But what is wrong—”

“Just do it!”

Iyana nodded and rushed out the door. Sasha walked back to the window and peered through the curtains.

The garden below was empty. He was gone.

Sasha moistened her lips, turning to face her room, her eyes gliding to all corners. Her first instinct was to call for West, but she could not do that.

He was not responsible for her.

Iyana returned later after checking the doors, face filled with concern. “Did you see something—or someone—outside the window, my lady? Please, tell me.”

“It was nothing, Iyana. No one. I must just be too tired I was seeing things. Forgive me if I have caused you alarm.”

Iyana held her hand to her chest. “You did more than that. After what happened to you—did you think you saw him outside?”

“Who, Iyana?”

“Willoghby, of course.”

Sasha blinked a few times. “No—I don’t know.”

Iyana nodded slowly, looking unconvinced. “I will leave my door open tonight, my lady. If that will make you feel at ease.”

“It is fine, Iyana. I will be fine.” She smiled, playfully pushing the woman out the door. “Truly, I will be fine. Do you think we can have muffins on the morrow?”

Iyana smiled hesitantly. “Of course. I will tell Gail.”

Sasha softly closed the door. She turned the lock and rested her forehead on the hard surface, letting out a long, shaky breath.

The bloody bastard.

What did he want with her?

---

By morning, Sasha did have her wish of muffins.

And a visitor.

West went straight to the breakfast room after Iyana opened the door for him and found Sasha finishing her meal.

Left alone, he dragged his eyes from her head to her hands, then back to her face. “Did you have a fantastic luncheon yesterday?” he asked.

Sasha shrugged. “I did.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Gail, my cook, hastily prepared sandwiches after I left Mrs. Compton’s villa.”

Two thick brows arched in surprise. “Interesting,” he said, taking the seat to her left. “Why?”

Sasha swallowed and wiped her mouth. “I found that—”

He did not let her finish. His hand grabbed her hand and glared at her wrist. “What is this?” he asked, turning her hand over to inspect the bruise.

“The reason why Gail had to make sandwiches,” she said, pulling at her hand. He did not let go. Sasha sighed. “West, you are being dramatic.”

“And what do you think this is? A natural occurrence?” he asked, lifting her hand. “Sasha, Owen Compton has a reputation to be—”

“Aggressive,” she interjected. “As I found out.”

He let go of her hand and let out an exasperated breath. “You are taking this too lightly as you do Willoghby.”

He began to stand and she watched him walk to the doorway. “Where are you going?”

“Next door,” he growled.

“I already settled the matter, West.”

He whirled around. “Oh, you did, did you not? How? Reported him to Belcourt? He is not a gentleman of Belcourt, Sasha. You should know better.”

“We robbed him of his horse while he was at Wheeler’s.”

He was already opening his mouth for a rebuttal when he froze, stupefied. “You did what?”

“We unstrapped his horse from his stagecoach and let it free.”

For a long moment, he just stared at her, his eyes a glimmer of astonishment and disbelief. “Who were you with?”

“Jade, Ruby, and Aliya.”

“The four of you managed to do it on your own?”

“We were trained on how to drive a carriage, West. Of course, we can manage how to unstrap a horse.”

He scoffed. “Did you take off the blinders?”

“Of course. You think us daft? The horse had to know where it is going.”

Then slowly, in a very satisfying way, his scoff transformed into a chuckle.

She stood up with a proud smile. “Aliya made certain he will never repeat his actions.”

His smile disappeared and he caught her arm when she walked past him. Eyes searching hers, he asked, “What did he do to you, Sasha?”

“He gave me a bruise around my wrist.” She raised to her toes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Nothing else.”

“Sasha,” he called after her, following her to the parlor. “Compton will not be the last man to do this sort of thing. Willoghby is still out there, is he not? I have not heard a word that he has been caught.”

She smiled, settling in the settee. “You been in correspondence with the other flowers then?”

“Who else should I go to when my own Belle and her friends will not share anything?”

“I will be fine, West.”

He looked at her, hands on his waist. Then he sighed. “Get ready.”

She looked up. “Why?”

“You are coming with me to my villa.”

She frowned. “You told me yesterday you have work to do.”

“I do.”

“And I told you I have things to do.”

“No, you did not.”

“Of course, I did.”

“When?”

“While you were—” her face flushed. “While you were… never mind. You were preoccupied.”

He walked toward her and pulled her out of the settee. “I am always preoccupied. Why? Are you planning to go to Belcourt today?”

She shook her head. “No, but I am planning to go there soon,” she said, voice low. “So you see, I have to finish a few things before that.”

He kissed her mouth once, twice, until they had to stop for a breath. “You take whatever you need to do to the villa. Seven is waiting for you.” His hands squeezed her waist. “Go.”

Sasha sighed, turned, and left the room.

Perhaps spending a day away from her own household would help with the feeling of unease.

And she needed to discuss things with him that required the privacy of his villa.

---

West was checking the windows in the parlor. He checked the locks and tested their endurance. Satisfied, he made a move to check the front door, when he found Iyana standing in the doorway, fiddling with her fingers in front of her.

The woman’s usual scowl whenever he was around was absent at the moment, replaced by something that of concern.

“What is it, Iyana?” he asked with a frown.

She hesitated at first, but when he raised his brows in encouragement, she stepped toward him in haste. Taking a quick glance behind her, she turned to him and said, “I fear that Willoghby was outside in the garden last night.”

West’s demeanor immediately changed. “How did you know?”

“I was… I was helping Lady Sasha with her dress when she suddenly froze in fright and jumped to the window to draw the curtains close. I knew she saw something, but she would not admit it.”

He sighed with frustration. “Did you lock the doors?”

“Of course, sir, I did.”

He nodded. “I will have someone come by this afternoon while Sasha is in my villa. Your locks should be replaced.”

The woman nodded.

“And Iyana,” he added, leveling his serious gaze with the woman’s, “should anything happen, I want to be amongst the first that you inform.” The woman slowly nodded. “Whenever it happens.” She nodded. “Wherever it happens.” The maid nodded multiple times. “Do you understand, Iyana?”

A flash of annoyance crossed the maid’s light brown eyes. “I believe you made it very clear, sir.”

He nodded, stepping away from the woman. “Good.”

Sasha appeared moments later with a notebook and a thicker petticoat, one West was already hating.

“I will be home before ten, Iyana—”

“She will be home in the morning,” he cut in, giving Iyana a small smile. He walked to Sasha. “Why do you have your notebook with you?”

“I have a household to run, West. I have to do inventory.”

“I hope you can do it in bed.”

“Of course. Unlike you, I can do multiple tasks at once.”

His eyes darkened, his mind already picturing her sprawled on the bed, her thick waves spread out on the covers as she writhed with pleasure. “Is that a dare?”

A secret smile curved her lips. “Perhaps.”

---

West wasted no time to take her up on her dare when they reached his villa.

It took no time for her to strip him of his coats and shirt. He cursed at her petticoat but successfully pulled it off her arms.

Seven, the poor dog, had to hide under the bed while West showed Sasha just how he could do many things at once with his mouth and hands.

The lovemaking turned into a game, a competition of who could push each other to beg. She nearly succeeded twice if he did not take over, but in the end, their climax was the same as it was yesterday and the days before that—overpowering, bordering to unbelievable.

West lazily tucked her hair behind her ear, followed it with his lips, kissing the lobe until she squirmed with a chuckle.

He liked that she never giggled.

“I have to work now,” she said, pushing away from the bed.

He grabbed her hand and pulled. She fell right back with helpless laughter. He kissed the bruise around her wrist.

Sasha bent her head to seek his mouth and they rolled on the bed in a lazy, sensual kiss. She ended on top of him, her hair cascading around them.

West opened his eyes and found hers closed as she opened her mouth wider, tasting more of him. Her fingers raked through his hair, tilting it so she could angle her mouth to better fit his.

He closed his eyes again, seeing no difference for she felt the same and tasted the same—eyes open or not. He could still see her in his head. He could picture her thighs beside his hips, her knee digging into the bed. He could see the dimples of her lower back, how they moved with her hips.

She finally ended the kiss. West opened his eyes and found hers dancing with a smile. “I need to work,” she repeated, climbing off him and the bed. He watched her caress Seven’s head with her fingers, the same ones that almost made him scream moments ago.

“That’s my robe, my lady,” he said, voice cracking.

She tied the strap around her waist. “Thank you.” Her radiant smile after lovemaking was amongst the many things West looked forward to along with the waves of untamable brown locks.

With a grunt, he sat up and pulled on his breeches. He found his shirt on top of the dresser, wondering how it got there, and dressed. Sasha was already curled up in the seat at the corner of the room, one slender leg folded under her, notebook open on her lap. “I forgot my pen,” she said, looking at him with a smile.

He scowled then rolled his eyes. Minutes later, he was back from his study with a pen and an inkwell.

“I truly like this pen,” she said, studying the object with envy.

“You cannot have it.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh.

Seeing that she was no longer interested in staying in bed, West went to his study and grabbed the papers he had to read for parliament.

Sasha scoffed when he settled in bed and started reading. “What are you doing?”

“Doing multiple tasks in bed,” he murmured, frowning down at the paper.

She said nothing further, writing things on her notebook, while West pushed aside one proposed bill after another, separating those that interested him for a second read.

When he thought he was done, he set his papers aside and watched her finish her work. “When do you suppose you are going to be done with that?”

“I am not good at doing calculations in my head, sir, please be quiet. I have carrots to count.”

He chuckled. She scowled at him. He lifted his hand in defense. “Carrots are essential in the kitchen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So are knives.”

West motioned with his head. “Go on, then, before you stab me to death.”

The silence that followed was a welcome one. It was far from the discomfort he felt before they changed their agreement. When he once had to constantly check himself, West was now at ease.

But it would not be for long, he thought. She was here in his villa, safe with him to protect her. Tomorrow, she would return to her place, alone with naught but three ladies to save her should Willoghby show himself.

“What will happen to Willoghby if Belcourt finally gets to him?” he asked.

He saw her stiffen before she recovered. “He will be put to trial.”

“And what could be the worst punishment he will get?”

“Banishment.”

“From Belcourt?”

She shook her head. “No.” Lifting her eyes from her notebook, she met his gaze. “Sutherland.”

West blinked. “You mean to tell me that Belcourt can do that?”

“Of course. It had been done before.”

“And where will he be banished? London? The Americas?”

“Sinhold.”

“Sinhold?”

“The island, of course.” She wrote something in her notebook before she closed it and laid it aside. “He will never survive there.”

“Then it is true? The island in the south?”

Sasha nodded. “Of course. Where did you hear it from?”

“Tanner, who else?”

She nodded with amusement. “I see. That friend of yours must know the right people to know about the island.”

“You mean he knows the right women.”

She laughed. “Yes, the island is true.”

“Then… Garland—”

“Oh, Carl Garland?” Sasha asked. “I heard he was punished severely. He tied his Belle to his bed for two days.”

“Then it is true that—”

“No, I cannot say. I have no evidence that he was banished. It was never disclosed. But considering that he cannot be found, then he must be on the island—or whatever remains of him now.”

West scoffed. “Sasha, do you not think Belcourt is taking things too far? They are claiming the law in their own hands.”

“Yet the kingdom allows it.”

“The kingdom may not be aware of it.”

She shrugged. “Well, that is not my concern. I am not privy to the relationship of Belcourt to the king. For all you know, a monarch may also be a flower.”

She stood up and joined him in bed. Seven bounded on her lap. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes. “But one thing is for certain—no one would wish for the island.”

“Is that your greatest fear? I would have to assume, of course.”

She opened her eyes. “No, it is not.”

“Then there is a worse punishment?”

“No.”

West waited for her to speak. The look in her eyes was different now. She seemed distant. “My greatest fear has nothing to do about Belcourt. It is my own mind. It is whenever I close my eyes and I would see my father’s face.”

West remained motionless, breathless. He did not know what to say. She just told him something she should not.

It had always been straight and forward between them. They never shared intimate secrets. Yet she was doing it now.

A bitter smile tugged her lips. “Is it not crazy? I fear my father’s face the most.”

“Well, I sometimes fear your maid’s face,” he tried to jest. She smiled, but not enough to erase the dark look in her eyes.

“He killed my mother,” she said, voice low it was almost a whisper.

West moistened his lips. He took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over a knuckle. Should he stop her?

No , the curious voice in his head replied. You never listened to the warnings so why start now?

“I came home after a long afternoon of herding the cows and I found him sitting in the middle of our cottage. He laid her on the floor beside his chair. She was lying in a pool of blood.”

West rolled to his side. “Sasha…” he began, but she tightened her grip around his hand.

“He said he had been waiting for me. He was holding a pistol. He asked me to choose.”

“Sasha, you do not have to—” he started, but she shook her head.

“I want to tell you. I want to know what it feels like to tell the story.” She took a deep breath. “He asked me to choose. Him or me. He only had one bullet left, he said.”

“Good Lord, Sasha,” his voice came out as a whimper as he pulled her to him. She let him, but she was stiff in his arms.

“I made my choice.” She let out a shaky breath. “I watched him shoot himself.”

“Stop, please. Sasha, goodness. How could—how could he do that to you—bloody tarnation!” He shifted her in his arms, tightening his hold as if it would make her pliant, soft. But then, he did not want her to be. She was too proud to cry in his arms. He buried his face at the crook of her neck. “Bloody hell, Sasha…”

Her hand rested on his arm. “I fainted as the shot rang out. We fell to the floor at the same time. When I woke up, I grabbed my satchel and left. I never cried. I wonder why I never cried.” She was not crying now either. “Then I walked the twenty miles in the rain.” West pulled back to look into her eyes. She blinked at him and smiled weakly. “You see, I was not lying. I truly did walk those miles.”

West scoffed then planted a soft kiss on her lips, closing his eyes as he felt the sting. “I believe you,” he murmured against her mouth.

She finally moved. Her arms wormed around his neck. “During my walk, I promised myself never to return. I would never come back to a life outside of Belcourt,” she whispered. “Anyone outside could be my father. They would make me choose. Then they would make me suffer for it.”

“And Belcourt never lets you choose.”

She shook her head. “Belcourt simply always knows.”

West sighed, pulling her closer, giving her another kiss.

Silence reigned between them for a while. Even Seven never made a sound.

“I never spoke of what happened that afternoon. Belcourt never questioned me. They just took me in.”

“And now you are here,” he said, squeezing her to him.

She slowly nodded. “I am here.”

“Is that why you fainted when you were re-courted? You did not want to be a Belle. You did not want to be back outside.”

She nodded, lifting a hand to caress his cheek. “But I found I can manage it.”

He smiled. “Of course, you can.”

Sasha sighed and rolled away from his hold. “I thought I would shed tears if I share my story.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I thought wrong.”

He did not comment. She was not crying because that was how her circumstances designed her to be. She was not strong, he realized. She could simply detach herself from the horror. Just as the morning after Willoghby’s attack, or what happened with Compton. She brushed them off just like that moment when she woke up and found her parents dead.

She padded to the washstand and washed her face. “Should we ring for dinner?” she asked. He nodded.

Not long after, Darren served them their meal and dragged Seven out of the bedroom.

“I am planning to search the Library thoroughly.”

“You have told me that,” he said, voice mellow. He was still thinking about his father and what the bastard did. He did not leave a broken daughter. He left a lost one.

“It would be a very long task, West. I do not have enough details to work with. I do not know what she looks like. I can ask you about your mother’s features, but that is on hoping your sister inherited most of them.”

“You are asking for her father’s name,” he concluded, smiling at her when she looked at him with feigned innocence. “You only need to ask, Sasha.”

“If I remember correctly, sir, you did not want to share the information.”

West slowly chewed on his food, enjoying the transformation on her face as she grew more impatient.

“Is her father Reginald, the former king?” she asked.

West shook his head. “My mother had two flowers before she left Belcourt. One of them, of course, was my father. During their marriage, she maintained her affair with the first flower.” He sipped his wine and swallowed. “That man is now the king of Sutherland.”

XXVIII | Dark Corners

Sasha had hoped to get something from West after she revealed a part of her past, but she did not expect him to reveal such secret with so much ease. As if he had not been hiding it at all.

Could he be lying?

Could it be that he was manipulating her? If so, for what? If she believed him and think that the current monarchy had a good reason to want his sister dead, then she would make more effort to help him find his sister—so he could save her.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. But surely, he could not be lying?

If she took his words, then Sasha had more things to think about.

Could it be that the prince was also looking for the bastard of his father? To hide her? Kill her? Because her very existence could ruin the king. Was this the prince’s ultimate purpose—stop West from finding his sister by finding her first?

But the prince had a special relationship with Belcourt.

Didn’t Belcourt know?

Or was Belcourt playing the same game?

“You seem surprised. I had assumed you would have already guessed.”

He said it so nonchalantly, so naturally, making her unsure whether to believe him or not.

But now was not the time to think hard. She would think about that later when he was no longer there to distract her.

“I am not that wise,” she finally replied with a subtle wink. And in a more serious tone, added, “I assumed Reginald.”

“Then you assumed wrong. My mother, as my father claimed, was too faithful to Belcourt. She would never have associated herself with Reginald.”

Sasha inspected his expression. “Do you abhor the current monarchy?”

It took him a while to answer. “No, I do not think so.”

“You do not? Surely, you have suffered because of what your father did and those loyal to the current monarchy must have made it certain that you did.”

“My father did what he did for the previous monarchy. I am still a duke, am I not? I was—we—were never stripped of everything considering who my father served or what he did for Reginald during his reign.”

She leaned away from the table and pulled her legs up to hug them and rested her chin on her knees. “I wonder how you have suffered. It must have been quite difficult.”

He shook his head. “I was… sheltered. I was rich—still am.” He smiled. “But I do admit it has been a struggle.”

“You rebuilt your father’s name.”

“No, of course not. He is still very much hated even in his grave.” With a shrug, he added, “I built my own name.”

Her smile widened. “Can you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Of your childhood. The happy ones.”

His brows fused together in a frown. “I cannot precisely point out a point in my life where I was happy, Sasha. Happiness is for those who have nothing else.”

A shiver ran up her spine. “Then you are saying you are content?”

“If I am, I would not be here with you at this hour.”

She flushed. “That is not what I meant.”

West chuckled as he shook his head. “I do not know what you are asking, Sasha. Happiness has never been truly a goal.”

“Many would disagree.”

“Perhaps.”

“You never felt happy with your friends? Your father?”

“With my friends, perhaps I find myself enjoying if they do not make things difficult. My father was a different matter.”

“I am glad you had friends—that you have friends.”

He nodded, twisting his wineglass on the table with his hand. “When I was fresh from boarding school, a few young men grabbed me from behind.”

Her chin lifted from where it sat. “Why?”

“My father, of course. Their fathers were enemies of mine, I assumed at that time.”

“Did you fight them off?”

“I could have never,” he said with a ridiculous laugh. “They beat me and then tied me to the back of a parked carriage.”

“They did not!”

He nodded. “I was gagged so I could not cry for help. It was a dark alleyway. The owner of the carriage had not yet returned.”

“Then how did you escape?”

His eyes were gentle and so was his smile. “Darren.”

Her brows arched high. “Darren found you?”

“He unstrapped me from the carriage. He was eight and I was fifteen.”

“And he stayed with you since then.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately.”

Sasha chuckled.

“The bastard would always claim I saved him because I picked him out of the streets,” he said with amusement, “but it was he who saved me, not I.” He stood up and approached her, steps light and easy. “Now, enough about Darren.”

Sasha laughed as he pulled at her hand, nearly causing her to fall off the chair, but fast enough to catch her when she jumped to wrap her arms around him as she landed on the floor. “I did not even mention your valet, sir. You did.”

His mouth dragged down her neck. “I did?”

“Yes.”

“Then I must be insane. Why would I tell you about my valet?”

His hand tugged at her robe—his robe. Arms wormed around her waist and hips.

“Should I tell you how we found Seven?” he murmured hotly against her ear.

Sasha stepped closer. “Later.” His mouth found hers. “Or perhaps tomorrow.”

---

The Royal Theater was the biggest of its kind all over Sutherland. With its capability to entertain two-thousand guests with the most fascinating shows, it was flocked by many.

“Are you certain we should be up here?” Sasha asked, looking down the lower box from up high.

“Yes, of course,” Ruby replied with a wink. “Our dear benefactor was kind enough to grant us the luxury. Do not complain, darling, he did it for you.”

Sasha blinked. “Who?”

“I assume your other flower is also capable of getting you and your friends an upper box?” West’s voice asked behind them.

Sasha turned in surprise. He was not looking angry, rather he was looking quite dashing tonight.

His wavy brown hair was combed neatly over his forehead, his suit—as always—spoke of his status. He was sitting right behind her, hidden away from the view of the many guests below them, save for the others in the upper boxes across if they were curious enough.

“Why—” she turned to Ruby. “Why did he give you the tickets instead of giving them to me?”

Her friend lifted one shoulder. “He figured you would not have received it.”

“He is right,” she said, throwing West another look. “I would not have.” She began to stand, but West stopped her, taking her hand.

“Now, this is not too bad, Sasha,” Jade chided with a smile.

She returned to her seat, not because that was what he wanted, but to prevent catching anyone’s attention. “We are no longer in Humbrick, sir,” she hissed over her shoulder.

He did not reply. She veered her eyes toward him. He just sat there, looking straight at the stage. As if she was not there. He began to stand up. “Relax, Sasha, I am not sharing the same box. I will be next door.”

“He is such a dear,” said Ruby with a giggle. “He should have opted to be a hidden flower if he cannot be seen with you.”

Sasha sighed, turning her head to the stage.

She did not want to think of West for now. He could do whatever he wanted, even ruin his own reputation.

At the moment, she was going to watch the opera. He did pay for it, after all. It would be a shame to go home now simply because she disagreed with how she got there.

The first part of the opera was fine, and Sasha was hoping it would get better by the second act. During intermission, the three of them stretched their legs outside their box where drinks were served to the guests as they socialized with those from the other boxes.

Sasha felt West’s presence behind her while she stood by herself in one corner waiting for Ruby and Jade who were being entertained by another gentleman of Belcourt. They motioned for her to come and join them, but West stepped closer and whispered, “That is the son of the owner of the Royal Theater.”

“Truly?” she asked, feigning interest.

“A sad bloke, really.”

“I see,” she murmured with a secret smile.

“He can be very boring.”

“I will have to see then,” she said, making an attempt to move forward. He caught her by her waist, pulling her further away from the crowd.

“Stop teasing me, Sasha.”

“I am not teasing you.”

“You are.”

“How?” She looked around, concerned that they may be seen. But the corridor was too crowded and nearly half of the people who packed it were the same ones in Humbrick.

“By making me jealous.”

Sasha frowned. “Why, is it working?”

“No.”

Sasha hid a smile and remained where she was standing.

“How is the show?” he asked.

“I am yet to say I enjoy it. Do expect an opinion after the second act and—” Sasha did not finish her statement as she saw a familiar figure slicing through the crowd. Her red hair did not stand out amongst the feathered heads all over the place, but the way she stealthily moved through the guests was enough to make Sasha recognize her. “Excuse me,” she said, leaving West to follow Gabrielle.

Her eyes on the woman, she squeezed through the sea of lords and ladies talking about the first act. Her heart beating, Sasha managed to come near. Then she noticed that Gabrielle was looking about like she typically did. She hid behind a column and watched. Gabrielle was dressed in a green gown that matched the ones around her in style.

The woman was here for something and it was obvious it was not because of Sasha.

Intent to find out, Sasha followed Gabrielle further down the corridor. When the woman turned, Sasha was in pursuit, but a hand caught her arm and held her back. She looked back and found West frowning down at her. “Where are you going?”

“I was—” she turned and found Gabrielle gone. Pushing West’s hand off her arm, she walked further away then stopped.

Gabrielle was nowhere in sight.

“What was that about, Sasha?” West asked.

She shook her head and walked past him. “Nothing. I thought I saw another Belle…”

He followed her back to their box which was still empty and settled behind her.

“They may see us alone in here, sir. It may be best that you return outside.”

“My feet are sore. I wish to sit.”

“Then return to your box.”

“I also paid for this box.’

With a sigh, Sasha waited for the next act.

---

Barely in the middle of the second act, Sasha found herself totally bored. The singing was like a lullaby, mesmerizing her to sleep. Losing interest at everything on the stage altogether, Sasha lifted her opera glasses and swerved it across the humongous theater.

She checked the lower box, searching for a redheaded lady. Narrowing her eyes, becoming more determined, she pointed her glasses to the left and started studying each box across from theirs.

Done, she swerved to the next box.

Then she froze.

Gabrielle.

She was looking through her glasses as well, but it was not directed at the stage. It was pointed at the general direction of the boxes that faced the stage.

Sasha followed Gabrielle’s point of vision and searched.

It took her quite a while. Then she found it.

Him, rather.

Willoghby was just sitting there, at the back of the centermost box.

Frozen in her spot, Sasha felt her hand start to shake.

He was just sitting there as though he belonged there—as if he was free.

His attention was on the stage.

But then, slowly, he moved his head.

And then he was looking straight at her.

XXIX | Everleigh

Sasha immediately dropped her hand and turned to face the stage, her breathing still trapped in her throat. She swallowed and let out a soft, shaky breath.

Ruby turned, noticing her sudden restlessness. She smiled at her friend and pretended to focus on the singing below.

Willoghby was here.

Gabrielle was here.

Sasha was not the reason she was here. Nor was West. Gabrielle was here because of Willoghby.

That was why she was able to save Sasha that night in the garden.

She was following the bastard.

Sasha’s mind reeled. But why?

Why was Belcourt still looking for him if Gabrielle was at his tail?

Unless she never reported it.

Just like how she never told the Mistresses about Sasha’s agreement with West.

What was she up to?

Who was she working for if not Belcourt?

Sasha was distracted from her thoughts when a man walked toward her. He bent and whispered, “My lady, I was asked to deliver this note.”

Sasha looked at the card and took it. “Thank you.”

With her hands still shaking, she opened the note and read.

Outside. Now. -Your flower

She turned to look over her shoulder. He was gone.

With a sigh, Sasha turned to Ruby and Jade. “I need to step outside,” she excused.

Ruby looked behind them and at West’s empty seat. She nodded with a meaningful smile before turning her attention back on stage.

The corridor outside was empty. West was standing by the door, leaning against the wall. The moment Sasha walked out, he grabbed her hand and dragged her to a dark corner behind a large potted plant and a column.

“Why is Willoghby here, Sasha?” he hissed, eyes blazing with fury.

“How did—”

“This bloody opera is a bore and I was sitting behind you. I noticed how you scoured the entire theater. And I have my own glasses.” He sighed, hands on his hips. He looked to both ends of the corridor before fixing his angry eyes back on her. “I thought you said you already reported him?”

“I—,” she did want to lie, so instead she said, “Belcourt is now looking for him.”

“Then why is the bloody bastard still roaming around Coulway, following you, Sasha?”

“I do not know. And now that you mention it, I must find a way to let them know he is still in Coulway.”

His jaw tightened. “You are not doing it tonight. I am taking you home. Now.”

“No. I intend to see this opera through.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “The bastard is being elusive, and I am losing my patience.”

“So do I,” she indignantly said.

“If Belcourt does not do something soon, Sasha, I will.” And he was serious. It was there in his eyes.

She sighed, dropping her shoulders. “West, please, let us not spoil this night. Willoghby is only one man. I am certain that once Belcourt finds him, he will have no chance. He is facing the island.”

She watched his jaw clench as he glared at the wall across the corridor. “I am giving Belcourt a week.” He looked down at her, this time with a calmer look in his brown globes. “After that, I will send my own men after the bastard. There will be no island for him after that, Sasha, I swear to God.”

She smiled. “Agreed.” And without furthermore to say, she started to turn to return to their box.

But of course, he stopped her, pulling her back to face him. “You are not even trying to appease me.”

She blinked in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you would not want me furious throughout the night.”

She snorted. “You are mad, West Blackwood. We must return to the box.”

He pulled her closer and deeper into the corner, leaning against the wall. “Later,” he murmured, watching her face. “I saw you shaking earlier.”

“I was not shaking.”

“You looked bloody terrified,” he added, pulling her to stand between his parted legs. “You were shaking.”

“I was not—well, perhaps my hands were shaking. I was angry. He is roaming about freely.” And it is my fault , she added in her head.

He touched the curls dangling beside her ear with a forefinger. “You went as stiff as a bloody stone.”

“Stop it,” she snapped, tilting her head up. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You were watching me.”

He shrugged. “All night.” Bending his head, he planted a light kiss on her lips. Then with a groan, he came back for another kiss that lasted longer than she had expected.

“You do not pull me into any dark, filthy alleyways,” he whispered against her mouth, his hand pressing her hips against his. “Your rule, remember?”

Sasha smiled, remembering that winter afternoon. “This is no alleyway, is it?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” he murmured, tilting his head to nibble on her ear.

“Not so filthy either.”

“No.” He trailed kisses down her neck.

“Then no rule is broken.”

Kissing West Blackwood was always a mystery. She knew what he tasted like, was familiar with the intensity, the hunger. But it was always a different experience.

It made her think of wicked things, erasing matters of more import that she should be thinking of. He could do that and more.

Alarming, yet exciting all the same.

Breathless with want, they sank deeper into each other, whispering incoherent words.

Stop. No, don’t stop. Not here. Yes…

“The ending is poor,” he whispered, his mouth returning to hers.

“What?”

“The opera. The ending is poor.”

“How did you know?”

“We are here, are we not?”

She smiled against his lips.

“We are leaving this place,” he rasped.

“Yes.”

“Everleigh.”

Sasha opened her eyes. “Everleigh?”

West nodded. “I am taking you home.”

---

“Surely, you must be jesting, sir,” Sasha said an hour later, gazing out the window. “I should have climbed into my own carriage.”

“Iyana and I have become fast friends. She was very glad to leave you in my care.”

She shook her head, tearing her eyes off the large manor.

“West, we could go home to the villa.”

His face darkened. “No.”

“This is about Willoghby, is it not?”

His jaw went tight. “Of course, it is about that bastard. He was at the theater. You must be insane if you expect me to let you go home alone.”

“Then we can stay at your villa—”

“Darren is too young to die for you, Sasha,” he said with finality as the door of the carriage opened, revealing Darren’s grinning face.

“Welcome to Everleigh, Lady Sasha.”

Sasha gulped, stealing the façade of the manor one more look.

Bloody hell, she did it.

She was here.

---

West took Sasha straight to the parlor and before she could even take a seat, Seven bounded into the room and unto her lap, lapping on her face.

He listened as she laughed against Seven’s attack while he poured drinks for them both.

“Seven,” he said with warning as he approached. The dog turned to stare at him and then settled on Sasha’s lap. “Good evening to you, too, you unfaithful bastard,” he addressed the dog, handing Sasha her drink. As she reached out for it, he pulled back. “You do not fare well with spirits.”

She scowled. “I can manage a brandy.”

“The last we had a drink together, you ran away.”

She reached for the drink and he allowed her with a smile. “You were staring at me as if I was a sumptuous meal that had gone bad.”

West chuckled. “The first agreement was stupid.”

“I agree.”

They shared a secret smile.

Then she blinked away and looked around the room. “Is that your father?” she asked, looking at the large painting hanging above the fireplace.

West nodded without looking.

She searched the room.

“You are looking for my mother’s painting.”

“Yes. On my last trip to Belcourt, I could not help but look at every woman I met, wondering if one of them is the person I’m looking for.”

West stood and reached for her hand. Seven jumped off her lap as she stood.

Without a word, he guided her out of the parlor, both of them still holding their drinks.

He led her upstairs, down another corridor, and into his study.

Inside, right across the large table, was his mother’s painting.

Sasha walked toward her, transfixed. “She’s beautiful.”

“Was,” he corrected, leaning against the edge of his table, staring at his mother’s radiant, beautiful face. Her brown waves were tied to one side, ornamented with pearls and feathers. Her light blue eyes were telling them a funny story, one West often wondered about. What could she be saying as she sat still for her painting? Was she laughing? About what?

“You look like her.”

“You saw my father’s painting, so yes, thank you.”

She laughed. “He was not bad at all! He just seemed scary.”

“And he was,” he said with a sigh. With one motion, he downed the rest of his drink and laid the empty glass on the table. He approached Sasha and circled an arm around her waist. “Do you think she also looks like her?”

She shrugged. “If I had seen anyone that looks as close to your mother, I believe I would have noticed her.”

“Then she must have taken after the king.”

“I have only seen one painting of the king.”

“And?”

“I cannot truly say. It is hard to imagine him looking like a woman.”

West laughed. “You just painted a funny picture in my head.”

“You are foxed. You are laughing.”

“I can laugh,” he said, taking her drink. “That’s enough for you.”

He placed the drink on the table nearby and returned to her side, pulling her into his arm, burying his face in her neck.

He just broke his own rules.

He should not have taken her here.

But it felt right—her being here.

Taking a lungful of her scent, West swayed on the spot.

“You are indeed foxed. You are dancing.”

“I’m making love, Sasha.”

She chuckled and it was music for their dance.

He leaned back, content to just watch her eyes glimmer under the yellow light of the study. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Her right brow cocked high. “You have always hated my gowns.”

He stared down at the blazing orange gown. “I still hate your gown.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “This gown pales in comparison to others, sir. Please, have a care.”

Tracing a finger at her neckline, he dryly said, “It bares your shoulders.”

“My shoulders are fine.”

“They are marvelous and ought to be covered.” He sighed, dipping his head down to claim her mouth. “But enough of your bloody dresses.”

---

Sasha dropped on top of him, panting and completely sated.

His hand reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead and cupped her face. With a lazy smile, he rolled her to her side.

“I told you it could work,” he said, kissing her damp hair.

She moistened her lips and stole a kiss. “What are we doing, West?”

His face buried in the crook of her neck and shoulder, he murmured, “We are resting. Then I am going to find out if that table in the corner will finally serve a purpose.” Sliding a hand up to her breast, he added, “Then perhaps the window after that.”

Sasha turned and urged him to roll his head, so he was looking at her. “No. I meant… we should not be doing this at all.”

His hand stilled and his eyes suddenly turned serious. He clenched his jaw and asked, “You are my Belle.”

“You mean I am your whore.”

Anger flashed his eyes. “What? No, I meant—”

She smiled. “I know what you meant. I was merely teasing,” she said, kissing the scowl off his face. “Do not mind me. I am just asking questions.”

“And I am just answering questions.”

She let the quiet of the night linger between them. His hand started to move again in a lazy caress, pulling her leg over his for a tight snuggle.

“If I am another woman, not from Belcourt, would you ever consider me for a wife?”

He bent his head to look at her. “Why are you asking these questions, Sasha?”

“I told you I am a curious creature. Nothing but curiosity, sir.” She placed a hand on his chest. “Well? Will you?”

“If you are another woman?”

She nodded.

His eyes were gentle, but his words stung. “I cannot imagine you as anyone else, Sasha.”

Sasha smiled against the pang in her chest. “Of course. So do I.”

He closed his eyes and whispered, “Now, sleep, darling. I might just wake you up in a while.”

Sasha stayed quiet and waited until she was certain that he was asleep.

She waited a little while longer, silently debating with herself.

This may be the only chance, the voice insisted.

This could indeed be her only chance to be in Everleigh.

Carefully, she slid away from West’s hold and out of the bed. She grabbed a robe near the washstand and waited.

And she debated some more.

Minutes later, Sasha was back in his study, Seven quietly tailing her.

Decided, she went to the table. There was nothing on top save for his writing articles.

She looked at the door before she pulled open the first drawer. Again, nothing but an invitation to an opera and a few balls.

She reached for the second one, then the third.

They were nearly empty.

With more determination, Sasha looked around the room. She searched the bookshelves, her heart racing against her chest.

Nothing.

She paced around the room.

Perhaps there was nothing to find. Perhaps the prince was wrong.

She paused in her steps and stared at Elizabeth Blackwood’s beautiful face.

“Where is she?” she whispered. “Where’s your daughter?”

Then she scoffed, thinking herself crazy for talking to a painting of a woman.

Sasha gave the room another scan.

The shelves, the table, the settee, the liquor cabinet, the table by the window—

Her eyes veered back to the liquor cabinet. At the top were the variety of drinks and some empty glasses. Down, at the very bottom, was an intricate square carving.

Her heart hammered faster and stronger as her feet rushed toward it.

Kneeling on the floor, Sasha ran the tips of her fingers on the square surface. She slipped her hand through the small gap between the furniture and the floor, blindly reaching for the bottom. Then her hand pushed upward.

The surface moved and she flinched.

A drawer without a handle. Pushing the bottom surface of the cabinet, she tried to slide it forward toward her. The square carving started to ease out, revealing the hidden drawer.

Sasha could feel the tears at the back of her eyes as they landed on the leather-bound book.

She knew what it was. She had something similar back in her villa.

Withdrawing her hand from the bottom of the cabinet, Sasha picked up the journal.

She looked over her shoulder. Seven was sitting by the closed door, sleeping.

Bending her head back on the object in her hand, Sasha opened it.

A folded letter was tucked between the first two pages.

She hesitated.

Her heart was screaming this was wrong while her mind urged her to be fast.

So with shaking hands, Sasha unfolded the letter.

You were raised to be wise and cunning.

Take the learnings from the journal and dispose of it.

Find the instructions.

Follow them, son, for the outcome will be our legacy.

Breathless with guilt and anticipation, Sasha hastily scanned the last remaining pages of the journal, her eyes frantically searching for something.

Then she froze. A chill ran up her spine.

Our King Reginald is waiting for her. Find her and bring her to him. He will make contact soon. Be careful, for our enemies will be watching you. Dispose of this journal. Dispose of everything. No evidence, son. Leave nothing.

Give Sutherland back to its rightful king.

Sasha did not feel the tears streaming down her face until they blurred her vision. She wiped them with the back of her hand, but more tears flowed.

Her shoulders shook, the pang in her chest replaced by a crushing, twisting pain.

For quite some time, she allowed herself to cry.

And when she thought she could stand, she closed the drawer and came to her feet, stumbling as she did so, the journal and the letter falling on the floor. She picked them up and went to the settee.

Sasha sniffled, allowing the tears to flow.

But her mind was beginning to work again.

She had to do her task.

She had to be wise.

A shiver ran through her and her shoulders shook once more, her tears unstoppable.

Seven padded toward her and whimpered at her feet.

“I am all right, my friend,” she whispered, scratching the dog’s head. “I am all right.”

Sasha squared her shoulders.

Then she prayed for that was all she could do.

She prayed that she would be doing the right thing.

XXX | A New Game

When West stirred awake, he instantly noticed one thing.

His arms were empty.

He opened his eyes.

It was still nighttime.

Slowly rising to his elbow, he called, “Sasha?”

The room was quiet, the curtains still.

With a frown, he gave the room another sweeping glance.

Slipping out of bed, he noticed that his robe was gone.

She may have awakened and was now searching for food in the kitchen, something she had done quite a few times before.

“Seven,” he called, expecting the dog to come out of hiding from underneath the bed. He sighed. “Of course.” Seven must be wherever Sasha was.

He lazily dressed in his trousers, ignoring his shirt, and walked out of the bedchamber to search for her. Did she even know where the kitchen was?

But she was not there. The kitchen was quiet.

So was the parlor.

It was when he found the garden also empty that he began to feel a sense of panic.

Could it be—

No, surely Willoghby would not dare trespass Everleigh. The bastard could not be that stupid.

Or was he?

His heart started to hammer faster, the rush of panic deafening. West ran back to his bedchamber, shouting Sasha’s name.

Breathless, he burst into the room, his eyes wide. She was still not there.

He heard Seven barking down the corridor. He ran outside and the dog met him, jumping up and down. “What is it, Seven? Where is Sasha? Come, tell me,” he asked.

The dog barked three more times then whirled around.

West followed, realizing the direction Seven was taking and outran the dog toward his study.

He came bursting in and skidded to a stop.

“What are you bloody doing here?” he demanded when he saw her sitting in the settee wearing nothing but his robe.

Her face was blank, bare of emotions, as she stared straight at him.

He looked her over to survey if she was hurt or not, a habit he developed when it came to Sasha.

It was then that he saw it.

The journal.

Cold washed over him, then disbelief.

No.

The denial came and left the soonest he realized that she did not simply stumble upon it. She would not have found it if she did not come searching for it.

The raw feeling of betrayal seeped in slowly and erupted so powerfully he nearly stumbled in his feet.

His jaw hardened, the fury rapidly building.

As he stared at her sitting there in his robe, looking so calm and composed, his hand closed into a fist.

She made love to him just hours ago and the very moment that he was rendered helpless in sleep, she set out to do what she had always intended to do.

“What do you want?” his cold, menacing voice echoed around the room.

It was there in her eyes, clear as his stupidity.

Everything—everything was a bloody trap.

When she opened her mouth to speak, West was about ready to strangle her neck. And when her voice came out steady and composed, he thought he just needed to kill her. “I will tell you the truth if you will tell me the truth.”

His eyes went to his father’s journal.

“What does this journal mean?” she asked, her eyes impassive and as equally cold as the still night air. “What are you planning against the kingdom?”

She was sent here to find something, and she found it. Had he been too stupid? Too confident? “I am not planning anything.”

Her lips twitched into a mocking smile. “Your father’s journal says otherwise.”

Fury had consumed West by now. “You were sent to spy on me all this time? By whom? Another flower? Your hidden gentleman?”

She nodded. She did it so effortlessly he believed her. But no, he could not. Surely, this woman wanted something else. But then she said, “One of the letters sent out to you from London was intercepted, leading a few to believe you are in cohorts with the previous monarch.”

His eyes flickered back to the journal in her hands. “And what do you plan to do with that, Sasha?” He scoffed. “Is your name even Sasha?”

“My name is Sasha, sir, it has always been. I never lied to you.”

A mocking chuckle escaped his throat, mostly directed at himself. “And you simply expect me to believe you?”

Once more, she nodded.

“I asked you a question. What do you intend to do with that?” he asked, motioning his head at the journal.

She smiled. “That will depend on what you are going to tell me.”

“Or perhaps how much I am willing to pay?” he asked with scorn. “Because if you intend to deliver it to the people who ordered you to be here and be my whore, I would not be speaking to you now. You would not linger to find out if there is a better option for you.”

“I am always looking for better options, West. For now, I want to know why you have this.”

“I can have you killed now, and no one will ever know.”

“But you will not do that for you have as many questions as I,” she said, still motionless, still emotionless. “And I am your only ticket into Belcourt.”

“That journal belongs to my father. It does not speak for me.”

“But he specifically gave you instructions. How do I know you did not follow them?”

His jaw clenched. “I did follow every bloody instruction.”

He saw the surprise in her eyes before it disappeared. “Why?”

West tightened his jaw.

He was so near his goal and he could not lose Sasha now.

If he could manipulate her and turn things into his favor, he might still succeed.

“I have been in correspondence with Reginald, but not because I am finishing what my father started.”

“Then you simply want to make friends, is that it?”

He matched her condescending smile. “I have been plotting where the bastard is on the map. We have reasons to believe that he is on his way back to Sutherland.”

She frowned. “Through the letters?”

“His letters provide me details of his movements.”

Her frown deepened. “You said we . Who are the rest of the we , West?”

West gritted his teeth. “My friends.”

She blinked and nodded. “The Earl of Keene and the Marquess of Leighton.”

Without acknowledging, West took a step forward. He was not going near for he might just do something.

“And where are these letters?”

He scoffed incredulously. “With someone I trust.”

She blinked. “The earl, I assume. Rider Fairborne, is it?”

“We have figured that if I continue to receive the letters, they may be intercepted and I would have to face the consequences I would otherwise suffer if the letters are found in my possession.”

“Did you decide on that when one letter went missing?”

He did not nod, but she guessed correctly. Now he knew where the letter went.

“We have been tracking Reginald for years. We have men out there in search of him.”

“Why? To save the kingdom?” she asked with the same mocking smile he was beginning to hate. It did not become her. He was no longer facing Sasha, the Belle. He was facing a woman trained to seduce men and use them. Which was the real one?

Neither , the voice in his head replied.

“You may not be your father, West, but it is no secret what the dethronement of Reginald caused you and your father. You have more reasons to betray the current monarchy. Do not tell me you are doing all of this to be a hero.”

West felt his nose flare. He was revealing too much. He was risking something big. All because of what? Because he was hoping that he could persuade this woman to work with him? Hoping that she would be greedy enough to take more of his money?

“I am looking for my sister.”

Her brows cocked high. “I know. Your father’s instructions are very clear. You will find her and take her to Reginald so he can use her against her own father—to ruin the king.”

“I may be my father’s son, Sasha, but I am also someone’s brother,” he gritted out, erasing the smile on her face. “I am searching for my sister to save her. I cannot let anyone subject her to whatever my father and Reginald were planning. That can never happen as long as I am alive.”

She remained quiet, just looking at him with curiosity.

Did she believe him? Could she believe him?

Too many questions and he barely scratched the surface.

“Do you believe me now? Can I have my turn to ask the questions since you have so gracefully made it certain that we can have a proper chat instead of just upright betraying me?”

Her face softened, then her shoulders dropped. As if she had been holding her breath, as if she had been waiting for this very moment, anticipated it—feared it. And when it happened, she found relief.

His curiosity heightened.

What did she really want?

Why were they having this conversation at all?

Why was she still here? She must know that she could not just easily escape with his father’s journal. She must know that he may be inclined toward drastic measures to keep his secrets.

Unless she was after something that had nothing to do with Belcourt.

“I honestly do not know, West,” she finally said, her voice almost tired. Was this part of her manipulation? Was he letting her control him again? “Ever since I started this mission, everyone seems to be lying.”

“Mission?” he asked, finally understanding. “I am your mission.”

She nodded. “Belcourt, you must now realize, is involved in many things.”

His jaw tightened.

“But from the moment I started this mission, everyone seems to have motives of their own, doing their own things.” She looked around the room and at his mother’s portrait. “And if what you are telling me is true,” she turned her head to look at him, “then you are the only one who has been truthful thus far.”

West waited, still confused.

“So instead of blindly letting myself be trapped in this complicated game of powerful players, I have decided to make my own game.”

“And how will you be playing this game?”

“I will find your sister.”

“For what price?”

She looked at him, gaze firm and determined. He saw a glimpse of the woman he thought he was beginning to know. “The truth. I will know the truth.”

His eyes narrowed. “You can easily ask Belcourt, your very powerful ally.”

Something in her eyes flashed. Anger? Concern? Betrayal? “I have discovered things that led me to believe that there is a rat in Belcourt. I need someone who can work with me. Someone from the outside.”

He forced out an incredulous breath. “You were tasked to spy on me. And now you are trusting me?”

Her face hardened. “Should I not?”

“You can go to someone high up in Belcourt. Go to the High Priestess. Tell her there is a rat in her cult.”

She was clearly offended by the word as her jaw clenched and her eyes went ablaze. “The very reason I am doing this is because I am saving my cult . Someone is doing something behind Belcourt’s back. I intend to discover it myself.”

“Who? Who in Belcourt could ever do such a thing?” he asked with mocked surprise. “One of the Belles? Your Mistresses?”

“Gabrielle.”

West stiffened, a frown forming on his face. “Who?”

“The redhead.”

“The one who saved you in Humbrick?”

“The very one.”

“You cannot expect me to believe you.”

“I believe Gabrielle might be working with the prince.”

“And what has the prince got to do—”

“He is the one who approached Belcourt, asking to spy on you. I believe he is aware that you are looking for your sister. And if what you say is true, then he also has reasons to want to get to your sister, West. And someone is helping him do that. Someone in Belcourt. Gabrielle had done things against Belcourt law and I intend to find more proof of her treachery.”

“With my help? By betraying Belcourt and the prince?”

“I believe that Belcourt is not aware of Gabrielle’s connection with the prince, nor are they aware of your sister’s existence in Belcourt. It has been many years since your mother gave birth to this child. Belcourt has the power to keep secrets from the ladies themselves, even the Mistresses. If Belcourt is remotely aware of your sister’s presence, West, it would have been impossible for you to gain membership. They would not have been keeping her and putting her in danger by taking you in. If she is indeed in Belcourt, she must be there in secret to protect her. If Belcourt knew where she is, I see no reason for Gabrielle’s actions.”

He shook his head, unable to believe he was having this conversation with her.

“This woman, your sister, is a part of Belcourt. I cannot allow anyone to hurt her simply because she was born out of sin.” Sasha stood and looked him straight in the eye. “I am doing this for your sister. I am doing this for the future children in Belcourt who need a home. I am doing this for the rest of the women who take refuge in Belcourt.”

West took the moment to process everything she had thus far said. She made sense, but could he trust her?

With a bitter smile, he searched her eyes. “From the first day, Sasha?”

He saw something flash her eyes but was unable to decipher for it disappeared in a blink. She nodded. “From the very first day.”

From the very first day…

He remembered the look of innocent surprise in her face when they first met in her parlor. The naïve look she gave him, the proud way she recovered. Everything that happened after that flashed before his eyes. Her signing their agreement, probably laughing at his ignorance; her taking him to Belcourt; Humbrick; that stormy night.

She had been lying to him. Why should he trust her now?

Because he saw something true every now and then. The fear in her eyes when Willoghby attacked her. The same fear last night when the bastard appeared in the opera.

She was yet to tell him everything that she found out, everything she experienced to have led her to do this.

With caution, West finally spoke. “If I learn that you are lying to me, I will make certain to deliver my punishment before Belcourt ever can.”

She nodded.

The next question hovered above them—between them.

“And where does this leave us?” he asked. Stupid that he was, he just had to ask.

Looking at her eyes, West knew she understood his unspoken question. What of them?

With a bittersweet smile, she replied without truly addressing his question. “We go back to the start where we both agree to find your sister and save her before the prince can lay his hands on her. And once we do, you cannot take her anywhere without her consent for she will have to be free to do what she wants. And we sign on it. I suggest you call your lawyer and draft a new agreement.”

XXXI | Lies and Compromise

Everything drastically changed for Sasha.

The secrets were beginning to mount, and she struggled to take control, all the while hoping that she was doing the right thing.

Never had she thought that she would come to a point where she had to break Belcourt law. All for one woman she could not even find. All because she chose to trust a man.

Be a good girl…

The words echoed in her head.

Was she? Was she being a good girl?

Or was she a woman who succumbed to the manipulation of a man?

But it seemed right. It felt right.

Yet why did she feel regret?

Was it the sudden change of the dynamic of the game between them?

He never sought her out again after that night, did he?

He never came near for three days.

Their last meeting ended with her being taken home by his carriage alone.

It ended when they signed a new agreement, one that did not prohibit them from being lovers. Neither of them dared mention it, and none dared to pen it down. They had learned their lesson.

The agreement was plain and simple.

They looked for his sister and perhaps they would find answers about Gabrielle and Belcourt.

He would not take his sister by force.

No one betrays anyone either.

Three simple rules with some left unspoken.

What would happen to them now?

His question stayed with Sasha even to this day.

It haunted her thoughts at night when she would lie in bed, alone and in fear. Willoghby was still free and Gabrielle was letting him for some unknown reason.

She and West would never be the same.

There was no point in regretting it.

She made her choice and it was a choice she should live for from now on. It could never be undone.

She knew from the very first time they met that her goal was to serve Belcourt and stay in Belcourt. His was to find his sister. And perhaps save the kingdom by doing so.

“You are staring blankly in the air again, dear,” Prince Albert’s voice said.

Sasha blinked, looking at the man sitting across from her.

Should she have trusted this man instead?

Should she have gone to Belcourt and reported the journal?

Was she making the same mistake she did when she did not report Willoghby?

The questions attacked her as notoriously as the prince did at their game. She looked down at the chessboard. “I seem to be losing.”

“Because your mind is elsewhere,” the prince pointed out with narrowed eyes. “Why so, Sasha?”

“It is nothing.”

“I heard that you and Blackwood have been seeing some progress. You are often in his villa.”

“Yes.”

The prince grinned, his blue eyes glimmering with mirth. “Did I not say Humbrick is the trick?”

Sasha flushed. “You did not, but that one is true. Humbrick did the trick, indeed.”

The prince clapped his hands together. “Perfect.” He gave Sasha a leveled look. “Now, all you have to do is worm your way into Everleigh—his estate.”

Sasha nodded.

“You must look hard, Sasha. He is a rather wise man. Find out where he goes whenever he disappears. Know everyone in his circle. You need to know him well enough to know where he might be hiding his secrets.”

Slowly, she nodded. “For all we know, Albert, they are in the fireplace, reduced to ashes. But I shall try to search somewhere else.”

“You need not waste more time, Sasha. The kingdom’s safety relies on this mission.”

All she could do was nod, for what else could she say?

“Now, do tell me… how is West Blackwood as a lover?”

Sasha blinked, dumbfounded by the blunt question. “I… I believe I cannot say. I have no other reference for comparison.”

The prince erupted in a boisterous laugh that Sasha had never heard before. He shook his head. “Oh, darling, Sasha. My question does not require experience, but seeing the color on your face, I can most definitely say that Blackwood does not fail to provide immense pleasure.”

She cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “I would rather we talk about something else, Albert. I am not keen on talking about my intimate relationship with the duke.”

“Fair point,” said the prince, nodding. “Then tell me something. How do you find your life in Belcourt? From your very first memory of the place up to this point.”

“Why are you curious?”

Albert scoffed. “Darling, I grew up in a bloody castle. I barely know anything.”

Sasha smiled. “Then the same can be said to me. I grew up enclosed behind Belcourt’s walls. Most days I was impatient, always wishing to grow up faster so I could be courted.”

“And you were.”

“I was. Twice.”

The prince laughed.

“But I do miss the Manor. We had to spend nearly the entire day with someone. We were never alone. We could never have our own rooms. There would always be other children about and most often, we had to take care of the younger ones.”

“What else would you do on a normal day?”

Sasha shrugged. “We study, of course. We must spend most of our days in the classrooms. And oh, we particularly love our trips to the Village.”

“The Court of Service.”

“There is a tea house there where many ladies from all different courts come together and chat. And there is also the laundry house where we used to play hide and seek. Oh. Now that I think of it, the entire Village is the perfect place for the game. No one ever ended up finding anyone.”

The prince smiled. “And I am also certain that mealtimes must be chaotic.”

Sasha considered her answer. “Not quite. We are trained to display a perfect manner around the table. But if you must ask about the young ones, then we might have a lot to talk about.”

Albert laughed. “My life in the palace had never been that interesting.”

“I have always thought the same,” she honestly replied. “It must be difficult to have your actions constantly being watched because the people around you are afraid that you might be attacked at any moment.”

“You just described my entire life, darling.” He looked at the chess pieces on the table. “Everyone is always out there waiting for the right moment to attack and you have no choice but to constantly look over your shoulder, wondering if everyone is your loyal servant.”

Sasha allowed a gentle smile, her own heart hammering.

“But you get used to it, of course,” said the prince in a much lighter tone. “You find other things to fill your days and to mask the constant hordes of guards.”

“Like Belcourt,” she said in a teasing tone.

“Precisely, Sasha,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Now you must realize that your life seems better than mine.”

“Oh, trust me, Albert, I did not have to realize that.”

The prince gave her a mocking scowl. “Then realize this—my knight has just killed your queen.”

Sasha looked down and dropped her shoulders. “I did not see that coming.”

“You are easily distracted you made the wrong move.”

“You need not rub salt on the wound, Your Highness.”

“How about another game?” he asked.

“How about a different game?” she offered. “I am honestly sick of chess.”

---

The following morning, Sasha walked out of her villa just in time to see Owen Compton climbing up his mother’s estate. Their eyes met and the man immediately looked away before furiously knocking on the door.

“What took you so long!” he heard him shout at the servant before the doors closed.

“Now, it makes me curious what you could have done to the man that makes him cower in fear at the sight of you,” West’s light voice said from below the stairs at the side of the road. Sasha turned to look down at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I heard you are on your way to Belcourt.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

He motioned over his shoulder at Briana. The woman grinned at Sasha from her seat behind the stagecoach.

Descending the stairs, Sasha said, “I believe it was not what we did that makes the baron cower in fear at the sight of me. It must be what Aliya whispered to him.”

“Which is?” he asked, opening her carriage door for her.

She stopped for a moment. “I do not know. I am as curious as you.”

Sasha climbed into the carriage and was not surprised when he followed.

She may have perfected her act of nonchalance, but her heart was rapidly racing in her chest.

So this was how they should play this new game? Pretend as though they had been playing it for a long time? No room for adjustments? No further arguments?

Was it the right thing to do?

She stole him a glance. He was looking out the window, watching the busy streets of downtown pass by. He seemed fine. Or was he also doing the same thing that she was? Pretending that this was their new normal?

If so, then she would not argue.

This may come handy when they finally had to part.

“Do you intend to stay at the library longer?”

Sasha nodded. “I stayed away long enough to avoid questions,” she said in a low voice, making certain Briana could not hear them from the outside. “You are coming along to keep watch. You do not trust me.”

His eyes veered toward her. Their gazes locked. “Can you blame me?”

She blinked away. “No.”

The silence between them reigned until they had left Coulway and were well on their way to Belcourt. “You should introduce me to the other Belles that may be in the Flower Garden.”

She frowned. “Why?”

He smiled. “I need to be entertained while you are away.”

He would be looking around and asking questions. She sighed. “Very well, if you insist.”

---

Sasha entered the Court of Libraries with a sense of strange familiarity.

She could remember herself walking the same corridors, but she could no longer recall how it felt like. The feeling was alarming, but she shook it off as she entered the library of records. A familiar face greeted her and gave her the pass she needed to freely enter the room.

Once inside, the smell of old paper, candle, and wood greeted her.

Shelves that ran from ceiling to floor lined all walls and formed narrow alleyways in the center of the room, probably ten pairs of shelves in total.

When she was still a part of this court, she had only been here once. She never thought of the room again for there were other more interesting ones around the Library.

Sasha went straight to the section she knew would hold the information she needed to find.

She had thought hard and planned what she should do every time she came to the Library. Due to the limited time she could spend here, knowing what she wanted to find and where to find it was necessary. She found her name and pulled out the thick book. With brisk steps, she walked to her next destination, her heart beating fast.

The records of all ladies in Belcourt—children and adults alike—were arranged by name and not by their years of birth. Finding one child born in 1781 would be nearly impossible.

Having found the birth record was one thing but finding the actual record of the child was another.

Sasha thought of only one way to find the woman.

The Courting Ceremony records.

Sasha immediately went on a hunt, all the while her own records firmly tucked under her arm. She eventually found the records of all ladies courted in the year 1799. If the child grew up in Belcourt, she should have been courted on that year.

Starting from the first woman who was courted, Sasha looked down the short list and frowned. There were only five women and none of them were courted on the date she was looking for. Sasha was certain that the child born in 1781 in Belcourt was delivered on the second day of August, but why was there no lady courted on the same date in 1799?

It was Belcourt practice that all ladies must be courted on the very day they turned eighteen.

The child in 1781 was never courted.

Sasha frowned.

Something was definitely amiss here and the frustrating part was that Sasha could feel she was very close to understanding why, but she could not grasp it.

“Sasha?” a voice asked behind her. “Are you done?”

“Jena,” she said, “do you think you can help me with something?” she asked, pulling out her own records from under her arm, turned, blocking the other book with her skirts. “I found my records, but I am curious about something.”

Jena frowned. “What about?”

“When I first came here, I had with me a satchel.”

The Librarian waited for her to continue.

“I am merely wondering if the records can tell me what happened to it?”

Jena frowned with confusion. “I am certain there will be no record of such satchel, Sasha. Unless it contained something that would encourage the Library to put it on record.”

“And if they do put that on record, where would they put it?” she lifted her record. “Here?”

“No,” the woman replied with a shake of her head. “The Inventory, of course. Although I do not recommend you start digging. It is a mess, Sasha. You do not know how many things the children come with when they come here.”

“Surely it would not be that difficult. I may spend a little more time here, then? To check the Inventory?”

Jena shook her head with a smile. “I do not know why you are even curious about your satchel, but of course, you can freely try to look into the Inventory. Section 8C.”

Sasha smiled. “Thank you, Jena.”

The woman grinned. “I see a glow about you, Sasha. One that you never had before. Being in the Garden seems to be doing you so much good.”

“Perhaps,” she replied.

As soon as Jena left, Sasha thought of something.

She turned and walked to the eastern side of the room and found Elizabeth Blackwood’s record.

Sasha did not know why she never bothered to find out more about the woman and she knew she should have been more curious. Mayhap it was because she never cared if West found his sister. She never considered her task for her to be her priority until now.

She flipped the pages until the end and read.

Her eyes landed on one particular detail and she lifted her hand to muffle her gasp.

---

West was surrounded by a flock of Belles, most of them from different parts of Sutherland, and currently staying in Belcourt for the season.

After Sasha introduced him to the only five Belles she was acutely familiar with, the rest of his afternoon was filled with unending chatters of every possible topic the ladies could think of.

He discovered that most of them were knowledgeable on vast subjects and that they rarely get tired exercising their speech. Having suffered nearly two hours of the same buzz of voices and laughter, he vowed never to be bothered by Ruby and Jade’s prodding conversations for he would take them anytime.

His luck began to strike by four in the afternoon when approximately eight gentlemen arrived, most of whom people he was acquainted with from the House of Lords and others during the last Humbrick Ball.

The gentlemen, being more comfortable with the Belles, took the responsibility and invited the ladies for a walk in the garden. Now, with merely seven Belles left in the parlor, all of whom he was not introduced to and could not talk to, West finally had time to breathe.

He considered walking to Sasha’s bedchamber where he could be truly alone but decided against it.

He did not know how to deal with her now.

Bloody tarnation, he could not even say if he could trust her.

He had not spoken to Rider and Tanner, had not told them that a little incident happened and now their plans could be in jeopardy.

All because he took his Belle to Everleigh.

Had he not been clear with his own rules?

Had he not said that she could never be associated with him and his title?

And where did that lead him now?

Pouring himself a drink, West sat in one corner to think of the possible outcomes this new partnership with Sasha may cost him.

She may be telling the truth and he may have a better chance of finding his sister

She could be lying, and he would find himself facing either the kingdom or Belcourt, either of which would end badly. It would cause a stir within his circle and most importantly, his plans.

Or she could be as lost as him, just searching for answers—for opportunities.

“He’s Sasha’s…” he heard one Belle whisper. The Belle beside her in a yellow dress leaned over and whispered something.

“Duke… yes… no, uncertain…” the other one replied.

“Sasha? The Fainting Belle?”

“Hush!”

“But… where… Coulway?”

West’s jaw tightened.

“Lucky Belle, eh?” the one in yellow asked with a chuckle.

“I heard… attacked somewhere in… true?”

“Willoghby, yes.”

West closed his eyes.

“But… she is not even… well, I would hate to say.”

“What? Pray tell…”

He sensed them looking at him, then heard them stand and walk toward the door, intending to take their conversation elsewhere.

“She must be good in bed for Willoghby to desperately want her,” he heard one of them say too early. “She has a hidden flower… and I heard he is…”

He almost jumped out of his seat to hear the rest of the woman’s words but stopped himself as it just struck him.

Sasha had a hidden flower.

What if Sasha was working with this man? What if she had once more managed to manipulate West into believing she was working with him?

What if—

No, he had to clearly think.

They had an agreement.

And somehow, despite the anger and betrayal, despite better judgment, he had to trust her.

She was the best option.

---

Sasha walked the remaining miles back to the Flower Garden, her mind reeling with her discovery.

“Sasha,” the familiar voice made her stop cold.

She turned and found Gabrielle behind her. When the woman saw her, she was frowning. “I told you it is not wise to return to Belcourt.”

Sasha sighed. “West has been insistent that I find his sister soon. I try my best to pretend that I am doing something, one of which is taking a trip to the Library.” Then she gazed at Gabrielle wearing her green cloak. “I have not seen you for quite some time.”

“I have a different assignment,” the woman said, avoiding her gaze. Her green eyes stared at the direction of the Flower Garden. “I heard he has finally invited you into his estate.”

“How did you know?”

“The prince informed the Mistresses, of course.”

Sasha nodded. “Yes, I have been to Everleigh.”

“And did you find anything?” Gabrielle’s eyes looked hopeful.

She shook her head. “No, not yet. I cannot simply start searching, Gabrielle. He will suspect.”

Gabrielle nodded and sighed, looking around them. “Have you had a talk with the Mistresses?”

“No, not today.”

“Are they aware that you are here today?”

Sasha shook her head.

“Then it is best you leave before they find out,” Gabrielle insisted. “They will not be pleased to know you have taken West here. It is too risky, Sasha. He might be drawing a map of Belcourt as we speak. Do you understand what I am talking about?”

“Yes, of course. I understand your concern, Gabrielle—”

“Then leave Belcourt at once and try your best not to return until I give you word that you can. And do not leave your flower alone anywhere in Belcourt, Sasha.”

Sasha was desperate for answers, but she knew that this was not the place to get them. No, not here in Belcourt.

Looking at Gabrielle would never be enough. The woman was too cautious. Her eyes were void of anything that might otherwise indicate she was being deceitful. Sasha could only see what Gabrielle wanted her to see.

“When do I expect you to visit me in Coulway?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “I do not know. If you have found something, I will be there.”

Sasha nodded. “I will send you word the soonest I have something.”

“No, Sasha. You will simply wait for me. I will know if you find anything.”

A chill ran up Sasha’s spine as Gabrielle’s calculating green eyes looked at her. She slowly nodded. “Very well. Good day, Gabrielle. I hope to deliver something very soon.”

“I hope the same.” Gabrielle turned and walked down the path that led to the Village.

Sasha watched her walk away, her mind racing.

She turned and hastily made her way back to the Flower Garden and to West.

They needed to talk.

XXXII | Broken Vows

Sasha found West already waiting for her in the garden. In purposeful strides, she approached him and murmured, “We must go.”

His brows fused together, he asked, “Have you found something?”

“Yes,” she replied before walking away to find a service that would call for Briana. When she returned to his side, she said, “Come.”

Together, they exited the Flower Garden and walked beside the road. The trees were green, the grass moist. It would have been a lovely day with the nearby lake mirroring the open blue skies above, with the frequent chirping of the birds hidden in the trees. But they did not have the luxury of time to stop and appreciate.

“I cannot find any record of the child that was born here. The easiest way to do that was to check into the names of the women that were courted eighteen years after. But none of those women were courted on the same day the birth was recorded.”

“Perhaps she was courted—”

“It is not done in Belcourt. Whether or not a lady can attend the Courting Ceremony for whatever reason, she will still be courted. She may fall ill on that day, but her courting will be recorded on the same day of her birth.”

“Then what are you suggesting? That Belcourt has deliberately lost her records?”

Sasha’s jaw tightened. “Or someone made certain I cannot find it.”

West’s exasperated sigh made her turn her head and look up at him. “And there is something else.”

He looked at her, eyes bare of emotions. “What?”

She looked behind them. Her stagecoach was approaching. “It is about your mother.”

She watched him clench his jaw. “What of her?”

“Later.”

---

Their journey back to Coulway was quiet, both of them deep in their own thoughts.

Sasha, for once, was not even aware of West’s presence for her mind was still reeling from her discovery and Gabrielle’s lies.

When Sasha ordered for Iyana, Briana, and the cook to go downtown and shop for supper, West threw her a curious look. “It has been some time since the duke and I have shared a fine dinner together,” she told Iyana. “And oh, do not forget the ham, Iyana.”

With the three servants gone, Sasha led West upstairs.

“We cannot go to your villa. Gabrielle approached me in Belcourt. We cannot give her any reason to wonder why we need the privacy of your villa. She could be on her way here by now.”

West followed her into her bedchamber. Sasha locked the door whirled around to face him, speaking in haste.

“I had to be certain that your mother indeed left Belcourt. I searched for her records and discovered something.”

West frowned. “I have told you she did leave Belcourt. My father was certain of that. She left alone .”

She nodded. “And now I am certain of that as well.”

“What did you discover?”

Sasha lit the lamps and closed the curtains. Turning to face him, she said, “She was banished to the island.”

West remained motionless in the middle of the room. “She was no longer a part of Belcourt. How could she be banished?”

“Whenever a Lady of Belcourt leaves Belcourt, she is not truly free of Belcourt.”

“Whyever not?”

Sasha moistened her lips. “Any lady of Belcourt who wishes to leave has to sign the vow.”

His eyes narrowed in concentration. “A vow is a debt everyone who signs it should honor whenever Belcourt finds the need to ask for a favor.”

“Yes. Every vow is different in nature. Your mother signed the vow when she left to marry your father.”

“You are saying that Elizabeth Blackwood has broken her vow.”

She nodded.

“What was her vow?”

Sasha averted her gaze and moistened her lips. Then she closed her eyes to say, “She was asked to discontinue her pregnancy.”

The silence that followed was nearly unbearable because it was suffocating at best. West’s entire form had gone tight, his face darkening. The fury was building. Sasha could feel it in the air around them.

Then he scoffed. “Of course. Belcourt knows what is best always, does it not?”

Sasha felt the tears sting behind her eyes. She did not know why, but she was crying for Elizabeth Blackwood. The woman had broken a vow to save a life and she was banished for it. “Belcourt does things unconventional, yes, but it does so to protect the whole. Belcourt was in support of the new king and they could not afford to put his reputation at risk.”

“Do you truly believe that?” he asked. She met his gaze.

No, she did not for she could not fathom why Belcourt would sacrifice a child’s life. But she also understood why they would make the decision.

“No, do not answer that,” he said, his voice flat and cold. “I would not even argue with you on this one, Sasha. We have been through this before.”

Yes, they had. He would never understand her loyalty to Belcourt, nor would she demand it from him.

“Are you suggesting then that Belcourt could have murdered her?”

Sasha shook her head. “As in any society, murder is not permitted in Belcourt.”

“And taking a life inside a womb is?”

Sasha closed her eyes. “I do not know, but we would not be facing all of these if your sister is dead, would we?”

When her eyes fluttered open, she found him looking at her. “No.”

---

West turned away from Sasha just so he could clam down.

He did not know if he should be pleased she was telling him this. He had no intention to find out what happened to his mother after she left Belcourt alone. But to know the choices she had to make made caused him confusion.

His father had always painted the woman to be naught but a whore.

He never ever thought of Elizabeth Blackwood as a mother.

And she was, in all sense, a mother.

He took a lungful of air and looked around the room. He had been here many times, made love to Sasha here, had enjoyed her silhouette through the lace curtains that surrounded the giant bed. He knew that there was a red book in one of the drawers of the closet.

Everything had been so close to bliss before Everleigh.

“Are you sure you checked all the records? No record of her at all?” he asked, voice calmer than before.

“It would take me months to look into every record, West, but I will try to dig further the soonest I can return to Belcourt. Every child in Belcourt should have a record, even the elected ones.”

“The elected ones?”

Not hearing his question, she continued, “Then why can I not find her? Are you certain you have looked at other orphanages?”

“I looked into every single orphanage. Sasha, what did you mean by the elected ones?”

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“You said every child in Belcourt has a record, even the elected ones. Who are the elected ones?”

Starting to pace, she placed her hand on her head, thinking hard. “The elected ones are the hidden children of Belcourt.”

“What?” he incredulously asked.

“They are plucked out of the Manor and taken into the Palace.”

“Why are they taken—” he stopped as understanding dawned on him. “They are to replace the Maidens and the High Priestess.”

“Yes, but I do not know much about them. Their identities are a secret, but their records should still be in the Library—when they are taken into the Palace, their age when they were taken there, their age when they came into Belcourt. Their names are expunged, but their records remain.”

“Did you look into them?” he asked.

“Of course, but it is hard to determine how many of the elected ones I am to look for because Belcourt elects them whenever they find it necessary.”

“You mean to say that you cannot tell if all records of these elected children are accounted for.”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps you can find a way into the Palace—”

She stopped and sharply turned to face him. “Have I not told you? It is impossible to get into the Palace. Only the Maidens and the High Priestess have direct contact with the elected children.”

“But Sasha, it is possible that my sister could be one of these bloody elected women. Hell, she could already be a Maiden or the bloody High Priestess herself!”

She shook her head, thoughtful. “No, she cannot be the High Priestess. We have had the same High Priestess for years.”

“How do you know when you have not even laid eyes on the woman?”

“Belcourt does not lie. Everyone in Belcourt is made aware when a new High Priestess is sired.”

“Of course Belcourt does not lie. They just keep too many bloody secrets, don’t they? Like all of us!” he cried out in frustration. “The very reason why we are where we are right now, Sasha, is because you suspect someone in Belcourt. And that same person is in the bloody Palace—” he stopped, realizing something. “This Gabrielle is from the Palace.”

“Yes, but not all women in the Court of Arms can gain access to the Maidens, West. She would not be doing what she is doing if she knows where your sister is.”

“Unless she is not looking for my sister. Unless she is looking for a way to get her out of there.”

He saw the color leave her face. “No, that is—why would she do that?”

“To take her to the prince, what else?”

She shook her head. “If that were so, then why would she be wasting time doing that? Why would she—”

“She is looking for someone to suffer for the crime she is about to do.”

Sasha blinked. “You?”

“Or you.”

Sasha shook her head and sighed in frustration. She began to pace the room. “I do not understand.”

“I think we will only understand if we can learn more about this woman.”

“You mean Gabrielle?”

“Yes.”

She seemed to hesitate. “I can look into her records.”

West nodded. “If we have leverage against her, we may just get our answers.”

Sasha slowly made her way to the bed and sat, burying her face in her hands. “This is too bloody complicated. Good Lord, who would have thought I would ever find myself in this situation? I am committing high treason against Belcourt just by being here with you.”

West stared at her for a while looking at her confused state. “Sasha, this will be over soon.”

“Of course,” she said with a scoff, lifting her head to glare at him. “However this ends, you have a chance. You can escape Sutherland with all your money. Or you can live the same way if it ends well.” She threw her head up and groaned. “I should not have done this. I should have just taken your father’s bloody journal and let them drag you to be questioned. You could have been free if you gave them enough evidence that you mean the kingdom no harm. I could be back in—what have I done?”

West knew that it was not the right thing to do, but he found himself softly chuckling.

She scowled. “You dare laugh.”

“I have never seen you in such a state of uncertainty and panic, Sasha. Well, apart from when we’re in bed, I have never seen you this way.”

As his words sank in, his mouth closed in a firm line. Sasha swallowed and averted her gaze, becoming restless.

She jumped to her feet and circled once, twice, looking everywhere but him. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps it is best we go downstairs.”

West did not say a word.

“We need more time to think this through. We have to think in Gabrielle’s perspective. And yes, I need to get into her records. That will help us get into her mind. We need to get into her mind to anticipate her next move—”

“Sasha,” he softly said, stopping her by the arm. “Relax.”

As if scorched, she stepped away from his grip. “I am—I am trying to relax. Which is why I need tea. I will brew some while we wait for the servants. And you ought to stay for dinner, otherwise, they will suspect.”

She opened the door and her unnecessary chatter continued.

West gave the bedchamber one last sweeping glance, then smiled.

XXXIII | The Protector

Sasha spent the next few days trying to be a Belle.

She went shopping with Jade and Iyana, attended two balls with the same ladies, and even joined a book club composed of ladies who consume as many romance novels as they did other books.

And despite the incident with his son, Mrs. Compton remained to be Sasha’s dear friend and companion during her afternoon walks to the park.

Her days were filled, but during the night, she was sleepless, her mind always making theories.

By the fourth night, she was tired. Too tired, in fact, that she nearly fell asleep while having supper.

“I am fine, Iyana,” she said to her maid as the woman followed her upstairs. “Simply tired.”

“You must be weary. Why? Is it the duke? I have not seen him around, nor have you been out to his villa. Did you fight?”

“No, it is not the duke. We are fine. He is busy as parliament is now in session. He cannot spend his time with me as much as he would like,” she lied.

“Then you must be lonely.”

Sasha weakly chuckled as she changed into her sleeping gown. She sat before her dressing table and let Iyana brush her hair. “I have you ladies in the villa. Why would I be lonely?”

Iyana shrugged, looking at her through the mirror. “They say that a man’s absence can cause severe longing.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “That is not entirely true.”

“If you say so, my lady.”

Sasha chuckled. “You sound like Darren.”

“Who?”

“West’s valet.”

“The creepy lad?”

Sasha sighed. “Now that you mentioned it, I do miss Darren. And Seven.”

“The dog.”

“He must be lonely, too. I have not seen him for long.”

“Then we must find a way for your gentleman to take you to the dog.”

Sasha’s smile slowly died. Perhaps she would never be able to see Seven again.

“Thank you, Iyana,” she said after the maid was done with her hair. “I will retire early.”

“Of course, my lady. Ring for me if you need me.”

“Yes, of course.”

Climbing in bed, Sasha waited until Iyana left. Then she sank under the covers, turning to her side.

Closing her eyes, she was grateful for the weariness.

How long had it been since she had a nice slumber?

That night, Sasha dreamed.

She was walking through a field of flowers, the sun shining brightly against her skin. The wind blew away her bonnet, but the ribbons around her neck kept it from flying away.

Her hands reached for her hat, but it was no longer there.

Then she frowned, wondering why she could not breathe.

The ribbon tightened around her neck and Sasha struggled with a groan.

She tried to breathe but found she could not.

Then she woke up, eyes wide and frantic.

Yet she could still not gasp in air.

It was then that she realized that a heavy weight was atop her, pressing her down on the cushion, trapping her. A hand was around her neck, another over her mouth.

“You have not been a very good girl, Sasha,” Willoghby whispered in her ear.

Sasha struggled to move, but even her legs were rendered immobile by Willoghby’s weight. Her hands grasped at his hands, but he was too strong.

The darkness was beginning to seep through from the corners of her eyes. She felt a tear run down the side of her face as she struggled for a tiny breath.

She tried to scratch his face, desperate to be free.

She could not die this way.

This was not how she wanted to go.

“You think you can keep me away from you, darling?” Willoghby’s voice was now muffled, becoming more distant as Sasha’s eyes closed, her body becoming limp. “You cannot escape me, Sasha. I know your little secret. And soon, I will know your gentlemen’s secrets. Oh, how interesting men they are, are they not, dear?”

Sasha heard his last words, but her body was shutting down on her.

If only she could reach for something—a weapon. But that was no longer possible. She was going, her eyes closing.

She saw her father’s face. “Be a good girl.” His voice echoed to her ears.

And just as her father pulled the trigger, the weight was gone.

Sasha’s eyes flew open and gasped for dear life.

Willoghby was thrown to the ground and Sasha rolled to the other side of the bed, coughing and gasping for air. The chords in her throat bulged as she wheezed and coughed. The tears in her eyes blurred her vision.

She moved and fell to the floor, her limbs shaking as the commotion at the other side of the room continued.

She heard a grunt. A glass breaking. She heard shouting, but she could not even get up. Her mind was reeling, the room moving fast around her, rendering her immobile.

With a moan, Sasha anchored her hands on the floor and tried to stand up.

She heard Iyana shouting and Briana doing the same. Footsteps in the stairway.

More glasses breaking.

Her window door opening, then closing.

She could hear Iyana shouting for the door be closed.

“Go, Briana! Now! Go get him!” Iyana was shouting as more footsteps bounded up the steps.

Soon, Sasha found Iyana and Gail, the cook, bursting into the room, their faces frantic.

“My lady!” Iyana cried out, rushing toward Sasha as she stumbled forward.

Never had she ever felt this helpless. Again.

The fury was fast to come, more toward herself than her attacker. She was not able to save herself again. Someone else had to do it.

“Where is he?” she choked and coughed.

“He rushed out the door, my lady,” Gail said. “He went through the kitchen door. I know I locked it, I swear I did! He must have—”

“Let us wonder about that later,” she said, looking at both Iyana and Gail. “Are you all right? And Briana?”

“We are all right, my lady,” Iyana said, tears streaming down her face.

With shaking hands, Iyana led Sasha to the bed. “What happened, my lady? What did he do?”

“Nothing. I… he was choking me and I woke up.” She could feel the tears behind her eyes. “Please, forgive me,” she said, taking Iyana’s hands. “It is all my fault. I have placed you in danger. Because of me, you—”

Iyana shook her head. “There is no one at fault but that lunatic, my lady.”

Yes, it is my fault , Sasha silently said, closing her eyes. None of this would have happened if she reported Willoghby early.

“Oh, God, I hate myself,” she choked, finally letting the tears out. Her shoulders shook as Iyana gathered her in an embrace.

“This is not your fault, my lady. Please, hush now.”

Gail walked toward the window. “The window is broken,” she said. “He must have gained entry through the window. He exited through the kitchen.”

“It is all right, my lady, please, hush now…” Iyana murmured.

“Thank you, Iyana…”

“There is no need to thank me, my lady. We have done nothing. We should have been here when you fought him. We should have been here to restrain that man! How did you even do it?”

Sasha went still. Then she looked up. “You did not save me?”

Iyana frowned. “No, you did it all yourself!”

A shudder ran through her.

She would have been dead if not for—

Gabrielle.

Her eyes frantically searched the room, looking for someone she knew was no longer there.

Her eyes traveled to the window.

It was not Willoghby who closed it earlier.

“I will call for someone in Belcourt once Briana arrives,” said Iyana.

Sasha nodded her head.

“Gail, please concoct something for Lady Sasha,” Iyana said, voice less shaky. “Would you like to go downstairs, my lady?”

Sasha shook her head. “No, I am fine. I can… I will stay here.”

“Then I will stay here with you.”

Sasha could not allow Iyana to go.

---

Sasha had just settled in back in bed with the tea Gail prepared, watching the herbs that Gail claimed would aid her nerves sink down to the bottom of the cup, Iyana still in the room trying to fix the window.

“You can go now, Iyana. I am quite all right.”

“Not until I fix this window,” said Iyana.

“I will help you,” she said, making a move to slip out of bed.

“No, my lady, I can manage this on my own.”

Sasha looked around the room and frowned. “You said you will send Briana to Belcourt upon her return. Where did she go, Iyana?”

Iyana became still, her eyes focused on the broken hinge of the window.

“Iyana? Where is Briana?”

Iyana turned with a guilty look on her face. “You see, my lady, I may have made someone a promise that if Mr. Willoghby or Mr. Compton ever show themselves—”

Iyana did not finish her statement as the door swung open and crashed against the wall. West stormed inside with a look of intense fury in his eyes.

Sasha’s eyes went straight to Iyana who bent her head and cowered away. Closing her eyes, Sasha sighed.

“I am fine,” she said to West before he could even speak.

His eyes roamed over her. “What did he do?”

Cold and authoritative. Not the West she liked, really.

“I was sleeping and when I woke up, he was choking me with his hand.”

“Bloody hell, Sasha!” he bellowed, his voice causing Iyana to jump. With one look, Sasha ordered the woman to leave, which she immediately obliged, slowly closing the door as she left.

“It already happened, West,” Sasha said. “We have much to discuss now that you are here. While Willoghby was attacking me, I thought that Iyana and Bree were—”

“Why is the bastard still free, Sasha?”

“I told you, West, Belcourt is trying to locate him, but he is being elusive.”

His hands on his hips, he glared down at her. “Tell me the truth, Sasha, when did you report the bastard?” Sasha went still. She replaced her teacup on the table and attempted to slide off the bed, but West said, “No, do not leave that damned bed. Answer my question, Sasha. When did you report him?”

Sasha cleared her throat, wondering if it was worth a lie.

“You never reported him the very moment you could, did you, Sasha?”

She averted her gaze.

“Belcourt is already looking for him, West. And yes, I did report him late. And yes, I lied when I said I did. And yes, it is all my fault why the bastard is still at large. I reported him late and only did so because Ruby went to Lady Mariam.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You are telling me you had no intention of reporting the bastard at all? Why?”

She blinked away. “It was wrong of me to have even thought against reporting him, I know. So, please, I would rather not talk about—”

“What did he tell you at Humbrick, Sasha?”

Be a good girl…

Sasha shook her head. “He… he told me to… he gave me reasons why I could not tell Belcourt about his attacks.”

“What reasons?”

Sasha remained mum.

“Bloody hell, Sasha, what reasons!”

She flinched at the volume of his voice. She turned her head and scowled at him. “Do we really have to discuss this? I already told you that Belcourt found out and they are searching for him. I was wrong and it is all my fault.”

“Do not give me that look, woman,” he said as she continued to scowl at him. “It does not scare me.” He stepped closer and met her scowl with equal measure. “Tell me what the bastard threatened you with, Sasha.”

“Why? What would you do?”

“We can eliminate that threat.”

Sasha laughed. “Do not be ridiculous.”

“Is it Belcourt?”

“He can attack anyone through his papers, West, but never Belcourt. He will not even have a chance of a trial if he does so.”

“What else could—”

Ultimately losing patience, Sasha blurted out, “He cannot directly attack Belcourt, West, but he can attack you.” She pushed the covers to the side and climbed out of bed. “Does the answer satisfy your curiosity? I hope so because I would not be discussing it furthermore—”

It was fast.

His hand caught her arm and in one swift motion, he was kissing her.

Sasha was stunned, rendered motionless.

He lifted his mouth from her. “Sasha,” he said, looking into her eyes, giving her a slight shake, “do you understand that you are no longer alone?”

At first, she just frowned, but his eyes told her something. He was telling her that she was no longer walking alone in the rain and cold.

Was she? Was she truly?

If she started to believe now, would there be a price to pay?

To not wake up and find herself in that old cottage, to not walk alone in search of a new home—to not be alone sounded divine.

Suddenly everything Sasha had been struggling to tame came loose. She felt her tears stream down her face as she wormed her arms around his neck with a whimper, giving it to his words, pressing her lips against his with a shaky sob.

Relief, pain, guilt, anger, confusion, fear… all of them erupting all at once, rendering her helpless in his arms, weakening her knees. She was back to that night she reached Belcourt.

She shuddered as he deepened the kiss, her shoulders starting to shake as she sobbed against his mouth.

Ending the kiss, Sasha buried her face in his neck.

“You are to pack your things this very night,” he said, the anger now replaced by a yielding, gentle tone. He tightened his arms around her when she made a move to protest and added, “Do as I say, for now, Sasha, please. Do not ever shut me out again, do you understand?”

Sasha nodded against his shoulder and he pulled back to cup her face with his hands.

He kissed her one more time, tender and gentle.

“We will go home to Everleigh tonight. Do you hear me?”

Sasha nodded and West did the same, wiping the tears off her eyes.

---

They sat side by side in the carriage ride to Everleigh. Sasha was frowning, deep in thought, the silhouetted view of the mountainside merely a passing blur.

West was equally silent beside her, holding her hand in his.

Sasha had already given up trying to think of what the kiss meant for there was no denying that the sexual attraction never disappeared. Not when she presented his father’s journal, not when they told each other the truth, and not even now when they both obviously had reservations about whether they could trust one another.

Mayhap giving in to this physical aspect was for the best. His touch was a comfort as much as his presence was.

“Something bothers you,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Willoghby is still free because the person Belcourt trusts to find him and bring him in is intentionally allowing him to be free for some unknown reason.”

“You mean Gabrielle.”

She nodded, turning to meet his gaze. “I saw her in the opera.”

“You did not tell me.”

“That was before I found your father’s journal,” she dismissively said. “She was following Willoghby.” She sighed. “Belcourt has been looking for him and yet there she was… just following him, watching him.”

“And she managed to save you tonight for the same reason.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“But why would she save you? And not just once, Sasha, but twice.”

“Thus, my confusion.” She looked out the window again. “That is what we have to find out.”

XXXIV | Everleigh Afternoon

Sasha never had the chance to see Everleigh for what it was.

The last time she was there, she had not been to anywhere but the parlor, West’s bedchamber, and the study. She was gone as fast as she came.

But that afternoon, after she woke up in the bedchamber provided for her, her body still tired despite the long hours of slumber, she felt the heat of the sun. Her body felt heavy, drained of energy, but she forced herself out of bed and padded to the window.

Outside, she saw the vast gardens beginning to bloom. And beyond that, the woods.

Looking about, Sasha found Seven sleeping just under her bed, his head poking out. She smiled and softly walked to the washbasin.

As she discarded her nightdress, intending to get into the fresh light muslin dress laid out for her, a knock on the door came.

“Sasha?”

“Just a moment,” she replied, hurrying to get into the dress, pulling the sleeves up her shoulders. “Please, come in.” West entered the room and she turned around to face the mirror. “Would you help me, please?”

He walked toward her and buttoned her back. She watched him through the mirror and hid a smile. His brows were furrowed with concentration as his hands worked.

“You must be famished,” he said, his timbre collected and controlled.

“Very much,” she admitted, turning to face him. “I do remember your kitchen serves one of the best meals.”

“It is amongst the best.” He rang for a meal be delivered to her bedchamber and they both waited in silence, hesitant to break the calmness they shared.

He was patient as she ate, declining her invitation to join her. Seven had woken and was now on her lap, smelling her dress and growling at West’s hand when he attempted to free Sasha of his weight.

“He misses you,” West dryly said, glowering at the dog.

“And I miss him as much,” she said, scratching Seven’s head, but her eyes were locked on West’s.

She thought she saw his lips twitch into a smile.

They spent more minutes just sitting there by the window while she ate, their gaze flickering back and forth to each other in such calmness she had never experienced before whenever she was with him. It was tranquil, a soothing caress.

If this was a compromise, then mayhap she was doing something right.

“It is a fine afternoon.” His eyes were equally soothing as his voice. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Sasha did not have to think twice.

She needed fresh air.

And even though her body felt tired, the walk seemed to be giving her back the physical strength.

They walked side by side, him with his arms at his back and her hands filled with wildflowers.

“When do you intend to return my father’s journal?” he asked, his tone light and innocent, a contrast to his chosen subject.

“When I am certain I can trust you enough.”

“I hope you kept it in a safe place.”

“It is in a safe place,” she said. “It is in Belcourt.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Tell me you are jesting, Sasha.”

She shook her head. “The best place to hide it from Belcourt is right under its nose. And the best place to keep it safe from you is placing it where you can never gain entrance.”

He frowned. “You hid it in the bloody Library.”

She pasted a proud smile on her lips. “You are indeed wise.”

Sasha fell quiet after that, finally taking the time to look around them.

They had reached a clearing in the woods. The light streamed through the leaves, shining patches of bright light on the field of wildflowers. “I do hope you do not touch this place,” she said, blinking away tears. “I have not seen anything so wonderful.”

West watched her with interest. “I would have thought that Belcourt has many beautiful things to offer.”

“Yes, but nothing so… beautifully chaotic.”

He looked around. “That is the beauty of nature. You allow it to flow the way it was designed to be.” He grabbed the bunch of wildflowers from her hand and studied them. “There are many beautiful things outside Belcourt, Sasha. You simply have to know where to settle to stare.”

Sasha blinked away a tear. Why was she even crying? With a swift motion, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. Since last night, she was a mess, really. She must get a grip on her faculties because they were all she had left.

“We have to find a way to get to Gabrielle,” she said after a while, changing the subject. “It cannot be in Belcourt or my villa. It has to be somewhere else. Once we have her, we need to find a way to make her talk.”

“Do you think it is the best approach? You believe she is working with the prince, but you have no proof of the matter.”

“I believe in my deductive skills. Why? Do you have anything else to suggest?” When he did not reply, she continued, “Gabrielle is the only chance we have to more answers. At the moment, we are stuck. Your sister’s records are missing. We can no longer even say she is still in Belcourt. And if she is, she is most likely to be in the Palace. And I could be wrong about Gabrielle, which will be the worst of all. But if I am not, then we may just find answers. It is either her or the prince. I am certain we both know the prince is untouchable,” she finished, thinking about Prince Albert. She had access to the man, but she was not stupid enough to directly confront him. “We simply need to find a weapon to use against her.”

“We can have her followed.”

She shook her head. “No, we have to get to her. We do not have the luxury of time for a game of chase.”

He looked up at the sky. “It is high time we return to the manor. I see rain clouds in the distance.”

---

After supper was served, Sasha and Seven had a fight.

West smiled as Sasha lifted her legs unto the settee and gathered her muslin skirts away from the whimpering dog.

“Do not display those adorable eyes at me, sir,” Sasha chided in an angry tone, gazing down at Seven with a scowl. “Look what you did!” she added, waving her tattered skirt. “You play on your own. I do not condone such behavior, sir.”

Seven dropped to the floor beside her seat, eyes skyward at Sasha, and whimpered.

“You go to that corner,” Sasha indignantly ordered, pointing to the other side of the room.

“The other corner,” West murmured under his breath.

Sasha moved her arm to the other corner of the room. “Go to your corner.” Seven blinked and raised ever so slowly on his front legs. He turned to West and purred.

West assumed a bewildered look at the dog. Lifting his shoulders with his palms facing up, he said, “I did try to stop you, my friend. You did not listen.”

Seven returned his beseeching eyes to Sasha. “Should I give in?” she asked through pursed lips.

“No.”

“But he looks so wretched.”

“Well then, yes, but do not make another fuss if he repeats the same action on another dress.”

Sasha moistened her lips and closed her eyes. “No, Seven, you stay to that corner.”

Seven whimpered and his head fell. Slowly, he walked to the corner of the room, and Sasha blinked in amazement. “He truly does have a corner.”

“And he hates it,” West said with a scoff. He slid the wine he prepared for Sasha across the table between them.

And once again, they sat there beside the window, looking out into the silhouette of the woods and the mountains at the horizon. The sky, displaying blue, violet, and pink seemed to promise a beautiful tomorrow as it said goodbye. But they could never truly tell, could they? For the storm may come and cause havoc.

Sasha wondered if they would succeed. She was risking too much all for the truth—all for a woman she had never even met.

And all because she chose to trust a man.

She sipped her wine and swallowed, closing her eyes at the soothing warmth that spread through her chest as the liquid passed.

“I did not lie so much, you see,” she said, breaking the silence between them, her lashes sweeping up from her glass to him.

A ghost of a smile. “You simply hid the truth. It seems to be your habit, but I cannot blame you for it.”

“You think so?”

“I believe so, Sasha.” His gaze held hers. “We all have a way of protecting ourselves.”

She moved her glass and watched the dark liquid swirl inside. “I was in the Court of Libraries for five years before I was re-courted.”

Her eyes retraced their path back to his and she saw the surprise registered there. “You mean to say that you are a new Belle.”

She sighed. “I was the unlucky lady to be chosen to become a Belle so I could spy on you.”

“Does it always happen? These missions? Are they true to all Belles?”

Sasha flashed him a lazy knowing smile. “You know I cannot tell you that, but you are wise. I am certain you have long figured.”

He scoffed. “Belcourt is playing a dangerous game.”

“As I have discovered, it has been for years.”

She could feel his gaze on her while she watched the colors slowly disappear in the horizon. “You do not enjoy being a Belle, do you, Sasha?”

She nodded. “It may be exciting for someone who had spent their life inside Belcourt, but the excitement quickly wore off for me. The Belles are one of the women who have the most freedom in Belcourt, but not really. We are constantly watched, our movements always monitored by someone outside if not by our servants.”

“But you can enjoy privileges that the other courts cannot.”

“You mean such as the attentions of gentlemen?”

He shrugged.

“Perhaps, but it has its limitations, does it not?”

She could tell that he understood what she meant.

“Do you want to go back to the Library?”

She nodded, tearing her eyes off him. “Yes. I had made a bargain when I accepted this mission. I asked that Belcourt reconsider my request to return to the Library if I succeed.”

“You mean if you find something that shall incriminate me.”

She shook her head. “If I can prove that you are innocent or not, both of which I can do.” Then, in a teasing tone, she added, “Your life is in my hands, sir.”

West shook his head.

The small smile lingered on her lips as Sasha thought of the day when this would all be over. She may never have another chance to return to the Library, and if that were so, she did not think she could remain as his Belle.

She would eventually lose him.

With a long sigh, West stood and took the single step toward her. Sasha stared up at him, her hand absently replacing her wine on the table.

Eyes locked, he reached for her hand and she let him. She stood and stepped into his embrace, the feeling akin to that night she arrived in Belcourt. It was not the feeling of being drenched in rain; not the feeling of hunger and cold after walking for days, but it was the feeling of finally arriving at a safe place—it was a haven.

He was sanctuary.

West bent his head and nuzzled her ear. “Do you think this changed because we know each other’s secrets?” he whispered softly, his breath warm in her ear.

“No,” she replied, running her hand up to his chest, over his shoulder, to rest on his neck.

“Do you think I deliberately left out this part from the agreement?”

His lips sought hers, hovering a hairsbreadth away. Sasha smiled, aware of the current that ran through her as her lips lightly touched his. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Why?”

“We learned from our mistakes?” she asked as his arms tightened around hers. “And because I would hate it if you did.”

West groaned and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

XXXV | For the Record

“What are you doing?” West groggily asked. He was lying face down on the bed, watching Sasha hand-sewing her tattered dress across her side of the bed, curled up in a chair by the lamp with naught but a blanket draped around her. “You are bloody crazy, Sasha, do you know that?”

“I can be, yes,” she murmured in concentration, pulling at the thread with one arm. The blanket slipped off her shoulder.

“You are naked,” he pointed out with a dry chuckle. “Wrapped in a bloody blanket.”

She chuckled along. “I cannot sleep.”

West buried his face in the pillow. “Oh, Lord… she is bloody sewing.”

“Go back to sleep.”

He rolled his head to the side. “I can’t. I am enjoying your show.”

She paused to look at him. “Are you afraid I am going to venture out for another journal hunt? Are there more?” she asked with feigned interest.

Grunting, West climbed out of bed and walked toward her.

“You are naked,” she pointed out. “With no blanket.”

“Yes, and I intend to return you to bed, so if you could please not point that needle at me…” he bent down and scooped her in his arms—the entire blanket bundle of her. Sasha shrieked but did not struggle, afraid that he would lose his balance. He deposited her to her side of the bed and proceeded to take the lamp near her. “You do your bloody sewing here. Where did you even find that bloody needle?”

“It is inside your closet. You must know that they are almost always accessible.” She sighed. “But then, of course, you are not aware of that, duke that you are.”

Making no comment, he climbed into bed and crawled back to his side. He slipped under the covers and reached for her, his arm circling her waist while he buried his face in the pillows behind her.

For some time, she worked quietly until West gave up sleep. Rolling his head, he watched her face.

“When this is all over, we have to talk about us.”

Her hand stilled. She did not look at him.

“I see that you have been doing a lot of thinking.” Her tone was calm, but her eyes said otherwise. When he did not answer, she looked down at him. “Does this mean you trust me? Perhaps you should not.”

“You are trying to find a way to change the subject, are you not?”

“Because there is no point in engaging in a conversation that discusses an issue we know the resolution to.”

West frowned. “What makes you think we cannot be?”

“Because you are the West Blackwood, Duke of Eaton.” His jaw hardened. “Sasha Merson, daughter of a peasant. That’s me. That is my real name.” She looked away and continued her task. “I am the daughter of a peasant. We watched over the livestock we did not even own. My father killed my mother because he found our plight hopeless and he could find no reason to live. He did not find that reason in my mother.” Her hand stilled once again as she added, “And he did not find it in me.” She stole him a look. “To this day, I do not understand what took over him, or how his mind convinced him to do what he did. I cannot understand still why he had to make me choose, or why he told me to be a good girl when I chose me .”

West shuddered. Be a good girl…

He remembered her murmuring the words the night she was attacked by Willoghby, how it had left her shaken.

Her father’s last words.

She looked down at him, expressionless. “I do not want you to pity me. My story is not one for charity.”

West blinked and then swallowed. “No, I do not pity you. I pity the man who should be seeing the woman that you are now.”

“A whore?”

His face darkened. “I hate when you say that.”

She smiled, returning to her work.

He unwound his arm from her waist and reached up to touch her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Sasha, you may be the last person I should trust, but I also believe it will be foolish of me to let you go back to Belcourt when all of this is over.”

“And what do you expect me to do once this is over? Take your money and go away? Or perhaps serve as your mistress?”

West pushed away from the bed and sat up, twisting his body so he was facing her. “No, that is not what I meant. There is more for you outside Belcourt, Sasha.”

“What? You?”

“Yes,” he replied too fast, too certain.

Sasha shook her head. “Do not be a fool, West.”

He was silent for a long moment, just staring at her. “You will not be my mistress.”

“Thank you. I do not intend to be.”

“I will marry you.”

Sasha stiffened. “Do not jest, West. I am holding a needle.”

“I rarely jest, Sasha, and when I do, it is not around you.”

She continued her work as if it would render their conversation trivial, but it was clear on the way she was poking the muslin that her mind was no longer at the task. She was doing it again. She was disconnecting herself. “You once said you cannot imagine me as your wife,” she murmured.

His frown deepened. “I did not say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I said I cannot imagine you as any other woman. I cannot see you as anyone else and I will not have you as anyone else. You are my Belle.” And in a much lower tone, he added, “Only mine.”

She was obviously not pleased. “I see that you hold strongly to what you think is yours.”

“I do not think I own you, Sasha.”

Finally, she dropped the pretense and threw her muslin, with the thread and needle still attached to it, to the side. She faced him fully, face gentle, and her voice patient. “Do not talk nonsense. When this all over, you will find that it is best we go our separate ways.”

West sighed and scoffed. “It will never be over between us, Sasha. You know that.”

She did not reply. She just stared at him, her shoulders bare, her hair a lovely mess around her face.

West moved and pulled her toward him. “I will let you off this time, but this conversation is not over.”

She wound her arms around his neck, letting the blanket pool around her waist. “This conversation which is bound to be an argument is not my priority at the moment, West. You are not the priority now, you must know that.”

He kissed her jaw. “I know.”

She turned her head and sought his mouth. “Let us just have this for now, shall we? Until this is all over? Hmm?”

West did not respond in words.

He realized it was best he just showed her.

---

The very next day, Sasha found West in his study, opening an envelope.

He seemed surprised to see her.

“An invitation to the Royal Theater,” he explained, lifting the red envelope sealed in gold.

She frowned. “I never thought they send invitations.”

“To people in my station, they do,” he replied, throwing the envelope to the side. “They need our presence to have a successful show.” Standing up, he asked, “Would you like to see another opera?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “No.”

He shrugged. “But it might be a good one this time.”

“Will there be singing?”

“It is an opera.”

“Then my answer remains no.”

He smiled and approached her. “Shall we?”

She nodded and they exited the library.

West looked over his shoulder to give the envelope one last look before he closed the door.

---

“This may be the last I will visit the Library. I can no longer risk being exposed. The librarians are not foolish. They always suspect things,” Sasha later told him inside the carriage.

West nodded beside her. “I agree.”

“Did your men find anything in any of Willoghby’s known estates?” Sasha asked, tearing her eyes off the window to look up at him.

His hand nonchalantly reached up to pick at a strand of hair across her face and carefully tucked it to the side. “No, nor have they collected any valuable information from the Sutherland Post and The Grimes.”

She shook her head in equal disbelief and awe. “He is very good, is he not?”

West nodded grimly. “But not for long. I am certain that if he is still out there, he will make a mistake.”

“Let us just hope that he does, because really, he is not that strong. You can easily throw him across the room. He just knows… it seems he just knows the right person to attack.”

Sasha looked at him and realized that his face had darkened.

“It is best that you do not let him get to you. He is but one man.”

“Who has an endless flow of cash. He can hide as long as he wants, Sasha. And you are right that he knows how to pick his victims.”

She felt a shudder run through her. “But he will make a mistake.”

His jaw clenched and he looked out the window.

“Do you have any progress on tracking Reginald?” she found herself asking. “I am curious, of course.”

He was silent for a while. “We did receive another letter from London. His son is said to be on his way to join him.”

“His son?”

“Yes.”

“And why is his son joining him?” When West did not respond, Sasha frowned. “West?”

“My sister, as he claims, is betrothed to his son.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “Surely you did not intend to hide that detail from me, did you?”

“It is not a paramount detail, Sasha, for no wedding shall happen between my sister and Reginald’s heir.”

“But it would have—no matter.”

“It would have what?”

“It would have been easier for you to convince me to believe you.”

“You eventually did without that fact.”

She sighed. “Maybe I did not until you told me.”

His eyes narrowed.

She smiled. “Jesting, sir, jesting.”

“You are a bad tease, Sasha,” he said with a sigh. He looked out the window. They were now approaching the first gates. “Does Belcourt have a church?”

“Excuse me?”

His gaze traveled back to her. “Do you go to church?”

Sasha blinked. “I did before Belcourt. Belcourt does not have a church.”

“Then your High Priestess is your God?”

“No, of course not.” She shrugged. “We are taught to worship wherever and whenever we feel the need to.”

He looked confused and she smiled. “God is everywhere, West. He does not need an edifice. The entire Belcourt is his church.” When he did not comment, she asked, “Do you? Go to church?”

“The world is God’s church,” was his short response.

Sasha smiled and leaned up to plant a kiss on his jaw. “You are too smart, West Blackwood,” she said as the carriage slowed down.

---

Sasha left West in the Flower Garden and in her bedchamber where he believed he was most comfortable in and set out on foot to the Library in her red cloak.

“Fret not, Shirley,” she said to the librarian who was guarding the Library of Records. “This will be the last you will see of me for years. I simply needed to finish checking the inventory.”

Shirley just shook her head. “You truly need to detach yourself from the Library, Sasha and your red cloak should remind you of that. I heard rumors about you causing the Flower Garden trouble.”

“Rumors, Shirley, nothing else,” she said with a wink. Before entering the room, she stopped and nonchalantly asked, “By the by, Shirley, do you have any record of anyone from the Court of Arms coming by?”

Shirley asked and checked her book. “No, why do you ask?”

“Oh, she must have thought against it.”

“Who?”

“A Soldier. Met her at the tea house the last I was there. She inquired if she could gain access to her records and I said yes.”

Shirley nodded, then narrowed her eyes at Sasha. “Get going, Sasha. I hate seeing you here.”

Sasha laughed and her smile disappeared as soon as she entered the room.

She walked to where her records were and pulled out the book. She then reached deeper into the shelf and sighed with relief when her hand touched the object she was looking for. Pulling it out, Sasha hid the journal inside her pelisse and closing her cloak over it.

She replaced her records on the shelf to proceed to her task.

She would not be able to find West’s sister here for it was pointless. If it was ever here, it was gone.

Today, she had one goal and she went straight for it.

By now, she knew the room well enough. She navigated through the shelves with fluid ease and finally stopped at the right place.

She pulled out Gabrielle’s records.

Once she was certain she was alone, she leafed through the pages, scanning for anything that she would find useful.

It was easy to memorize details such as Gabrielle’s name, the date she was taken to Belcourt, and…

Sasha’s eyes focused on one name.

Then she smiled.

XXXVI | Three Lords and a Belle

The first time she met Tanner Macmier and Rider Fairborne, Sasha had been in a state of panic. She was found in a very embarrassing scene with West by his friends and it had taken all her pride to escape them.

But that was in Humbrick. She had many places to hide that week she was there. She never had to see them again. Until now, of course.

The two men arrived with the intention of discussing something important but were surprised to find Sasha in the drawing room with West.

And to her complete chagrin, West announced to his friends, in a manner so nonchalant, that he decided to work with her.

And that he told her about Reginald and his plans.

The two men, if ever they still remember Humbrick, must have forgotten about it by then. The initial response was silence, and whatever they may be thinking were kept to themselves.

Sasha wondered if the two men were simply waiting for her to disappear before they boxed the ghost out of West as they took their seats and received West’s offer of brandy.

Tanner Macmier had a natural mischievous face. His lips curled into an invisible smile that was reflected in his curious light brown eyes that were fixed on Sasha.

The Earl of Keene, however, was entirely different. His square jaw seemed to be locked in place. He made no attempts to hide the cold, arrogant look in his eyes. While she could say that Rider Fairborne was the friend who had the closest demeanor to West, Sasha could not help but note that West looked a little less domineering. The earl seemed distant… indifferent, she thought.

Not that she was aiming to please him. The man was free to judge her as he obviously already did.

“I do not understand,” Tanner said, giving Sasha an amused look. “You are saying that you are helping West find his sister because you wish to find out who is betraying Belcourt?”

Sasha and West nodded.

Tanner blinked, looked at Rider before he stared back at them in confusion. “But is that not you? The one betraying Belcourt, I mean. By being here with us, you are betraying the mission you were given.”

Her jaw went tight. “No, I am not.”

“In a way, you are,” West murmured beside her.

“And if the person you suspect is not betraying Belcourt, then you are the only one betraying Belcourt.” Tanner pointed out.

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “Belcourt never told me how I should carry out my mission, gentlemen. I am to find proof of treachery. It simply happens that the treachery is not where Belcourt expected it to be.”

As Tanner opened his mouth, Rider said, “Pardon my blunt statement, my lady, but I do not like this new arrangement at all.” He glared at West. “We are welcoming a spy in our midst, Eaton.”

“Then what do you suggest be done to me?” Sasha challenged. “Deliver me to an officer who is paid by the kingdom, the very same one you are trying to keep secrets from? Or do you intend to present me to Belcourt and expose me so they could ultimately report it back to the prince who will report it to the king, the same man who represents the kingdom, the very same one you are trying to keep secrets from?”

Rider glowered, his mouth curling in contempt.

“I do not trust you as much either, gentlemen, but I have to make a choice.” She motioned her hand at West. “He is a player in this game and his role is more advantageous for me than any others.”

West turned to frown at her. “How so?”

“You are rich,” she replied without sparing him a glance, eliciting a laugh from Tanner and a scoff from Rider. “It will not do us any good if we continue to discuss whether or not I should be a part of your little group, gentlemen. We do not have the luxury of time, so please, if you would go on…” she said, motioning her hand to Rider. “You can discuss Reginald and his son in front of me because that is what you wanted to discuss, yes?” At the look Rider threw West, she added, “He merely told me about the letters from London and the current one you received about the son. You must understand that I know very little concerning this… small secret of yours.”

Rider did not speak for a while and Sasha patiently waited until he tore his eyes off her and transferred them to West. “Reginald’s last letter spoke of his son joining him in London, which we feared already happened. Just last week, our men discovered that the son is on his way from the Americas.”

Sasha frowned. “The Americas? Why would he be in the Americas?”

“The previous Queen Josephine escaped with the help of a rich uncle in the Americas. She was pregnant with her son and gave birth during the voyage. She was never seen since the ship arrived, and so did the boy,” West replied.

“And what is the name of this son?”

“Leo,” Rider replied. Without giving more details, he addressed West, “What do you suggest we do?”

“Observe. And we have to know when Leo arrives in London.”

Sasha frowned. “Do you have evidence that he has had contact with Reginald before this?”

West shook his head. “We cannot say. The man has been all over the world and has just recently arrived back in the Americas.”

“And now to London,” Tanner added. “The question now is… Do we want another port in Sutherland now that we know they may be coming here?”

“I would rather discuss this during parliament,” Rider wryly said.

Tanner turned to West. “West, surely, you have an opinion?”

West shook his head. “That is a matter we have to discuss during parliament, Tanner.”

Tanner fumed, looking around the room and then at Sasha. “Are we boring you?”

“No, not at all. I also agree that a port is advantageous.”

Rider scoffed beside Tanner.

“Truly, why?”

“Is it not basic economics?”

West groaned. “Belcourt ladies have classrooms, Tanner. I would not suggest you dare one to engage in such a discussion. I have learned that they take their studies rather seriously. We spent two hours yesterday arguing about the physics of wheels. I would not suggest economics either.”

Tanner’s interest was merely rendered intensified as he shifted in his seat, leaning forward as he eagerly asked, “Then do tell me one thing, Sasha—I can call you Sasha, yes?”

“Whichever is comfortable for you, Tanner.”

“Very well, familiar it is,” West’s friend said, narrowing his eyes with interest. “Do relieve me of my curiosity and say that there is indeed a lake within Belcourt.”

Sasha was surprised and looked at West. “You never told him?”

West shrugged. “The more familiar you become of Tanner, Sasha, the more you will realize that he does not need to know everything.”

Sasha chuckled and answered Tanner. “Yes, Belcourt has a lake.”

“I have heard there are certain… what do you call them? Courts, yes. How many are there?”

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that, Tanner.”

“Who rules Belcourt? They say the king.”

She laughed. “No man rules Belcourt. And no, I cannot answer you with a name.”

“And of the island? Is it true?”

“I cannot answer that.”

“Can you truly not, or you only choose to because West said so?”

“I truly cannot.”

Tanner sighed with frustration. “Perhaps I should be a gentleman.”

“You can try,” Sasha said. “Are you willing to pay the consequences?”

“He is considering it,” West said.

“I am immensely curious, but I am not utterly a fool,” Tanner said, throwing Sasha a look of concern. “I did not say that to offend you, Sasha, of course.”

“No offense taken, sir.”

Darren entered the drawing room and his eyes immediately landed on her. His smile widened as he cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, my lords, but a letter has arrived for Lady Sasha.”

Sasha came to her feet. “It must be from my villa. Do go on, gentlemen. I have had my curiosity filled. I must now attend to my tasks and Seven. He has been awfully quiet, hasn’t he?”

“Indeed,” West scoffed. “The bloody mongrel may be enjoying a meal of muslin as we speak.”

---

When the door clicked, Tanner was fast to say, “You are bloody besotted, West. Would not you agree, Rider?”

Rider simply uttered, “Hmm.”

Tanner shook his head in amazement. “You bloody besotted fool.” West did not comment and simply shrugged. “What do you intend to do with her after this is over? This was never part of our plan, West.”

West leaned against his chair and looked at his friends, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I intend to marry her.”

Tanner’s eyes bulged while Rider stiffened in his seat.

“I am beyond scandalized, West,” Tanner said with a dramatic gasp.

“You cannot be utterly serious,” Rider said in a deadpan voice.

West once again shrugged. “I am my father’s son after all.”

“Of all the bloody—damnation, West!” Tanner said, coming to his feet. “Look here, my friend, I do understand that your relationship with her has since improved in a manner you did not even plan for in the first place because you were arrogant enough to believe that it would never happen. But it did happen, yes? But to let it come to this—are you bloody insane? She is a Belle! She is from Belcourt!”

“I do not see the problem,” he said. “It shall be advantageous for me—and us.”

Tanner whirled around to face Rider. “You put some sense into this bastard. He does not see the bloody problem!”

Rider met West’s gaze. “I cannot believe I have to ask this of you, West, because it seemed to me that you had always believed in your plan, but I shall ask because you are proving to be losing control of the bigger picture so answer this—do you fancy yourself in love?”

West opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Tanner said, “She could be manipulating you.”

“She does not wish to discuss our relationship.”

“Good! Did she reject your proposal then?”

“No, because I never asked her.” Rider and Tanner frowned. “I simply told her I shall marry her.”

Tanner groaned. “I do not know if I should be embarrassed for you.”

“Why did you not find the need to ask her?” Rider asked, face curious.

“Because I knew she would say no.”

“And it will be right for her to do so, considering the consequences!” Tanner hissed. “She is not the reason why you entered Belcourt, West. Need I remind you of that? She is not the reason why we are here.”

“I refuse to discuss my intentions for Sasha at this time,” he said dryly. “We still have more important things to do.”

Tanner let out a mocking chuckle. “Good lord. Marry a Belle…” His friend shook his head. “I have been quite fond of the idea of you getting into Belcourt, but now I do not know. You have worked so hard up to this point, West, and now you are willing to throw it out there for one bloody woman who was tasked to spy on you in the first place.”

West was not in the mood for an argument, but he considered his friends’ reactions. Rider and Tanner had saved him numerous times in the past and he would not entirely discredit their opinions for that would be a great insult to their friendship.

Both men knew their boundaries. They would voice their opinions and live with the decision.

---

Sasha absently caressed Seven’s back as she watched the fire consume the paper.

Iyana’s letter was short.

Sasha had to return to the villa because her hidden flower wanted to see her in two days.

As the paper turned to ash, Sasha squared her shoulders.

Perhaps it was time to make progress to her game, Sasha thought.

XXXVII | A Game of Chess

“While I do understand that you seem so distant to the threats, Sasha, I also do not comprehend why you would put your servants at risk by staying in that villa.”

West was terribly angry, which Sasha understood. She knew where his frustrations came from. Even she was frustrated with herself and she would hate to place Iyana and the others in danger.

“Is it your other gentleman? Did he call for you?”

Her jaw tightened. “Yes.”

His eyes flickered to the opposite side of the room. The cords in his neck bulged as he controlled his anger.

“I need to see him.”

“Why?”

“Because I am still a Belle, West! I cannot give Belcourt a reason to wonder.”

He looked arrested. His hands fell to his side. Then he closed her eyes to take in a breath. When he opened his eyes, he was almost pleading. “You will not stay the night in your villa. You go home to mine.”

She nodded.

Two days later, she was back in her villa.

The prince arrived at the usual time and proceeded to another game of chess. Sasha would have thought that it was one of their typical rendezvous if not for the slight difference in the prince’s demeanor.

“You seem awfully quiet,” Sasha noted in a jesting tone.

The prince rolled his eyes and sighed. “It is nothing, my dear. You must know that parliament has begun, and you do not know the devastation both houses can create.”

“You should try to relax, Albert, for the season will last long.”

“Why do you think I am here, Sasha?” he wryly said. “You are the only solace I can find in this situation. But even you have things to occupy your days, do you not?”

“Yes.”

Albert’s gaze cornered hers. Then he smiled. “Eaton has been missing quite a few sessions of late. I hope it is your doing?”

She smiled. “You were correct, Albert. Once I managed to get into his bed, it was easier to keep him there. He is slowly telling me stories from his childhood. How long do you think until he can trust me with more secrets?”

The prince seemed impressed. “That is my girl.” Gracefully, he picked up a pawn and knocked out one of her own. “Have you found anything in Everleigh?”

“No, nothing thus far, but I know he received another letter from London.”

That caught the prince’s attention. The man’s eyes quickly went to her. “Did he?”

Sasha nodded. “I believe he burns the letters, Albert.”

“Have you no way of getting to them before he does?”

Sasha shrugged. “His valet is a fool.”

The prince grinned. “Perfect.”

“I am not certain if you are aware, but he has given me a proposition.”

“What kind?”

“To find his sister in Belcourt.”

The prince did not look so surprised. “I told you before, did I not? Well, what have you done thus far?”

“I already told someone in Belcourt. That person must have already told the Mistresses, but I am yet to receive more orders on the matter. West Blackwood, as you understand, can be quite impatient. He wants results and I am afraid I need to give him something, else he would suspect. I have been trying to search on my own.”

The prince slowly nodded, eyes regarding her with caution. “And what did you find?”

Sasha smiled. “I do not know if I should tell you. I have not told West either. But I do plan to tell my Mistress. She may provide further information and altogether provide advice on how to deal with West.”

Albert shook his head. “I will relay the message myself. If his sister is indeed in Belcourt, we must find her before he does. But that is not your task. You focus on West Blackwood for now. We shall provide you the information you will give him regarding his sister. Has he offered you payment??

Sasha slowly nodded, “Yes, he did.”

The prince nodded. “Did you get the money?”

She nodded. “Half of it.”

“Good. Demand for more. Let him believe you are greedy.”

“If that is what you wish, of course.”

Slowly nodding, Prince Albert’s blue eyes held Sasha’s bluish-grey globes. She thought she saw something flash for a quick second, but it quickly disappeared. His gaze scrutinizing, he asked in a low voice, “Is there more you wish to tell me, Sasha?”

Sasha felt a shiver up her spine, but she shook it off by clearing her throat. “Yes,” she said.

His brows cocked high.

“You are losing,” she said with a smile, pushing her knight toward his queen.

---

Sasha absently entered West’s villa, murmuring, “Thank you, Darren,” her mind elsewhere.

“Oh, thank you, Darren?” West’s voice said behind her and she blinked, turning to find him firmly shutting the door.

“Did you open the door for me?” she asked, looking around for Darren.

“Darren has already retired to his chamber,” he informed her, closing the distance between them. “How was your evening?”

His brows were fused, his arms folded over his chest. And his smoldering gaze caused Sasha to blink in confusion. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he replied before she could even finish her question.

“Then why are you angry?”

“You must not have realized what time it is,” he said, one eyebrow arching high.

“I very well know what time it is.” She turned and started for the stairs. “We have matters to discuss.”

“I understand that you have to continue being a Belle, Sasha, but you must also be apprised that I hate sharing.”

“Then you are jealous.”

“I am not—” she heard him pause behind her. “Yes, perhaps I am.” And in haste, he added, “You must also know that I am summoning the best of my discipline not to find this hidden flower of yours.”

“I do not see him as foreseeable harm, West,” she said.

“You can never know for certain. There are reasons why these hidden flowers remain hidden ,” he said, stepping up beside her up the stairs. “Unless you tell me his name to find out.”

She smiled. “West Blackwood, you are a dear when jealous, but I would not disobey more of Belcourt’s rules by telling you my hidden flower’s name.” She paused at the top of the stairs and cocked her brow at him. “I have come up with a plan.”

“What plan?” he asked, following her toward his bedchamber.

Entering the room, Sasha looked for Seven. “Where is Seven?”

“Everleigh.”

“You cannot leave him there—”

“We will return first thing on the morrow.” He locked the door behind him. “Now, the plan?”

Sasha walked to the middle of the room, putting as much space between them as possible. Then she placed her hands on her hips and held his gaze. “I know that you will find my plan very insane—”

“Then it is a no,” he interrupted.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. Finding his gaze as she opened them, Sasha repeated, “I know that you will find my plan very insane, but it is the only way I can—”

“If it is your type of insane , Sasha, it is a no.”

“Let me finish!” she insisted through gritted teeth. “Let me finish.”

West shook his head in frustration.

When he said nothing, she continued, “I thought of a way to take Gabrielle here.”

He frowned. “Here?”

She nodded. “In this villa, yes.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “This is where your insane is going to appear, is it not?”

Squaring her shoulder, Sasha said, “I entice Willoghby here.”

“No.” He walked to the other side of the room, removing his cravat along the way. “I heard your plan and I am saying no.”

“She is always watching him. And I am not certain why, but I believe she saved me twice because I am not supposed to be harmed.”

He stiffened, his back at her. “No, Sasha. She saved you because it would push Belcourt to investigate. She is saving you to do what she needs to do.”

“Then we both agree that she does not want me dead.”

He whirled around, eyes glinting with fury. “Do you truly have no sense of fear, Sasha? Or do you simply have a bloody death wish?”

Sasha blinked in surprise. “You think I have no sense of fear?”

“Of course! You act as though you have nothing to fear. You care not that you are placing your entire household in danger simply because you have this propensity to lie. You lied about Willoghby. You would have not told a soul about Compton if you were given the chance. You come up with your plans on your own with no regard to your safety!” He was breathless when he finished, but he had more to say, “You disconnect yourself to the true nature of things, Sasha. As much as you claim to want the truth, you refuse to see the true danger. You refuse to see Belcourt for what it is, and you purposely ignore that you are no longer alone, just like how you did that afternoon you woke up and found your parents—”

“Dare not go there,” Sasha said, her voice shaking. In fact, her entire body was shaking. “You do not know the amount of fear I have to constantly live with.”

She stormed toward the door and walked out.

He chased her down the staircase. “Sasha…”

“I need to be alone, West. Leave me be for one second.”

“No, you are done being alone!”

“Why do you care so much!” she demanded, reaching the bottom of the stairs. She whirled around to face him. “Do you not want to find her? Are we not doing this to find her?”

West stopped in front of her. She saw the look of realization in his eyes.

“You might have forgotten, but our goal here is one and the same,” Sasha said, lowering her voice. “If you have a better idea, Your Grace , I would be happy to listen.”

She waited, arching her brow.

“Well, do you have one?”

She watched his jaw go tight and his eyes boring into hers. “Bloody hell, woman, I hate that you are right.”

Sasha stiffly nodded. “Good. Now, if you are over your irrational need to protect me, I would like to go to bed.”

“What if she already has Willoghby? You said it yourself. She has been following the bloody bastard.”

“Then there will be no Willoghby to come to me and we find another way to get Gabrielle.”

“I can have my men find and get her.”

“There is not merely one way into and out of Belcourt, West.”

“Then tell me where else can someone enter and exit Belcourt.”

“If I know, I will not tell you. Luckily for me, I am saving myself another argument with you because I do not know. Only the Soldiers know the other ways into Belcourt.”

“But there are only so many roads to Coulway. I can very well have men on the road to wait for her.”

“I am certain you have already tried that, West.” She looked at him with a knowing smile. “Have you not?” When his nostrils flared, Sasha scoffed. “And here you are accusing me of making my own plans.”

“I could not fully trust you then,” he reasoned.

Sasha sighed. “Do not start fully trusting me now,” she told him, her eyes locked into his. “My loyalty is still with Belcourt.”

---

Later that evening, Sasha lay in bed wide awake, thinking of West’s words.

You disconnect yourself to the true nature of things, Sasha…

She knew she was not stupid. She knew he was right.

Her propensity to lie was not because she wanted to, but because she did not want to believe the fear. She had managed to ignore her parents’ lifeless body and went on her way to Belcourt without any thoughts but just to get there because that was what her father said.

Go to Belcourt and be a good girl…

A sob escaped her lips and she rolled to the side, burying her face in the pillow to stop the tears. Her shoulders began to shake and good Lord, how she tried to stop them!

She breathed through her mouth to be quiet. She muffled the whimper by biting down on the pillow. She shut her eyes tight, but her father’s face appeared in front of her, the tip of the pistol right under his chin. His eyes were at peace, grateful for the choice she made.

Why did he do it?

It was no longer a question. She had long decided the answer would never come to her. Her studies on the mysteries of the mind had never given her the answer she sought for.

Perhaps, in time, he would speak in one of the visits in her dreams. Perhaps he would say why he did it before he pulled the trigger.

Another sob escaped her throat. She clutched the covers underneath the pillow to remain unmoving.

West’s arm wormed around her waist from behind and pulled her closer to him. Sasha flinched in surprise and alarm, hastily wiping her face with her hand without a word.

“You are louder when you are trying to hide the sobs,” he murmured behind her, his lips lightly brushing her shoulder. “Are you aware of that?”

Sasha sniffled and slapped his arm, a whimper escaping her lips. He caught her hand, interlocked their fingers, and pulled her closer with a sigh. “Will you forgive me for what I said earlier?” He pressed his lips against her shoulder and stayed there.

Sasha’s response was to turn around and wrap her arm and leg around him, burying her face in his chest to cry.

The following morning, West claimed she was wailing.

XXXVIII | Blood in the Villa

Sasha went back to her villa for a day to inform Iyana and Briana that should they have any concerns, they can send a note to West’s villa where she intended to stay for a week.

Iyana was pleased that she was nearer but was still equally concerned.

West, on the other hand, was restless.

“Perhaps we can do this without—”

“You need to leave, West,” she told him, walking over to stare out the window. “I shall be fine.”

When she did not hear anything, she turned and sighed. He stood unmoving in the middle of their bedchamber, face grim. She chuckled.

“I will be fine.” She walked over to him and cupped his face. “You will be there to save me.” She planted a light kiss on his lips and pushed him to the door. “Go.”

West stiffly opened the door.

“West,” she called. He paused and looked at her. “Do not be late.”

His gaze surveyed her entire form, head to foot, his eyes determined before he nodded. “I will be there.”

---

For days, she had been alone with only Darren and Seven as company. West, Darren told her, was making appearances in parliament sessions, but was always ready whenever she needed him.

On her first day, she had sewn two more dresses that Seven had destroyed. By the second day, the curtains had been replaced in a different color. On her third, she started to arrange the library books alphabetically with Darren.

Every morning, she walked around the garden, tending to the plants as they bloomed in spring.

On her fourth night alone, she cried. She should be used to being alone as she did in the Court of Libraries. But it was different here. Everything she touched was a reminder of West and a home.

He had told her he would marry her.

What a fool, she thought. What a beautiful, sweet fool. She would love to hate him for it because by telling her he would marry her, he gave her a glimpse of a different life. One that was uncertain, unknown, but exciting. One that would be unexpected, for sure, but one she would be looking forward to.

If she agreed.

And that may not happen.

She never believed that love could conquer all. Her father’s, if he ever had love for his wife, would have not done what he did. If he ever loved Sasha, he would have not succumbed to the urgings of his mind.

Yet his thoughts were stronger. They gave him the strength to pull the trigger twice.

Sasha willed herself to not think of what would happen after all was over. More important things should be addressed at the moment.

On her fifth night, Sasha slipped into bed and waited. Feeling the dagger under the pillow, she closed her eyes and hoped for danger to come.

And it did come.

It came just like the last one.

But this time, Sasha was not dreaming and she knew the moment it happened that she had to fight.

His hand was around her neck, stealing her of her breath.

Sasha opened her eyes and found him hovered above her. He loosened his grip and Sasha gasped for air. Then he tightened his hold once more. “I am sorry to be late, darling,” he said, enjoying the look of horror in her eyes. “I had to make certain there will be no one to save you this time.”

Sasha’s eyes welled with tears.

They did it, she thought. Her hand searched for the dagger under her pillow and waited.

Where was she?

She was feeling faint. Her eyes started to flutter close and her body was fighting for more air.

Where was Gabrielle?

Willoghby’s weight pressed down on her, trapping her.

She had imagined this scene too many times. They were all the same. Yet she was still as weak.

Willoghby loosened his grip around her neck once again, ever so slightly, just enough for her to let out the trapped air. “Why do you have to stay with Blackwood, my dear?” he asked beside her ear. “Do you know who he serves?” Sasha’s hold loosened around the dagger. Was Gabrielle not coming? “Do you know where he goes to whenever he is out of your sight, Sasha, darling?” Willoghby sneered.

Her hand tightened around the dagger and with what was left of her strength, Sasha swung her arm around, the tip of the dagger slicing through Willoghby’s face. In an instant, his hand released her neck and she gasped for breath, rolling out of bed.

She fell and stumbled as Willoghby wailed in fury and pain.

Sasha scampered across the room but Willoghby lunged for her, slamming her fast and hard on the floor, snatching her breath. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled.

She struggled, but he was stronger. His other hand grabbed the knife from her hand and with one swift motion, he flipped Sasha over.

She opened her mouth, but his hand was fast to muffle her scream. He straddled her, planting his full weight on her. His eyes glinted in the darkness of the room as he looked at the dagger. Blood trickled down his face from the wound she inflicted and dripped on her white nightdress.

He scoffed at her in disbelief. Then he lowered the dagger and rested the tip very gently on the hollow of her neck. He traced it lower and slicked through the upper button of the dress.

“Do you have any idea what your gentleman is capable of, Sasha?” Willoghby sneered. Her nostrils flared under his hand as she felt the cold blade slide down her midriff. Willoghby ground his hips down against hers, warning her not to move. “You think I am evil, do you not, Sasha? Oh, but you know very little. Does Blackwood do this?” he asked, tearing through her nightdress. “Does he excite you as I do?”

She was not coming, Sasha thought.

Gabrielle was not coming.

She tried to scratch his face, but he pressed the dagger into her flesh, not enough to wound her, but enough to make her turn stone cold.

“Between Blackwood and I, I am the lesser evil, Sasha… because Blackwood is the devil himself, and you have no idea why, do you?”

Sasha’s eyes widened as she felt the dagger dig into her skin. She blinked in confusion at first, confused. She could not feel the pain. The ringing in her ears mellowed down to a buzz, but a thousand sensations were rushing through her nerves, telling her body that it had been invaded. Willoghby pulled his hand from her mouth and watched her as she gasped for air. Her mouth opened wide as he pushed the dagger deeper, his eyes filled with wonder and amazement as she struggled to understand the situation.

Sasha let out a shaky breath. Summoning what was left of her strength, she swiftly took the knife out and plunged it into Willoghby’s shoulder. He screamed in pain, but he was even more enraged.

His hands clasped Sasha’s neck and she strained below him.

She knew her injury was more fatal and she would die first.

And then she saw her. Sasha saw Gabrielle sneak behind Willoghby and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him off Sasha and throwing him across the room.

Suddenly, Sasha found the strength to drag herself back against the wall.

Her shaking hands came to press on her wound. Blood drenched her tattered gown and with the pain, she screamed for West.

---

West, Rider, and Tanner were camped across the street, inside another villa.

“He is making me dizzy,” Tanner sleepily said as he watched West pace around.

Rider was looking out the window at the far side of the room. “Quiet.”

West stopped and rushed to stand beside Rider. From a distance, they saw a shadow running to the side of the house. Craning their neck, they watched as she stopped and looked up at the window.

His heart hammered against his chest. “How long has it been since Willoghby arrived?” he murmured.

“Five or so minutes,” Tanner replied, joining them by the window. “Bloody tarnation, who is that woman?” he asked with awe as they watched Gabrielle climb up the window with naught but her hands and feet. “Is that possible? Or did the brickman simply do a poor job?”

West whirled around and grabbed his coat. “It is time.”

The three of them rushed across the street in less than a minute, scattering to different locations around West’s villa. Rider followed Gabrielle’s path and walked to the side of the building. Tanner signaled with his hand and three men wearing hats, their faces shadowed, walked out from the villa next door. One guarded the basement entrance. The other two went to the other side and the back of the villa.

Rider went straight inside by the main entrance, the door unlocked just as Darren left it. Tanner was behind him and they ran up the stairs as quietly as they could.

West dug his feet into the carpeted floor. When he heard Sasha scream, his heart leaping to his throat.

In no time, they burst into the room. His eyes scanned for Sasha. She on the floor, leaning against the wall at the other side of the room, her nightdress torn.

“Get her!” she grunted at him.

Then his eyes went straight to the two figures at the foot of the bed.

Gabrielle snapped her head around and immediately jumped away from Willoghby and straight to the window. But at that moment, Rider had already climbed inside and caught her. The two of them struggled while West and Tanner grabbed Willoghby from the floor.

“Your Grace,” Darren said, voice almost quaking with equal fear and courage, walked into the room with a rope. He threw it toward West.

Tanner, much bigger than Willoghby, was not having trouble keeping the man’s face pressed on the floor. Rider, however was barely succeeding with his catch. Gabrielle, in shirt and trousers, lifted both feet, attempting to roll over Rider’s shoulder, but West caught her with a smile.

Her green eyes scowled at him, her nostrils flared, her teeth bare.

Two more men entered the room and West handed the rope to one, his eyes on Gabrielle. “You are one elusive woman, Gabrielle,” he said as she was bound by the rope.

He turned and walked over to Willoghby who was laughing and groaning while Tanner wrapped him with a rope. He looked up at West. “I know your secrets, Blackwood. You think you can fool everyone—”

West’s fist landed straight into the bastard’s bloody face. “That is for messing with my Belle, you bloody bastard,” he growled just as Darren’s shaky voice said, “Your Grace!”

West immediately straightened to turn to Darren who was bent over Sasha.

She was now slumped on the floor and against the wall.

He lowered on one knee in front of her and peered, cupping her bent face. “Sasha, are you all right?” he asked, tilting her head up.

“Your Grace… she’s…”

Her eyes were half-closed, and she faintly smiled. Then she blinked, ever so slowly.

West frowned at her. “Sasha?”

She swallowed hard and bent her head.

He did the same, his gaze trailing down to her torn gown.

And it was then that he saw it.

Her shaking hand lifted from where it rested, filled with blood.

“Darren, call for Pemberton,” West growled.

He scooped Sasha in his arms. “Don’t worry, darling,” he whispered with a grunt. “The doctor is on his way.”

Darren was motionless with shock, frozen on his knees.

“The doctor, Darren,” West ordered, his voice calm and utterly cold, a powerful command.

Darren shot to his feet and whirled around the room in panic before he rushed out the door.

Unaware of the sudden stillness in the room around him as Rider, Tanner, and everyone else followed him with their eyes, he carefully placed Sasha on the bed. “Sasha?” he gently whispered above her, pressing his hand on the wound. She winced with pain. “Stay awake, darling,” he begged, voice slightly shaking. She gripped his wrist, swallowing hard. Her eyes fluttered open once again. She moistened her pale lips.

“I feel cold, West.”

“I know. But do not sleep,” he whispered back, pressing his hand into her wound.

Willoghby’s chuckle echoed around the room, but not long enough before Tanner sent him a powerful blow, rendering him unconscious.

West’s jaw tightened. She was closing her eyes.

“Darren! The doctor!” he shouted with fury as Sasha’s hand fell limp to her side.

XXXIX | St. Vincent

“I cannot find the source of the bleeding,” Dr. Pemberton informed them, brows furrowed.

“What do you mean you cannot find the source of the bleeding?” West demanded, scowling at the old doctor.

“Call for Dr. Kemper,” Gabrielle said from where she was bound.

Rider turned to her and said, “You were not told to speak, woman.”

West could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he held Sasha’s hand. The doctor focused on his work, bent over Sasha’s midriff. He shook his head.

“What is it?” West demanded.

“I am quite certain no organ has been damaged. The bleeding is controlled, but—”

“She is still bleeding.”

The doctor nodded.

“Who do you think sees over the king’s health? Dr. Kemper is the best in the entire kingdom,” Gabrielle insisted, her voice shaking. “She can be here fast if you call her now.”

Rider narrowed his eyes. “I said, woman, that your—”

“Go to Sasha’s villa and inform her maid to go to Belcourt and call for this doctor. Then go and get St. Vincent here now,” West ordered to Darren who immediately ran out of the room.

Rider whirled away from Gabrielle to gawk at West in disbelief. “You cannot be utterly serious, West. St. Vincent?”

West turned to his friend. “We need all the best we can get.”

Rider scoffed, looking around in disbelief. “A woman doctor and a bloody drunk. Perfect!”

“Get her out of here,” West ordered, motioning his head at Gabrielle. “And that bloody bastard, too,” he added, nodding at the unconscious Willoghby whose shoulder was covered in a bandage, courtesy of Tanner.

Rider and the two other men dragged Gabrielle and Willoghby out of the room with Gabrielle giving West a scornful look before she disappeared.

Tanner seemed restless as he paced about, hands on his hips. “I will get St. Vincent myself. I find the need to drag someone,” he said, leaving West with Sasha and Dr. Pemberton.

“Sasha,” West softly called, giving her hand a shake. She remained motionless. He turned to Pemberton. “You are saying that after the hundreds of duel wounds and other injuries you had to attend to, you cannot help with this one?”

The doctor started to tie a bandage around Sasha’s wound, pulling it tight. He checked her pulse and murmured something under his breath.

“I demand to hear every bloody word you murmur, Pemberton.”

The old man’s wrinkled eyes slanted toward him. “Her pulse is weak.”

West’s hand tightened around Sasha. He had left her bleeding against the wall earlier. He could have saved a lot of time if he just went straight to her.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

The doctor finished his task and slowly stood. He dragged a chair to Sasha’s bedside and sat down. “We wait.”

“You cannot be bloody serious.”

The old man looked at him. “West, my boy, you know very well that it is the best I can do. Now, we wait and pray that St. Vincent will be less foxed than he normally is and that this doctor from Belcourt is better than me.”

“There is no one better than you—”

“There is.”

The finality in the doctor’s words stopped West cold.

He looked at Sasha and swallowed.

And then they waited.

---

In what seemed like hours of waiting, West finally heard someone laughing outside in the corridor and his jaw tightened.

Pemberton groaned in his seat. “At the very least, I cannot still smell the brandy from here,” the doctor murmured just as the door burst open and a large man stumbled inside with a chuckle.

“Found him at Stark’s,” said Tanner. “He is bloody useless, West.”

West let go of Sasha’s hand and left the bed to approach the washstand.

“Oi, Eaton!” St. Vincent boomed, spraying droplets of particles over his unkempt beard that covered half his face. If that was not enough indication that he was awfully foxed, his drooping hazel eyes did. “I can’t fathom why Leighton would drag me here. He said you are serving the best brandy, but I do not—” a hiccup interrupted his speech, “—why Leighton would drag me out of—”

West splashed the contents of the washbasin over St. Vincent’s face. Tanner caught St. Vincent with a grunt as the man stumbled back. “Oh, bloody tarnation, St. Vincent! Your stench can raise the dead!” Tanner cried just as St. Vincent boomed, “What the bloody hell!” The man’s hazel eyes were wide with fury. “I will kill you, you bastard—” he started to move—or rather, stumble forward.

“Later, St. Vincent,” West said, turning away and walking over to Sasha. “I need your help.”

“After splashing my face, I’ll give you the help you need after a duel—” the large man stopped and frowned as he saw Sasha on the bed. “My eyesight is a blur at the moment, but is that a chit?”

“Yes, my friend, and she needs your bloody help,” Tanner said, pushing St. Vincent toward the bed.

“Pemberton is here,” St. Vincent noted, pointing at the old doctor. “Good God, Pemberton, you grow young every time I meet you!” He chortled at his joke.

“She is bleeding and I can’t find from where,” Pemberton informed St. Vincent, completely ignoring the man’s statement.

St. Vincent narrowed his eyes. Then he shook his head, spraying more water around him. He blinked a few times. “If Pemberton can’t help, what makes you think I can—”

“Stop with the pretense, St. Vincent. You know we know you are the best,” West said through gritted teeth. “Please, see what you can do.”

St. Vincent was the last one anyone would call if they needed a doctor, but he would be the first anyone would scour the entire kingdom for if they had nothing else to lose. Most in Sinclair claimed he bathed in brandy for the smell stuck to the man like a leech. He was merely a year older than West, but he looked far older with his long, unkempt hair and beard. His size was another factor that made people hesitant for how could they entrust their health to a man who was almost always foxed with such giant hands?

His skills were not to be questioned for he was indeed one of the best as many who took the courage to trust him would claim. It was simply St. Vincent himself that people abhorred. As the owner of the most prestigious hospital in Coulway, he was the most obnoxious, loud, profane and blasphemous brute anyone could come across with. He said what was on his mind because he often believed he was right and he had many reasons to claim so because as much as everyone who knew him hated to admit it, Oliver St. Vincent was brilliant and he was, in many sense, always right.

St. Vincent rubbed his face with both palms and groaned. “Why in the bloody hell am I even here.”

“St. Vincent,” West said, voice cold. “We might not have time.”

The man raked his fingers through his long, brown waves with a groan and walked over to Sasha.

“Wash your hands first, young man,” Pemberton ordered. “You just raked it over your face and filthy hair.”

St. Vincent scowled at the doctor before he walked over to the washstand where a few pails of water were situated. He rolled his shirt up to his elbows and grumbled under his breath as he washed his hand.

Swaying across the room, his arms dripping with water, he returned beside Sasha and fell on the bed, causing it to bounce with his weight.

West scowled and St. Vincent gave him a wry look. “I am not fat. I am simply a giant.”

And then, as if West witnessed a miracle, he saw St. Vincent’s eyes clear in concentration after shaking his head to look down at Sasha’s bandaged midriff. Considering his size and the fact that he reeked of brandy, his hands were gentle, almost gracefully, while he peeled the bandages off Sasha.

“Careful,” he told the man.

“I did not waste years studying in London, the Americas, and the Orient just to be told to be careful, Eaton. Bloody shut up—ah, you are right, Pemberton, she is still bleeding,” St. Vincent said under his breath, frowning as he investigated the wound. “Dagger?”

“Yes.”

“No damage to the organs?”

“None as far as I have assessed,” Pemberton informed him.

St. Vincent checked Sasha’s pulse and leaned closer to feel her breathing. West held his breath as the man continued his assessment, pulling down on Sasha’s lower eyelid.

“She has lost a lot of blood,” he said, leaning away from Sasha. And then he sighed. “She will die.”

“That is not the word I want to hear, St. Vincent,” West growled.

St. Vincent took a lungful of air and grinned at him. “Lucky for you, Eaton, I am not very foxed. I have raised a man from the dead. Have I told you the story?”

“Too many times than necessary, my friend,” Tanner dryly responded from the foot of the bed.

St. Vincent turned to Pemberton. “I need to operate.”

West frowned. “And what does that entail—”

St. Vincent stood from the bed, swayed on his feet. “I need to open her up.”

---

“This is too bloody risky,” West grumbled as he paced the room.

“It is if you do not stay away,” St. Vincent dryly said behind his clothed mouth. “Stay at your corner, Eaton. You called for me, did you not? You are not even paying me for this bloody task. I need three bottles of your best brandy after this.”

“You can have my entire liquor cabinet if you save her.”

Pemberton was looking unconvinced beside St. Vincent, but the old doctor assisted the much younger—and larger—man without complaints.

West’s head dropped, unwilling to look at Sasha being sliced open, which was what St. Vincent was doing.

“I demand to know you know what you are doing, St. Vincent,” West said. When the man suddenly became motionless, West called out, “St. Vincent!”

St. Vincent snapped his head and lifted both hands in midair and shouted, “I am awake! Awake!”

West closed his eyes and took a lungful of air.

“Relax, Eaton,” St. Vincent said with a yawn. “She is not yet a carcass. And as you can see, I am opening her up.”

“You are bloody foxed, St. Vincent.”

“Then you should not have dragged me here.”

Dr. Pemberton cleared his throat. “St. Vincent has been drinking, but not as foxed as usual.”

“Thank you, Pemberton, you did not have to patronize me.” St. Vincent turned his eyes to West. “But I am indeed foxed, but!” he said, lifting a hand when West started to stalk toward him, “but not quite enough. I have a quarter of control over my faculties.” He looked to his side at West. The covering on his mouth moved, suggesting a grin. “That is more than enough for me to save this woman’s life.”

“A quarter of—” West scoffed in disbelief. “You must be jesting.”

“No, I am not. Pemberton, please tell the duke how you find me exquisitely intelligent and capable?”

“What are you doing?” he demanded as St. Vincent left Sasha’s side and stumbled to a candle, in his hand a thin rod of iron. He placed the iron directly into the fire.

West could see from Pemberton’s expression that this was not a common practice. “St. Vincent?” he asked with alarm.

St. Vincent held up one hand to keep him at bay. “Stop talking for a moment, Eaton. You are such a sore distraction,” the man ordered under his breath. “Hold her,” he ordered Pemberton who did as told. The old doctor leaned over Sasha and held her arms down as St. Vincent’s giant body bent closer over Sasha’s wound, the red-hot rod iron disappearing from view.

West held his ground, but his hands closed into fists as Sasha rolled her head to the side in pain.

“You may be looking younger, Pemberton, but your eyesight is getting poor,” he told the older doctor as the smell of burnt flesh reached West’s nostrils.

“Is this the woman from Belcourt, Eaton?” asked St. Vincent, searching for something inside Pemberton’s bag.

West’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

He saw St. Vincent pause. The man stole him a look, his hazel eyes alert and knowing, no sign that he had been drinking the entire night, if not for days. “Then we need her alive, yes?”

“Very much,” he said through his teeth.

St. Vincent winked and whirled back to face Sasha. “One of her smaller arteries was seared. I had to close it with the hot iron. The bleeding should stop, but you must take precaution.”

“What caution?”

The man sighed as if he was given a task he ought not to be doing in the first place. “You need to clean the wound and prevent microbe vegetation.”

“Then she lives?” West asked, walking over to look at Sasha’s face, covered with sweat.

“What?” St. Vincent asked, threading a needle with a squinted eye.

“Will she live?”

“I need to close the wound, Eaton. Step aside.”

West had to turn around as St. Vincent did his task.

“You have to answer my question, St. Vincent,” West said, looking at the wall. “Will she live?”

“If she does, she owes you her life,” St. Vincent replied. “I would have not lifted a finger to help this woman.” West scowled. “Contrary to common belief, if you see yellow liquid come out of her wound, it does not mean she is healing,” St. Vincent added. “It means she will die in a matter of days.”

West’s jaw clenched.

“Clean the wound with the solution I will send from Sinclair—for a price, of course. And since she is from Belcourt, you need to pay more.”

“What solution—”

“Something I have been developing to clean wounds and—”

“You mean something you have been experimenting on.”

“It has proven to be effective, thus far.” St. Vincent paused to muse at the wall over the bed and added, “On a few rodents. And a cat.”

West closed his eyes to summon control. He ought to be used to St. Vincent by now, but in situations such as this, he could not help but wish that he were slightly bigger so he could outpower the bastard for once.

“You can turn around now, Eaton,” St. Vincent’s voice said.

West whirled and found the man taking off his cloth mask. “You have to be very clean,” St. Vincent said. “Do not touch the wound and always dress it with fresh bandage twice daily.” He looked over his shoulder at Sasha whose drenched face was being wiped by Pemberton. “If she feels hot to the touch, call for Pemberton.”

“And you?”

St. Vincent narrowed his eyes at him. “How useful is she?”

“Very.”

The man nodded. “You can search for me at Stark’s—and only if you think she is dying.”

“You bloody bastard,” Eaton growled, eliciting a laugh from the man.

As his laughter died, St. Vincent looked over his shoulder. “I heard you have another Belcourt woman. I do not see her.”

Wests’ eyes were fixed on Sasha. “She will be taken to Keene.”

“You will let Rider take her?”

“Keene will be the place.”

“And Willoghby?”

“Will disappear soon,” West replied, walking past St. Vincent and toward Sasha.

“Bloody hell, I am bloody,” he heard St. Vincent grumble as he exited the bedchamber without a word of goodbye. “Remember, Eaton—do not call for me until she is dying! And send your liquors to Sinclair the soonest you can. I do not need the cabinet!”

West gathered Sasha’s hand to his while Pemberton pulled out the blood-stained cloths that St. Vincent covered Sasha earlier. Staring at her torn nightgown, his hand tightened around hers.

He nearly lost her tonight.

“I will call for the maid to change her clothes,” Pemberton said. Stopping at the door, the old doctor said, “I hope this will all be worth it, young man.”

West did not reply.

Later that night, Iyana arrived with a doctor from Belcourt. Both ladies were told that the duke wished to inform them that Sasha had survived. Updates on her recovery shall be reported directly to Belcourt by the duke himself.

“They are gone, Your Grace,” Darren informed him, voice solemn.

“She is not yet dead, Darren. Erase that bloody look on your face.”

Darren swallowed and nodded his head, maintaining a strong mien, all the while her nostrils flared as he fought the tears.

West did the same. He looked at Sasha once again and closed his eyes. “She cannot die.”

XL | Gabrielle

“Now, now, Eaton, I do not think this is necessary—”

Sasha’s eyes fluttered open and she squinted against the sunlight from across the room. She turned her head just as the door flew open and a large man stumbled inside. It was not because he was pushed into the room by West, but because he was just… unstable.

He whirled on his heels and struggled to stay up as he swayed, his arms held up to the side to maintain his balance.

“Good morning, Sasha,” West greeted, walking over to the bed with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked. “Much better than yesterday.”

“Good,” he nodded, stepping back. “I asked an acquaintance to assess your condition this morning.” He twisted his torso and motioned with his hand. “This is Oliver St. Vincent. He owns Sinclair.”

She frowned, recognizing the name. “Sinclair… the hospital?”

The large man turned, raking his fingers through his rather scruffy long dark brown hair which made him appear as though he just rolled out of bed. His beard which covered most of his lower face and the smell of brandy in the air made Sasha wonder what his story was. “Yes!” his deep, baritone voice boomed around the bedchamber. He smiled, white teeth peeking through his bushy mustache, which to Sasha resembled a bird’s nest. “Yes, the hospital. And a few other stores, but why would you care?” He took one wobbly step toward the bed, his glimmering eyes looking straight at her. “And you are alive.” He turned to West with a mocking smile and bowed. “My task is over.”

As he straightened, West, grabbed St. Vincent’s arm and forced him to face Sasha. “You will check her wound, St. Vincent.”

Sasha recoiled in bed. “My wound is healing just fine. Who is this—” Her eyes widened. “Is this the man who opened me up like a carcass?”

“Hmm. Did I say that when I was slicing you? Perhaps, I did,” said St. Vincent, walking closer to the bed. “Reveal thy imperfect anatomy, my lady.”

Sasha blinked. “My what?”

West sighed and sat beside Sasha. “He needs to see to your wound.”

“He is a doctor,” she pointed out, her words laced with uncertainty as she spoke them, looking at St. Vincent up and down.

St. Vincent’s hazel eyes squinted as he grinned. “A giant doctor with angel hands,” he said, bending down to help West with the bandages. “Have you been applying the solution I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why am I here, Eaton?” St. Vincent asked. “I told you to only call for me if she is dying.” Sasha opened her mouth to speak but the man was fast to add, “Ah, I believe I understand. You want to see if you may resume sexual interactions.”

Sasha’s face flushed and she saw West close his eyes to summon control. “I took you here because it had been two weeks since the incident, St. Vincent.”

St. Vincent rumbled with laughter at their loss for words. It took him merely a second to see the wound to say, “She looks like she has been eating—or been forced to eat. She is not dying.” Then he straightened to full height, his shadow looming over her. “But I suggest you be less active in the sexual act.” He motioned his head down at West who was hastily wrapping the bandages back over Sasha’s wound. “Let this man do all the bloody work.”

Sasha scoffed in disbelief, looking at the man standing before her. He smelled like his washbasin was poured with spirits, his beard, and hair looking like one giant mane.

“Did you truly save me?”

He looked offended. “I would not say so. I was dragged here to apply my skills. I was not hoping to save you.”

Sasha scoffed in disbelief. “Perhaps I should thank you anyway.”

“No, do not,” St. Vincent snapped, his voice suddenly cold. Then he broke into a smile. Stepping back with a wink, he added, “Call for Pemberton once the stitches have completely healed.”

“Doctor—” Sasha called out to him as he whirled around to go to the door.

“St. Vincent is fine, woman,” he said, waving his hand over his shoulder.

“Can I leave my bed now?” she asked in haste as he stepped out of the doorway.

He poked his head back in, his lazy foxed eyes narrowed. “You should have the very moment you thought of it. So long. Call on me when you have no one else to bother and you are dying.”

West shook his head and froze when he heard Sasha laugh.

“He is rather odd.”

“He is an obnoxious bastard.”

“Then I can assume he is not your friend?”

“No,” West immediately said. “He is as I have said… an acquaintance. He is the best, but he is also the worst,” West grumbled. “Now, you should stay here—”

Sasha dangled her legs to the side of the bed and pulled herself away. “I have been here long enough. And you heard him. I can get out of bed—”

“And you also heard me—he can also be the worst. He does not give the best advice when he is foxed.”

“While he did smell like it, he did not sound foxed.”

“He has mastered the art of disentangling his words whenever he is.”

She snorted and pushed herself up. West caught her with a sigh. They waited until she regained her balance on both feet.

His eyes looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I want to see her.”

He was already shaking her head before she even finished the statement.

While Sasha could understand his reservations, she had been confined in bed for too long. When she first came about, he was all over her, shouting for Darren. Sasha could not remember any waking moments when West was not by her side. He was there feeding her, bathing her, cleaning her wounds. And even when her eyes were closed, she could hear him scold Seven for being too scared during the attack, hiding under the bed. Once, she told him it was not the dog’s obligation to serve anyone.

Sasha could not remember where Seven was the night she was attacked, but she was grateful the dog was spared. Perhaps being scared was indeed a useful disposition. He may not have been there to save her, but Seven was a loving companion. As if he was guilty of having done nothing to save her, he was constantly at her side. And as if he understood her condition, the dog was gentle with her.

Sasha was done being pampered. She had regained most of her strength and she was ready to climb out of bed.

“Take me to her now, West.”

His jaw tightened. “She will be transferred to Keene by the morrow. We can wait until you are—”

She shook her head. “We do not have the time. You have not made enough progress with her in a fortnight.”

“She is not talking.”

“Then take me to her so I can see for myself. Get me a coat, please.”

West sighed and grabbed the first coat he found in the closet.

---

Sasha let West lead her to the study slowly, stopping now and then to answer his incessant inquiry of whether she was feeling pain or not. Once inside, she leaned on the large table and watched him open a secret door at one corner, one that was easily missed for it was covered with a large mirror that reflected the wall of shelves across the room.

In the many days she had been in the villa alone, she never noticed it was there.

She bent her head to hide the wince of pain. Her eyes landed on the Royal Theater invitation. “You are planning to see a play without me?” she asked in jest.

He smiled at the red envelope on the table. The seal was intact, indicating he was yet to see it. “I am planning to give it to you once you have completely healed.”

“Do not be foolish,” she said, shaking her head. “We have no time to spare for a bloody play.”

He lifted his brows and held out his hand. “She is inside.”

Behind the mirrored door of West’s study was another narrow corridor that opened to two more doors. He started to unlock the one on the right with a set of keys from his pocket, nonchalantly as if unbothered by the fact that he was revealing to this place to her. How many more did he have around this villa? At Everleigh?

When he opened the door, he stepped held up his hand to keep her at bay. He walked inside the room and Sasha heard him instruct Gabrielle to sit on the chair. After a few minutes, he walked out and held out his hand.

Sasha took it.

The room was bare of windows. There was a lone lamp on the high ceiling above, a small bed at one corner, a wooded commode, and a pitcher of water.

And the chair she was sitting on in the middle of the room.

She was bound to the chair and she was motionless, her green eyes just staring at Sasha with nothing to betray. It was dead.

“Leave us, please,” she told West.

“No.”

She glared at West. “Please.”

“I will be outside,” he gritted out.

“In your study.”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Five minutes, Sasha,” he said and left the room.

Sasha walked to Gabrielle, her eyes locked with the woman’s blank green globes. “You have been lying to me, Gabrielle.”

Gabrielle’s nostrils flared. His eyes went to Sasha’s midriff, but she did not say a word.

“First, you told me not to go to Belcourt when it was clear that the Mistresses never gave such order,” Sasha continued calmly. “Second, you never told them about my agreement with West.” Gabrielle’s jaw clenched. Her red hair was filthy, and she smelled. She had not been out of this room for a fortnight. She may have been fed, but her condition was not the best. Yet she was as controlled as she always was. “Why is that?” Sasha asked. “Why would you do that, Gabrielle?” She forced a smile when the woman remained mum. “I can only think of one simple answer. You do not want them to know that West Blackwood is looking for his sister. You know because I told you, but there is also another person who expressed the same theory long before I told him of the fact—the crown prince. Am I wrong, then, to assume that you are working for the man and not with Belcourt, Gabrielle?”

Questioning a Soldier’s loyalty was probably one of the most dangerous things any lady from the other courts could do. And Gabrielle seemed to be of no exception for she spoke for the first time in a fortnight. “I am not working with the prince. I have one master and that is Belcourt.”

Sasha scoffed. She did not like that answer, but at the very least it was a start.

“Stop lying to me, Gabrielle, please. You secured an invitation to Humbrick. How? The same way I managed to acquire mine—through the prince. And we both know he only has access to the Mistresses and me. I can ask Lady Aisling, of course. Would you like that?”

For a tiny moment, she saw something cross Gabrielle’s eyes. That was a good sign. She was going on the right track. She had not spent two weeks confined in West’s bed for nothing.

“But you were not there at Humbrick for me, were you, Gabrielle? You disappeared when Willoghby did. You were following him, which was why you managed to save me that night.” She paused. Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed, a sign of anger. “Please, do correct me if I am wrong.” Gabrielle’s jaw tightened. “But why the interest in Willoghby, Gabrielle?” Sasha mockingly made a thinking face. “Oh, yes, he is obsessed with me. He must be curious about everything about me. But then he does not know where to look, does he? So why not be interested in my flower instead?”

Finally, something different crossed Gabrielle’s eyes. A look of panic that rapidly disappeared as she regained control.

Sasha drew in a long breath, confident that she had it right. “He began digging about West Blackwood and found out about his mother, Elizabeth. Soon, he would be able to dig more information. Willoghby was becoming a good source of information. You needed someone else to find out more about this missing child—someone with connections like Willoghby. He owns the Sutherland Post and The Grimes. He is a flower in Belcourt. Surely, he will know where to look and what to look for. While I was proving to be incompetent, Willoghby was unknowingly doing all the work for you.”

Gabrielle scoffed and shook her head, fixing her eyes on one corner of the room.

Sasha stepped closer. She could feel her wound telling her to take a rest. She ignored it. It could wait a little longer.

“I am giving you a chance, Gabrielle, to explain yourself. There are a few questions that I cannot answer.”

Gabrielle shook her head again, an incredulous look forming on her face, a knowing glimmer in her eyes as she said, “You are being irrational, Sasha.”

“No, I am trying to save Belcourt. And I am trying to save a woman who is being haunted by the son of the man who fathered her, the same man who would do anything to make her disappear so his father’s sinful acts can never surface.”

“And who told you such things? Your gentleman?” Gabrielle asked, voice eerily cold. “You claim to be trying to save Belcourt, but you chose to trust the man who is working with the previous king? He is looking for his sister because he will use her against the king, Sasha. Have we not established that fact from the start?”

Sasha shook her head. “Then explain yourself. Why did you lie? Why have you been following Willoghby?”

Gabrielle’s gaze flickered away from Sasha’s. “I have nothing to tell you, Sasha.”

Sasha nodded and stepped back. “Then you will have to stay prisoner a little while more, Gabrielle. They will be taking you somewhere on the morrow. I hope by the time I come to see you there, you will be more willing.”

---

Sasha was writing a letter for Iyana while West patiently watched from the bed. She basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun while she gave Iyana a full report of her recovery and health and additional instructions that her maid should also provide the same information to Belcourt the soonest she could.

“If you continue to write those letters to Coulway, Darren may never come home. He seems to enjoy the trips to your villa,” he started in jest and she smiled.

“How far is Maycombe Hall?” she asked as a response.

“Keene is four hours from Coulway. Add a quarter of an hour to reach Maycombe.”

She nodded. “How about Willoghby?”

“He has already been taken from here.”

Again, Sasha nodded. She turned to West, her expression serious. “Can we truly trust Rider Fairborne?”

“I trust my friends with my life, Sasha. And if there is anyone who can break Gabrielle, it would be him.”

She shrugged. “If she does not break him first,” she murmured, bending her head back to her work. “You have to remember that she is a Soldier of Belcourt. She has been trained for years to withstand torture. We need to use something potent to make her talk.”

West did not reply. Curious to his sudden silence, she looked away from her letter. He was still looking at her.

“The prince secured your invitation to Humbrick.”

She blinked. “You have been listening earlier.”

“I could not help it. The door was left open and I told you I shall wait outside.”

She looked away, “Yes, he did,” answering his question.

“He is your hidden flower.”

Sasha softly let out a sigh. “Yes.”

“And?”

Her brows fused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“How do you spend your time together?”

“We talk about you, of course.” Signing the letter with her name, she waited a while and folded the paper.

“That is how you came up with your theory that Gabrielle is working with the prince.”

“Of course.” She carefully stood and walked to the bed. He helped her slip under the covers, but she knew he was waiting for her to say more. She smiled, looking into his light blue eyes. “He would not want to have direct contact with me if he is satisfied with the Mistresses, would he? He would not drag his royal person into my villa if he had no other motives. By being my flower, he has direct access to me and the information I might otherwise provide to Belcourt.”

He nodded.

She narrowed her eyes and grinned. He was waiting for her to say more. “We do nothing but talk about my mission and play chess. He is a rather nice man. In fact, I would hate to prove that he is capable of harming your sister.”

He said nothing as he sank into bed beside her with a sigh. “You play chess.”

“Of course.” She turned to her side. “What else did you expect?”

He was not looking at her. “I do not know, Sasha,” he grimly replied.

Sasha chuckled. “You know you are the first man, West, yes?”

At her words, he took a lungful of air and turned to face her. Ever so gently, he pulled her closer for a cuddle. “I would hate to think I would not be the last.”

Sasha stiffened in his arms. She did not want to discuss his intentions of marriage now .

Tilting her head, she planted a kiss on his chin. “We shall discuss this some other time.”

He bent his head and his mouth claimed hers. He was being gentle, worrying her lips just enough to elicit a moan. His arm remained loose around her and Sasha pressed closer.

“Do you trust St. Vincent?” she asked against his mouth, her hands on his breeches.

He groaned. “He is the best, Sasha, but I trust my judgment more,” he said, stopping her hands.

“But—”

He lifted to his elbow and pressed her back on the bed and hovered above her. His eyes were dark with growing desire.

He kissed her again, careful not to press against her wound.

“We have to wait a little longer, darling,” he said, his mouth traveling down her neck. And then he fell back beside her. His arms gathered her closer.

“Another week?”

She could feel him smile above her head.

“Five days?” she asked.

His chest rumbled with laughter. He planted a chaste kiss on her lips. “Sleep, Sasha.”

XLI | Into the Palace

After Sasha’s stitches were removed by a much older and more courteous doctor, they allowed another fortnight to pass. Sasha had resumed most physical activities by then.

She could feel the tenderness at the area of her healing wound, but apart from that, Sasha felt entirely different as West pleasured her in bed and allowed her the liberty to participate. His lovemaking was gentle, his kisses tender. Every whisper in her ear gave her a sense of warmth.

Sasha trembled in his arms for the second time that night, his heat her blanket in the cold night air.

His mouth found hers for a lengthy kiss, their breathing dissolved as one. She whimpered against his mouth as his hips moved against her again, igniting another fire, his hunger insatiable, hers unending.

Sleek with sweat, their bodies resumed a dance that was always different but one they mastered every time. He growled against her neck, sucking her skin hard, then nibbling it gently, planting a soft kiss.

His mouth captured her cry of pleasure and they shuddered almost simultaneously. They lingered to savor the moment that was deprived of them—mainly by him—and just felt each other’s heavy breathing and the soft slide of skin against skin.

He gently rolled off her and rose on his elbows to kiss her cheek. Panting, he grinned against her jaw. “St. Vincent is indeed a terrific doctor,” he said, planting his palm over her wound. “Are you all right?”

“I am wonderful,” she smiled, bending her head to kiss his shoulder. Her head fell back against the pillow. Sasha closed her eyes wearing a satisfied smile.

He trailed kisses at the side of her breast. “Would you like a bath?” he asked.

Sasha played with his hair. “Are you daft? At this time of night? Or is it morning?”

He returned to her mouth for a lingering kiss. “Says the woman who sews in the wee hours.”

He sat up and pulled her up. She chuckled as she straddled his hips and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. “This feels a little familiar,” she said, sinking into his lap.

He groaned. “As you must feel, darling, I am not ready.”

She clucked her tongue. “Men can be quite… slow, would you not agree?”

“I do not feel challenged at all, Sasha, so do not try.”

She kissed his mouth. “I am not challenging you.”

“This is not a game.”

She sensed the serious timber in his voice. She did not respond and instead just kissed him.

When she pulled away, he asked, “What was in the satchel?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You said that when you woke up, you took your satchel and walked to Belcourt. What was in the satchel?”

She smiled. “Nothing. It contained nothing.”

“Because you did not want to take anything that would remind you of that afternoon?”

She shook her head. “Because I had nothing to take.”

She gave him another kiss and fell back into bed. “What is on your mind?” he asked, hovering above her. “Do not think I do not notice it. You are constantly thinking about something.”

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. He kissed it away. “During my last visit to the Library, I found something that we can use to make Gabrielle talk.”

He froze above her, then understanding dawned on his face. “You have been holding it back because it is morally wrong.”

Her eyes searched his. “I would hate to use it on her.”

He said nothing.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “But I must.”

---

The very next day, they arrived in Keene and went straight to Maycombe Hall.

Tanner and Rider were already waiting for them and Sasha immediately demanded to be escorted to Gabrielle.

As the earl guided them down the basement, Sasha asked, “Willoghby?”

No one answered. She looked at Rider walking beside her and over her shoulder at Tanner and West when the man did not reply.

“Are you not telling me because I might find your actions against the law and might report it?”

She looked at Rider. The man was tremendously impassive. West was just the same. Tanner, on the other hand, eagerly nodded, his brown eyes filled with eagerness to please her.

“He can rot in hell,” she said, causing Rider to look over his shoulder at his friends who were looking as surprised as he was.

“And Gabrielle?” Sasha asked again.

Rider was intently looking down the corridor they were taking. “She is not talking,” he finally said.

“It has been another fortnight—four weeks in total, gentlemen,” Sasha said in disbelief. “You are telling me that she only talks whenever I am around? Is that it?”

“Or,” Tanner hastily offered, squeezing between her and Rider, “she only talks every fortnight.”

She shook her head. “You are not being harsh enough.”

This time, the three men paused to blink at her. Without looking, Sasha continued to walk to the end of the corridor where a door stood. She waited for Rider, aware that West and Tanner were gawking at her.

She could not lose her composure today.

“Thank you,” she said to Rider as the door swung open and before any of the men could enter, she pushed the door closed, saying, “Stay outside, please, gentlemen.”

Sasha turned and found Gabrielle in the corner of the room. This time, the woman was in a rather nice condition. She looked—and smelled—like she had been allowed a bath. Her bed was larger than the one provided to her in Everleigh. And the room, although still free of windows, was rather clean.

And most of all, she was not bound.

“I will not waste time, Gabrielle,” Sasha said, walking to the center of the room, aware that West and the others were outside should Gabrielle attempt anything. The woman simply stared at her, her expression, as Sasha had expected, was flat.

But this time, she broke her silence earlier than anticipated and said, “They have manipulated you greatly, Sasha. You do not know what you are doing.”

“I may not, but I trust my judgment, Gabrielle. It is all that I have always had even before I came to Belcourt.” She sighed. “West Blackwood is not looking for his sister to take her to Reginald. He has been tracking Reginald for quite some time, not in support for him but to know what the man is planning. His exchanges with Reginald was all because of that plan.”

“Then he should have approached the—”

“The prince? The man you work for? What for, Gabrielle? So they can search for their sister together? So Prince Albert can get his hands on the very person who threatens the kingdom he is yet to inherit?”

Gabrielle’s jaw tightened. “I am not working with the prince, Sasha.”

“Then tell me, Gabrielle. I am certain you had enough time to think since we last talked.”

“I work for one of the Maidens,” Gabrielle gritted out, her green eyes blazing with anger. She was angry more at herself for speaking the words.

“Who amongst the Maidens?”

“I cannot tell you. And even if I do, it will not matter. You do not know them.” Gabrielle’s nostrils flared as her gaze held Sasha intensely. “I am not betraying Belcourt. I am saving it. Something bigger is afoot, Sasha. We have a common enemy and you are making things far more difficult by keeping me here.”

Sasha blinked with feigned innocence. “Make me understand, Gabrielle. Tell me what is afoot.”

Her red curly hair was untied, and it moved as Gabrielle shook her head. “I cannot. I do not have the liberty. I am but a servant to Belcourt.”

“Then who can tell me? This Maiden?” she challenged.

Gabrielle did not answer. Her eyes flickered to the side and her expression was shutting down once again.

Sasha allowed the silence to linger for a moment, giving Gabrielle time to change her mind and herself to decide. When Gabrielle remained motionless, Sasha squared her shoulders and tersely said, “I know about your brother, Gabrielle.”

She saw the sudden change in the woman, and it was as though she felt it too. Blood drained from her face and her eyes were stricken.

Without giving Gabrielle another chance, Sasha continued, “He is in Coulway for the season, is he not? Probably one of the reasons why you are frequently away from Belcourt?”

She saw Gabrielle shudder before she stiffly turned to Sasha, her eyes filled with so many emotions all at once. Betrayal, fear, pain, regret.

“Do not go there, Sasha. I swear to God if you lay a hand on him—”

“I will not,” she interjected. “If you tell me the truth.”

Gabrielle was breathing hard, her hands closed into fists.

For the first time, Sasha felt actual fear in front of Gabrielle. The look in her eyes spoke of unspeakable pain.

“I am waiting, Gabrielle. Do not think I am jesting. I may be heartless than you think.”

Gabrielle smirked as if it was the only way she could hide the emerging panic within her. “You do not have it in you to cause him harm, Sasha. You have been manipulated and you must come to your senses.”

“Do you know how I got into Belcourt, Gabrielle?” Sasha asked instead. “My father murdered my mother. I found him holding a pistol when I came home later that day. As there was only one bullet left, he made me choose between his life and mine.” She stepped closer, holding Gabrielle’s surprised gaze while hers remained unwavering. “You are looking straight at my choice.” Stepping even closer, she added, “Now, do you want me to choose between you and your brother?” Her legs shaking, Sasha took a step back while maintaining the hard look on her face. “I will not wait for another fortnight for your decision, Gabrielle.”

Gabrielle must have seen the truth in her words for she closed her eyes, a pained look on her face. “I cannot tell you. It is against the orders given me.”

“Then what can you do?”

Her eyes remained closed as if it blinded her from the crime she was about to commit. Sasha waited as Gabrielle clearly struggled internally. She must be too tired. A month inside a room could render anyone insane. Finally, Gabrielle gritted out, “We have to go to the Palace.”

“We can this very day.”

“Alone,” said Gabrielle, opening her eyes. Something was different in their depths—fury. Fury toward Sasha for forcing her into this, for giving her no choice. “That is the only option I can give you.”

---

“Well? Do you not think it is dangerous?” Sasha asked West.

He was frowning, his hands on his hips. Then he shook his head. “No, I believe it is a good plan.” He looked at her and added, “I simply think you cannot go there alone with her—”

Sasha sighed. “I knew you would say that, but you should have seen her face when I told her about her brother. She was petrified, West. She will not do anything so long as she is aware that you and your friends are with her brother.”

“Then we can force the truth out of her now—here.”

“Do you not want to know who this Maiden is? What her plans are?”

Rider turned to West. “I believe Sasha is correct. We shall have men nearby Belcourt while we return to Coulway on horseback.” He turned to Sasha. “If you do not come out in an hour, they will try to take matters into their own hands.”

“They will never survive Belcourt.”

“No,” said Rider, shaking his head. “It would be too late for us to save you then. If you do not come out in an hour, they will go and alert us. And we kill the brother.”

Sasha blinked. “You will what?”

Tanner shrugged. “You heard him, Sasha. We kill him.”

Rider’s light brown eyes gauged Sasha. “This was your plan. You make certain it works and you make certain that Gabrielle is aware of what we are going to do to her brother if she does not deliver you outside Belcourt in an hour.”

Sasha turned to West. “West?”

His eyes were cold when he looked at her. “If you truly wish to pursue this plan, Sasha, and if you fail to get out of Belcourt in time, I will be the one to slash the man’s neck. So if you want him alive, you have to come out alive.”

She placed her hand on her temple and closed her eyes. “Why do I feel as though the three of you have trapped me?”

“This was your plan,” Tanner repeated. “Quite a brilliant one. But it has its flaws. As we have mentioned earlier, she may be using this as a way for her to get back into Belcourt where she shall be safe with very little care for her brother’s life.”

“I knew what I saw when she realized we uncovered her brother’s identity.”

“Which is why you have to choose, Sasha,” West said. “I will no longer try to stop you for I know it shall reap me no rewards.”

Sasha grabbed her red cloak and walked toward West. In front of his friends, she kissed his lips. “I am going.” She turned to Rider. “Please, take Gabrielle to the carriage. We have quite a long journey ahead of us.”

---

Sasha did not attempt to open a conversation with Gabrielle as they rode to Belcourt in one of Rider’s carriages.

The woman was sitting stiffly at her side of the carriage, looking straight at Sasha, her green globes filled with anger and disbelief, her lips in a tight thin line.

The journey took six hours without rest and by the time they came near Belcourt, night had already fallen. Just as Gabrielle wanted it.

“Stop,” Gabrielle ordered. Sasha knocked on the ceiling of the carriage.

“Through the forest?” she asked, not entirely surprised.

“We cannot enter through the gates,” Gabrielle said. “I have been gone too long. By now, Belcourt may be searching for me.”

It only occurred to Sasha that Gabrielle may be facing harsh penalties. A Soldier could not stay away from Belcourt for too long.

She mentally shook her head. This was the only way she could find out what Gabrielle was hiding. But what if Gabrielle was telling the truth? What if she could prove to Sasha that West was indeed guilty? But if he was, why would she let him go alone?

This could be a big misunderstanding , she thought—as well as hoped.

Gabrielle climbed out of the carriage and waited for her outside. Turning to the driver and the three men that had been following them behind on horseback, Gabrielle said, “Guards are watching over Belcourt at all angles. You cannot go further. You wait for Sasha to come out within an hour.”

Sasha looked at the edge of the forest, no longer listening. They had already discussed their plan.

Gabrielle lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and turned to Sasha. “I am doing my part of the bargain. I hope you can honor yours.”

Sasha nodded.

The two of them left the carriage and the men and crossed the road to enter the forest.

Gabrielle started running and Sasha followed.

They did not have a lot of time and the forest surrounding Belcourt was not an easy path either.

But it seemed Gabrielle had been doing this for a long time. She knew the right turns to evade the watchtowers scattered around the forest.

How long had she been using this path?

After a while, Gabrielle stopped and placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Sasha slowed down as her wound was also giving her a hard time. And just as she reached Gabrielle, the woman straightened, turned to her, and knocked her out cold.

---

West, Tanner, and Rider found their target in one of the drawing rooms of the Royal Theater.

The red-headed man was in a deep conversation with another gentleman when the three of them approached him.

He looked surprised when he recognized the three men standing before him.

“My lords!” he greeted, standing to his feet. “I do not expect to see you here tonight—”

Tanner sighed, stopping the man’s words with a lift of his hand. “They do look alike, do they not?” he asked Rider who ignored him, looking intently at the man.

The man blinked his green eyes in confusion. “I do not understand—”

“Please, if you would follow me, Ross,” West said, turning toward a body-length mirror at the corner of the room, right beside a potted plant.

Another act was starting below them. The applause was muffled by the thick walls that separated them from the other guests and the boxes. A few of the gentlemen they passed by started to stand to return to their boxes.

West reached for the edge of the mirror and pulled it open, revealing another door. Tanner and Rider were right behind him with the reluctant Ross standing idly by.

The man followed them inside the room. They refused the drinks offered by the server who dutifully closed the mirrored door to provide them their privacy. Rider did not go further into the room and satisfied himself by leaning against the door, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers.

“Sit down,” West ordered and Shaw slowly obliged, looking at the three men with bewilderment.

“What is the matter?” Ross asked.

West took the winged chair behind an old desk and folded his hands under his chin. “You bloody bastard,” he murmured, eliciting a look of panic in Ross’s green eyes. “You have a sister.”

“A twin,” added Rider from where he stood, face unreadable, voice cold.

Ross shifted in his seat in great discomfort. His face had gone ashen. He loosened his cravat with shaking hands.

West leaned against the chair and crossed one leg over the other. His finger interlaced before him, he coldly asked, “Now, tell us why the twin sister of the Earl of Ross is in Belcourt, August.”

Ross’s jaw tightened.

Tanner took the seat beside Ross and sighed. “This shall be a very long night, Ross.”

The man’s shoulders dropped, and he looked at Tanner, then Rider, and finally at West. “I might as well explain.”

---

Sasha felt the pain in her head as she came awake.

She could sense someone calling her name.

And the very moment she remembered what happened, her eyes flung open and she was suddenly attacked by the brightness of the room. She rose from where she was lying—a red settee.

Holding her breath, she looked around, her heart pounding.

Why did she feel like another fainting spell was coming?

She closed her eyes and cleared her throat.

“You are in the Palace,” said Gabrielle’s voice. “Please, forgive me, Sasha. I cannot allow you to know the path to this place.”

Sasha’s jaw tightened. She tried to move, but the slight pain from her midriff stopped her. She had strained herself by running into the forest. Her hand placed pressure on the wound. She swallowed and looked around.

“Where in the Palace am I?” she asked.

“In one of the quarters for the Maidens,” replied Gabrielle, walking toward a door. “We do not have much time. Your friends may decide to kill my brother at any given moment.”

Without another word, Gabrielle pulled the door open and left the room.

Sasha straightened and stood to her feet. She wobbled, the room spinning slowly around her. Closing her eyes, she waited for the sensation to subside.

The sound of a door opening came just as her eyelids fluttered open and a figure of a woman walked inside.

She was draped in a purple cloak, the hood down.

Her brown hair was swept to the left, its waves cascading down to her waist. Her lips hinted a smile as her light blue eyes regarded Sasha with curiosity and gentleness.

“Good evening, Sasha,” the woman greeted, voice smooth and perfectly modulated. “Gabrielle told me a rather fascinating story of her little adventure.”

Sasha swallowed, daring not to move. She felt a shiver run up her spine the more she looked at the woman. “She must have also told you that we do not have much time.”

The woman nodded. “But first, introductions are in order.” She woman, as though an apparition, glided closer toward her. “My name is Arielle.” Her light blue eyes held so many things—hilarity, secrets, and mystery. And they were even laced in her voice as she added, “I am Elizabeth Blackwood’s daughter.”

XLII | Royal Circus

A Maiden.

Of course, where else could she be but the Palace, away from everyone’s eyes, serving the High Priestess?

Sasha was surprised that she managed to maintain her composure, but then why not? The woman looked like her mother.

But the smile on her lips was different. It was one that did not know how to truly laugh.

“Gabrielle has told me that West Blackwood is tracking down Reginald.”

Sasha blinked, clearing her mind to proceed with what was at hand. She had too many questions and they would be answered by this woman.

“Would you like to sit down?” Arielle offered.

Sasha looked behind her at the settee and sat down. Arielle took the winged chair opposite hers. So graceful, so elegant. Sasha had never seen anyone like this woman. Aliya may compare, but it was easier to read Aliya than the mysterious lady sitting across from her now. Mayhap it was the fact that she had been one of the Elected children and that Sasha had been looking for her.

“Your first question must be why Gabrielle is involved in this,” Arielle started, the small smile on her lips never wavering. “I ordered for her to find out what West Blackwood is doing. The crown prince, with the help of Belcourt, managed to intercept a suspicious letter from London.”

“You and the prince work together?”

Arielle’s smile widened. “Of course. Why would we not be?” When Sasha did not respond, Arielle sighed with understanding. “The prince and I have reached a certain kind of truce, Sasha. Belcourt helped our father ascend to the throne. I have no desire to change anything, considering Belcourt and the kingdom have one common enemy.” Even her blink was delicate. “I do not consider myself a princess for I am one of the seven Maidens of Belcourt and I shall forever remain as one.”

A young girl cloaked in purple, with her face hidden in the shadow of her hood, quietly entered the room to serve tea. An Elected, Sasha surmised. Without a word, the young girl left, allowing Sasha a moment to think and organize her thoughts while Arielle picked up her cup and sipped. “Do you believe West Blackwood, Sasha? Everything he told you about finding me and saving me from Reginald?”

Sasha did not answer.

Placing her tea back on the table, Arielle’s light blue eyes never left Sasha. “Perhaps I should start with Willoghby.”

“Gabrielle has been following him.”

Arielle nodded. “Upon my orders, yes. He is the source of the intercepted letter we received from the prince. As the owner of the Sutherland Post and that horrible magazine, The Grimes, Willoghby has reach all over Sutherland and beyond. It is only expected that he is a good source of information, useful or otherwise. Albert brought the attention directly to me and we organized a plan. We needed to know more and at that time, we thought we can push Willoghby a little more, without his knowledge of course, so he would pursue the matter.”

“You planned for me to be recourted.”

Arielle nodded. “It was easy to find Willoghby’s interests, shall we say. He loves women with brown, wavy hair. And whenever he is obsessed, Willoghby goes to great lengths to get what he wants. And as if by luck, West Blackwood handed his application to Belcourt. We could not just take any Belle with brown hair, can we? We needed someone fresh and innocent for both men.”

Sasha’s jaw tightened and her hands closed into fists.

“Willoghby took interest in you just as we expected. You were in Coulway—easily accessible to him, fueling his madness even further.”

“And he started to look into your brother.”

A look of revulsion crossed Arielle’s eyes for one second before she blinked it away and said, “Please, he is not my brother, Sasha. I could never associate myself with him.”

“But he is trying to find you and save you.”

Arielle sighed and closed her eyes. “I see that he has quite manipulated you into thinking that he cared enough to save a woman he has never even met, the same woman who is a product of his mother’s infidelity.”

Sasha swallowed. This was not how she expected things to be.

“Going back to Willoghby, you are correct. He indeed dug into West Blackwood’s life.”

“But why would you manipulate him to do the same thing I was told to do?”

Arielle smiled. “You were the distraction we needed, Sasha. You distracted Blackwood and you motivated Willoghby. We could not wait for you to master the craft of deception. We needed Willoghby’s expertise. And if you only gave him more time, he would have succeeded.”

“Succeeded in what? Gathering evidence of West’s crimes?”

Arielle shook her head. “We are already certain of Blackwood’s crimes, Sasha. What we needed Willoghby for is his ability to look for something we have been trying so hard to find for years.”

Her heart began to hammer against her chest. Something in her told her to go away and return to West, but another part of her said she had to stay and listen. “And what is that?” she heard herself asking.

Arielle’s satisfied smile told Sasha that she had been waiting to answer that question. “We needed the names of the members of the Royal Circus.”

The frown on Sasha’s face forced the woman to sigh, her eyes filled with patience.

“The Royal Circus is a group of men, privileged or otherwise, who supports the previous monarchy. Blackwood’s father, Addison Blackwood, was a known leader of the Circus.”

Her heart stopped. No, no… This could not be. Not him . This was preposterous.

“The Royal Circus has been around for years, Sasha, perhaps even longer than Belcourt. They were the loyal servants of Reginald and the other kings before him. It was only after Reginald was dethroned that their presence was identified as a threat. For quite some time, we believed that the club disintegrated with Blackwood’s death years later, but recent events have led us to believe that the group is still very much active and West Blackwood is the new Royal Master as they would call their leader.”

Sasha felt her chest heaving as she struggled to maintain a semblance of normal breathing. She fought the ringing in her ears, willing herself to listen further.

“Belcourt and the kingdom have been trying to locate them, but to no avail. When Reginald’s letter was unknowingly intercepted by Willoghby, we found something concrete—proof that the Royal Circus is planning something. But we cannot simply accuse Blackwood of a crime with naught but one letter, and we could not simply name any random man associated with him to be members of the Circus.” Arielle paused to let Sasha absorb everything. “My father, the king, is not like Reginald. He would not punish a man without a fair trial. Bur for a trial to ensue, we need to find the Circus and its existing members.”

Sasha looked around the room, wishing someone else was there to tell her that she was dreaming, that she was having an awfully bad nightmare.

“Willoghby is not aware that we know about his discovery. He is a great tool that we intended to use, but now cannot, much applause to your very unpredictable move,” Arielle continued, her voice etched with sarcasm.

Sasha shook her head. “But what if the Circus, if it truly exists, wants what West has been telling me? What if they are not loyal to Reginald, but the current king of Sutherland?”

Arielle chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, Sasha, you make me want to cry. But I do understand. You have been manipulated by a man.” Her face turning serious, Arielle said, “The Royal Circus has but one master and that is the Stanhope bloodline. Reginald and his son are the two remaining Stanhopes, Sasha. So long as they are alive, the Royal Circus will be their soldier. Their main goal is to destroy the new line of monarchy and its allies. Belcourt is amongst them.” Slanting her head to the right, she gave Sasha an assessing look. “We cannot let that happen, Sasha, because Belcourt is our home.”

She shook her head. “But there was no indication that West was—is—doing something—”

“As there is no indication that Belcourt is capable of something quite incredible, Sasha,” Arielle interjected. “Do you truly think that Belcourt is the sole institution with secrets? That is how good they are. The Royal Circus is currently Belcourt’s greatest enemy, and for a reason. And we need to know our enemies, do we not? West Blackwood and his father suffered greatly after Reginald was dethroned. He shares his father’s hatred for King Louis. Contrary to what he may have told you, Sasha, West Blackwood grew up adored by his father. He was trained from the moment he was borne. I know that a part of you is thinking this, but Sasha, you cannot change a man like West Blackwood in just a few months of being his Belle”

Willoghby’s words echoed in her head.

I am the lesser evil, Sasha… because Blackwood is the devil himself…

A shiver ran through her just as a tear escaped her eyes. She hastily wiped it away with the back of her hand. She sniffled and stuck out her chin. “Willoghby never found the Circus?” Sasha asked despite herself.

“We found no proof that he did, but we believe he was very close.” Arielle stood and looked down at Sasha. “But you will find it for us. Surely, you have gained Blackwood’s confidence. Gabrielle has been exposed. She can no longer do anything, and I cannot trust anyone else in Belcourt. The fewer people know, the more we are at an advantage.”

Sasha locked her gaze with Arielle.

“Do you believe me, Sasha?” the woman asked, her voice calm, but her eyes looked desperate, almost pleading. “You may not believe me now, but if you can be wise enough, you will find that everything I have said is true. You were not given this task because the Circus may have knowledge of what Belles do for Belcourt. You could have been slaughtered alive before you stepped foot into Blackwood’s estate. But now, we are at an advantage.”

Sasha shook her head. “They know I came here. If what you say is true, then they would have a reason to suspect me more than ever.”

“No, they will be curious. They will want to know who you met here. They will demand answers, which you will give.”

“And what do you expect me to tell West? That I met his sister and she does not wish to be found, that she believes him to be her enemy?”

Arielle’s gentle smile returned. She lifted her hand and pulled out a ring and handed it to Sasha. “That ring belongs to our mother. He would know.” Sasha gazed at the ring, the same one worn by Elizabeth Blackwood on the painting. “Tell him you met me and that I do not wish to leave Belcourt.”

“But it would merely make him even more resolved to get you—”

Arielle shook her head. “No, it would make him think of another way to get to me and while he does, we will use the time to find the Circus— you will use the distraction to find his secrets.”

Sasha closed her hand over the ring. “He is not aware that you are working with the prince.”

“Of course, he is not. He barely knows I am alive.” Arielle went down on her knees and covered Sasha’s hand with hers. She peered at Sasha. “Sasha, I know that this is hard for you, but if you give us the same chance you gave West Blackwood, you will find the truth. And once you do, you will realize that everything he has been telling you was a lie. My life depends on you, Sasha. The future of Sutherland and Belcourt depends on you.”

Sasha looked at the woman. Good God, it was like looking at West’s eyes. But there was a big difference. West’s were often guarded. Arielle’s however, was openly bare.

“Find the Royal Circus, Sasha. And perhaps then you will understand.”

Taking a lungful of air, Sasha slowly let out a shaky breath. “If I find out that you are manipulating me, my lady, know that I will never return to Belcourt,” she said, her voice shaking.

Arielle nodded. Then she smiled, her eyes glimmering with tears of relief. “Belcourt will welcome you back home, Sasha.”

Something clenched in her chest and she was finding it hard to breathe.

“You love him,” Arielle said, voice matter-of-fact. “I do not know much about love, Sasha, but I do believe that you should have not fallen for Blackwood.” The woman squeezed her hand. “But I do not judge you for it. We may be the Ladies of Belcourt, but we have the same things any woman has. We have hearts that can be swayed.”

A whimper escaped her lips. She blinked away the tears and tightened her jaw. “If he proves to be who you say he is, I will come home to Belcourt. Loyalty is much stronger than love, my lady, and I have much of both.”

Arielle nodded and smiled at her proudly. “If you find yourself in danger, Sasha, you run home. Do you understand?”

Sasha nodded and stood to her feet.

Moments later, as she was escorted out of the Palace by Gabrielle, Sasha remembered the words she once told West.

Do not start fully trusting me now…

They exited the Palace through the known route in Belcourt. A carriage was already waiting for them by the entrance.

“Hurry, Sasha, we do not have much time,” Gabrielle said, her eyes in panic.

“Do you truly think they will harm your brother, Gabrielle?” she could not help but ask.

Gabrielle stiffened. “They are the Royal Circus, Sasha, and their history speaks for itself. They can do the evilest of things,” the woman gritted out.

She had much to ask the woman. Why was she in Belcourt while her twin was living a privileged life outside? Why was she here when she had a family?

Her questions would remain unanswered for now for Gabrielle disappeared almost immediately as the carriage rolled away.

And as Sasha exited Belcourt through the gates, Willoghby’s voice kept chanting in her head.

Because Blackwood is the devil himself…

XLIII | The Royal Master

When Sasha arrived in West’s villa, she was immediately bombarded by questions.

“Who did she meet?”

“One of the Maidens,” she said, looking at West, Tanner, and Rider, assessing their expressions. She could not find any sign of deception. Unless they were good at it as she was. “West, she is your sister.”

At the last word, West took her hand and guided her out of the study and pulled her into his bedchamber, locking the door behind them.

Sasha walked to the center of the room.

With his hands on his hips, he scowled at her, brows fused. “What do you mean the Maiden is my sister?”

Sasha blinked and swallowed. “She is.”

He just stood there for a long time looking at her while she searched his face desperately. She wanted to demand for answers, but she knew that she could not do that now. She would have to do it on her own.

“I do not even know what to say.”

Sasha took a step forward and held out her hand, showing him the ring. “She told me to give you this. She said that you would know it is her if you see it.”

His eyes fluttered down on the ring. His jaw tightened and Sasha’s heart sank. “That is my mother’s ring.”

Sasha took his hand and dropped the ring into his palm and guided it closed with her fingers. She looked into his eyes. “She does not wish to leave Belcourt.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Like me, she considers it home.”

His frown grew into a scowl and Sasha saw raw hatred burning into his light blue depths. “And like you, Belcourt has manipulated her.”

Sasha let go of his hand and took a step back. “Please, do not say that.”

His nostrils flared and he looked away to absently gaze at the window across the room. “What else did she tell you?”

“She told me everything. Why she ordered Gabrielle to follow Willoghby.”

“And why was she having Willoghby followed?”

“The prince told her that the intercepted letter was from Willoghby. She thought that she ought to pursue her own investigation. While she needed me to spy on you, she also used Willoghby to spy on the prince.”

“Why would she use that bastard to spy on the prince?”

“Willoghby found out that I have a hidden flower. His obsession with me gave him enough reason to find out more about his… contenders.” Moistening her lips, Sasha added, “She wanted to know the true enemy of Belcourt.”

Sasha knew she was diverting from the instructions given to her by Arielle, but she knew it was for the best. West was wise. If he were who Arielle said he was, Sasha could not give him any reason to suspect that Willoghby had been looking into him instead of the prince, thereby uncovering his secrets. He could question Willoghby and whatever the man told him would not reflect on Arielle’s claim. He might suspect, but it would give Sasha enough time to do her an investigation on her own. If he suspected her, he would not push her away because he would want to know more.

He frowned at her. “Belcourt is the enemy, Sasha, for all we know.”

His hatred toward Belcourt seemed to have more weight now that his innocence hovered on the edge of Sasha’s mind. Could it be true? Could he truly be leading a group that vowed to destroy Belcourt and the current kingdom?

“Believe whatever you wish to believe, West, but Arielle and all ladies of Belcourt, including I, are after one thing and that is to protect our home.”

“And what have they discovered after following Willoghby around?” he asked, ignoring her statement.

“Nothing,” she said. “They could not prove any of their suspicions because we captured Willoghby before he made any progress.”

He shook his head, his eyes looking into hers, probing. “Are you certain she was telling the truth?”

“No. That is what she told me,” she truthfully said. “I do not even know who to trust anymore, West.”

He looked at her. “And I can say the same. You could be lying as we speak.”

“And I told you never to trust me in full,” she told him, her eyes welling with tears.

He saw it and instantly stepped forward, cupping her face. He bent his head and kissed her lips in such a tender fashion that Sasha’s mouth trembled against his. “I just want this to be over.”

He slowly leaned away, his eyes searching hers. “And I just want to be able to trust you with everything.”

Sasha felt the ache in her chest vibrate down her arms and to her fingertips. A lump in her throat formed as she fought the urge to tell him what Arielle was accusing him of.

But her mind was stronger than the feelings she had for this man at the moment. Those feelings could wait their turn until she settled the confusing details.

He let go of her and stepped back. “This has changed the course of the game for me. I need a moment to think.”

Or a moment to gather your friends and come up with a plan, she added in her mind.

Sasha nodded and received another kiss from him. “Rest,” he said. “Your wound has not yet healed. After I think of the situation and once you are quite well, we will talk. And then, perhaps, we can come up with a plan.”

She hated to tell him that her mission for him was over. She had found his sister. She ought to return to Belcourt. But she could not do that. She had another mission.

---

By evening, Sasha pretended to be asleep when West entered the bedchamber. She felt him adjust the covers over her shoulder before he left.

Opening her eyes, she knew that he was nowhere in the villa. Seven came out of his hiding place underneath the bed and joined her as she lit a lamp and took out Addison Blackwood’s journal from under his closet.

She leafed through the pages, the cryptic messages and instructions making more sense now as Arielle’s revelation guided her.

She was near the end of the journal when she noticed two words that had been constant throughout most of the pages.

Opera night opens when necessary…

…as opera night comes to a conclusion…

Secure the place every night of the opera if a royal is present…

Opera night…

Opera…

Sasha frowned and shook her head.

Surely it could not be that simple, she thought.

But it made sense…

Slipping out of bed, she padded to the door and down the quiet corridor, her heart hammering against her chest as her feet led her to the library.

West’s voice echoed in her head.

An invitation to the Royal Theater…

She remembered her own innocent words saying she never knew the theater sent invites and his reply whispered in her ears.

To people in my station, they do…

She remembered the pain of her wound when she bent over his table and found the same invitation.

You are planning to see a play without me?

He smiled at the red envelope then, his words crystal clear in her head.

I am planning to give it to you once you have completely healed.

Sasha had reached the study and rushed to his table.

The envelope was nowhere in sight. It was not in the drawers either.

It was gone.

Sasha rested her shaking hands flat on the surface of the table. Her head hung as she closed her eyes.

They were right there in the open.

Royal Circus…

Royal Theater…

Of course. Where else could it be?

---

“Do you believe her?” Rider asked.

West’s jaw hardened. “No, of course not.”

“She is hiding something.”

West looked at the gentlemen sitting around the drawing room. His gaze landed on Ross. “Remember, gentlemen,” the earl said, his green eyes never leaving West’s, “that these ladies spent their entire life believing Belcourt. They were fed and clothed, trained, and manipulated by this institution. They were welcomed when no one else wanted them. Like a dog to its master, they are loyal to Belcourt. And that includes my sister.”

A clash of glass on the floor interrupted everyone. All twenty heads turned to the culprit with a scowl. “Apologies,” St. Vincent said, kicking shards of glass with his filthy leather shoes. “Do go on, please.”

West faced everyone in the room once more, ignoring St. Vincent. “Willoghby is not talking, but he has hinted that he has been looking into my life.”

“We simply have to assume that he did and has discovered the Circus,” Tanner spoke. “We have to get rid of the bastard, West.”

West shook his head. “We have to get more out of him. How further he got and how much did Belcourt discover.”

“We should not have sent his sister back to Belcourt,” Rider coldly said, pointing at Ross. “We should have used him to get the answers out of her.”

Ross glared at Rider. “And you think I have not tried? For years? She was placed there by the very people who support Louis. She was manipulated to be what she is now. Truly, Keene, have you not been listening to what I told you?”

“Sasha has the answers,” West said, his voice an echo around the room.

He heard St. Vincent scoff.

“I do truly believe you are compromised, Blackwood,” one of the gentlemen said. “She is manipulating you—have been manipulating you.”

“That comes with the mission,” West snapped. “I know what she is capable of.”

“We do not know that,” another gentleman retorted. “You must bring her in.”

West turned to Rider and Tanner, both men looking at him squarely. “No,” he said, “I shall deal with her in a manner I have learned to do.”

“These Belcourt women will be the death of the Circus, I am telling you,” St. Vincent slurred.

“And perhaps they can also be the end of Belcourt,” West countered. “If we can learn how to play our cards right.”

“It seems to me, Blackwood, that you are not playing the right cards. You are playing with your bloody heart—of all parts of your anatomy!” the Viscount of Greene erupted. “Do not be like your father.”

“You might have forgotten who you are speaking to, Greene,” West calmly said. Greene closed his mouth and sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “We made an oath, gentlemen. You follow the orders of the Royal Master.”

“Just be certain that we are to win this game, West,” Rider said.

West nodded. “We will.” He looked at his friend. “We shall make Willoghby talk while I work on Sasha.” His eyes scanned the room. “This opera is over.”

One by one, the gentlemen stood and walked out.

West turned to St. Vincent. “We need something from you, St. Vincent.”

The man emptied his glass and swallowed. With a sigh, he asked. “What?”

“We need Sinclair.”

---

She had waited two more days.

The day after she read Addison Blackwood’s journal, she had a chance. West said he had to attend parliament. But she did not want him to suspect so she stayed in his villa to recuperate.

And today, he had gone to Keene to question Willoghby as he claimed. She told him that she was expected to visit her villa today, which Sasha did the very moment he set out to Keene. Whatever he discovered there might just put her new mission in jeopardy and she could no longer wait for a new opportunity. Willoghby may reveal too much.

By nightfall, Sasha was looking up at the entrance of the Royal Theater, her heart pounding hard and fast against her chest. Hundreds of people were present tonight for the same opera that Sasha saw written outside the invitation she found in West’s villa.

Dressed in her finest dress and pelisse, Sasha walked up the steps and presented the ticket Iyana procured for her earlier that day.

Gaining entrance was not difficult but searching for one certain room would be a challenge. She settled in her seat in the lower box and waited until the opera began. She let a few more minutes pass by before she stood and walked out of the main theater.

With her heart pounding in her ears, Sasha started her search along the corridors of the first landing. There was nothing. No doors were locked and no suspicious activities. Both drawing rooms were nearly empty.

If the Circus were hiding in plain sight, they would use an unassuming room. Otherwise, she might never find it herself.

On the second landing, she was stopped by someone who wanted to ask if she knew where the water closet was. She pointed her in the right direction before continuing her search.

It was then that she stopped.

If she could remember, the theater provided separate water closets for men and women.

Sasha whirled around in search of the gentlemen’s water closet on the second landing. It was at the end of the corridor. She hid a smile of triumph as she pushed the door open but her heart sank the moment she realized she was in an actual water closet.

But it would have made sense. She searched the walls. No hidden doors.

Retreating into the corridor, she searched for the drawing rooms. She found one in the east wing. There were a few gentlemen inside who looked at her with interest. Murmuring an apology, she closed the door and ventured to her next destination.

She was back in the west wing and found another drawing room. It was empty.

Sasha searched the walls as well and with disappointment went up to the third landing.

Starting to doubt herself after she checked two more water closets and the western drawing room, Sasha proceeded to the eastern wing, the same one where their box was located the last time she saw the opera with Ruby, Jade, and West.

She stopped cold when she saw a familiar figure coming out of the room and she immediately jumped back into the corridor she came from. Her heart racing with her steps, Sasha rushed toward a column and hid in the shadows as a laughing Tanner and another gentleman walked by.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sasha waited until the corridor was empty and moved to the direction of the drawing room, passing by the doors of the upper boxes. The singing from the opera was muffled by the blood rushing to her ears as she reached the door. Pressing her ear against it, she tried to listen. It was quiet inside.

Moistening her lips, Sasha turned the door handle and pushed it a crack. She peered inside. The room was similar to the others.

There was no one inside. Looking to both ends of the corridor, she slipped inside the room. The pounding in her chest was deafening.

But she had to move fast. Anyone could come at any time. Looking around, Sasha realized that something was different in this room. It smelled different, felt different. With hasty steps and blood rushing through her veins, Sasha moved around the room with heightened focus.

And it was then that she saw the mirror against the wall. The hairs at the back of her neck stood and she strode toward it. Her reflection stared back at her.

Tears brimmed her eyes as she recognized the fear and denial in their depths. Squaring her shoulders, Sasha reached out and pulled at the mirror and her heart sank when it swung open, revealing another room.

The sound of muffled voices outside the door made her grab the candle nearest her and jumped into the dark room, closing the mirrored door behind her. Her heart pounding hard against her chest, Sasha lifted the candle higher before her.

She found another candle in one corner and lit it with the one in her hand. She lit to more before returning to the door to press her weight against it, just in case one of the guests outside tried to enter. Taking a slow breath, Sasha calmed herself.

She moistened her lips, chanting in her mind, willing her body not to faint because it would be a very terrible idea.

It was then that she saw it.

She went cold.

Her back pressed harder against the door, a pair of tears falling down her eyes as the light in the room finally showed the portrait of the former king of Sutherland hanging at the opposite wall.

She started to shake as the realization hit her.

Her hand covered the whimper that threatened to escape as she silently sobbed.

The gentlemen at the other side of the room were talking.

“Willoghby? Looking into the prince? Why would the bastard do that?”

“We cannot be certain. The Royal Master is currently at Keene to question the man.”

“And you say that the orphanage suspects the prince? After everything it did to make certain Louis gets where he is?” came the scornful reply. “I say Eaton should allow us to question this woman from Belcourt.”

“Eaton knows what he is doing,” said another gentleman. “He got us this far when we all thought his idea insane, did he not?”

Sasha shuddered and clasped her hand tightly over her mouth as more tears flowed down her face. Something powerful was twisting and clenching at her chest.

Sasha looked around the room, her vision blurred by the tears. She blinked them away. The men had diverted their topic as more guests entered the room, now discussing the pathetic opera outside.

Their words echoed in her head.

Eaton knows what he is doing…

Sasha stared at Reginald’s portrait. The man’s dark blue eyes were staring back at her with knowing. His mocking smile showed over a perfectly trimmed mustache, telling her that he knew more secrets than her, that she should have known that she was a pawn all along. The crown on his head reminded her of just how big and powerful the players of the game were.

Her lips pressed in a thin line as anger slowly rose to her throat. The back of her hand wiped the tears as her eyes traveled to the golden lion seal over Reginald’s painting.

Words surrounded the seal. As she read them, her heart stopped beating all at once.

For we shall be soldiers for none but the one true king.

She blindly looked around and found the table, all the while fully aware of the men outside.

There was nothing on top. But inside the drawer lay hundreds of the same red envelope she found in West’s study in the villa and Everleigh. Some were blank while others had words written on them with different dates, plays, and opera.

She found the seal of the envelope on another drawer.

At the last drawer, Sasha found a round gold pendant. Her hands shaking, she opened it and to the right found a miniature painting of a man. To the left were the words that read:

Addison Blackwood

Royal Master, father, and hero.

Sasha closed the pendant and let out a shaky breath.

She walked back to the door. The gentlemen were still there, and Sasha sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face in them.

Then she silently sobbed and waited for the men to leave.

XLIV. Winners and Losers

West found Sasha in her villa three days later, his face filled with outrage.

“You said you will only be here for a day,” he told her as he stormed into her parlor while she was writing a letter.

“I had matters to attend to,” Sasha said, turning her head to face him.

West frowned. She looked different, guarded.

Then she smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

She stood and kissed him. “I missed you. How did it go with Willoghby?”

West blinked and sighed. “The bastard is not talking,” he informed her. “It seems he enjoys the torture.”

Her brows cocked high. “Torture, really?”

He looked over his shoulder and reached for her hand. “Finish what you have to do. I want you home.”

Her weak smile caused him alarm. “West, will I still be your Belle?”

His brows fused. “You will be my wife.”

She smiled and turned away.

Turning away from the conversation and him. West always knew what he needed to do, but with Sasha, he always found himself lost.

He watched her gather the letter and ring for Iyana who arrived fast.

“Please send this to Belcourt, Iyana.”

Iyana nodded, gave West a quick bow. “The gratitude of the household is overdue, but we still desire to thank you for saving her life, sir. We owe you ours.”

West did not reply and simply watched Iyana exit the room.

“I wish to go home to Everleigh,” Sasha said behind him.

Home and Everleigh were the two words he only wanted to come out of Sasha’s lips, but a nagging feeling was telling him not to be swayed.

He faced her. “Why?”

She grinned, her eyes glistening. “I wish to see the meadow. I am certain the flowers are in full bloom by now.”

Something was not right. “Sasha, are you quite all right?”

She nodded. “Yes. I am… I simply have a hard time trying to understand everything.”

His jaw tightened and he nodded. He had spent the last few days planning and she could have been doing the same.

Something happened while she was in the Palace and he could only assume the worst.

And while at the carriage, West could not help but think that he might be losing her.

She seemed distant as she looked out the window, pretending to enjoy the country landscape.

He had time, he thought. She would not disappear like his mother did because she was different.

In time, they should trust each other.

A soft rain poured before they reached Everleigh. West followed Sasha up to his bedchamber where she immediately discarded her pelisse. Clad in her light blue muslin dress, she went to the window.

West followed, wrapping his arm around her from behind as he nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent. “Tell me what is wrong.”

He felt her shook her head. “Nothing is wrong, West. As I have said, I had much to understand, but I believe I understand them now.”

He took a sidestep, turning her with him until he was leaning against the windowsill and she turned to face him, her palms resting on his chest as she gazed at him with searching eyes. And there was also something there.

Was it longing?

He could almost feel the dread looming over. He narrowed his eyes. “You look at me as though you are about to say goodbye, Sasha.”

“You are too selfish, are you not, West?” she asked, her voice filled with meaning. “With many things.”

“Only around those I care about,” he replied truthfully. He gently kissed her, resting his forehead against hers. He did not feel the need to make love to her now. He just wanted to savor her this way, here with him. Now.

How could he ever ask her to leave Belcourt? But then, how could he when both of them were keeping secrets? How could he when he was determined to destroy the only home she had ever known?

She brought her hand up and interlocked her fingers at his nape. Then she tilted her head and kissed him, her mouth growing insistent and hungry as he answered the kiss.

He moaned in protest, wanting to delay the moment to go to bed, but she pressed between his legs and whimpered against his mouth.

“Love me,” she choked, voice desperate and needy, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

West undressed her there by the window, the sound of rain gently tapping against the glass, the light of the midday sun shining through the dark clouds streaming over her naked form.

They took their time to reach the bed, leaving a trail of clothes along their path. He worshiped her with his mouth, trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, the side of her waist, and the scar that would forever remind him of the night he nearly lost her.

Wrapping his arms around her, West held her tight. And as their bodies joined, he realized that he was experiencing a vivid moment, one he wanted for the rest of his life.

He felt a lump in his throat as he moved with her. His eyes were open, watching her flushed face and her parted lips as she panted, softly calling his name.

Swallowing hard he kissed her nose and her eye. He tasted salty tears and he muffled a sob in the crook of her neck, his hands digging into her skin. She was wonderful.

He felt wonderful.

Yet he also felt doomed.

---

That afternoon, the rain was over, leaving naught but the fresh smell of grass and dew.

It was the perfect time for a walk.

“Do you remember our hike at the Sailor Garden?” he asked. “You were wearing the same hat.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head to look at her.

He could sense it, she thought with certainty.

She had bought them enough time, she thought as she stopped in her tracks to look around the meadow. The trees were lush and green, hiding its little secrets behind its leaves as they chirped their afternoon songs. The grasses were damp, droplets of rain dangling at their tips. Various flowers thriving together in one large bed of soil, so carefree and wild, bold and fearless after the light rain and until the next season.

How different from how humans lived, how so natural and free.

“You have to tell me what it is, Sasha,” West’s gentle voice said behind her as she continued to aimlessly walk into the meadow.

Sasha stopped and closed her eyes.

For days, she had done naught but think until she grew tired of it.

Slowly, she turned and faced him.

He looked magnificent and her eyes filled with tears again.

“I went to the Royal Theater.”

For the first time, she saw something in his eyes change. Anger, she was familiar with. Tenderness, yes. But this one was different for she could not tell what it was. He just suddenly… shut off.

The empty look in his eyes was unnerving, not what she had expected for she expected rage.

“I told you not to trust me fully, did I not?” she added, fighting the tears in her eyes.

West’s light blue eyes never wavered as he flatly said, “I was wondering when you will figure out, but now it is clear what your trip to Belcourt was all about.”

At his words, at the callous way he said it, her tears fell. “You are working against the kingdom.”

His jaw clenched. “All I can say, Sasha, is that I am loyal to the true king of this kingdom.”

Sasha fought the whimper that escaped her lips. She fought the shaking of her shoulders by clutching her skirts with her fists. “Then you are like your father after all.”

His face was completely unreadable, telling her that he knew this was coming and he was prepared. “No, I am never going to be like him. He died a damaged man, but he passed a silent hero. It was his fault, but I do not intend to follow his path.”

Sasha shivered at his words. “Why? Because he fell in love with a traitor?”

His jaw tightened. “My mother did many horrible things against the previous monarchy, Sasha, but that is all I am willing to say for it is clear you have made a choice.”

She slowly nodded, accepting. With a bitter scoff, she looked around the meadow, their beauty no longer potent as the truth of what she had to do dawned on her. Closing her eyes slowly, she felt the warm tears roll down her face.

Lifting her lids, she searched for his face. “It is a shame. I would have loved to see this place in the fall.”

He remained quiet, his eyes impassive. He was stiff as stone and at that moment, Sasha would have wanted him to be enraged. But he was not. He was accepting everything.

She inhaled deeply and swallowed and a small whimper escaped her lips as she let out a shaky breath. Her heart was being crushed, clenched dry as she was forced to maintain a strong resolve. “Your club will be raided tonight.” Good God, how could he maintain such a blank face, Sasha thought. “I am telling you this because I want to play a fair game. You saved my life and we are now even. It is my parting gift.” She paused, searching his eyes. Nothing. There was nothing there. “Know that I do not blame you for keeping your secrets. Our worlds molded us to be loyal first and foremost. Emotions are rendered useless in our worlds, are they not?” she asked, tasting the bitter taste at the back of her throat. “It is merely a shame we have been loyal to two opposing forces.”

Finally, he spoke and it was a question. “Is that what you intend to do then, Sasha? Play at the opposing side?”

She squared her shoulders and finally spoke her decision in the only words she could summon. “I intend to win and like our many little games, West, you are going to lose again.”

---

Things happened fast.

For West, it was too fast he could no longer remember what happened before the other.

But one thing was for certain: she had planned it all.

She wrote Belcourt the letter before inviting herself to Everleigh.

A carriage arrived with Gabrielle behind the reins and now, he was staring blankly at the back of her carriage driving away from him.

Before she climbed into her carriage earlier, she walked up to him, her eyes strong and determined. “Your membership into Belcourt is now revoked. After this day begins the last game we will have to play. Both of us are sore losers but may the best player win.” And then she raised to her toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “It was nice to be your first and last Belle, West Blackwood.”

A strong hand was clenching at his chest. It was not too painful that he was rendered incapable of other things, but he knew that it was the kind of mellow pain that would pester, one that would remind him of her in every waking moment. Perhaps he could live with that for a long time. He had to, he thought, for he had to go on and play a part in a bigger game.

And he had to be ready for Sasha did not intend to be the pawn anymore. He respected her for it, proud of her for it. But her choice was different, forcing him to play a game that had the potential of destroying them both.

As her carriage disappeared at the end of the road, West stiffly turned and walked back into his empty estate.

He walked up the grand staircase and back into his bedchamber.

She had taken everything she owned with her, leaving him nothing.

Face hard, he slammed the door behind him.

And then he scoffed.

A game between Belcourt and the Royal Circus was about to start.

And it shall be a long one.

XLV | The Room Beneath the Garden

It was not long before everyone in Belcourt found out about the raid. The source was not from within Belcourt but from outside.

The gossip spread like wildfire, from one court to another. The true nature of the Belles was finally out and all of Belcourt was astounded, most particularly the younger ladies who had little knowledge of other courts.

Now, everyone knew of the presence of an enemy.

It was a secret gentlemen’s club, they said.

And a Belle was responsible for the exposure of their existence.

Who was the Belle?

Sasha! The re-courted lady!

Sasha saved the kingdom.

Belcourt was saved, but only for now.

The Palace issued a statement through the Mistresses that it was indeed a Belcourt mission that led to the raid, adding a mandate that all ladies within the institution were required to practice utter secrecy, most particularly the ladies who had any contact to the outside due to the nature of their tasks and most importantly around the children in the Manor.

Additional specific mandates were distributed amongst the Belles. More weight was added upon them and their obligation to Belcourt as the presence of the Royal Circus had finally been confirmed.

Trust no Gentlemen of Belcourt. That was the first mandate. Every man was an enemy from now on.

Lady Mariam found Sasha in her bedchamber in the Court of Flowers, her blue eyes serious. But the way she spoke to Sasha as she said, “Your presence is requested in the Palace, Sasha,” indicated that perhaps the Mistress had finally accepted her as one of them.

As the woman escorted Sasha to the Palace in a small stagecoach, she turned to Sasha. “I am disappointed that I was deliberately left out of the mission, Sasha, but it was a Maiden who gave the orders and I could not complain. They have always taken delicate investigations in secret and they have always— always —been proven to be successful. This one was not an exception for you have succeeded tremendously. Belcourt is at an advantage because of you.”

Sasha smiled. “Thank you.”

The woman turned her blonde head to face the road. “And I find it a great honor that you chose to stay with us in the Flower Garden.”

Sasha lifted her chin, her face hard and her eyes determined. “I have started this mission, my lady, but it is far from finished.”

Lady Mariam nodded and a small smile curled her lips. “You have become a true Belle, Sasha.”

For the first time, Sasha felt proud. It was odd, really, but she was proud.

Arielle entered the drawing room the moment Lady Mariam left. Beautiful as the last time Sasha saw her, graceful as ever.

This time, she was not wearing her cloak. She was wrapped in an intricate white gown, a goddess in a palace, fated to be there.

“Sasha,” Arielle greeted, surprising Sasha with an embrace. “I am very pleased to see you.”

Sasha cleared her throat, immensely feeling awkward to be wrapped in a Maiden’s embrace. It seemed surreal.

Arielle stepped away, the smile on the woman’s face genuinely proud.

“We do not know each other, Sasha, but I do feel that we shall be the best of friends.”

Sasha’s brows cocked high. “I intend to leave for Strait soon, my lady. I do not think we can have more time to be… friends .”

Even the woman’s laughter was delicate. “And Maidens cannot leave the palace to visit friends?”

Sasha smiled. “If you wish it, of course, I shall welcome you in Strait.”

“I will personally deliver your missions from now on, Sasha. And if I cannot, Gabrielle can.”

Sasha squared her shoulders, ready to talk about business. “If you do not care my asking, my lady, have they found anything in the Royal Theater?”

“They found Reginald’s painting and a few other things, yes,” Arielle said, taking the winged chair opposite Sasha, taking her back to that night when everything was revealed to her. Sasha maintained a straight face. She had given West warning about the raid, of course, they would not find anything. But it was something she had to do to start a fair game.

Whatever happened from now on would be up to all players. And this time, Sasha did not intend to be a pawn. She had chosen her side of the chessboard and she would rise as its queen, Maiden or not.

“But you must be disappointed.”

“Oh, far from that. If there is anything I am disappointed with, it is the fact that a gossip started within Belcourt. But it is one we can readily contain, is it not?”

“Of course. The Circus, on the other hand, seemed to have contained the matter quite well as I have heard. Nothing was reported on the Sutherland Post about the raid.”

“Of course they did well. They are good or have I not told you that?” Arielle sighed. “You should also know that Lady Eastwell and Lady Mariam are trying to blame the other for the lack of trust upon them, but I am to address that matter over dinner.” Arielle looked at her with a soft smile. “You are a rare Belle, Sasha. Your loyalty has been tested too many times and you had enough reasons not to trust Belcourt, but you still chose us.”

The pang in her chest was not strong, but it was still there. Soon, she would get used to it. “I vow to protect Belcourt at all cost, my lady. I am ready for another mission.”

Arielle smiled. “We will get there soon enough, Sasha. For now,” the woman stood and walked over to a nearby table. She opened the drawer and took out the leather-bound book. “For now, we have to work on deciphering the clues hidden in this journal.” Settling back into the winged chair, Arielle’s light blue eyes met Sasha’s. “We have this because of you, Sasha, and you know it is a treasure.”

Sasha stared at Addison Blackwood’s journal.

“He gave his son specific instructions to get rid of this journal, but West Blackwood did not. It may be his first mistake.”

Sasha nodded. “The first of many.”

The two of them stared at the journal. “Blackwood should be the first and last from the Circus to enter Belcourt.”

“Belcourt should take more effective measures in filtering every application from now on.”

“And that, we shall. We cannot simply expunge all Gentlemen of Belcourt for they have always proven to be useful. We can only prepare the Belles to apply more caution from now on. And you should be ready, Sasha, for your tasks will be more difficult. It is now your responsibility to watch over the Belles who are away from Belcourt.”

“You mean I shall assume a role like Aliya?”

“Aliya is amongst the best, but you have the most experience dealing with a member of the Royal Circus. And a Master Royal at that.”

“West Blackwood never revealed many things, but I shall try my best.” Sasha blinked and took a moment to ask her next question. “I expect that Belcourt will enact on Blackwood’s crimes?”

“Oh, no,” Arielle said, gently shaking her head. “We shall let him free. We do not have enough proof. This journal was his father’s, not his. Have I not told you? The king is just and so is Belcourt. We play our game fair and square. But a free West Blackwood is good. He will continue to find ways to get to me because that is his mission. And with that, he is bound to make mistakes. And you and the other Belles will lead him and his beloved Royal Circus to their ruin. Will you be able to do that, Sasha?”

Sasha’s lips curled into a confident smile. “West Blackwood and I understand each other on many different levels. He is very cunning, but I can be more than that.”

“Very good. Now, are you ready to know who your next flower will be?”

“I am always ready, my lady, and I am hoping he will be quite interesting?”

Mirth was written all over Arielle’s beautiful face. “Oh, he is indeed interesting.” Sasha remained calm, but her heart hammered against her chest. Was she ready for this?

Yes, of course. She had to be. A new flower. A new mission. The game was on.

“You have been to Humbrick, yes?”

Sasha nodded.

“And you know of Lady Renee.”

“Yes.”

“And the nephew of her deceased husband, yes?”

Sasha stiffened. “The missing Marquess of Rothsker.”

Arielle nodded. “The man has just recently returned. His debts have been paid and much to Lady Renee’s disappointment, he also reclaimed his title. And just recently, he sent Belcourt his application, finally ready to join Sutherland society and the finest it could offer. He is a new addition to the growing flowers in the Garden, Sasha. And you shall be his first Belle.”

Sasha blinked and moistened her lips. “What do you expect me to do with the Marquess of Rothsker?”

“Find out where he had been, why he returned, where he got his money, and what his plans are, Sasha.”

“I am bound to transfer to Strait. I am assuming that is where he will settle?”

Arielle smiled, pleased. “He has recently purchased an estate in the same city. And he is expecting his Belle to arrive soon.”

“And she will,” Sasha said, squaring her shoulders.

Arielle gazed at her for a long time before she sighed and said, “That is all for now, Sasha.”

Sasha nodded and retreated out of the drawing room. An Elected lady with her purple hood up and her face hidden, was already waiting for her outside, and wordlessly escorted her to the main entrance of the Palace, where two more Soldiers stood motionless.

Sasha’s stagecoach was already waiting for her outside with Briana holding the reins.

“How did it go, my lady?” Briana asked.

“I have a new flower, Bree.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes,” she said, looking behind her at the Palace. “And he is another interesting man.”

---

Arielle waited until Sasha disappeared form the drawing room before she picked up Addison Blackwood’s journal.

She studied the contents, frowning at every word.

It was filled with instructions, but there were cryptic messages hidden everywhere. It would take them months if not years, she thought.

The door opened and Gabrielle walked in, accompanied by an Elected cloaked in purple.

“You called for me, my lady?” Gabrielle asked.

Arielle nodded and waited until they were alone. “I need you to guard this with your life, Gabrielle,” she said, handing Gabrielle the journal. “You will only take it out if I ask you to.”

Gabrielle nodded.

“And how is your brother?”

“He is well.”

Arielle slowly nodded. “The Royal Circus may use him again and we cannot allow that to happen. You should take more precautions.”

“I intend to.”

“We cannot let your family’s sacrifice go to waste, can we?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “No.”

Her light blue eyes looked into Gabrielle’s green ones. “I am here because my mother disobeyed Belcourt. You are here because yours is loyal to Belcourt. But together, we work for one goal.”

“Yes, my lady.”

A knock on the door came and another Elected came in. “The High Priestess wishes to see you, my lady.”

Arielle sighed and nodded. “You may leave, Gabrielle,” she ordered before she turned to follow the Elected out of the room, down a long corridor and out of the building. They crossed the garden and stopped in front of a tall wall covered with vines.

The Elected took out a key and disappeared into the leaves. The moment Arielle heard the creak of the door, she stepped forward and parted the vines to enter the hidden doorway.

There was nothing inside but another garden. Arielle walked down the path that led to a mound of dirt. She circled it and waited for the Elected.

The young woman lifted the wooden doors near Arielle’s lace shoes and remained where she stood while Arielle stepped down the stone staircase, going deeper underground. The doors above her were dutifully shut by the Elected who remained outside in the garden.

The underground chambers were always washed with enough light for the High Priestess hated the darkness.

Arielle turned to the right and into another carpeted corridor until she reached the doors at the end.

She knocked and the High Priestess’s voice spoke from inside.

As Arielle sashayed inside the grand chamber, she found Albert sitting in his favorite corner.

“Did it go well, dear sister?” he asked.

Arielle settled at the opposite side of the chessboard and studied the pieces. “Of course, it did.”

Prince Albert smiled at her. “Forgive me if I doubted you.”

Arielle picked up a pawn. “I told you from the very start, did I not? We do not train Belles.” His horse was down. “We create them.”

XLVI | Sinclair

NOVEMBER 1810

Sasha smiled at Iyana sitting across from her in the carriage. “You must be excited.”

Iyana’s eyes widened. “Beyond excited, my lady! Gail is too! She cannot wait to join us at our new home.” She leaned forward and in a pinched voice said, “We have never been to Strait.”

Sasha stole the window a glance. They had just left Belcourt for their new home.

“How does it feel, my lady?” Iyana asked.

She looked at Iyana with a frown. “What?”

“To be a hero!” Iyana exclaimed. “Who would have thought! I knew I should not have trusted him—” Her maid stopped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Sasha felt the pang in her chest again, a silent hum that reminded him of the things she gave up and the emptiness that came. “It is fine, Iyana.”

“He should have been sent to the island.”

Sasha turned to the window again, staring at the passing plantation. “Belcourt will give him the justice he deserves in due time.”

“Well, at the very least he never hurt you.” Her maid groaned. “Oh, I should not have trusted him! He seemed genuinely sincere—”

“He was, Iyana,” she interjected. “He was sincere when it came to my safety. We just found a different purpose, that is all.”

Iyana nodded, clearing her throat. And with a forced cheerful voice, the maid said, “Lady Aliya is in Strait, is she not?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Then perhaps you can reunite with her! The two best Belles of Belcourt in one city! You have proven yourself, my lady! I am utterly proud!”

Sasha smiled. She would love to have Aliya around.

The plantation had ended, replaced by a field of wildflowers. Again, she felt the pain and longing.

Their journey was long, but it was never silent as Iyana filled her with stories and gossips. After a night at an inn, and more hours of travel, they finally reached Strait.

Like Iyana and Briana, it was her first time in the city.

She gazed at the exceptionally less busy streets and she realized that her feelings were far from the first one she experienced in Coulway. The dread was absent. She did not feel like she was being swallowed whole.

It felt like a new beginning.

“Your gentleman will be arriving on the morrow, my lady,” she heard Iyana say and she could only care less.

Her eyes were being filled with a new sense of wonder because Strait was nothing like Coulway.

It was beautiful and picturesque. She wondered if she would have another neighbor like Mrs. Compton. And how was the old lady? Perhaps she should send her a letter soon.

“My lady?” Iyana asked.

“I heard you, Iyana. He will come by the morrow.”

“Yes and we must prepare.”

She turned to smile at her maid. “Yes, we must.”

Her eyes veered back to the cobbled streets, at the quiet way people moved about, at the gentle sounds of hooves and carriage wheels.

Her eyes watered. She would have loved to be here with him. Sasha took a lungful of air to ease the humming pain in her chest.

If only they were not who they were.

“We must be careful with this new gentleman, of course. He could be as notorious and manipulating as the last one,” Iyana was saying.

Sasha gently straightened in her seat.

This time, she would not be as foolish as before, she swore to herself.

She closed her eyes and saw her father’s face.

His voice echoed around her…

Be a good girl…

Sasha waited.

Then he pulled the trigger.

---

“Everyone ready to vote,” West informed the gentlemen before him. “Those in favor of Willoghby’s punishment of death, raise your hand.”

Twenty-one hands rose in total.

West turned to Rider. “You know what to do.”

The earl nodded.

“The Sutherland Post and The Grimes will need new owners and we shall race Belcourt into claiming it.”

“I will have a handle on it,” said one of the gentlemen.

“Thank you,” West said, pausing to recollect his thoughts. He placed his hands into his pockets.

“I failed to stay in Belcourt, and I am free only because they want to see me make mistakes. I shall be incredibly careful from now on, of course.” No one said a word. “I may not have gotten my sister, and I may no longer have access inside Belcourt, but my mission was not fruitless. We now know that Belcourt is more than what we imagined it to be.”

Tanner cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, his expression telling West that he knew all along and no one listened.

Ignoring Tanner, West continued, “Belcourt is equipped with the best faculties and they are good at almost anything. They train their women to be the best, gentlemen. They can cripple the entire palace guards and I would not be surprised.” He swept his gaze across the room of men both young and old. “We simply have to be better, gentlemen, most importantly because the coming months will prove to be very crucial.” He lifted his hand and showed them a paper. “We received words from King Reginald. Prince Leo will come to us sooner than we expect.”

West waited until the buzzing of whispers settled around the large room.

“We also have word from Lord Darcy. The Marquess of Rothsker is back and has gained entry into Belcourt. We need to get to him first, gentlemen. Rothsker is not certainly the only man who got accepted. There are others and we will need to look into them one by one.” He looked at each man, knowing they were capable of covert missions for their skills had been tested for years. “Most Belles have left Coulway and had been back to their homes all over Sutherland since parliament adjourned. As most of you are to do the same within the week, you must be vigilant as we all now know that these women have assignments. Be wary all the time for their missions are not always their gentlemen, but anyone within proximity. It could be a neighbor, a friend, or a family of a gentleman.” He paused before he continued, “My former Belle has traveled to the south and we must have men available. She has become Belcourt’s hero and she will surely get one of the most important missions.”

He picked up another piece of paper from the table. “We now have the names of most gentlemen who have access to Belcourt and recruitment for the Circus can proceed. Belcourt infiltrates the most powerful identities in Sutherland and we also do the same as we have for many years.”

His light blue eyes landed on the young man sitting in the middle of the room. “I am glad that you have decided to join us. Your father speaks highly of you, Chalbarth.”

Trent Durham smiled and bowed with his head. “It is a great honor to be serving the true king of this kingdom.”

“Your father has informed me that you are betrothed. I hope this will not be a hindrance to your mission.”

“The kingdom will always come first.”

“And how is Jade?”

Trent grinned. “Still very much in love.”

“And what of our friend Aaron?”

“Ah, the ignorant bastard and his family are the most loyal to the current monarch. I would not suggest him to be recruited.”

West nodded and turned to Ross. “I do hope that you can trust us more this time, Ross.”

Ross’s jaw tightened. “My sister is not—”

“Your sister was a victim of Belcourt, as all of these women were, but they are currently an enemy. Your sister is also a source of great information.”

“She has not gone out to see me since she returned inside.”

“It is because she is taking caution now that she’s aware we discovered your existence. Unless, of course, you told her of your good relationship with the Circus?”

“She would kill me if she—”

“Then that is good enough,” he interrupted. “If she comes to you, you tell us. We can no longer trust you, but you have been given a second chance to prove your loyalty.”

Ross sighed, slowly shaking his head. West and the entire Circus understood his reasons, and the same reasons were enough to make them decide to keep the man. Yet the fact remained that he intentionally kept information that could have changed the course of the game.

“And will you not be asking me questions, Eaton?” asked St. Vincent. “Perhaps ask how I feel about my bloody hospital being used as the new home for the Circus?”

“Thank you for kindly offering your prestigious hospital, St. Vincent. Passing through the chamber of corpses to get to this room is the grand entrance we all appreciate.”

“A very fine idea, eh?”

West did not reply and instead said, “I heard your application into Belcourt was declined for the third time.”

St. Vincent rolled his eyes. “The rumor spreads fast.”

“I suppose you have a different plan?”

St. Vincent’s eyes turned serious. “Of course. Unlike you, I already know who I am looking for and where I can find her.”

“But she is amongst the most prized Belles. It will be a challenge to get even close,” West challenged.

“What I have been saying since the beginning,” Tanner said under his breath.

St. Vincent turned to Tanner. “You do not know the charms behind this beard and brain, my friend.” Turning to face West again, he said, “Who can guess? Perhaps Aliya is looking for someone like me?”

A few gentlemen chuckled.

Tanner groaned with a few others. “Oh, good Lord. Your confidence astounds me, St. Vincent.”

St. Vincent threw up his arms in the air. “Thank you, Leighton. Confidence is one of my strongest charms.”

“No, your stench is.”

“I shall transform myself, Leighton, of course. And I would like to see your eyes jump out of their sockets when you see me.”

“A challenge I accept.” He looked around the room and at the other men. “Should we all wager?” Hands instantly flew to the air and Tanner grinned. “The wager is on, St. Vincent.”

St. Vincent rubbed his palms together. “My rodents will love your eyeballs, Leighton.”

“I wonder why you chose Aliya, really. You might have a chance with other Belles, St. Vincent.”

St. Vincent’s eyes turned dark and his face hardened as he said, “I did not choose her. Circumstances did.”

---

Rider joined West at the window after the other Royals had left, ready to leave Sinclair and its stench of death. The two of them looked out into the busy streets below. “What do you intend to do now, West?”

West’s jaw tightened and then forced a smile crept up his lips. “Continue with the plan, what else?”

“I meant Sasha,” Rider corrected. “She is no longer within your reach.”

West took a lungful of air and let out a long sigh, the gnawing, familiar pain persistent with each breath. “Sasha and I have always loved playing games. I think I will enjoy this one as much as she would.”

“She has gone to the south,” said Tanner from the liquor cabinet. “Most probably to join another gentleman.”

His face grew dim. “And we will be there to know her every move.”

He stared at the scene outside.

Fall was starting.

She would have loved autumn.

Author’s Note

☙✾❧

To those who have been with me from the start of this story, thank you so much! I read all your comments and enjoy your theories!

The entire Sutherland Series has been planned since the very beginning. Sasha and West’s fate was written in my head before I even posted the first chapters. This means that I have more things to reveal.

The entire series will have a total of four titles. Unlike the Town Series, Sutherland Series has a general plot that can only be understood if you read the stories in order. Although there will be different main characters in each book who will have their own romance story, the general plot will be playing a big role in the entire series. And yes, there will also be recurring characters like Sasha and West and many others. As you may have already guessed, Sutherland is not just about Belcourt. There will be a lot of characters from outside Belcourt that I’m excited to introduce such as the men in the Royal Circus, one of them is dear St. Vincent. Oh, I am so excited to work on this man!

As to your questions about the fate of the characters in the first story, those will be answered as we go along the series.

I also have a Facebook Page (J.D. Ruiz)  you can follow where I post stuff about my writing status. Linked to that page is The Green Herald, a private group for my readers who wish to discuss theories or who want to meet fellow readers with similar interests. You can find me on Twitter and Instagram as @jdruizwrites. 

Cheers,

J.D. Ruiz (greenwriter)

PREVIEW: The Royal Circus

I. The Mystery of the Broken Spokes

NOVEMBER 1810

Aliya heard a crack.

Then another.

And before she knew it, she was on the air.

The moment was so vivid and slow that her mind managed to decipher what was happening before she landed back on the ground.

The sound that followed her landing was not like the first two because this time, it was accompanied by intense pain. The popping sound came from her left shoulder. The pain was all over.

The neighs of the distressed horse were muffled by her cry of pain as she rolled on her back in the middle of Maple Row. Her eyes squeezed tight, her teeth bare as she panted for breath. Her head rolled to the side, straining her neck. She cried some more as she tried to lift her arm and found that the motion merely caused her more pain. With her shaking right hand, she felt for her left arm and lifted it off the ground and in front of her with an anguished growl.

“My lady!” Carrie’s voice shouted from across the street.

Aliya opened her eyes and blinked twice to clear her vision. Her stagecoach driver’s lean structure enabled her to spring to her feet with ease and run over to Aliya and crouch over her in horror. “My lady! Are you all right? I will call for help at once!”

Aliya could only moan in response as she rolled her head skyward.

Passersby started to gather. People began to step out of their apartments. “My lady!” she heard Dorothy scream and she panicked. He turned her head and found the petite woman running toward her from the apartment.

“Go back!” she shouted at the woman who immediately skidded to a stop, eyes wide. “Go back!” she roared again, the pain was forgotten for a moment. Dorothy could not be seen with her. “Help is coming. Go back!”

Dorothy closed her mouth and nodded. Then she fled back to the apartment.

Aliya took a lungful of air and closed her eyes, shutting off the whispers around her.

“I do not know. I was looking at her because her beauty struck me and then a crack! The next moment her stagecoach was leaning to one side. Saw her thrown out of her seat! Oh, poor girl!” she heard one woman say.

“Did you see the wheel? They should have checked. Must be frail spokes!” she heard a man say with a cluck of his tongue.

“Help is coming, my lady.” Carrie was back to her side. “Can you sit? Where do you hurt?”

She swallowed, wincing at the pain. “My arm,” she said through gritted teeth. Carrie’s eyes went to her arm and they widened with horror. “Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!”

Aliya stopped breathing. “What?”

Carrie did not reply and looked around. “Where is that hackney!” the woman cried out.

“Hackney! Step aside!” someone was shouting.

“Take her to Sinclair!” one woman said.

“Yes, Sinclair!”

“Can you move, my lady?” Carrie asked.

Aliya forced herself to sit up. “I landed on my hand. I did not hurt my back.”

“Do you wish to go back to the apartment or—”

“No!” she snapped. “No. Let us go back to the villa.”

“But—”

“The villa, Carrie.”

Carrie sighed. “Very well.”

At that moment, the hackney driver had reached Aliya’s side. He took one look at her arm. “Nae, milady, ye need te go te Sinclair. Nae doctor’s gonna fix this one.”

Aliya finally took the courage to look down at her arm. “Carrie,” she said, alarm rising to her throat. “Take me straight to Sinclair.”

---

Sinclair had three hospitals all over Sutherland. One in Coulway, Eynsworth, and Strait. Not only was it the best, but it was also the only hospital in the city of Strait that could offer the best care for Aliya’s condition.

She had been given a concoction to numb the pain, but it was not enough for the mere sight of her bent left wrist stimulated Aliya’s brain to feel the injury.

Carrie paced around the tiny room they were brought to, her boots clucking against the hardwood floors like a clock that reminded her of the amount of time they spent waiting.

A woman came in with a white lace mob cap and apron. “A doctor will come and see you in a moment, Lady Aliya.”

“You have been here twice, madam, and have said the same thing,” Carrie snapped before Aliya could open her mouth. “My mistress is in great pain!” She turned to Aliya. “We should have returned to the villa and called for a doctor.”

Aliya shook her head. One of her friends had suffered an injury to the bone and she had to be brought to Sinclair, for all doctors in Sinclair did not do house visits. “Not every doctor is a bonesetter, Carrie,” was all she could say. She turned to the other woman and asked, “Is there any way you can give me something more potent for the pain?”

“Of course,” answered someone. This time, it was not a woman’s voice.

Aliya’s eyes snapped to the doorway to find a giant man striding toward them. He was not a heavyset man—he was just… large. And one look at him made Aliya doubt if they were indeed in Sinclair. The smell of brandy reached her nostrils, reminding her of a cheap tavern with this man coming closer toward her as its faithful patron. His long hair was too unkempt that the strands were sticking together. Aliya could only imagine the number of washes it would take to wash off the grease that accumulated there. His face was nowhere in sight because most of it was covered with an unbelievable mess of beard. If anything was fascinating on this man, it was his hazel eyes.

Nothing else.

“And who are you?” Aliya asked.

“You wanted something more potent,” he said, standing before her. And before Aliya could move away at the smell of him, he slammed a bottle of brandy on the table. White teeth peeked through his beard. “The most potent of all. Can numb any pain.”

Aliya heard Carrie scoff in disbelief behind the man. The woman with the mob cap had retreated out of the room. “Are you the doctor?” Aliya asked.

He blinked. “Yes. And I see you have a broken bone.”

She took another lungful of air, stole the brandy a look, and rolled her eyes upward to glare at the giant before her. “Are you the only doctor?”

“No, of course not.”

“Is there anyone else who can correct my injury?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And who is that doctor?”

“St. Vincent, who else?” he asked, voice filled with certainty.

“Then I demand for this Dr. St. Vincent.”

He rolled his hazel eyes and sighed. “Very well, one moment,” he said. He turned on his heels and wobbled to and out of the door which he firmly closed behind him.

Carrie and Aliya shared an incredulous just as the door swung open again with a clash and they both jumped with a yelp.

Aliya scowled as the same man strode inside in an unstable gait toward them.

He bowed to his hips before her and said, “Oliver St. Vincent at your service, my lady.”

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