I. Gramp

To sit in front of your grandfather was not entirely the same as having a chat with your grandmother, most particularly if you were planning to talk about a very peculiar topic.

Valerie and Violet, twins, were thinking how they could convince their grandfather to talk more freely about the Town, a place they’ve read about in their grandmother’s eight handwritten and unpublished stories, the very same ones they found merely weeks ago in their grandparents’ old cabin by the woods.

Since reading all eight stories, they have been filled with questions and they barely got any answer from their grandmother who had not even shared why she never tried to have the stories published.

She wrote about the Town as if she truly lived there. It was as if the woman wrote the stories entirely for herself, to have a physical copy of her memories there.

But the idea of the Town seemed preposterous.

Thinking about it now, the twins could barely grasp the idea of an underground world hundreds of feet below with people who chose to live their lives trapped in an era that had long been forgotten aboveground, an era where gowns and balls were not merely a part of history books, but of daily lives; carriages the most common form of transport; electricity a new discovery; castes were distinctly observed and many other things humanity once had lived with but now reduced to mere fairytales.

But as far-fetched as the Town may seem, the twins could not help but feel confused. Their grandmother’s stories of the infamous Everards and their struggles with life, family, friends, society and love, all felt incredible yet true that they would not be surprised now if they would stumble upon a giant cone-shaped wall somewhere in the middle of the woods, climb on it and find themselves looking into a hole , one of the many that were scattered all over the Town to offer ventilation, light for vegetation and a scenic view for other social events or otherwise. They had also agreed that should they find such hole , they would not hesitate to attach themselves to a harness and descend down on a lake, an estate or one of the vast plantations of the Town. Just like how Mr. Jones might have done it if he was indeed true as what most of the townspeople believed.

Having read all eight handwritten books, having witnessed through their grandmother’s writings how the Everards surpassed society’s ire when one of them married his sisters’ governess, when the other eloped with a woman betrothed to another and married in Tiny Town, when the other successfully rekindled an old flame, how one married the man of her dreams and many other things the family had to go through-good and bad, joyful and tragic-Valerie and Violet was eager to know more about the Everards and the Town itself.

Add the fact that their grandmother had chosen to write herself in most of the stories and the twins surely found themselves with so many unanswered questions. And to add more reasons for the two young women’s eagerness, Fiona Trilby also wrote in some of the pages about a young man who would then turn to be the very same old man eating pudding in front of them many years later, here, aboveground and not down there where the Town was supposed to be.

Their grandmother had indicated as much that the characters were true-that they all lived-but how true was the Town and its underground world of carriages, manors, rakes, lords and ladies, conniving stepmothers, crazy gossipmongers and their crazier scandals, secret passages, bandits and even dirty politics and mysterious history? How true was it that all the things they had read all happened underground?

Was it really just a mix of reality and fiction or was it all real?

Their grandmother, they fear, was enjoying the torment and the twins could see that by the sparkle in her blue eyes as she quietly stared at them from the other side of the table as they looked at their grandfather like journalists starving for a good story of a man who had just arrived after a year in outer space.

They flew all the way to visit their grandparents and discover more of the stories of not just the Everards but of the others presented in the other books.

And the Town, of course.

Their grandfather Eddie was devouring his piece of the pudding after a long afternoon playing chess with his so-called friends and the twins knew that the man knew what they were thinking.

They tried to be more patient, considering how he could easily be set off-topic.

“So, gramp,” Valerie started, smiling, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. “What do you think about the Everards? You’ve met them, right? You were in Margaret’s story.”

Their grandfather looked up to study them with dark eyes, a stark contrast to his greying hair. “Hmm,” he said, turning to look at his wife. “I figure your grandmother did not tell you what you wanted.”

Violet answered, “She will in time. I am sure of it.”

Fiona Trilby simply smiled.

When their grandfather looked back at them both, he said, “The Everards…”

The twins waited but the man did not continue.

“Yes. Who did you like the most?” Valerie urged.

He shrugged. “I liked Cole the best.”

“But he was not an Everard!” Violet said.

“He married into the Everards,” Valerie provided.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, I liked the ladies the most. They were quite fun.”

“And among the men?”

Their grandmother laughed while her husband groaned. “I would rather not choose, believe me.”

“But we want to know!”

“Is it Ralph? He is closest to your age since he is the youngest of all the brothers,” Valerie asked.

“No,” their grandfather said, shaking his head. “And I was way younger than him.”

“Benedict?” asked Violet. “I like Benedict.”

“He was often away in Devonshire. No, it is not him.”

“Levi?”

“Too bloody beautiful.”

The twins snorted. “Then who? Between Maxwell and Nicholas, I bet you liked-”

“Nick,” said Eddie Trilby. “I liked Nick the most.”

The twins turned to their grandmother. “Was he a rake like Nick?” Valerie asked, pointing at the old man before her.

Their grandmother shook her head as she lovingly stared at her husband. “Not quite.”

“Nick shared amazing stories of his travels from all over the Town,” their grandfather pointed out. “And he is quite an easy man to be with than Max. That bloke was too bloody difficult to read.”

“I like Max,” Violet admitted. “He is an alluring, cynical bastard,” she added with a chuckle.

Their grandfather rolled his eyes. “I do agree with the last two words, dear. The alluring part I will consider.”

“You were intimidated by him, were you not?” asked Valerie in a teasing voice.

“Intimidated?” Eddie Trilby asked in disbelief. He stared at his wife incredulously. “I have told you that you painted me wrong in those books.”

Fiona Trilby shrugged. “They were about the Everards, dear, not you or the rest of the Trilbys. I had to paint you how you were when I was at a certain age.”

“You mean eight,” said Valerie. “You were eight when you appeared first in Margaret’s story.”

Their grandfather had a knowing look on his face. “I know dear. No one would dare forget that.”

He looked over at his wife and they both shared a gentle look, one that spoke of years of both pain and joy.

Violet was staring at their grandparents. “So, can you at least tell us if whether or not it is true that you are cousins? Because it would entirely change our lives if it is.”

Their grandfather, like he always did, threw his head back and laughed. Slowly, as his laughter died down, he stood up from his chair. “Fee, dear, is there any tea left?”

“Yes, of course,” his wife said, coming to her feet.

Valerie and Violet groaned with frustration.

“The two of you are the worst storytellers ever,” Valerie called out to them.

“Will you at least tell us about the Trilbys?” Violet asked.

“Will you ever tell us anything?” Valerie asked with a groan.

Their grandfather looked over his shoulder as his wife walked past him to go to the kettle.

His wrinkled eyes glimmering, he mouthed, “Later.”

II. Many Months Ago

Many months ago…

Eustace Theobald, Lord of the Theobald estate, was not happy.

He looked over at his daughter with his light grey eyes, his expression disappointed and confused all the same.

The daughter did not share his blonde hair, although the same light grey globes were strikingly similar. Apart from that, there was none of the man that the black-haired woman had acquired.

Eustace Theobald’s blonde wife was sitting beside her husband, staring at Maxine with helplessness. There was none from the woman that Maxine had inherited because Rachel Theobald was not her mother.

She was a bastard.

And that very fact was the reason why she was standing before her father and his wife.

“Must we always debate about this every year?” her father asked.

Maxine tried not to roll her eyes but she knew Rachel Theobald saw it, causing her stepmother to sigh and her shoulders to sag. The woman was, in all essence, a mother to her. She raised Maxine like she did her two sons and although Maxine knew the woman did it out of the goodness of her heart and nothing else, she could still not find it in herself to call Rachel Theobald mother.

“Must I always have to insist and point out the reasons why I choose not to join the party?” she asked her father as a rejoinder.

“You can join and not introduce yourself if you so wish, dear,” Rachel Theobald said, giving her a smile.

“And what would you have me do? Offer a different name?”

“And how different is that from your yearly attempts to dress as one of the service people during the party?” her father inquired.

She shrugged. “I enjoy it—that is the difference, father.”

Eustace Theobald closed his eyes in frustration, eliciting a groan from his throat. “You cannot forever hide in your chambers, Maxie—”

“Of course, I can,” she interjected. “And it is not as though I hide for the entirety of the year! I merely choose not to be seen. There is a difference.”

Her stepmother sighed once more before she spoke. “We do desire to present you to society, Maxie, dear. We do not believe that you ought to—”

“I have no place in society,” she snapped at them. “You very well know how they could be.” Slanting her eyes toward her father, she added, “They would never see you the same way they do now should they find out. I do not wish to inconvenience all of you.”

“We have talked about this, Maxine,” her father said, voice stern and slowly losing patience.

“And my answer remains the same.” She whirled around to walk out of the parlor, her long black hair moving along as she did so. “Mayhap you ought to try next year. I might change my mind.”

She heard her father’s loud groan before she closed the door behind her with a smile.

Done. The customary annual argument before the weekend party had come to pass.

Maxine immediately set the matter aside for next year in the darkest corners of her mind.

In three days’ time, the Theobald weekend party shall start.

As she walked back to her secret bedchamber, Maxine was in deep thought.

What should she be this time?

She hurried her steps, eager to go and find a costume.

Most of the women who would be in attendance would be hunting for husbands, chat with friends from all corners of the Town, and gossip.

She, on the other hand, would be doing what most of the gentlemen would—she’d be playing a game.

Only it would be a different one.

---

“’Tis not wise to be out here, milady,” the footman hissed, vigorously shaking his head as though the sight before him would disappear if he shook it long enough.

“No one shall know,” said Maxine, rolling her eyes. “You did not recognize me, yes?”

“B-but, m-milady, you are—”

“A footman,” she uttered, lifting her chin. “Stop gawking.”

“His lordship will not like—”

“He shall never know,” she snapped. “I am not to serve him.” But as the man continued to look at her warily, she asked, “Why? Do I not pass as a man? I am quite certain I do look like one.”

The poor man looked at her from head to foot in a sweeping motion. She had tied her hair behind her nape and hid the tail underneath her plain black swallow-tail coat. Her facial features were less feminine altogether without the presence of her dress and long hair.

“You—you look like one, milady, but it is still not—”

“Then it shall suffice,” she interjected. “And stop addressing me as your mistress. Tonight I am not.” She rolled her eyes once more when the man continued to stare at her in disbelief. “Oh, do stop it. I have been a male servant before—a second footman!”

“And you have been caught by his lordship!” the man said, aghast.

“Well, I have recently promoted myself to first footman,” she said with a wide, wicked grin. “Seriously, please do stop gawking. We ought to do our task. I wish to valet one of the guests.”

“I would suggest a blind one if there is any, milady,” the footman said, “Because, truly, his lordship shall make us pay should he know of this!”

“He will not,” she said, straightening her coat. “I shall take the fall like I always did. None of the maids had to ever be kicked out of service.” When the man opened his mouth to protest, Maxine jumped to her feet. “Ah, a carriage is on its way. I shall have this one, my friend.”

“But, milady, you cannot—” The rest of the man’s words were left unheard as Maxine left him in his post by the driveway to stand ready to valet whoever was approaching. If she was lucky, she would be serving someone worth observing.

She ignored the panicking footman a few paces away.

“You must realize you ought to carry the luggage, yes, milady?” the footman hissed at her.

Maxine was stunned. “I do?”

“Of course!”

“Well, then I shall!” she hissed back with pride although deep inside she was quite doubtful of her strength.

Focusing her attention on the carriage, she straightened her back as it stopped in front of her. She could hear female voices from inside.

“We are here. Best we go straight to our chambers and freshen up before the ruckus begins.”

Maxine fixed her face into a serious one as she reached for the door of the carriage and pulled it open. A black-haired woman immediately jumped out, her emerald green eyes filled with wickedness.

“Good day, milady,” Maxine murmured, keeping her tone as low as she possibly could.

The woman merely smiled and waited until another black-haired woman emerged.

“Do you think Nick notices Aurora?” the woman asked the first one. Maxine realized that they looked familiar, but she did not ponder further as a man stepped out of the carriage, his face utterly striking that for a moment Maxine’s heart stopped.

Everard.

She had bloody chosen the Everard carriage.

“I heard that,” the man snapped at his sisters before he turned to guide an older version of the first two ladies out of the carriage.

“Now, now, no bickering,” Lady Alice Everard warned her children. Maxine bent her head in an attempt to hide her face.

Alice Everard was a dear friend of her stepmother’s. The lady may not know of her, but she knew of her too well not to feel utterly conscious.

A beautiful, red-haired woman stepped out of the carriage next, guided by Nicholas Everard himself.

“Thank you,” the woman said to Nicholas before she started to walk beside Lady Alice’s daughters.

Maxine swallowed as two maids came forward to guide the women into the estate. And she froze when she found Nicholas Everard staring down at her with an expectant look on his face.

Her eyes frantically searched for the footman she had been talking with earlier, hoping to swap places with him, but another carriage had driven into the driveway and the man was already serving it.

“Well? Is my chamber here or is it somewhere inside?” asked Nicholas Everard, his tone jesting and light, a tinge of a smile on his lips.

Maxine swallowed and promptly jumped to her feet. “Of course. Pardon me, my lord,” she said in the lowest tone she could muster. She looked up at the carriage and saw the mountain of luggage sitting on top.

She swallowed. Squaring her shoulders, she walked to the driver and said, “Could you help me with those?”

The man nodded after taking a good look at her small frame.

“I’ll hand ’em to ye,” the driver said, climbing on his seat to reach for the luggage.

Maxine prepared herself for the heavy task at hand.

The first luggage was thrown down at her and she grunted. It nearly toppled her down on the ground.

“Heavy, aren’t they?” Nicholas Everard’s amused voice said behind her. “That’s my sister’s.”

With a grunt, Maxine nodded and placed the first luggage on the ground. The driver dropped another one, but this time she was ready. She easily placed it on the ground beside the first one.

“You can leave those for the others,” Nicholas said, pointing at the six heavy bags when she finally managed to exhaust herself with the last one. “It would help if someone forgets about them,” he said with a chuckle. “Those are mine,” he said, pointing at the remaining two, “and it would not help if you neglect them.”

Maxine nearly moaned in protest as she bent down to pick them up.

Nicholas Everard was looking at her with a combination of doubt and pity. “Would you like help?”

“No,” she snapped and then she stiffly turned to guide the way into the estate, carrying the heavy bags with both hands.

She tried to remember where Nicholas Everard was assigned to stay. Was it the west or the east wing?

She hesitated at the foot of the grand staircase, her back already aching with the heavy weight she had to carry.

“Well?” asked Nicholas behind her. “Do you not know where I am assigned to?”

“I know, of course,” she said, “my lord,” she added, swallowing. “But one should be certain, yes?” she asked, carefully placing his bags on the floor. She reached for the list inside her breast pocket. With slightly shaking hands, she searched for Nicholas Everard’s name. The west wing. Of course. “Ah, yes. The west wing,” she said with a smile. “This way, my lord,” she said, bending once more for his bag.

She stiffened as she heard Nicholas’ light chuckle behind her.

“I have always had the same chamber, young man,” he said behind her. “Are you new here?”

“Yes, milord,” she lied, fighting a grunt. Bloody hell, his bags were heavy! How many months did he intend to stay here?

She sharply turned to the right which would lead them to the west wing.

“I am not in such a hurry, do slow down.”

“But you are not the only master I ought to valet for today, my lord,” she lied again, silently counting the doors on the right. When they reached his chamber, she pushed the door open with one shoulder and immediately went to a corner to drop his luggage.

Breathing heavily through flared nostrils, she rushed to the curtain and drew them aside to let the light from outside envelope the room. She turned and faced Nicholas Everard and found him smiling at her with amusement. “Do you wish for something else, milord?” she asked, maintaining her low voice.

Nicholas walked to a winged chair and sat down, letting out a long sigh. “You can arrange my clothes for the ball later tonight,” he said and she immediately jumped to her feet to do as he said. She walked over to the first bag to open it. She swallowed as she saw the carefully folded undergarments.

“Would you need help…” she asked, her voice faltering at the thought, “…help changing later, milord?” she finished.

“Well, of course. I can barely properly tie a cravat!” Nicholas said with a laugh.

“So do I,” she murmured under her breath.

His loud laughter rang around the room. “A valet who cannot tie a cravat! How pathetic and amusing at the same time, young lad!”

Her face flushed. “Would you wish for another valet, milord? I could recommend one for you,” she hopefully asked.

His green emerald eyes studied her for a moment, making her uncomfortable. Could he see through her disguise? Surely he could not. Her square jaw was a perfect mask, her thick brows highly suggestive of masculinity. But she made certain not to make eye contact for her pale grey eyes could give her away.

“Would you wish for another employment?” he asked instead of answering her inquiry.

She blinked in surprise. “Are you planning to report me, milord? For being a big failure with cravats?” she incredulously asked.

Nicholas Everard’s deep laughter rumbled once more. “No, young lad. I meant if you wish to find another employment elsewhere. In Wickhurst, if I might be specific.”

“But what would I do in Wickhurst?”

“Be a valet, of course, you dumb fellow,” he said, jumping to his feet. He walked toward her and her feet involuntarily took a few steps back. “I am in need of one, see?”

“But I have not yet proven myself to be what you might need for a valet,” she uttered, clearing her throat, hoping that her voice was not giving her away.

“But I like one who is barely trained so he can be trained according to my own specifications,” he said, looking her up and down. “You ought to grow more muscles, lad, but that can be arranged. My one remaining footman in residence can teach you everything you must do. I’d rather have someone flexible serving me than one who had already developed his own ways.” He tilted his head to the side. “And most bloody valets have already developed their own ways in doing things and I am not one who has familiar ways as other lords.”

“B—but I am already—”

“How much does the Theobalds pay you?” he asked.

How would she know that?

“I do not discuss personal financing, milord.”

Nicholas Everard laughed. “I like you, young lad. You will be fun to be around. Not like those boring, formal ones.” He straightened his coat. “Think of my offer. You can find me in Wickhurst. I have an apartment at the junction of Vinge Road and Dosett Street. Dare be specific with your inquiries and ask for Nicholas Everard’s residence. Do not enter Dosett Street for that is where one brother of mine lives and you would not wish to valet him.”

She frowned. “Whyever not, milord?”

He narrowed his eyes. “He’s a Town Guard and proud of it. You would not wish to be around him, lad.”

She simply blinked for she did not know what to say. The mere picture of her working for someone else outside Theobald was difficult to grasp.

“And dare not go into Vinge Road.”

“Whyever not, milord?” she asked. Her eyes met his emerald ones and Maxine found it hard to look away.

Bloody hell, Nicholas Everard was handsome. His neatly combed hair, his gentle and mesmerizing gaze with wickedness lurking at the corners, his well-shaped nose and chiseled chin… everything about him was more spellbinding up close.

Maxine hastily blinked away and took another step back.

“That is where my other pathetic brother lives. You would not wish to meet him, of course. He’s had valets running from his household to seek refuge in mine, I tell you.”

Maxine blinked once more and nodded. “I shall think about it, milord.”

“Remember,” he said, enforcing his words with one finger, “The apartment at the junction of Vinge Road and Dosett Street.”

She could not help but smile at his seemingly childish manner. “Yes, milord,” she replied.

A satisfied smile crossed his handsome face. She had never met another Everard, but she had heard of them. By far, their eldest brother was the most familiar name because of his scars, but the fourth brother, Nicholas Everard, was famous amongst servants and ladies alike. He was the handsome rake of the family. One look at him had told Maxine that this was the Everard brother that everyone had been whispering about in every Theobald party.

“Very well, I must go and find myself a gaming room before my mother and sisters drag me around in the ball later tonight.”

Without much of another glance at her, Nicholas Everard turned and walked to the door.

“By the by, lad,” he said, stopping at the doorway. “What is your name?”

Maxine swallowed. She was not prepared to be asked such question. “Max,” she found herself answering and nearly regretted it.

He laughed. “Famous! Just famous!”

She frowned. “I do not find my name funny, milord.”

“But I do, Max, I do!” He disappeared from the room, his chuckles growing distant.

With a frown, Maxine looked around the room. She stared down at the open luggage and the undergarments inside it.

With a sigh, she turned and briskly walked out of the room to find a footman to help her.

Being a valet was no easy task after all.

And being a valet to Nicholas Everard was proving to be quite disturbing.

III. The Missing Half

“You told us you are staying inside your room,” her stepmother said as she dragged Maxine down the empty corridor.

Maxine grimaced. “I did, but I did not say I might change my mind,” she replied, voice low.

“I do not know what I should do with you, truly,” Lady Theobald said with frustration. “Your father and I are—”

“Do not worry, Lady Theobald,” she interjected and for a second saw the pain flash before her stepmother’s eyes.

She was aware of the fact that the woman had always desired for her to call her Mother, one thing Maxine could not ever bring herself to do.

Ignoring Lady Theobald’s reaction, Maxine continued, “I shall return to my room. No one will have to find me. Tell father not to fret. No need to escort me, I know my way around.”

As she said it, she pulled her arm away from her stepmother and continued to walk toward the staircase, one that was forbidden for the guests, and one that would lead to her secret bedchamber.

She had changed her costume after having served Nicholas Everard. There was no way she could go back and help him change into his evening attire. Being a maid was better, but it also allowed her father and stepmother to recognize her earlier during dinner when she had boldly walked into the hall to serve the guests.

“You cannot keep doing this, Maxie,” said her stepmother when she was halfway up the stairs. Maxine looked over her shoulder to where the woman was standing below and her heart swelled. Rachel Theobald had more than accepted her. The woman had made her feel like she was one of her own children.

“Do not worry, my lady, I shall not cause more trouble,” she said with a smile. “For tonight, that is,” added with a wicked smile and chuckled when her stepmother helplessly shook her head, trying hard to hide her own amusement. “Go back to the party. I shall retire for the night.”

Lady Theobald narrowed her eyes at her like she did when she and her brothers were little and had caused trouble around the household. “Prepare for your father’s wrath, Maxine Theobald.”

Maxine snorted and allowed an exaggerated curtsy. “I shall, my lady, and I hope you will save my neck once more.”

Her stepmother laughed and walked away without another word.

Maxine turned to continue her way up the stairs, ready to retire for the night. Having carried Nicholas Everard’s heavy luggage earlier still left her muscles sore.

She had just entered the door of an empty room that would lead to a secret door to her bedchamber when she heard a voice. Pushing the door just enough to allow a small opening, Maxine waited. No one was allowed to enter this part of the manor.

“You do not know where they went,” a man’s voice hissed.

“Hush!” a female voice answered back.

Maxine stepped away from the door when she saw a woman in a heavy gown and a man in black suit walk past her door. Her jaw tightened.

They must have seen her with her stepmother and followed them here. She was completely aware of the gossip surrounding her and they must be two of the people who were lucky to have heard Lady Gedge’s secret gossip about the Theobalds’ dark secret.

Crossed to have had her privacy invaded once more after that stupid scavenger hunt that Lady Gedge had concocted in hopes of revealing the Theobald bastard years ago, Maxine pulled the door open and walked out of the room. The pair had their backs at her. “Why are you following me?” she sternly demanded.

Both of them jumped to their feet and whirled around, faces surprised to have been caught.

“No one is allowed to lurk in this part of the mansion.”

She haughtily lifted her chin, forgetting for a moment that she was dressed as a servant and as one she ought not to be talking to the guests—or look at them—in such a manner.

But when the black-haired lady finally moved and walked toward her, Maxine recognized her. She was Nicholas Everard’s sister from the carriage earlier. The blonde man she did not recognize.

“Remove yourselves from this part of the manor,” she told the woman, voice filled with warning.

“Please forgive us,” the man said behind the Everard woman. “We were lost. We shall go.” Maxine caught the lie, of course.

“Is it true?”

Maxine snapped her head toward the lady.

“What?” she snapped, looking over her shoulder down the empty corridor behind her, checking to see if they had more company and found none. “That I am the bastard child of Lord Theobald?” she asked when the lady remained stupefied. There was no use wasting her time trying to guess what the two strangers were thinking. It was clearly painted on the woman’s eyes that she knew of her existence.

The Everard woman gulped. “Yes.” Honest. Maxine liked that.

“We must go,” the man said beside the lady while Maxine tried to remember all the names of the Everard siblings her brother had talked about. Samuel was friends with most of them.

The Everard woman ignored her companion and continued to stare at Maxine. “I will not tell anyone if you are worried about that.”

Maxine’s lips twitched. She let out a snort. “If you say so.”

“What is your name?”

Maxine narrowed her eyes as she frowned. This lady was too bloody persistent.

“We must go, Lady Ysabella,” the man said, voice growing sharp.

Maxine’s eyes widened when she heard the name. “Ysabella Everard,” she said with familiarity, voice lighter now.

Ysabella smiled. “You have heard of me. Marvellous!”

“Not everything I heard about you was marvellous,” she countered wryly. “My brother told me about you.”

Ysabella shrugged and Maxine allowed herself to study her for a while. Unlike her brothers and the sister she was with earlier, Ysabella Everard had a fuller face, making her look younger than her age. And if she was correct to remember the information her brother had given her, Ysabella was merely four years younger than her.

Her attention returned to the present as Ysabella said, “Well, we cannot please everyone.” She motioned her head to his companion who looked as though he was ready to burst. “Ask him about me and you shall hear naught but words of frustrations.”

She stared at the man for some time, wondering why these two were together alone away from the party. Brushing away her curiosity, she returned her eyes to Ysabella and said, “Maxine. My name’s Maxine.”

She was quite surprised to realize that it felt good to tell a stranger her real name.

Ysabella Everard smiled. Suddenly Nicholas’ laughing face flashed before her eyes and she mentally shook her head. “I am very glad to meet you, Maxine, I wish to—”

“Now, go,” Maxine ordered, reaching for the door beside her.

“Can I ask a question?”

“She wants us to go, Ysabella,” Ysabella’s companion sternly said.

Maxine paused but did not say a word, waiting for the question.

“Why have they kept you a secret all these years?”

The moment after Ysabella asked the question, alarm crossed her features as though she expected Maxine to claw on her face. But Maxine simply frowned at her. She watched as the man took Ysabella by the elbow to guide her away, his face alarmed, quite sure that Ysabella had gone too far with her question.

She did not know why she answered, mayhap because no one had ever asked her the question before and she wanted to answer it. “They don’t keep me a secret,” she said, causing the two intruders to pause and look at her with expectant looks on their faces. “I keep myself a secret,” she added, turning to push the door open. “Go.” Without another word she disappeared behind the door, smiling at Ysabella’s dumbfounded look.

Maxine walked away from the door and blindly found her way to the wall and found the panel that was her door. She pushed it open and closed it behind her with a sigh, leaving the other side an empty room.

Her large bedchamber greeted her with utter silence.

Her large bed faced the large window across the room. She stared at a distant hole as moonlight shone down from aboveground.

Locking her door, she walked back to her closet to change her clothes.

Her mind briefly remembered Nicholas Everard. Had he ever wondered why the young valet never returned?

With a scoff, Maxine shook her head.

Too much had happened today.

She was not bothered about Ysabella Everard. Samuel had as much told her the woman could be trusted with anything as Ysabella had kept a big secret of hers for years. Maxine chose to believe her brother.

---

Maxine proved the very next day that she truly ought to consider transferring to another secret room when the door to her chamber suddenly flung open, rendering her surprised and horrified when she saw Ysabella standing in her doorway with a plate in one hand.

It reminded her of that moment years ago when a woman had found her secret room during Lady Gedge’s scavenger hunt.

“What are you doing here?” Maxine demanded at Ysabella, rushing toward the woman.

“Why are you dressed as a servant?” Ysabella asked instead, looking at her with a frown. When Maxine continued to stare at her in panic, Ysabella added, “I am alone, I promise. I came by chance that you might wish to join me for a snack,” she said, lifting her other hand to show a plate full of food.

Maxine stared at it. “That is more like a luncheon for a starving traveller rather than a snack.”

“Well, I like heavy snacks.”

Maxine sighed. It was not wise for Ysabella to be here. She may be Samuel’s friend, but she was not Maxine’s. “You should go. You must not be seen here.”

“Well, that can be easily arranged,” Ysabella said, turning around to close the panel door. When she faced Maxine once again, she smiled. “Well? Would you like to join me for a snack?”

Maxine stared at her for a long time before letting out another sigh. There was something about Ysabella Everard that was quite enchanting.

You never had friends before, a voice said in her head.

Well, that was quite true. She gave her head a little shake to Ysabella a stern look.

“If you are not Samuel’s friend, I would throw you out.” She pointed to the table. “You can eat there.”

Ysabella sauntered toward the table and sat on the chair. “I take that you have a good relationship with Samuel?”

“Of course. He is my brother.”

Ysabella started eating the pie and Maxine watched her, not knowing what to do. Surely she ought to know how to entertain a guest! “But you choose not to be introduced to society. Why?” Ysabella asked.

Maxine’s eyes flickered with irritation. “Because I do not wish for it. I rather like it here.”

Ysabella’s gaze bothered her. It was as though she could read Maxine’s mind, as though the girl could see her heart’s deepest desires. “You mean you like hiding yourself in this large manor.”

“My life is quite different without this dratted weekend parties, if you must know,” she snapped.

“Oh, so you can freely go about if there are no guests!” was Ysabella’s innocent remark.

“Of course,” Maxine said, walking over to the bed to sit. “Do be quick and finish your food.”

“How old are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I am a curious individual.”

“Four and twenty.” As a matter of fact, her birthday was coming in a few weeks to signify how she had wasted twenty-five years of her life in nowhere else but Theobald.

“Hmm,” Ysabella hummed thoughtfully. “Samuel is older by four years.”

“You mean our father committed a sin against his marriage even after having sired an heir,” Maxine wryly retorted.

She expected Ysabella to look horrified, but such was not the case.

“No, I did not mean to say that,” Ysabella nonchalantly said. “So, would you ever answer my question? Why are you dressed as a servant?”

Maxine could not help the smile that curved her lips, her eyes glimmering wickedly. “I do play different roles during the weekend parties. A year ago, I did try to dress as a footman before father caught me.”

Ysabella laughed. “It must be fun.”

Maxine nodded. “Two years ago, I succeeded as an old maidservant. I even helped two or three guests get dressed.”

Ysabella’s laughter rang around the room. “I ought to take lessons from you, then!”

“Do be quick. I wish to retire early,” Maxine said instead. She did not wish to get used to having guests in her chambers.

Ysabella finished her food. “Do you have something to drink? I regret I forgot to bring water.”

Maxine sighed and went to her feet. She walked over to the side of her bed where a glass and a pitcher of water stood. As she poured, Ysabella studied her closely. “Is dressing up a way for you to entertain yourself?”

“Somewhat, yes.” She walked over to Ysabella and handed the glass.

“Have you ever tried to pretend you are one of the guests instead? So you could enjoy the parties.”

Maxine shook her head. “It is too risky. They might recognize me.”

“Why do you fear it so?”

She frowned. “I am a bastard. I’d ruin my father’s name if my identity should become public.”

“Has your family expressed the same fears?”

“No, they—” Maxine stopped herself and shook her head. “No, it is better that I stay hidden.”

Ysabella was looking at her with disbelief. “Then what do you plan to do for the rest of your life? Surely you cannot stay hidden forever!”

“Of course I can. I love it here.” That, of course, was half the truth and half a lie.

“But you have not seen the rest of the outside. Even I who is free to roam around the Town dreams of what the world aboveground is like. Do you not wonder of the same things, of what it would be like outside the Theobald estate?”

Maxine’s eyes wavered. “No, not really.”

Liar! A voice in her head shouted. She had spent many nights dreaming of the rest of the world. She had read books after books of the many adventures of people everywhere.

“Instead of imprisoning yourself, you should start living your life without fear, dear Maxine. You ought to live.”

Live. What an exciting, fearful word.

Brushing off the sudden desire for something that Ysabella’s words had suggested, Maxine narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Do not tell me how I ought to lead my life, Ysabella Everard. I very well know how to make the most of it.”

“Oh, very well, if you must say so. But should you change your mind, I tell you in advance that society could be truly brutal to those who are different, but they too are forgetful. They will feast on you for days, weeks and even months, but soon your scandal would become old and a new one would come and you shall be forgotten.”

She had heard the same thing from her stepmother, her brothers and even her father. She scoffed it off, causing Ysabella to smile with resignation.

“Would you still be here next year?” Ysabella asked.

“Where else would I be? Of course.”

“I could see you then?”

Maxine hesitated. “If you insist.”

“Could I send you letters?”

She could already see herself writing letters to Ysabella. “If you wish it,” she replied, “but do not expect a reply.”

Ysabella smiled at her. “I am the queen of missives, dear. I do know how to make even the most notorious of rakes scribble a reply.”

Maxine simply shook her head although she took a hint that there was something behind Ysabella’s statement. Ignoring the curiosity for it might merely cause the lady to stay longer, Maxine urged the woman to finish the rest of her food.

Later that night, she lay in bed thinking and wondering what it would be like to be Ysabella Everard—to be free and be so certain of who and what you were.

She fell asleep without answers.

---

The Theobald weekend party ended in the same manner it always did—everyone eventually left.

Maxine watched through the glass of her window as the Everards said their goodbyes to Lord and Lady Theobald. Nicholas was standing behind the family like a good gentleman that he was expected to be, guarding his mother and sisters and the other lady that was with them. Ysabella and Emma were talking with their friend in whispers, giggling as their mother and Lady Theobald talked.

When everyone was ready to depart, Lady Alice Everard turned to her children. Ysabella said something to Nicholas who then said something back to his sister, causing Emma and their friend to chuckle. Ysabella made a move to hit Nicholas’ arm but their mother cried out and said something that caused everyone to stop and stare. And then Lady Alice added something and everyone suddenly burst out laughing.

Maxine found herself grinning over something she did not even understand. Although she did not hear a word, she knew she would have laughed with the Everards. She had heard stories about their mother and she had at once wondered what it would be like to be in her presence.

She had witnessed Lady Alice and her children yesterday. She saw how they interacted, how they talked and how they laughed over something. She saw it from a distance while she was dressed as a servant. As a matter of fact, she saw many of such relationship during the parties.

Some were quite different as well. There were those mothers who made desperate attempts to push their daughters toward a bachelor. There were those who scolded and nagged about gowns and parties and husbands. And then there were those like the Everards.

She watched as Nicholas gave his mother’s head a quick kiss before the woman entered the carriage and Maxine realized she might never know what it would feel like to be like the Everard children.

They knew their parents. They lived with their mother.

She, on the other hand, was deprived by the other half of her lineage.

Turning away from the window, Maxine told herself that she ought to be happy now. The guests were almost gone and she could once more roam Theobald freely. She could go out and bask under one of the holes around the estate with a good book in hand. She could once more be with her worker friends, her stepmother and her father. She could once more have the place to herself.

She would once more be content to be alone.

Yet now she knew it not to be true.

Something was missing. Something was nagging at her, wanting to be found.

IV. Brotherly Time

A few months later…

Rock’oles was not only famous, but it was also the epitome of sin. It was located merely a few minutes out of Wickhurst and it catered to many needs of the affluent lords from all over the Town.

A structure that was so magnificently carved into a giant wall of rock, its passages and chambers sculpted to perfection, Rock’oles was home to many rich men who hungered for a night of passionate bliss in the arms of its women.

Yet although it would allow entry to those who were rich enough to become members, it did not so often assure a satisfactory night for all since the women could be quite difficult.

Unlike many brothels of its kind, Rock’oles’ women lived like princesses. They decided who may enter their private chambers and they said when they wanted a man. They were law.

This did not deter the rich lords. In fact, this made them even more so eager to be chosen. They’d bring the most extravagant gifts they could offer the women for a chance to be chosen and if they were lucky enough to be endowed by the women’s precious attention, it would permit them the bragging rights amongst their peers for months on end.

Yes, not all may be invited into a chamber, but most could enjoy a merry time in the gaming halls with the women who would be kind enough to spend time with them outside the comforts of their chambers.

Such case was happening with Nicholas, Ralph and Maxwell Everard. Nicholas, a frequent visitor of Rock’oles, was merely happy to accompany his brothers to the place.

But unlike him and Maxwell who were hoping to be invited into one of the many chambers, their youngest brother Ralph was there for an entirely different reason.

As a Town Guard, he had been tasked to investigate a recent reopened case of illegal slavery around the Town, a case that was being secretly handled by none other than their brother-in-law, Cole Devitt.

“A source pointed me to this damned place,” Ralph kept complaining as he stared at the women around them.

“You have enjoyed Rock’oles before, you hypocrite,” Nicholas said, playfully pushing his brother.

“Well, yes, I did! Until our mother caught me!”

“And whose fault is that?” Maxwell wryly asked.

“Not mine,” Nicholas said, shaking his head. “’Twas not my fault you slipped the name of the place during family dinner—of all time, you dolt!”

Ralph narrowed his eyes at his brothers.

“I am getting bored,” Maxwell said after a while. “Where is your woman?” he asked Nicholas.

Nicholas craned his neck to look for Tania, his favorite girl. At the moment the woman was talking and laughing with another gentleman five tables away. He gritted his teeth.

Maxwell followed his gaze and let out a snort.

“Has she said anything?” Ralph asked Nicholas, voice stringent. As the youngest, it was quite difficult to take him seriously when he was being utterly serious.

Nicholas swept his fingers through his hair in an attempt to put them in place. “Well, I did try.”

Maxwell scoffed as he sauntered his eyes to Ralph. “He tried. And failed. I told you it is no use.”

“I truly did!” Nicholas hissed. “But you know Tania. She does have a gift of making a man forget his train of thoughts.”

Ralph groaned in frustration. “You are both useless.”

Maxwell glared at him. “I was not aware I am obliged to help.”

“Then why are you here!”

“For the bloody drinks you promised to pay for,” Maxwell shot back.

Nicholas frowned at his older brother. “I wonder why you have never been invited into a chamber before. It must be the hair, brother.”

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed into slits. “There are quite a lot of gentlemen with long hair.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said, “but they tie them behind their nape, not wear them down like a bloody curtain!”

“Bloody hell, you are both foxed,” Ralph groaned, leaning back into his chair. “You are talking about hair like a pair of nancies!”

Maxwell gulped down his drink in reply. Nicholas turned his eyes to study Tania from afar.

“By the by, have you seen the Herald?” Ralph asked.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Whoever invented photography ought to be hanged and who bloody prints them on the Herald ought to be burned at the stakes.”

“I agree,” Maxwell said with a nod. “For a moment I thought you were our mother dressed in a coat, Nick.”

Ralph laughed out loud. “That bloody ball was too crowded. Ysabella and Wakefield ought not to have allowed the Herald into their engagement ball, see? Those photos were horrible. They bloody keep printing them and it had been bloody months!”

“It was not Ysa and Wakefield who allowed that bloody old photographer into the engagement ball,” Nicholas said, referring to their newlywed, “it was Mother.” He turned to glare at Maxwell. “And I did not bloody look like her in that photo!”

Maxwell shrugged.

Ralph said between chuckles, “You looked more woman than Max, Nick. It was a bloody bad angle.”

Before Nicholas could reach for Ralph’s throat, Maxwell said, “But I did like Wakefield’s photo.”

Ralph and Nicholas’ laughter filled the room. “Ah, bloody hell. That bruise did show, did it not? They could have printed a photo from the wedding when they had healed, but they bloody chose the horrid ones!”

“Ysa would not stop complaining about it. Thank the heavens she now lives elsewhere,” Ralph said with amusement. “Good job Levi did to that eye of his.”

Whatever Nicholas was about to say next was left forgotten as Tania left her gentleman companion to walk toward them. All three men straightened in their seats, their faces hopeful. But Tania had always had eyes only on one Everard brother. Her blue eyes glimmered with so much promise as she stopped to stand beside Nicholas.

“Hello, my lords,” she greeted in a sultry voice. They all nodded, speechless at the sight of the black-haired beauty. She planted her hand behind Nicholas’ neck and said, “I was planning to retire to my chamber,” she whispered in his ear as her fingers twirled around locks of his hair, “and I was hoping you will join me, my lord.”

Nicholas groaned, already picturing Tania in her bed, but he had matters he had to attend to. “I am sorry, Tania, dear,” he said, gently taking her hand off his neck to rub it with both hands. “But my brothers and I are expected to be in a ball any moment now.”

Tania did not hide her disappointment as she pressed her hip closer to his side. “No time to spare for me? A couple of hours, no?”

He saw Maxwell’s amused look as his brother witnessed his ordeal. Ralph, on the other hand, was giving him an encouraging look. Of course, the bastard wanted him to be with Tania for his bloody case. But to be with Tania meant potentially missing the ball. And their mother would not like it at all. This ball would be the first since Ysabella and Wakefield’s wedding weeks ago.

He was on the verge of giving in as Tania pressed closer.

Bloody hell.

“I am certain you can be at the ball before it ends,” Ralph said, standing to his feet.

Maxwell did the same. “I’ll tell Mother you have been complaining of some nature of ache ,” Maxwell said, voice filled with meaning.

“I do admire your brothers, Nick,” Tania chuckled sexily. “They do understand needs .” She gave Maxwell a wink.

Maxwell gave Tania a bow before he and Ralph left the table to leave Rock’oles.

Nicholas let himself be pulled out of his chair by Tania to exit the hall and find her private chamber.

To hell with the ball! Ralph needed his help with the case and Tania could provide answers.

In fact, the woman could provide many , many things.

His tightening trousers could attest to that.

---

Maxine considered herself a master of containing all her thoughts to herself, even the most confusing ones.

Yet she was also one who would not stand idle to wait for answers to be fed to her the moment her patience had run its course.

For years, she had asked her father about her mother—the real one, the one who brought her into this world—and he never told her anything, not even her name.

She had tried to ask her stepmother, but the woman claimed she did not know who her husband’s former mistress was.

Maxine believed her for she could still see the pain in Rachel Theobald’s eyes whenever the topic of her husband’s former flame was brought out. A part of Maxine felt guilty. Surely her presence was a reminder of that one sin her father had done. That same guilt was one reason why she could not call Rachel mother .

But despite the guilt and the potential to hurt her stepmother whom she dearly loved, Maxine would always jump at every opportunity to ask. And weird, really, that it would always happen merely months after the Theobald party.

It had become quite customary for her to enjoy the weeks that would follow the annual weekend party as though she had never ventured the estate before. But those weeks would soon be over and boredom would once more come and her mind would dig other things she had set aside before.

Her real mother, of course, was the favorite topic to be revived.

She found the perfect opportunity that afternoon while she was having tea with her father and stepmother.

“When do you suppose you shall be ready to tell me about my real mother?” she asked, surprising the two.

How else could she ask the question? There was no book written about how one would introduce such topic, really. And oh, she did try to find a book and encountered great failure.

She saw her stepmother stiffen in her seat and she nearly regretted having asked the question. But Rachel was used to her sudden attacks. As was her father, of course.

“I am nearly five and twenty, father,” she uttered strongly. “I do deserve to know.”

She had said this too many times before and the only constant change was her age. She had demanded for the same thing when she turned ten, fifteen, eighteen, twenty and so forth.

She did not truly expect him to answer her question for Eustace Theobald always found a way to change the topic. What she did not expect was her stepmother slowly standing to her feet to say, “Mayhap I ought to leave the two of you alone. Samuel must already be here anytime soon. I have to see that dinner is ready.”

She saw the pleading look her father gave her stepmother. His eyes screamed, “ Do not leave me here!“

Which was quite amusing to witness, really, for it was true that her father had never had to answer—or ignore—Maxine’s inquiries without the presence of his wife.

Rachel merely gave her husband a gentle smile and a light pat on the cheek before she left.

When the door closed, leaving her alone with her father, Eustace Theobald glared at her. “You very well know how your mother feels about this topic, Maxine.”

She nodded. “Of course. And she would not have to suffer through it again if you can tell me what I have always wanted to know.”

“And what difference would it make if I tell you what you wish to know?”

Maxine stared at her father for a long time, pondering her thoughts. They had never reached this point of the conversation before. It had always ended with a mere unanswered question.

“I would feel complete,” she carefully replied.

For the first time she saw her father’s pale grey eyes turn helpless. “Oh, Maxine, you do know we love you. Your mother loves you.”

“You mean my stepmother loves me, yes, but she is not my mother .”

“But she ought to be enough.”

“Yes, of course,” she uttered, “she ought to be enough, but then she is not. I hurt when I see her hurt and I do no longer wish to witness it. I could stop with my questions, but you must also know that I need answers.”

“And what would you do with the answers?” For a moment she saw fear flash across her father’s eyes. “Would you go out and find her? Would you—”

“I simply need the answers so I would know what I to do with my life!” She did not mean to raise her voice, nor did she intend to blurt out the truth, but the desperation had returned. This might be the very last chance she would get from her father. She knew he was ready to give in. “I promise I shall not present the topic again if you answer me now. You would never have to hear me ask about her again.”

Her father stared at her for a long time before he let out a heavy sigh. “What do you wish to know?”

She gulped, suddenly feeling lost. There were hundreds of questions she wanted answers to and they were all fighting inside her head to be the first to be presented. “How did you meet her?”

His jaw tightened. “At a ball.”

She rolled her eyes. “Father, you do realize that this is the first time we are talking about my real mother, yes? Could you spare me the agony and be a tad more specific?”

He scoffed and shook his head. “At a ball in Willowfair,” he tried once more. “Rachel and I have been married for a few years by then, but it is a common knowledge that ours was not a love match at the beginning.”

She nodded. That, she knew too well. Rachel had always been open to tell the story of how she managed to make her husband fall in love with her by force.

Her father’s next words surprised her for she did not expect him to provide the information. “Your mother has dark grey eyes,” he said, smiling at the memory.

“And black hair,” she provided.

“And black hair.”

“We did not last long if that is what you believe,” he said, “for Rachel found out and fetched me from Willowfair before I could commit more sin against her.”

Maxine let out a snort. “Of course she did and it must be the greatest thing she had ever done.”

Her father grinned. “It was, actually. I saw her in a different light after that.”

“But you did not see me coming into the world as well, did you?”

He nodded. “But there was no question who shall keep you.”

“And I am here,” she said with a sigh.

“And it is marvelous.”

Maxine could not fathom why she did not feel anything special after this revelation. Mayhap because she had thought of many scenarios of how her parents met and this story was one of the many. Or mayhap she simply did not care how they met for she wanted to know something else.

“What is her name?”

The expression on her father’s face completely changed as he shook his head. “No, I cannot tell you.”

“Why?”

He sighed and locked his grey eyes with hers. “Please do understand, Maxine, that it is not because I wish to deprive you of the information but because I truly cannot tell you.”

“But why?” She swallowed the anger that rose to her throat. “Why can you not tell me her name?”

“Because she is from a family who would stop at nothing to destroy us should we threaten to ruin their name and that is the end of it!” Her father’s voice had risen to an almost alarming level.

“You do not wish us to meet, do you?”

“No,” he said with brutal honesty. “You are better off here in Theobald where you belong—here with us. You do not deserve her, Maxine, believe me.”

“How can you say such a thing when you have not even tried to arrange for us to meet? It might be different. She might want to know me and I might not want to know her. It could be different!”

Her father stood up and said with finality, “This discussion is over. I hold you to your promise that you shall not raise the topic again.”

“Can you at the very least tell me where she is?”

“I do not know. The last I heard of her was when she gave birth to you in Willowfair and gladly handed you to me without as much as giving you a glance. She has disappeared as fast as she appeared in my life, Maxine.”

She stood up, eyes narrowed and confused. “You are lying. You know where she is.”

“Even if I do, I will never tell you. You are a Theobald. Your mother is Rachel. That will never change.”

She was about to open her mouth to offer a sharp retort when she heard Samuel’s voice boom in the hallway outside.

“Your brother is here,” her father said, turning to walk to the door. “You might as well try to be cheerful for your mother’s sake. She has been waiting for this day for weeks.”

“This discussion is not over, father,” she said in a low voice.

Pausing at the door, her father said over his shoulder, “If you would allow us to present you to society, then I will be very much willing to continue this discussion.”

She blanched. Her father looked at her and smiled. He knew he won this argument.

For now, that is , Maxine thought.

She had waited over a decade to hear about her real mother. She was not about to give up now.

---

“How is Wickhurst?” Maxine asked her brother.

Samuel shrugged, his light grey eyes full of wicked, unspoken things. “Same old wicked Wickhurst, I believe.”

“By the sparkle in your eyes, I believe you do enjoy the place,” she said with a laugh. “Which leads me to wonder why you are here.”

“I’ve missed you, of course! You would not visit me in Wickhurst so I must suffer the journey here to be with my dear sister.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Or mayhap you are in hiding?”

“Of course not. From whom?”

“The Everards?” she asked and laughed when she saw her brother’s horrified look.

“However did you come up with such nonsense?”

“Brother, you must know that one of our maids is related to one of theirs.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know what you did for Ysabella and Lord Wakefield.” She pointed a finger at him. “And I was led to believe the brothers did not appreciate your role in the match.”

Samuel shook his head, causing his blonde hair to move with it, and rolled his eyes. “Those two would still have ended up being married without my help.”

She scoffed, a smile lingering on her lips. “I did see the photos on the Herald.”

Samuel groaned. “Please, let us not talk about the photos.”

“Whyever not? They are quite a good change for the paper. You must be happy.”

“I have to suffer the wrath of all the Everard brothers. They do not believe the photos depicted the truth. They even claim them to be farce!”

“But they are clear enough and given enough time for improvements, I am certain the articles will soon be more sensational!”

“They do not think the photos look like them!”

Maxine laughed. “Well, of course they would say that. They must have been moving while the photos were taken!”

“Well, they are a restless bunch, I tell you.”

She smiled when she remembered Nicholas Everard’s photo on the Herald. He did look like a woman at first glance.

“I did see the photos of the engagement ball as well. Lord Wakefield’s face seemed to have a little discoloring around one eye.”

“You mean a bruise,” Samuel wryly uttered. “It was not ink as Ysa would lead many to believe.”

Maxine gasped. “A bruise!”

“You must be warned, dear sister, that all Everard brothers are not to be trifled with.”

“You mean they did that to Lord Wakefield’s face?”

Samuel shrugged. “One of them did. Levi—the second oldest brother who happens to also be Wakefield’s dearest friend. He was not enamored by the fact that his friend broke his own rules and dallied with his sister.”

“But that is—”

“The reality of men,” Samuel finished. “You ought to know what they did to Lord Ashmore, Margaret’s husband.”

“Well, considering what he did to their sister years before, I believe he did deserve it.”

“How did you know about Lord Ashmore and Margaret?”

“You know people talk when they are in the Theobald parties, brother. I hear the gossips and put the pieces together.”

Her brother laughed. “And what have you been playing as in the recent one? A footman? A maid?”

“Both, actually,” she admitted with pride. “But then, you would have known if you attend the parties.”

“You do know I hate them,” Samuel uttered, coming to his feet. “I am quite tired. Wickhurst had drained the life out of me, I tell you, with all their gossips and scandals.”

Maxine smiled at her brother. “Then go and have your respite. I shall see you when you awake. How long are you planning to stay?”

Samuel yawned as his feet led him to the door of the drawing room. “Three days, I am afraid.”

Her shoulders sagged. She had been hoping Samuel could stay longer.

But her brother had a life somewhere else.

While she had none but here.

---

The three days that Samuel spent with them in Theobald had been wonderful. For three days, Maxine felt how it was once more to be living with her brother. Their eldest, Gabriel, rarely visited for his wife would most often not allow it. The woman was Maxine and Samuel’s favorite topic when they were alone and chose to be vile in private.

During the afternoons, when their mother would retire for a nap and their father busy inside his study, she and Samuel would roam around the plantation near the estate. Not once did she share with Samuel the talk she had with their father about her mother for she knew Samuel’s sentiments about the woman. She chose instead to listen to him talk about the many things he had encountered while working for the Herald as one of its secret and private writers.

Samuel did not write for the gossip section as it would give their mother a faint, but he did write for the politics section which could prove to be dangerous as well. He would not discuss politics, but he did enjoy talking about trivial matters at work.

But Maxine wanted to know more of her brother’s life—of why he left Theobald when he could have written from here.

The answer, of course, was obvious.

Her brother was in Wickhurst because he had found something else. He was aiming for the one thing that he could be proud of in his life, the one thing that he had to work for, he one thing their father could not give him—a legacy of his own.

So Maxine did not beg for him to stay another day when he climbed into his carriage to drive back to Wickhurst. She would not dream of begging for him or anyone to stay.

She never asked for anyone to do so, in fact.

Back in her room, blankly staring at the copy of the Herald, she wondered if the woman who brought her into this world had ever wondered of how life would be like if she did ask for Maxine to stay when she gave her away.

…she gave birth to you in Willowfair and gladly handed you to me without as much as giving you a glance…

Was it true? Did she truly not want her?

What if she changed her mind?

What if she wanted to reach out but was afraid to do so?

What if she was waiting for her like Maxine had been secretly doing so for years?

An insane idea was slowly taking form inside her head as she stared at the copy of the Herald in her hand.

It had been months since she had seen Ysabella Everard and the man who later turned out to be her husband in her corridors. Since then, the two had married and were the topic of many articles.

And since then, nothing had happened in Theobald—nothing significant that Maxine would remember for the rest of her life.

While everyone was busy living their lives, Maxine had been but a mere witness of it all.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth, considering the consequences of the insane plot her brain was suggesting.

Setting the Herald down beside her, she walked up to the mirror and stared straight into her eyes.

“What do you want?” her reflection asked her.

What do you want?

---

A week later…

The woman stared at herself in the mirror.

Pale grey eyes stared back at her, daring her to do what she planned to do.

Drawing a deep breath, the woman in the mirror gathered her long, black mane over one shoulder. She positioned the scissors, narrowed her eyes and snapped the blades close.

The sharp snap was followed by a lingering silence.

Staring down at the long strands in her hand, she gulped.

Bloody hell, she did it.

Dropping the thick strands on the floor, she finished her task, although it was proving to be a difficult task.

Once she thought she had done enough damage, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Same pale grey eyes, same thick eyebrows, and same square jaw. But all in all, the look was entirely different.

A smiled crept on her lips. It would have to do , she thought, ruffling her now short hair which hovered just above her shoulders.

Straightening her back, she tucked her shirt under her breeches and turned away from the short-haired man she had created.

She grabbed her bag from under her bed and prepared to leave.

Clad in her breeches and boots, her bag over one shoulder, she went to her table and read the note once again.

Dearest Samuel,

I have decided to follow a friend’s advice—LIVE.

Do not find me for I will find my way back. I am not certain when, but I shall return.

I have longed to do this and now I found the courage to do so.

Please allow me this chance.

I have to find her.

For now, fret not. Tell father and Lady Theobald that I shall take care of myself and it is not anyone’s fault.

I love you all.

Yours,

Maxine

Satisfied, she turned away to open her window.

She threw the rope she tied to her bedpost from across the room out of the window and looked down.

She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

She’d be on her own. She was used to being alone.

Before fear won over, Maxine carefully climbed out of her window and into the night.

It was time to leave Theobald.

V. Junction of Vinge and Dosett

Maxine rode to the next village, Oakley, for nearly eight hours, mostly because she lost herself quite a few times. She visited the village merely once every year accompanied by a servant to take her fittings for new dresses.

Her stepmother had always insisted that they could go to Wickhurst or Willowfair or even Tiny Town to procure more beautiful dresses, but she had always refused. A small village modiste had always been sufficient. And the tiny village of Oakley had a good modiste who claimed to have been an apprentice of Madam Vernice of Wickhurst.

But by the time she reached the now-familiar place, she found it hard to find a hired hackney at Oakley and was informed by a tavern worker that she would most likely find one at Marsden, a village five hours away on horseback. Considering her horse riding skills, it would probably take her more than that.

She could ride straight to Wickhurst, yes, but she was no fool as well. It would not be wise, really. The farthest she had been from Theobald was Oakley itself. She was not an expert rider, nor was she experienced on road travel. She had heard stories of bandits lurking in dark corners, ready to jump at anyone.

Maxine had nothing much to spare save for the few gold coins she had in her purse. The reason being was the obvious fact that she did not thoroughly plan for this adventure perfectly. Most of it was a product of her own impetuous nature and seemingly low ability to truly discern the consequences of her actions.

Left with no other choice, Maxine guided her horse to the village of Marsden where she hoped she could sell the horse for more coins and find a hackney to take her to Wickhurst. From there, she planned to work and save more money for more what she planned to do in Willowfair.

She could not stay near Theobald. Weary as she may be, her father might catch her in time to bring her back home.

She made one stop to rest beside the road under a lamppost, but not long enough to attract attention. Her back was aching for having been on the horse for hours on end. Her legs were wobbling, but she did not need them so she ignored the screaming muscles as well.

Nearly eight hours later with no food and drink, Maxine reached Marsden. It was bigger than Oakley and a tad busier as well. It was not difficult to mix with the crowd of village folks that walked the streets. The day was nearly ending as indicated by the distant dimming lights from distant holes.

“Excuse me,” she said in a low voice, calling the attention of a passing lady. “’Scuse me, miss!” she called out loudly but the woman ignored her, looking over at her once with alarm before briskly walking away.

With a sigh, Maxine continued walking. Where the bloody hell was the tavern? Her horse needed food and rest and she needed to sell it. And she needed food as well.

“Ye lookin’ for a tavern?” asked a small voice behind her.

Maxine turned and saw a young boy looking up at her with a smile. She nodded. “Yes. I was hoping to sell my horse and find myself a hackney to Wickhurst.”

The young lad frowned at her. “Ye gentry?”

She stiffened. “No.”

“Ye talk like one!”

“Well,” she uttered, panicking. “Well, I have to, see? Me master required it.”

The boy looked at her with assessing eyes before he turned to study her black horse. “Then why ye wanting to sell yer horse? Did’ya steal it?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “’Corse not!”

The boy shrugged. He pointed to the right and said, “Tavern’s that way.”

Maxine nodded and gave the young boy a smile. “Thank ye, young lad.”

“Ye look like a girl.”

Maxine felt as though her blood drained down from her face. “I am no girl, boy.”

“Aye, if ye say so. Well, so long then!” The boy gave her a wave before running across the street.

Maxine cleared her throat and straightened her coat. She searched her satchel bag and found the newsboy hat she stole from one of the footmen in Theobald. She tucked it over her head and pulled it down to shadow half her face.

Having had enough of riding a horse, she decided to walk and find the tavern, guiding the horse to the side of the road. At last, after a successful inquiry with a newsboy, she found the busy tavern.

Tethering the horse outside, she entered the old building. A booming sound of laughter and loud chatters greeted her. A few men pointed at her as they held large mugs of drinks, their faces red and their laughter obviously foxed.

“A pretty boy!” one of them said, whistling as she passed by to find the owner.

“A very pretty boy lass!” another added and laughter erupted around the hall. The tavern wenches laughed along, their shrilling laughter a disruption to one’s ears.

Maxine ignored them and sought the attention of a large woman behind a filthy wooden counter.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she politely said, “I was hopin’ you could help me find a buyer for me horse.”

“What?” the woman asked, busily pacing behind the counter to pour more drinks into mugs.

“A buyer for me horse,” she repeated, ignoring the whistling of the drunkards behind her. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her mind already calculating the distance to the door should the need to escape arise.

“What horse?” the woman snapped, finally stopping to stare at her. She looked like she never met bath water for weeks.

“Me horse.”

She saw the doubt cross the woman’s face, but whatever suspicion the lady might have in mind, she did not voice it. Wiping her hand over her apron, the woman walked around the counter to walk to the door. “This better be worth my time, young lad.”

Maxine hesitated before she followed the woman.

“What horse, dearie?” she asked when they stepped outside.

Maxine began to point to her horse but stopped, stunned.

It was gone.

Her face blanched. She felt the blood drain from her face.

The woman guffawed, exposing missing teeth.

She gave Maxine’s shoulder a heavy slap. “Ye ought to know better, young lad!” Chuckling, she walked back into the tavern.

Maxine stood stupefied, staring at the empty spot where her horse had been merely minutes ago.

Bloody tarnation!

Samuel’s horse was stolen!

---

“I do not believe that to be true,” Maxwell told Nicholas, voice seriously sounding dangerous. “It is quite unbelievable to have such an accidental explosion with no fatalities.”

Nicholas frowned at his brother. “And you wish to have fatalities? Are you that morbid?”

Maxwell was silent for a while before he said, “Merely saying it might not have been an accident.”

“Oh, so you have now joined the Town Guards? You now have the skills to investigate such matters and prove that it was not an accident?”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Believe what you may, Nick,” he said. “I’d wager more of this shall happen.”

“We have been very careful with the mines since the big accident that caused us our father’s life,” Nicholas shot back. “The explosion was nothing but an accident that could have been big if not for our well-trained workers.”

Maxwell shrugged. “If you say so.”

Nicholas shook his head. “You simply wish to believe it is otherwise because you always think the worst of every bloody thing.”

“And it had saved us too many times in the mines,” Maxwell retorted. “By the by, mother had sent word. She is at the manor.”

“And?”

“And you know what that entails.”

“Well, I shall be busy,” Nicholas said. “I am coming back to Rock’oles tonight.”

Maxwell shook his head.

“And what does that mean?”

“What?”

“That motion with your head.” He shook his head to demonstrate.

“Nothing,” Maxwell said, a corner of his lips twitching.

“Do not make me force it out of you, Max.”

“I do not care,” Maxwell said, coming to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Mother, of course.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and ?”

“What shall you tell her?”

“Of your absence?” Maxwell asked. Nicholas nodded. “The truth, of course. That you are with a whore.” Nicholas jumped to his feet and Maxwell wryly uttered, “Which I shall deliver as a joke, brother, do not fret.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth. “I am doing this for Ralph and Cole.”

“You do not bloody think Ralph can solve this case. And you hate Devitt’s arse.”

“And so do you.”

Maxwell started for the door. “Which is why I am coming to that dinner instead of Rock’oles.”

As his brother walked out of the door, Nicholas shouted, “Do be sure to smile when you tell that joke, Max! You are such a great failure with jests!”

---

Maxine was utterly angry over what happened with the horse, but she had no one to blame but herself for being so naïve and stupid.

How was she to know that it was not safe to leave her horse unattended outside the tavern when there were people walking past? How was she to know that someone would steal it?

She would have slapped herself now if she were not only inside a hackney with two foxed men who had been laughing at her for no apparent reason. The driver had demanded for her to pay in full and she could not very well climb down and find another hackney. No, not when they were in the middle of a dark road going to Wickhurst.

“Where ye from, lad?” the large man asked before he hiccupped and his friend chuckled.

Maxine ignored him.

“He asked ye a question, pretty boy!” said the other man, kicking Maxine’s seat. She flinched and slid closer to the window.

The two men laughed. The large man kicked her seat once more.

Maxine’s head snapped and she glared at them. And she regretted it.

Her act depicted challenge and they took it quite seriously. They both leaned over and the larger of the two grabbed her coat collar. She fought the gasp that threatened to escape her throat when he harshly pulled her closer, baring his filthy teeth. One tooth was missing. He roared at her face and despite her resolve, her eyes involuntarily closed.

She craned her neck to the side when she smelled the man’s rotten breath.

“We asked ye a question and ye answer!” he shouted at her face.

His companion laughed harder as Maxine fought the man. “Answer, pretty boy!”

The larger man twisted his hand, pulling her closer toward him.

“Where ye from, eh?”

She swallowed and opened her eyes. “T-Thorne,” she lied.

The two men were still for a while before they both turned to look at each other. Maxine hoped that the stories about Thorne were true, that whoever heard of the mention of the notorious estate would cower in fear.

Finally the man let go of her coat but not without throwing her back harshly against her seat. She could not help but glare at the two of them, gaining a little confidence by the slight sign of fear in their eyes.

“Ye work there?” the larger man asked, eyes suspiciously narrowed at her.

“Aye,” she replied, voice growing strong. She cleared her throat and absently straightened her coat. “Lord Thorne would’na be happy if he knows of this, see?” she could not help but add. “He was hopin’ I’d reach Wickhurst with no trouble.”

The two men laughed, although rather forcefully. “We did’na cause ye trouble, young man.”

“Ah, but I lost me horse, see?” she said. “And I fear he would’na take the news very well.” She let the silence linger for a little while before adding, “And Lord Thorne might not believe me if I tell ’im ’tis not ye who stole me horse! See what I mean, me friends?”

The two men blanched.

“Ah, I pray he did’na bring his swords,” she said in a dramatic, mournful voice. “He does love using them, see?”

“He—he is in Wickhurst?”

She vigorously nodded her head. “Aye. And he is expecting me to arrive on horseback.”

The two men looked at her suspiciously. “Thorne does not go to Wickhurst, young lad.”

“Oh, but he does, of course he does!” she said, fighting off a stammer. “In secret,” she whispered.

“I do not believe ye,” the larger man said.

“Thorne would’na hire a nancy!” the other man added.

Maxine shrugged. “Well, whatever ye say, me friends.”

They left her alone after that. They might not believe her, but she knew that they would not also risk bothering her again.

The Lord of Thorne was known to be the son of the devil himself. Most of the stories were farfetched gossips, of course, but it was well to believe them than risk being one of the many alleged victims of his wrath.

Thorne was a name everyone would rather not talk about, yet at that moment, Maxine said a little prayer for the dark, mysterious estate. Whatever it was hiding, whether or not the secrets were true, Thorne had saved her tonight.

---

By the time Maxine reached Wickhurst, she was broke and starving.

The two men who journeyed with her had jumped out of the hackney just before they reached the affluent town, daring not to give her another glance. Maxine noted the usefulness of Thorne’s name for future tragedies.

“Step aside!” the driver of the hackney shouted at her when she did not move out of the way after she climbed out. She was too mesmerized to have thought of anything else.

Wickhurst was indeed a sight to behold.

The buildings were far bigger than anything she had ever seen in Oakley or Marsden. The people who walked along the streets wore far better clothes she had only seen during the Theobald parties. The lamps also glowed brighter, but then perhaps the bigger holes she could see from a distance had more to do with the brightness.

“Out of the way!” someone shouted and she jumped to her feet before a carriage drove past her in a rush. Her heart hammered against her chest but she could not help the smile that crept up her face.

She was here.

She had made it. With the help of Thorne, of course, whoever he was.

She was here!

Maxine turned around and realized that the driver had stopped just as where she had instructed him to. To her right she saw the clear sign that read Vinge Rd . To the left she saw Dosett St.

The hammering in her chest intensified as she slowly turned around, tilting her newsboy hat to look at the large apartment before her.

She looked at the signs once more.

Squaring her shoulders, Maxine took a deep breath.

Nicholas Everard better stay true to his promise because she was now here at the junction between Vinge and Dosett.

VI. The Valet

Maxine was quite aware that the side door was the only form of exit and entry for service people. They were not to enter the main doors unless they were ordered to by their masters.

As she stood facing the wooden side entrance, she wondered which doors bastards such as her ought to use. If she were to ask anyone with strong opinion against bastards, mayhap that someone would point her to the window or the chimney.

Setting her thoughts aside, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

She heard a clashing sound from inside the kitchen followed by a round of laughter. One distinct shrilling laugh was coming closer to the door and Maxine prepared herself. She squared her shoulders and prepared herself as she heard the sound of the lock and the door swung open.

What greeted him was the laughing face of a petite brown-haired maid who seemed startled at the sight of Maxine. But the stunned expression changed to that of curiosity and great interest.

“Hello,” the young woman greeted with a sweet smile as she batted her eyes at Maxine. “How may I be of service, young sir?”

Maxine cleared her throat and tried to offer a small smile in return. “Good day, ma’am. I am here under the invitation of Lord Nicholas Everard. My name’s Max… Max Richeman—not a rich man, but Richman.”

The woman laughed out loud, causing a few more heads to pop into view. One was that of a taller young maid with dark hair, another that of an old woman and two gentlemen who might be the butler and the footman.

“You are funny!” the woman said, giving a small curtsy. “My name’s Molly.”

Maxine bowed. “Nice to meet you, Miss Molly.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Just Molly, Max.” She batted her eyes at her once again.

Maxine smiled. “Molly then.”

“You say you are here on invitation by his lordship?”

She nodded. “Yes. He invited me to apply for the position of footman—his valet, to be precise.”

The larger young man behind Molly jumped to his feet with a smile. “Finally!” He turned to the lanky man beside him. “There you go, Oscar—a valet!”

But it seemed as though the man named Oscar was not quite pleased to see Maxine. He was giving her a speculative look and for the first time since she arrived in Wickhurst, Maxine felt overtly conscious. But she kept her smile to herself and lifted her chin. “I came from the Theobalds.”

The eyes of everyone staring at him widened save for Oscar’s.

“I have Lord Theobald’s referral with me if you wish to see it,” she said, addressing Oscar whom she was now certain to be the butler.

“How marvelous!” Molly said, turning to give the taller young maid an exciting look. “Look, Lottie, someone from the Theobalds!”

Lottie smiled shyly but nodded her head to share Molly’s excitement.

“Do come in, young lad,” the old woman said, waving her hand. “Oscar will inform the master of your arrival.”

Everyone stepped aside to give way for Maxine. She rearranged her bag over her shoulder and walked into the kitchen.

Molly dutifully dragged a chair for her but Maxine did not miss the look of disdain on Oscar’s eyes as the maid continued to stare at Maxine, asking countless questions she could hardly keep up with.

Overwhelmed by the welcoming atmosphere brought about by Molly, Lottie and the old woman, she easily found it easier to think that this might just work. She could be with these people until it was time for her to save more money, move on to Willowfair and find her mother. She could not stay long in Wickhurst for her brother was here.

“This is Fanny,” Molly said, introducing the old lady. “She is the housekeeper. She serves as the cook at the moment as the lady who used to hold the post had recently gotten a better employment elsewhere. This is Lottie, the scullery maid. I am the chambermaid, of course.” She turned to the larger man standing beside Oscar. “This is Albin, the footman. He used to valet for his lordship but he had been quite busy doing many other things. As you can see, we are the entire staff. His lordship does not wish to have a lot as he is not home most often and never entertains parties.”

“You are saving my life, Max,” Albin uttered with a smile. “We may merely have one master, but we do lack an extra pair of hands.”

“And this is Oscar, the butler,” Molly said curtly. “He oversees everything for his lordship.”

Maxine smiled at everyone. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies and gentlemen.”

Oscar finally made a sound and although Maxine was not able to discern it quite well, it did not sound promising. “Until you are hired, you are but a passerby.”

Everyone else turned and glared at the butler who did not even flinch at the murderous stares he was receiving. With a sharp turn, he headed for the doorway that led to somewhere inside the manor. “I shall inform his lordship of your arrival.”

“My referral!” Maxine said, jumping to her feet to retrieve the paper she had written and signed herself using her father’s signature and stamp. She walked over to Oscar, holding out the paper. He snatched it out of her hand and walked away without another word.

“Mind him not, dear,” Fanny reassured. “He is simply a grumpy young man.”

“While other butlers are quite fun, he is amongst the exceptions,” Albin said, sitting on the table, arms crossed over his chest.

Maxine suddenly felt uneasy as all eyes were on her, studying her as if she was a rare creature from aboveground. She let out an awkward smile, settling back in her chair.

“What made you decide to leave Theobald?” Lottie asked, speaking for the first time, her black eyes filled with curiosity.

“I wanted to experience something different, see?” Maxine said, having rehearsed her answers while in the carriage with the two drunkard hours ago.

Molly smiled at her. “Well, everybody wishes to work in Wickhurst!”

“Yes,” Maxine replied.

“What was your post at Theobald?” Albin asked.

She cleared her throat. “I was a second footman.”

Albin frowned. “And his lordship thought you would be a good valet?”

Maxine shrugged. “He thought it is far well to train someone barely trained than have one who has already acquired old habits.”

“Spoken like Nicholas Everard himself,” Fanny said with a chuckle. She turned and walked over to a counter. “You must be hungry. Do eat some cookies and milk.”

Molly caught Maxine’s eyes and she whispered, “Take just one cookie,” her tone filled with warning. Albin nodded his dark brown head behind Molly and turned away with a cough when Fanny turned with a plate full of cookies and a glass of milk in both hands.

Lottie simply laughed and started for the doorway. “I do have many things to do. I hope to see you around the household soon, Max.”

Maxine nodded. “Me, too, Miss Lottie.”

“Just Lottie—just Lottie.”

She nodded and the tall girl walked out with a small wave of her hand.

“Do try the cookies,” Fanny said, pushing the cookie toward Maxine. She carefully chose a piece and took a bite. She did not miss the grimace on Albin’s face as she chewed the tasteless crumbs. Molly was giving her a look of pity.

Bloody hell, it was nearly disgusting!

She forced a smile on her lips. “It is good, Fanny, thank you.”

Fanny flushed and gave a wave of her hand. “Oh, bother not. I know it tastes awful!”

Albin and Molly finally let out a laugh.

Maxine reached for the milk and flushed the taste of the cookie from her mouth. At the same time, Oscar reappeared in the doorway, his prim and proper mien perfectly in place.

“The master wishes to see you.”

Maxine almost choked on her milk. “Now?” she asked Oscar.

The butler nodded once. “Now.”

“Go,” Fanny said. “And leave your things here!” she said, taking Maxine’s bag.

“Go, go!” Molly cheerfully said.

Albin gave her an encouraging look. “Remember, you are my savior. Do make me proud!”

Maxine nodded and followed Oscar who stiffly guided her out of the kitchen and out into the dining hall, across it and into a large hallway.

Nicholas Everard’s apartment was not like the Theobald mansion, but it was clearly expensive. The wooden pillars, the large paintings, the delicate furnishings, everything shouted bachelor and rich. Worthy of an Everard, she noted in her mind as she walked past the staircase into a corridor.

They stopped outside a closed door to the right.

Oscar did not open it for the man took a long moment to study Maxine. His black eyes were making her utterly uncomfortable instead of fearful. Her decision not to hope for the man to show his approval of her was correct for he merely shook his head before he reached for the knob and pushed the door open.

Her heart began to hammer against her chest as Oscar walked into the room and announced, “The young man hoping for the valet position is here, my lord.”

“Of course! Of course!” Nicholas’ voice said from inside.

Maxine looked over her shoulder down at the empty corridor. Could she find her way back to the kitchen, grab her bag and run away? Surely this was not a famous idea!

What was she thinking!

But it was too late to run now. Oscar had turned to her with an expectant and impatient look on his face.

She was frozen in her spot for a moment. Oscar narrowed his eyes at her and impatiently waved for her to come into the room.

With what was left of her strength, Maxine stepped into the room.

Her heart nearly stopped when her eyes beheld the handsome man behind the desk.

He was smiling at her, his green eyes glimmering with familiarity.

Handsome, truly handsome!

“Ah, Max!” Nicholas said, grin growing wider. “Come closer, young lad.”

Oscar gave a short bow and retreated out of the room. Although Maxine was not fond of him, she had the sudden urge to beg him to stay.

“You cannot imagine my surprise when Oscar came to inform me of your presence!” Nicholas said as Maxine walked to stand before him, his study table standing between them.

“Imagine mine, milord,” she said. “Surprise, of course,” she reiterated. “I mean I was surprised as well to have found myself in Wickhurst and here. But I am glad you do remember me, milord.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Ah, I care not why or how you happen to be here. What is of import is that you are here in my household. Albin had been neglecting most of his duties due to lack people, of course. We had been searching for another man to fill the place of the valet.” His smile lingered as he added, “And of course I do remember you. You are the only valet I had encountered who cannot tie a cravat. Add that you up and disappeared after you showed me to my chamber!”

Maxine spread her arms to her side. “And the incompetent one has finally returned, milord.”

Nicholas chuckled. “Give yourself a week, Max, and you shall not be saying the same thing.” She frowned when he laughed once more. “Oh, bloody hell, I do love calling you Max!”

She smiled, not entirely sure why she was trying to sound amused as well when it was obvious she did not know the cause of his humor.

“Very well, I shall leave you in Oscar’s care. He shall discuss with you the conditions of your pay. Albin shall be tasked to orient you of the nature of your work. He does know my preferences and I trust that you can learn fast.” He stood up, fixing his cravat as he did so. “And I do hope you can learn how to tie a cravat like this one.”

Maxine smiled and nodded. “Yes, I believe I shall be able to learn that soon, milord. One of us ought to learn, after all.”

Nicholas stared at her, eyes filled with mirth. “I am on my way to Grey’s tonight,” he informed her, “the place in Wickhurst where I am often found. I believe you have heard of it?”

“It is a gentlemen’s pub, milord.” Samuel had told her about it and her brother had many amusing stories of the place he shared with her.

“Good that you know. You are not so naïve about Wickhurst then, I assume?”

“If I am, I shall try not to be very soon, milord.”

“That is the spirit, Max,” Nicholas uttered, walking around his table.

“Grey’s is a second home, of course. I spend time there when I am not working and should any untoward thing happen in the household, you search for me at Grey’s or at any of my brothers’ residences or the Everard manor.”

“But Grey’s is a pub, milord. How is that home?”

Nicholas laughed. “You do not know me well yet, young man.” He shook his head. “Yet I do have to admit that Grey’s is getting quite boring. You must have heard of my sister’s recent marriage with Wakefield. The man rarely comes to join me and my brothers for drinks and card games and I have my sister to blame! He had been a fun friend before he married.”

Maxine bit her lower lip to keep from giving a retort. He was blaming Ysabella for her husband’s absence in a gentlemen’s pub? No wonder Nicholas Everard was unmarried still!

Nicholas was looking at her, laughter in his eyes. “Well, why don’t we try how well you can do your first task?” he asked, walking closer toward her.

She gulped. “First task?”

Nicholas Everard nodded, his smile rendering Maxine mesmerized. How could one creature be so handsome?

“My coat, Max.”

She heard the words too late, but when she did she jumped to her feet and looked around the room. She found a coat hanging on a rack and she rushed toward it.

She held it open for him and the process of helping him into it was rather awkward for he towered her considerably. But it was done and Nicholas shrugged the remaining inches of the coat over his shoulders for a perfect fit.

Maxine fought the urge to run her hand over his broad shoulders. Instead of endangering the only work she might find in Wickhurst, she clasped her hands into fists beside her.

Nicholas made a sharp turn and faced her, his smile lingering on his lips. “I do love ordering you about, Max,” he said with a chuckle. “You shall hear of many trivial orders in the future.”

Maxine could not quite understand why he found her name amusing, but she smiled nonetheless.

It was not well to displease one’s master.

Nicholas walked to the door, stopped and turned to her. “The door, Max .”

Maxine walked to the door and held it open.

Nicholas was chuckling as he walked past her. “Max! How famous!” his voice was heard saying down the corridor. “I ought to bring you to one of my hunting trips with my brothers!”

With a slight shake of her head, Maxine walked out the study and found Oscar already waiting for her outside. He gave her a strong stare. “Follow me.”

Maxine looked down the corridor and saw Nicholas disappear as he turned to enter the hall.

She could do this, she thought.

She had to.

---

“Should you need a break which is merely an hour during the day, I can take over,” Albin was saying as they stood in the middle of Nicholas’ bedchamber.

Maxine nodded.

“Now, Lord Nick does prefer to be called as such. He owns the Whiston estate just miles off of Wickhurst and he hates to be addressed as Lord Whiston.”

“Why?”

Albin shrugged. “He believes it sounds like whistle and he is not one who can whistle.”

Maxine scoffed and shook her head.

“Now, he does have many preferences, but they are simple things one can do and master.” Albin walked over to show her Nicholas’ wardrobe. “He wants his clothes free of dust so we cover it with linen wrappers.” She followed him to the washstand. “He shaves on his own, but you ought to clean the razor and brushes the soonest you can. He does not like untidy articles.”

Maxine listened carefully as Albin went on, talking about the proper moment to brush damp clothing to free them of roughness, how wide the curtains should be opened, how often should he consult with linen-drapers, tailors and even perfumers, and many other trivial things that Nicholas could in fact do on his own should he only wish to. But then he was Nicholas Everard and he was rich and he could afford to pay for people to do such things for him.

“And what shall I do when the master is out?” she asked, hoping to hear that she could spend the spare time on her own. She would love to have some from time to time to look for ways on how to find her mother.

“You wait for his return, of course,” Albin uttered, walking out of the chamber as she followed. As they walked through the corridor, Albin added, “But there are days when the master would want to bring you, most particularly if he is to spend days out of Wickhurst. He does not bring any when he visits one of his brothers’ estates, but he does bring one when he travels to Willowfair or anywhere else in the Town.”

“But while I wait for his return, what shall I do? Surely I cannot simply stand idle, yes?”

Albin nodded. “Now that there are two of us footmen in the household, I take control of other things that must be taken care of that Oscar refuses to do. That pathetic man does what he merely wishes to do.”

Maxine rolled her eyes at the mention of the butler. It was merely an hour ago when the man narrated the conditions of her pay, what he expected of her and what he did not expect her to do which was considerably far more than the former.

“Now, I must show you around the apartment,” Albin said. “But before that, you must change into your uniform.”

“Of course,” she said.

“The clothes are laid on your bed in our room.”

She blanched. “Our room?”

“Of course. Footmen share one room. Thank goodness Oscar has his own.”

Bloody hell.

“Follow me,” Albin said, tilting his head to the side.

Maxine told herself sharing a room with a man such as Albin was all right. He seemed like a gentleman. It was better than having to share a room with grumpy Oscar.

The room was located at the back of the house along the narrow corridor for service people. She looked around the tiny but neat space. Albin’s bed was to the right, neatly made. Hers was on the other side, merely two steps away from the first bed. On top lay three sets of dark grey trousers, high-buttoned waistcoats, black tailcoats and a derby hat.

“Dare not look so disappointed,” Albin said with a chuckle. “We are not to dress more handsomely than our masters. Masters are not so different from mistresses, you see. I even do believe that they have far more needs than the women!”

She chuckled in response.

“Well, do go on. Get dressed and—”

“Of course,” she uttered, already panicking.

“And while you do so, I will go to the back and talk with Molly. I believe she might want to see how your clothes fit. She could help with any adjustments. She is great at it,” he said with pride.

Maxine sighed in relief when Albin walked out of their room. She rushed to the door. She turned the lock before she began to undress. She rearranged the layers of bandages over her chest, a trick she learned from one of the maids in Theobald to hide the mound of her breasts, and rushed to change into her new uniform.

As expected, everything was loose save for the trousers which had adjustable buttons.

Someone had brought her satchel back inside the room. She checked its contents and found them to be as how she had last arranged them inside. She merely hoped no one had looked inside to see the feminine articles within. With a sigh, Maxine hid the bag under her bed and stood up.

Feeling awkward in loose clothing, she seemed restless. She was used to playing roles with perfectly fit costumes.

There was no mirror and she needed one to arrange her hair neatly. Walking out of the room, she walked back to the hall where a large ornamental mirror hung on one wall. Albin had long hair as well, but he tied it behind his neck and she did the same. She smoothed the rough edges with the palms of her hands. One of the many things Oscar had pointed out earlier was neatness.

Bloody hell, she did look like a pretty boy, really!

No wonder those two bastards from the carriage and the tavern had been laughing at the sight of her!

As she studied her reflection, she could not help but look at herself with distaste. Perhaps she ought to search for Molly herself. She needed to have her clothes adjusted as soon as possible. She looked like she was wearing a dress at the state of how the clothes were hanging over her shoulders. The tailcoat almost reached her ankles!

The sudden knock on the door caused her to jump to her feet. She looked around the hall and found no one there. Was Oscar not supposed to be here answering the door? Was she, Maxine, allowed to answer calls?

The impatient knocking continued and she winced. Hesitating, Maxine rushed to the door.

Ah, bloody hell. She was a footman. She could very well open doors!

The knocking did not stop and it somehow got her cross. Whoever this was, he ought to be carrying important news, otherwise why the impatient knocking?

Not heeding proper grace that butlers often had when opening doors, Maxine pulled the door open.

What greeted her was someone who looked angrier than she. And although she was fighting a scowl, he was already wearing his and she would not be surprised if he had been wearing it all his life.

The man standing before was quite big and his built cast a shadow over her as she looked up at him. His messy shoulder-length hair was giving him an impression of a lion with black mane about to pounce on his prey.

He was glaring at her with vexed green eyes as he demanded, “Who the bloody hell are you?”

Maxine’s breath caught in her throat.

Green eyes.

Bloody hell. Of all the luck she could find!

She was facing another Everard brother.

VII. The Everard Brother

Save for the black hair and emerald green eyes, there was no other sign of Nicholas in this other Everard brother of his.

Maxine thought that she knew them too well from all of Samuel’s stories, but now as she stared at the scowling face of the man before her, she was quite certain why Samuel might have chosen not to talk about him often.

She had seen Benedict Everard, the eldest, in a few Theobald parties before he married. She had also had a glimpse of the youngest brother, Ralph and even Levi, the second brother next to Benedict, when they had to attend a few Theobald parties to accompany their mother.

But this one she had never seen. This was the brother that was rarely mentioned, the one whose name she had forgotten. All that she could remember was that there were five Everard men and this was probably the third brother.

What was his name again? Ah, bother not, she could not remember!

She may not have remembered this brother when Samuel had mentioned him, but she was certain she’d never forget him again after this moment—that was if she was to survive this moment alive for by the look on his face he might already be thinking how to murder her.

His piercing, impatient eyes bore into her and Maxine found that she could not move.

“Where is Nicholas?” he demanded with a snap.

Maxine opened her mouth to speak but the man finally shook his head and walked past her, brushing her aside. “Where the bloody hell is Oscar?” he demanded in a low, wry voice.

For the love of all that was holy, Maxine finally managed to close the door behind her.

“Well?” the angry Everard asked, whirling to face her once more. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “And why are you here?”

“I—I am the new butler,” she uttered and he frowned at her with disbelief. Then she realized what she had said and her face flushed. “I meant I am the new valet, milord,” she managed without a stammer.

“The valet?” he asked, now utterly interested. He peered down at her and walked closer. “You, a valet?”

Maxine blinked and nodded. This must be the brother who scared all his valets away, she thought, remembering Nicholas’ words back in Theobald.

“Milord!” Oscar’s urgent voice said from behind Maxine. “Apologies, milord,” Oscar said, “He is new.”

The frown on the man’s face did not disappear even when he tore his eyes off Maxine to face Oscar. “Where is Nicholas? He is wanted at the manor.”

“We believe he has set out for Grey’s, my lord.”

“Ah, bloody bastard,” the man said, turning on his heels.

“Should I inform his lordship of your—” Oscar started but the man raised his hand to stop Oscar’s words.

“No. I shall find him myself.” He strode past Maxine and stopped, turned to face her and added, “Do not answer the door if you do not know how to speak.”

Her mouth dropped open at the man’s detestable remark. She glared at the broad back walking away from her and she did not notice Oscar standing beside her until the man snapped at her, saying, “Dare not do anything that is not part of your task, valet.”

Maxine slowly turned to frown at Oscar. “But being a valet also requires one to wait on their masters and that includes opening doors.”

Oscar scowled at her. “But Lord Max is not your master.”

Maxine’s eyes widened. “Max?”

Oscar incredulously glared at her. “Maxwell Everard, the Lord of Kenward. You do not know the man? Are you daft?”

Nicholas’ laughing voice rang in her ears. I do love ordering you about, Max…

Upon realizing the reason behind Nicholas’ humor of her name, Maxine felt her blood start to boil inside her.

She gritted her teeth and whirled, turning away from Oscar.

“Where are you going?” the butler asked.

“Wait for my master, of course, sir!” she shot back over one shoulder. “Which at the moment means precisely that—wait!”

---

The entire household was quiet all throughout the rest of the afternoon which Maxine utilized arranging her belongings. She kept the only dress she bought with her, wrapped in linen cover under her bed. The rest she was comfortable showing to Albin was placed in the small closet situated at the foot of her bed.

Molly called for her to go to the kitchen, ordering her to bring along her spare uniforms.

Lottie fought off her laughter upon seeing Maxine in uniform.

“Oh, horrible! Just horrible!” Molly cried out, mouth agape. “Come over, sir, and I shall have your clothes fitted at once!”

Albin watched with fascination as Molly turned Maxine around, taking measurements. Fanny was busily pacing around the kitchen, cooking dinner. Oscar was nowhere in sight much to Maxine’s relief. The grumpy young butler must be somewhere in the household checking if everything was in order.

In her honest opinion, there was nothing much that anyone could do in such household when the master himself was often out most of the day. There was no one to serve!

The longer Maxine spent time with Molly, she started to feel quite uncomfortable. The woman would not stop batting her eyes at her, brushing her hand over Maxine’s shoulders or arms or wherever she could manage. Did the maid fancy her?

Bloody hell!

“We heard you’ve met Lord Max,” Molly whispered with a lopsided grin. She was now taking measurements of Maxine’s trousers.

“Yes,” Maxine replied, sighing with relief when Molly finally stepped away from her.

Lottie had straightened in her chair, great interest on her face.

Molly saw the other girl’s reaction and she chuckled. “Lottie here is smitten with the lord.”

Lottie’s face flushed with color. “I—I—well,” she said, clearing her throat, “that is quite true.”

Maxine found herself laughing along with Molly and Fanny.

“At the very least, there is someone of the opposite sex who fancies Lord Max,” Albin uttered with amusement, eyes on Molly. “Am I correct, Molly?”

“I have to agree,” Molly said, looking up from her notes.

Maxine did not comment. She found it unwise to do so when she barely spent a day in the household. Servants could talk and she did not wish for anything she might say to be reported back to Nicholas.

“What did Lord Max tell you, Max?” asked Fanny.

Albin laughed. “Ain’t it funny how they have the same name?”

“Lord Max’s name is not Max,” Lottie defended. “He is Lord Maxwell.”

“Still Max to most of us,” Albin shot back before he turned his attention back on Maxine. “So, what did he say to you, Max?”

Maxine shrugged. “He snapped at me. My fault, as a matter of fact.”

Molly scoffed and Albin did the same. She gathered Maxine’s two sets of spare uniforms and said, “I shall try to work on the first set this evening so you could wear it by the morrow, Max.”

Maxine smiled. “Thank you.”

She saw Molly’s face flush as the woman waved her hand in dismissal. “Mind not! I do this for everyone.”

“Not for me,” Albin contradicted with a frown.

Molly rolled her eyes. “Because you do not need help, Albin. Your clothes fit you quite perfectly, do they not?”

It was Albin’s turn to flush. He cleared his throat and jumped to his feet. “I ought to go back to work. The guest bedchambers might need a good checking.”

Maxine frowned. “Are we expecting guests?”

“More like pests,” Molly whispered and Lottie gasped at her words, saying, “Molly! You ought not to be talking ’bout ’em in such manner!”

“Well, it is quite true!” Molly defensively said. “Lord Max and Ralph merely come here to sleep and eat when they awaken and then leave when in fact they do have their own apartments!”

Albin shrugged. “At the very least they do not bring the women here. Very well, I must go. Max, be certain his lordship’s chamber is ready when he arrives.”

Maxine nodded.

“We do not want Oscar to berate us all simply because we forgot unimportant details,” Molly whispered as Albin left the kitchen. “Now, while I have nothing left to do, I shall go back to my quarters and start on these,” she said, lifting her uniforms in both arms.

“Thank you very much for this, Molly.”

The woman’s face went scarlet once more. “Oh, you are so dear. I shall see you later, yes?”

Maxine nodded, ill at ease by the woman’s seductive smile.

When Molly was out of the kitchen, Lottie said, “Would you not agree, Fanny, that Molly fancies Max?”

Maxine’s eyes widened with horror and Lottie, upon seeing her reaction, laughed out loud.

Fanny, on the other hand, merely smiled, the sides of her eyes wrinkling in the process. “I do not see why she should not,” she said, studying Maxine. “Max sure is a kind man.”

“But you barely know me to judge me so, Miss Fanny.”

“Fanny, just Fanny, Max,” Fanny said, “And I can feel you are a good man. His lordship would not have hired you otherwise, yes?”

Maxine merely smiled. She swallowed the bitter taste of guilt and turned away from both ladies. “I should find Albin,” she announced. “I am yet to know more about my tasks.”

Lottie and Fanny both said, “Okay then!”

Maxine went out to find Albin whom she found to be more comfortable to be around with than the ladies. Oscar, of course, was no question.

---

Albin was a great companion to pass the time later that night. The man would not cease talking about Molly and her many talents in the household as well as his dreams to work for one of the more affluent lords in the future. Maxine could not help but wonder why the man seemed to find it hard to confess his obvious feelings for Molly.

But it was not her place. She soon forgot such thoughts when Albin talked more about the times he had to spend with Nicholas when he was still serving as his valet.

Maxine was able to forget for a few hours that she had not had proper rest since she left Theobald and that her body was craving for a much needed respite. But Oscar had to ruin the fun when he knocked on their door, reprimanding them about the noise they were creating.

“The master is not even home to hear us,” Albin complained as he went under his covers. He let out a big yawn as he said, “Good night, Max. Forget not to bolt the doors once his lordship is home.”

“Aye,” Maxine replied, standing to her feet. “I will stay somewhere outside. Sitting on this bed pulls at my eyelids.”

Albin muttered something incoherent, already falling into slumber.

---

Maxine awakened with a start when she heard a loud thumping sound from the hall. She jumped to her seat, feeling quite lost with an immense sense of panic. But then she remembered where she was and why she was there and the feeling ebbed away.

Walking out of the dining room, Maxine found the hallway empty and she frowned. She was certain she heard something from out here.

She sauntered toward the bottom of the staircase and looked up to find Nicholas wobbling near the top of the stairs. Jumping to her feet, she rushed up to him.

“Milord,” she said, panting when she reached his side. His eyes were half-closed and it seemed as though he did not hear her. “Milord, let me be of assistance.”

“No, no,” Nicholas said, shaking his head. “I need no assistance.” He turned to her with a surprisingly easy smile. “I am not as foxed as my brothers, Max.”

“Your brothers?”

He nodded, turning to enter his bedchamber. “But I do need assistance undressing, Max.”

“U-undressing, milord? Of course, of course,” she stammered, following him into the room. He was already pulling at his cravat and she caught it when he threw it over his shoulder. He took off his coat next and she tore it off his arms when he had trouble doing so. His shirt followed his coat and Maxine was grateful for the dim lighting and his intoxication for her face had gone scarlet at the sight of his bare torso and shoulders.

The heavens might still be watching her because Nicholas left his breeches alone, walking straight to his bed where he fell and rolled to the center. Maxine placed his clothes on the chair and pulled the covers from underneath him to cover him as he slept.

“My brothers…”

“Yes, milord?” Maxine asked.

“Drawin’ room, Max… brothers.”

Maxine frowned down at him until his words finally settled and she realized what he wanted her to do.

She stepped away from the bed, watching Nicholas’ even breathing under the covers.

Ah, the bastard finally had his slumber after hours of gambling and drinking while she who had to spend nearly a day on a horse and another one in a carriage with two foxed men had not had anything but that short nap in the dining room. And now she was tasked to take care of his brothers.

With haste, she arranged Nicholas’ clothes on the chair and left his room, shutting the door behind her before coming down the stairs to find his brothers in the drawing room.

The sight that greeted her the moment she pushed the doors open was not one she had ever witnessed before. A younger man was on the floor, hugging what appeared to be a vase at first sight but one Maxine later realized to be a spittoon. The other man, the one called Maxwell and the very same man she met earlier that afternoon, was slouched on the chaise, head tilted back and staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes half-closed.

Swallowing hard, Maxine squared her shoulders and went straight to the younger man whom she assumed to be Ralph Everard, her brother’s best friend, the Town Guard. She had seen him a few times in previous Theobald parties, but tonight he looked utterly different—horrible, in fact.

“Milord,” she said in a low voice, bending over the man but he held out his arm, ordering her not to come near.

“A moment, a moment,” he grunted before he made a gagging sound and retched into the spittoon. Maxine jumped away with a grimace.

Why would men drink so much and waste it all into a bloody spittoon?

She looked up and her eyes landed on the man on the chaise.

And then her heart stopped.

He had moved his head to the side and he was staring straight at her, his green eyes looking dark and dangerous. The look he gave her was beyond unnerving. It was as though he was peeling her layer by layer, looking at her in a completely different light, revealing every inch of her secrets.

His lips curved into a lopsided grin and Maxine tore her eyes away from his.

She ignored Maxwell and returned to Ralph’s side, bending over the heaving man.

Ralph stumbled to his feet. Maxine immediately caught his arm to steady him.

“Chamber…” he murmured, his head lolling to one side as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Maxine made a face when she smelled him.

Bloody tarnation!

“Let me escort you to the guest bedchamber, milord,” she managed with a grunt, steering the man toward the door.

Ralph Everard looked younger than his brothers, which was given for he was the youngest. Yet that did not change the fact that the man was heavy and still towered her. It did not help that he could easily lose his balance as they climbed up the stairs. Once, they almost fell backward but Maxine caught the railing before they both fell to their deaths.

Like Nicholas, Ralph fell on the bed the moment they entered the room. She loosened his cravat, removed his shoes and rolled him to the center of the bed. Pulling the covers over him without taking his shirt off, Maxine left the bedchamber and returned to the drawing room.

Maxwell was still in the same position she left him but his eyes were already closed. Through the dim light, she was able to study his features and she made a strong conclusion: the man was scary.

It was not just his long hair, really, but it was his entire look. His brows had a natural frown even while he slept. His lips, though closed, looked as though they were ready to bare his teeth in a snarl. His chin looked rougher than his brothers’ for he had not obviously bothered to shave it smoothly for days.

He looked unkempt, yet clean. He looked bedraggled yet neat all the same.

The stares he had been giving her since the moment they met had rendered her motionless that she was half-grateful his eyes were closed at the moment.

And it was why she could not bring herself to wake him and take him upstairs.

Slowly taking a step back, Maxine decided Maxwell Everard was better off in the drawing room, alone, with Ralph’s spittoon merely a few paces away.

She could always say he had insisted to sleep in the chaise. No one would believe a foxed man’s memory after all.

With that in mind, Maxine turned around to leave Maxwell Everard inside the drawing room. She bolted the main doors and went to claim her well-deserved slumber.

VIII. The New Herald

Maxine had to be literally dragged by Albin from her bed to the door merely five hours since she had fallen asleep.

“We cannot sleep longer than the masters, my friend,” he urged, pushing Maxine to the door when she moaned in protest. “And do not make such sounds. You sound like a nancy!”

Maxine splashed water on her face, her eyes still quite heavy and joined the other servants in the kitchen.

Fanny was already busy cooking the food for the masters while they ate bread and butter and paired them with fresh milk.

Molly disappeared for a while in the middle of her meal and returned with a set of uniforms for Maxine. “I am quite excited to see you wearing them.”

“Thank you, Molly. This is very nice of you,” Maxine said in a low voice, clearing her throat. She looked over at Albin and asked, “What time does the master prefer the curtains to be drawn?”

“No specific time, Max,” Albin said. “Simply count the number of hours since he had fallen asleep. He does love to sleep for over eight hours.”

Maxine frowned. “With or without the influence of spirits?” she asked.

“Yes,” Albin nodded, leaning over to whisper, “but since his brothers are here, you might want to see to them first.”

“Why?”

“Lord Ralph prefers to be awakened by seven. Lord Max is a very light sleeper and he wakes up earlier than anyone. I would not be surprised if you walk into his chamber and find him already awake.”

Maxine swallowed. She would not find Lord Maxwell in a bedchamber.

She looked around. “Where is Oscar?”

Everyone shrugged.

“He does have his own business to attend to every morning, tasks he believes are of paramount importance than anyone else’s,” Molly wryly uttered.

“And that is?”

“Read the Herald, of course, before the master does so he could recommend articles and answer questions if asked.”

“It is part of his work?”

“Not really, no,” Lottie uttered with a shake of her head. “But he is proud of it.”

Albin threw the last piece of his bread into his mouth and rubbed his hands together. “’Twas a good bread, Fanny. Thank you.” He slapped Maxine’s back none too gently and added, “Finish at once, Max. Lord Maxwell, as I have said, is a very light sleeper.”

“But should you not valet for him? You are in charge of guests.”

Albin narrowed his eyes. “Counting tasks, Max?”

Her face flushed. “No, of course not.”

Albin laughed. “Yes, I am in charge of the guests, but I’d rather wait on Lord Ralph. You take Lord Max.”

“But Lord Nick might be up—”

“He will not,” Molly uttered. “He sleeps a lot.”

“Go on,” Fanny said, taking Maxine’s empty plate. “Tell his lordships breakfast shall be ready in a quarter of an hour.”

Maxine wiped her mouth, rushed back to her room and changed into the set of uniform from Molly which were far better than yesterday’s.

She dragged herself to the drawing room, entirely aware that Maxwell Everard would be there. Her heart was pounding heavily against her chest as she pushed the door open. She poked her head inside and her eyes widened when she found it empty.

“Who are you looking for?”

Maxine jumped to her feet in surprise, heart in her throat. At that very moment, she hoped it would be Oscar, there to reprimand her, but no, it was not Oscar.

The voice that spoke behind her was the same one that growled at her yesterday.

She could not move to face the man.

“Mayhap you have forgotten something last night?” the voice asked, closer now. “Or someone perhaps?”

Maxine’s face flushed. “I am sorry, milord!” she uttered, whirling around to face him, head bent. She could not look at him. No, she would dare not look at him!

“Hmm,” Maxwell Everard uttered. “Bloody inept of you, is it not?”

Her jaw tightened. She had merely been serving this household for one day and this man had the audacity to call her incompetent? Her head snapped up, light grey eyes alight with ferocity.

Emerald green eyes hooded by dark, thick brows stared back at her. His gaze was lacking of the rage she had seen yesterday. In fact, it was as if he found the moment rather tedious.

His long hair was everywhere, messily framing his edgy face. A corner of his lips quirked—not a smile, but more like a sneer. “Do you have something to say, valet?”

“No,” she replied through gritted teeth. Taking a step back, she stepped away from Maxwell Everard’s shadow. “Breakfast shall be ready in quarter of an hour, milord.”

She bowed, sharply turned and walked away.

She did not realize how her heart had been pounding in her chest until she was safely in the kitchen. Before she completely disappeared, she looked over her shoulder and found Maxwell Everard staring at her before he turned and disappeared back into the drawing room.

---

Maxine was standing in one corner, in wait with Albin and Oscar, while the three brothers were breaking their fast.

It was like watching three lions hungrily devouring a carcass after months without food. The way they did it was entirely improper. She could have sworn that the Everard brothers broke all etiquette in the duration of their meal.

Intent to never look at Maxwell Everard, Maxine contented herself by staring dreamily at Nicholas as he finished his food. He looked far more handsome in the morning, she concluded.

Ralph Everard seemed better, his face gaining more color now as he read the latest issue of the Town Herald.

She wondered if Lottie had seen the spittoon from last night.

“These bloody photos are pathetic at best,” the youngest of the three said, throwing the paper toward Nicholas, drawing Maxine back to the present.

Maxine’s jaw tightened. She could not help it. Samuel was rather proud of the new Herald and Ralph, his own best friend, was making a mockery of it.

Nicholas flipped through the pages with a frown, his expression the same of that of Ralph’s. “They never get it correctly. Have you seen this, Max?” he asked.

Maxwell merely shrugged, attention fully on his plate.

Nicholas shook his head. “Whoever this photographer is, I want to meet him. Should we consider consulting Devitt? This must be illegal!”

Maxine’s brows arched at his statement. Surely he could not be serious?

And as though Nicholas had heard her thoughts, he turned to her. He motioned with his head, beckoning her to come to him. She did as ordered and he turned the paper so the photo faced her. “Tell me if you recognize me in this photo at all,” he ordered. “And dare not lie.”

Maxine looked at the photo. It appeared to have been taken from a ball. She cleared her throat and realized that Ralph and Maxwell were also looking at her, waiting for her reply. “Yes, milord, I do.”

“How?” Nicholas demanded.

She cleared her throat once more, ignoring Maxwell Everard’s vexing gaze. “I just do, milord. If you do not believe me, that is you, is it not?” she said, pointing at his picture standing beside his mother and Ysabella.

“Ha!” Nicholas said in disbelief. He waved with his hand and she returned to her corner.

Ralph was frowning as he snatched the paper from Maxwell. “I do not see what your valet sees, brother.”

“So do I!” Nicholas said in agreement.

“You ought to have your eyes checked,” he said to Maxine.

“My eyes are tremendously fine, milord,” she retorted with pride, late to see Oscar’s warning glare. She was not expected to offer a reply to Nicholas’ statement.

Maxine thought she had to have a break from the tension in the room, both elicited by Oscar and Maxwell Everard. She walked over to Albin and whispered that she had not yet fixed Nicholas’ room.

“Go,” Albin whispered, “before Oscars sees it!”

---

Maxwell saw the valet leave the room after talking to the other footman.

“Your valet is quite odd, Nick,” he uttered dryly.

Nicholas frowned. “You mean the new one?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

He merely shrugged. “Just so.”

“He is new and still is adjusting, but he is doing fine.”

It was Maxwell’s turn to frown. “He does not seem to be the one who could properly tie a cravat,” he carefully said.

“Everyone is bloody incompetent for you,” Nicholas shot back, reading between into his words. “And I do like the lad’s name.”

“Name?” Ralph asked. “Care share.”

Nicholas smiled widely and his eyes glimmered with mirth as he looked at Maxwell to say, “Max.”

“What?”

Nicholas shrugged. “Max.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“My valet’s name is Max!” Nicholas elaborated with a laugh. He turned to Ralph. “Bloody famous is it not?”

Maxwell scowled as Ralph chuckled in amusement.

“I do feel as though I order you around whenever I call his name,” Nicholas admitted, shoulders shaking in laughter.

“I do not see the humor,” he said through his teeth.

“Ah, you shall not be served by him. Why do you care?” Nicholas as Ralph joined in his laughter. “Max is innocently funny, I tell you. I met him at the Theobald party where he was working as a footman. I invited him here.”

“This year’s Theobald party?”

“Of course!”

Maxwell stared at his brother for quite some time before asking, “And the lad agreed?”

“Not instantly, no,” Nicholas said. “He simply appeared in my doorsteps yesterday, see?”

When he did not offer further comment, Nicholas narrowed his eyes at Maxwell. “Dare not apply your cynical thoughts upon my servants, Max. They are not under your employ to begin with.”

He merely shrugged. What else could he say?

---

Later that day, Ralph Everard finally left to go home but much to Maxine’s disappointment, Maxwell stayed to sleep more in one of the chambers in the west wing.

She was on her way to Nicholas’ study to inquire if he needed anything while he worked when she met Maxwell in the corridor. She stepped aside, head bowed, expecting him to walk past her.

But of course he did not.

He stopped to order, “Send food to the study at once.”

“Yes, milord,” she said through her teeth.

Nicholas barely gave her orders since breakfast and yet here was his brother, ordering her about.

She was wondering if their servants at Theobald were thinking the same thing every time they were to serve other guests. Was it normal for her to feel irked whenever she received a command from Maxwell Everard himself? Or was it simply the man?

As she entered the study with a plate of sandwiches and lemonade that Fanny hurriedly prepared minutes ago, she realized that Nicholas and Maxwell were talking about jewels.

“This year was not as great as the last,” Nicholas said. “Mayhap we ought to change the designs?”

“I do not see problems with my designs,” Maxwell snapped. “Ben said that last year was simply big because harvest had been good. Harvest means money to many. This year had been poor to many plantations.”

Maxine carefully placed the tray to one side and carried the plate to Nicholas’ desk. She turned and walked back to get the lemonade.

“No, I do not—” Maxwell started to protest when she placed his glass in front of him, moving his hand in the process and causing the glass to tilt in her hand. The contents poured over the table and on his lap. “Bloody hell!” he shouted and she jumped back in alarm.

His face had gone dark as he stared at her in disbelief and fury.

Nicholas was chuckling as he stood to escape the running liquid.

“P-pardon me, milord,” she stammered, eyes wide. “I did not mean to—”

“Get the butler!” Maxwell ordered.

“But—”

“If you cannot do your task properly, valet, get the bloody butler!”

“But I would have done my task without accident if you did not wave your hand, milord!”

“What did you say?” Maxwell demanded, voice raised higher.

“I merely wanted to point out, milord, that—”

“Get the bloody butler!”

Nicholas’ chuckle turned to laughter. Maxine veered her head to look at Nicholas, unsure if she ought to follow his brother’s orders. Nicholas gave her a gentle smile and nodded. “Go find Oscar. My brother’s fury shall not subside if you do not,” Nicholas said.

“Bloody tarnation!” Maxwell was saying as Maxine stormed to the door. “What the bloody hell do you find amusing?” she heard him ask as she closed the door.

“Max, of course.” Maxine stopped to listen through the small opening.

“The valet.”

“Of course! No one would dare answer back when you are that furious, Max—no one! And I say I have finally found the perfect valet!”

She smiled with relief. Nicholas was not angry. That was the only thing she was concerned of at the moment. He was her master after all.

With that thought in mind, she turned and found Oscar in the hall. “His lordship is looking for you,” she informed him and escaped to the kitchen before Oscar could learn of the accident in the study.

---

Molly was having a rest in the kitchen, drinking lemonade and the same sandwiches their master was eating upstairs, talking about her own first day as a servant many years past, when finally Oscar found Maxine.

The look on his face was evidence enough that he learned of the accident. Molly stopped talking when Oscar came forward to say to Maxine, “If you cannot do your tasks well, remember that I do have the power to have you fired and evicted from the house.” He threw Molly a look before he returned his dark gaze on her. “And do stop flirting with the maids and do your job!”

Maxine jumped to her feet as Molly scowled at the young butler. She rushed to the doorway and stopped. “Sir,” she said, turning to Oscar. “Do you mean I ought to go back to the study? I was given the impression that Lord Maxwell does not wish me to serve him.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “He ordered for more sandwiches. Go and take a tray to them and apologize once more!”

“Yes, sir!” Maxine jumped and ran over to Fanny.

At the door, Maxine stopped to listen. Mayhap by doing so she could get a sense of the lion’s current mood.

She sighed with relief when she heard them talking about something entirely different.

“Do you truly believe that Osmund Trilby’s death years before had given way for Noah Trilby to be amongst the Town Leaders this year?” Nicholas was asking as Maxine reentered the room.

She immediately saw Maxwell glowering at her but she ignored it.

“Yes, although we shall not see the same sentiments on the Herald, considering how the paper does not truly does its job,” he answered his brother, eyes still on her. She did not have to see to know for she could feel it. Placing the tray of sandwiches on the table, she started to turn.

“I thought I asked for the butler?” Maxwell told her before Nicholas could say anything in reply.

“Bloody hell, Max, give my valet a break!” Nicholas groaned.

Maxine slowly turned and to face Maxwell. She forced a smile on her face. “I was ordered by the same butler to return and deliver the sandwiches, milord. And to relay my pardon once more.”

Maxwell Everard stayed silent. She smiled as he glared at her. “And?” he finally asked.

“And I just relayed my pardon, milord,” she answered his unspoken question.

Nicholas guffawed.

Maxine bowed and left the room to wait outside, fully aware that Maxwell’s eyes were throwing daggers at her back.

---

Very much later, after almost an hour inside the study, the door finally opened and Maxwell walked out. She straightened her back as he walked by, intending to return inside the study to wait on Nicholas.

But as if it had already become a habit of his, the lion paused right in front of her and said, “I am leaving.”

“Yes, milord. Have a nice day, milord,” she replied with a bow.

“You must be happy to see me go,” he said, voice almost menacing and filled with warning. He was telling her he was leaving but he would soon be back and he did not expect the same incident to happen again.

He did not wait for her response and walked away but she could not help but say, “Quite so, yes,” as response to his statement.

He glared over his shoulder and she rushed inside Nicholas’ study to escape before he could come back and strangle her.

IX. The Sober Lord

Ralph was once more absent at Grey’s. Months of investigating the slavery case had eaten most of his time, leaving Nicholas and Maxwell at the mercy of their other friends who were either too bloody drunk before the fun started or out early to dally with their lovers.

Nicholas may be a rake, but he did not prefer to have mistresses as he could always go to Rock’oles. The women might be more expensive, but nothing could compare to how much one would have to spend on one mistress alone. Maxwell, on the other hand, had lovers every now and then, but he was not one who would keep them for long. He found the entire business in keeping a mistress tedious and clamoring for a woman’s attention at Rock’oles pitiful.

“Should we pack our bags and go around Town?” Nicholas asked Maxwell.

“Why?”

“Wickhurst is proving to be quite a bore, is it not?”

“Truly?” a voice asked behind them.

They both turned to see Cole Devitt standing beside William Wakefield, both men grinning at them as though they enjoyed Nicholas and Maxwell’s present pitiful condition.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Nicholas demanded at their two brother-in-laws.

“Margaret does not mind,” the brown-haired Devitt replied, walking over to the chair beside Maxwell. “In fact, it was her she who suggested I stay away from my study and be at Grey’s.” He raised his hand to get the server’s attention.

“I, on the other hand, have the freedom of a good husband,” Wakefield said with a sneer, signaling the server for his drink, taking the seat beside Nicholas.

“I do not believe Ysabella would readily agree to you being here,” Nicholas said, “considering how this place was practically your home before you married.”

Wakefield’s blonde locks moved as he shook his head. “Oh, no, she did say yes.”

“After she learned that I shall be in his company,” Cole added.

Nicholas and Maxwell both scoffed. “I have to admit you had been quite fun before you married,” Nicholas said to Wakefield.

“But he can no longer have the same fun, can you, Wakefield?” Maxwell asked Wakefield, his tone laced with warning.

Wakefield groaned. “Of course,” their brother-in-law answered wryly.

“By the by,” Cole asked, looking around, “has Ralph returned yet?”

“No,” Nicholas said. “Still on that bloody case.” Cole made no comment as the slavery case was a sensitive case and even Wakefield could not be privy to it.

“I have heard of the accident in the mines,” Wakefield said, voice turning serious. “You ought to be grateful no one was fatally hurt.”

Nicholas nodded. “But Max here believes a different theory.” He inclined his head toward Maxwell.

Maxwell let out a heavy sigh. “I do not expect you to believe it. Stop telling everyone.”

But he had already caught Cole’s attention and his brother-in-law frowned at him. The bastard reminded Maxwell that he was the Head of the Man of Courts in Wickhurst and that he was married to their sister who was a member of the League of Founders. If there was anyone who would take his claims seriously, it would be Cole and his wife, Margaret. “What led you to believe so?” Cole asked.

“The fact that everyone came out alive,” he muttered dryly.

“But you must be grateful none died!” Wakefield uttered.

“Exactly what I told him,” Nicholas said.

“An explosion that happened at the least expected location in the mine ought to be considered malicious,” Maxwell countered.

Cole was silent for a while before he said, “You believe the bomb was planted.”

Maxwell merely shrugged.

“A sabotage?” Wakefield asked.

He shrugged once again.

“But who?” Nicholas pressed.

He gave his usual reply: a shrug.

His brother scoffed and shook his head. Nicholas turned to Cole and Wakefield. “I would give anything for a longer explanation from my brother. It is quite frustrating, is it not?”

Wakefield nodded. Cole simply stared at Maxwell.

“Presenting a different topic, Devitt,” Nicholas said, turning his full attention on Cole. “What say you to Noah Trilby having gained a new position as one of the Town Leaders?”

Maxwell waited for Cole’s reaction. Years ago, Cole had had an encounter with the Trilbys, particularly Noah Trilby himself. One of the two girls Cole and Margaret had adopted, Fiona, was a Trilby. Fiona was the daughter of Noah Trilby with his first wife, Julia Carrington who was sentenced to death for multiple crimes against her family. They did what the Trilbys were best at: they kept the child from society due to the scandal her mother caused. The Trilbys kept the child a secret until Osmund Trilby’s death.

Osmund was a former Town Leader that Cole Devitt had been investigating. The same day Cole visited him, Osmund Trilby ended up murdered in his own home. His son, Edmund Trilby, took Fiona to Cole’s care, claiming that the child had witnessed her uncle’s murder and the people responsible for the murder wanted her.

To make matters worse, the League of Founders started to investigate Cole, believing he might have been responsible for Osmund Trilby’s death.

Maxwell was not privy to everything that happened that year. All he knew was that Fiona was abducted while in Cole and Margaret’s residence after they had married. It was Noah Trilby who took her. Cole and Margaret managed to claim Fiona back with the help of the Haverstons from Willowfair. One of them was married to Fiona’s aunt, Belinda, sister of Julia Trilby.

Everything did not end up as clear as Maxwell had hoped. All Cole and Margaret told the Everards was that Fiona was to be protected from the Trilbys, particularly her father, Noah. They did not manage to file a case against the man as they lacked evidence of the abduction, add the fact that he was Fiona’s father and he had claims on her.

Maxwell knew that Cole and Margaret, including Edmund Trilby and the Haverstons, knew the true story behind Osmund’s death. They may claim that the man was killed by the people he worked with in the illegal slave trade, but Maxwell knew that his sister and Cole had found out who killed the man.

He had long decided that it was better to let the two keep the secret to themselves. Cole, after all, was still working on the slavery trade and Maxwell was led to believe that the Trilbys were still involved.

Now, years after Osmund Trilby’s death, another Trilby was given power over the Town. Noah Trilby, if he was involved in the slave trade like his deceased brother, would prove to be another difficult case for Cole.

“The Trilbys are close to the Osegods.” Cole’s voice drew Maxwell back to the present. “It is not a surprise he gained a chair amongst the Leaders.”

“Do you fear that he will take Fiona?” Nicholas asked. The Everards had by now considered Fiona as one of their own.

“The Haverstons would not allow it,” Cole tightly said. “And so do Margaret and I.”

“Edmund, too,” said Nicholas.

“I do not know the entire story, gentlemen,” Wakefield uttered, “but I do have an inkling as Ysa had shared what she knows. But who the bloody hell is Edmund?”

“Edmund Trilby is Fiona’s cousin,” Maxwell provided.

“He saved the young girl from his own family—the greatest thing a Trilby could ever do,” Nicholas said, leaning against his chair with a sigh. “I pity the young man, truly. His father died an evil bastard and he had to take his cousin away from his family’s wrath.”

Wakefield slowly nodded. “I have heard Fiona talk about him. He is the Eddie she has been talking about?”

“No other,” Cole said. “But I do not wish to discuss any of my daughters here.” He turned to Nicholas. “Nor do I wish to discuss Noah Trilby. The bastard shall have his day in court.”

Maxwell snorted. The three men turned to look at him. “What does that mean? That snort?” Nicholas asked.

Maxwell shrugged.

His brother groaned. “Bloody hell, Max, care to give the corresponding words to that shrug?”

Maxwell found explanations tedious and unnecessary, but he had long accepted the fact that even his family could not decipher his unspoken words so he patiently said, “It would be a bloody difficult thing, Devitt, considering how the Trilbys have the protection of the Osegods.”

“Osegod may have the highest position in the assembly of the Town Leaders, Max,” Nicholas said, “but he is but a man. The entire bloody Town may be under his rule—”

“Except Tiny Town,” Wakefield reminded. “Tiny Town has immunity from the Town Leaders.”

“Precisely my point,” Nicholas said, nodding. “As I was saying, the entire Town might be under Osegod’s rule at the moment, but we all know that he does not have any hold on the League of Founders and Tiny Town.”

Cole had been quiet for a long time. He did not talk about the League of Founders with anyone but the Everard brothers. No one but them knew that Margaret was a member, not even their mother and sisters and that included Wakefield. But something in Cole’s expression gave Maxwell the impression that the man was quiet not because of Wakefield’s presence, but of something else.

“Care to share, Devitt?” he asked his brother-in-law.

Cole gulped down his drink and sighed. When he finally spoke, his voice was grave. “Tiny Town may very well be under Osegod’s reign despite the town’s claim that they do have immunity and that they are an independent state.”

Nicholas straightened in his chair, Wakefield leaned closer and Maxwell narrowed his eyes. All of them waited for Cole’s next words.

“Tiny Town is essentially being ruled by the Trilbys themselves. They have estates and plantations surrounding Tiny Town. Their opinions greatly matter on everything the place decides on.”

“And the Trilbys are close to Osegod,” Wakefield said with awe.

Cole wryly smiled. He emptied his drink. “Bloody hell, I did not come here to talk about politics. My wife has been hoping I would forget about all of it tonight.”

Maxwell watched as Nicholas quickly changed the topic. He tried to brush aside the concerns he had been keeping regarding Margaret and her work with the League. Merely months ago, he had caught his sister talking with a fellow Leaguer about a plan to oust Osegod. Margaret might have claimed to have nothing to do with the mission, but she was still part of the League and if Osegod were to find out of her connection to the secretive society, he could very well use his power to ruin the Everards.

Mayhap he ought to have a talk with his sister. She must, at all cost, free her hands of Osegod.

---

A loud commotion erupted from the great hall and Maxine jumped to her feet, wide awake, and rushed out of the dining room.

She stopped in her tracks when she found more than two people wobbling their way into the drawing room.

Jumping to her feet, she rushed to the door and almost bumped against Nicholas.

“Ah, Max,” he said with a wide grin. “Perfect timing.”

He did not seem foxed but the sounds elicited by the men inside the drawing room told her that her master brought home more than she could muster for the night. Again.

“Would you care to take care of them for me?” Nicholas asked, giving her shoulder a heavy pat before walking toward the staircase.

Maxine closed her eyes to calm herself.

You are a valet. You are a servant, she reminded herself.

Drawing a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the drawing room.

Ralph Everard was not amongst the three men, but Maxwell was. Swallowing the frustrated groan back in her throat, she walked over to the chaise were the three men were slouched. Maxwell was quiet while the other two kept muttering and groaning in intervals.

“Cravat,” Maxwell ordered, peering at her through his half-closed eyes.

Gritting her teeth, Maxine walked over to him and pulled at his cravat to loosen it. She gasped when he caught her hand and leaned closer to peer at her through his lashes. His hair was a mess as it seemed to always be. Maxwell Everard narrowed his eyes and Maxine had the urge to step back and escape once again.

But to her surprise, he let go of her hand and fell back against the chaise, eyes closing. She let out a sigh and studied his state. Foxed but comfortable. He’d have to spend another night in the drawing room, she surmised.

Turning to care for the two men on the chaise, Maxine frowned. The man with dark brown hair seemed familiar, yet she could not truly point out who he was. Mayhap she had seen him in one of the Theobald parties.

Veering her eyes to the man in the middle of the chaise, Maxine stepped back in alarm. Her heart started to hammer against her chest.

She recognized the blonde lord. He was William Wakefield, Ysabella’s husband—the same one who saw her outside her corridor in Theobald!

Wakefield’s eyes were closed, but Maxine knew she could not risk being found. Whirling on her feet, she rushed out of the drawing room to wake Albin. The man could take care of Wakefield while she assisted the other man.

Albin woke with a start when Maxine rushed in and shook him from his slumber. “What is it?” he asked.

“I am sorry,” Maxine said over him, “but I need your help.”

Minutes later, Albin was pulling at Wakefield who was loudly groaning, muttering that he could not go up the stairs for he had to go home to his wife.

Albin sighed. “Should I call for his driver?” he asked Maxine.

Maxine shrugged.

“Ah, bother not,” Albin said. “The man is probably asleep by now, considering the time. Mayhap they could stay here.” He looked at the other man and turned to Maxwell. “You take care of Lord Max.”

Maxine swallowed. “Me?”

“Of course,” Albin said. “I’ll take care of Lord Devitt and Wakefield.”

So the other man was Lord Devitt, she thought. He was the Head of the Man of Courts if she could remember correctly. And he was married to Margaret Everard. Ah, of course. She remembered now.

“No need for help,” Maxwell’s voice uttered, causing Albin and Maxine to jump in surprise. He was already pushing away from the chaise. “I shall find my way… find my way.”

Albin pushed Maxine toward Maxwell. “Go,” the footman ordered.

Maxine sighed and walked over to Maxwell. “Let me guide you, milord.”

Maxwell looked down at her and scoffed. “You cannot even properly carry a glass of lemonade,” he droned with a dry laugh. “You expect to carry a lord to his bedchamber?”

She forced a smile. “Fret not, milord, nothing shall be spilled in this task,” she replied, taking him by the arm to steer him toward the door.

“Your tone tells otherwise,” he grumbled, stumbling in his steps. “You are short to stating that blood might be spilled.”

Maxine’s lips quirked. “Wise conclusion, milord,” she said with a grunt.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Nothin’, milord,” she snapped. She looked over her shoulder to see Albin helplessly looking down at Lord Devitt and Wakefield, hands on his hips.

Mayhap she did have the easier task tonight. She could not face William Wakefield, foxed or not.

---

Maxwell was not as foxed as he appeared to be. In fact, he was entirely capable of finding his way to the guest bedchamber without the valet’s help.

But he was curious of the valet.

This young fellow was not the usual sort and he wondered why his brother even bothered to hire this incompetent one. He was certain that if he leaned his full height on the man, they would both find themselves flat on the floor.

When they finally reached the bedchamber, the valet opened the door. He went straight to the bed and fell.

“Would you wish to have your clothes removed, milord?” asked the valet.

He rolled his head to the side. His eyes studied the small form standing by the bed. “No,” he said and the valet made a move to walk away. “But care to open my shirt,” he ordered.

He watched as the servant’s shoulders stiffened before turning to face him.

He caught the valet’s hand when he reached for his loosened cravat. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice clear and serious.

The valet’s eyes registered alarm. Maxwell confirmed that the valet was not here for mere employment.

“Answer my question.”

“Max, milord. My name’s Max,” he answered.

He looked down at the hand he was holding. “And you say you are a valet.”

“Yes, milord.”

He looked up at the valet once again. “Soft.”

The valet frowned. The room was dim and he could barely make out his features. “Milord?”

“Soft. Your hand is soft,” he explained. “Why?”

Max’s mouth hung open. “Should it be rough?”

Anger rushed through him. He had no time to spare for useless chatters.

Maxwell pulled at her hand and sat up in bed. He heard the valet’s gasp of surprise. “I do not appreciate the sarcasm, valet,” he gritted out. “Now answer my question.” He pulled Max closer until he was looking into scared pale grey eyes. “Who are you and what are you doing in my brother’s estate?”

X. Husbands and Wives

Maxine was frozen in shock.

Maxwell Everard’s gaze was not simply furious, but knowing all the same.

Did he know? Did he see through her disguise?

“I am merely a man lucky enough to be employed by your brother, milord,” she managed to utter without a stutter. The panic she had felt seconds ago seemed to have given way to a much needed faculty—survival. “Whyever would you think otherwise?” she added, pulling her hand away from his strong hold.

He let her go, emerald green eyes nearly black with unspoken fury and confusion. It was then that Maxine realized the man was merely provoking her—taunting her to satisfy his curiosities. She might have done something wrong to have caused him to suspect her and she vowed to correct that.

“You may have managed to fool everyone, valet,” Maxwell Everard spoke, voice filled with warning, “but not I. I have seen many valets in my life and you do not compare to any of them.”

Maxine stepped away, lifting her chin. “Mayhap I am not like most valets, milord, thus the reason why your brother took me under his employ,” she uttered with pride.

He merely narrowed his eyes. “One fair warning, lad,” he uttered, falling back into the bed, “you do not mess with my family.”

Maxine’s jaw tightened. “I would not dream of it, milord,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Good night, milord.” She tried her best to nonchalantly turn and walk to the door.

To her great relief, Maxwell Everard did not stop her.

Her heart started to hammer against her chest as she rushed back to her room. Albin was already inside. The man frowned upon seeing her face.

“Bloody hell, Max, what did the bastard do to you?”

“Nothin’,” she murmured, kicking off her shoes. She went under the covers and faked a yawn. “Good night, Albin. See you on the morrow.”

But while Albin resumed his sleep, Maxine stayed wide awake in bed.

She ought to get out of Wickhurst soon.

This was foolish. She must not have come here. Lord Wakefield was here, the very same man who could identify her and blow her cover. She must not wait until Ysabella Everard would come and find her, or worse, Samuel to walk through the doors and discover her here.

---

There must be a good reason why Nicholas was in a very good mood the following morning. He was humming while he shaved and Maxine could not help but smile and wonder as she held the mirror for him. Why was he happy?

“I am in a rather great mood today, Max,” he said after he rinsed and as Maxine handed him the towel.

“I have noticed, milord,” she said with a smile.

“Do you know why?” he asked, turning to face her, emerald green eyes glimmering with mirth.

“No, milord, I am afraid I do not.”

“Ah,” he uttered, throwing the towel to the side. Maxine rushed to pick it up, shaking the image of his handsome, clean face off her mind. “Of course you do not know.” He went to pick up a cravat, took a good look at it and shook his head. “Mind not,” he said, “I do not need one today. What I need is to be downstairs before the commotion starts.”

“The commotion, milord?” Maxine asked, baffled.

“Why, of course! The reason why I am ecstatic!”

“You are quite excited for a commotion?”

“Yes,” he said, rushing to the door. “You shall find out soon enough.”

Maxine did find out sooner than she had anticipated. She was standing in one corner with Albin and Oscar, trying her best to ignore Maxwell Everard’s gaze. But it also seemed as if the man had completely forgotten the events of last night for he was not giving her the same amount of attention he had been giving her in previous days.

As a matter of fact, he seemed to share Nicholas’ excitement.

Maxine waited for the commotion Nicholas was talking about when a series of sounds erupted from the hallway and Oscar rushed out of the dining room in alarm to see what it was.

She saw Nicholas and Maxwell share a look, eyes glinting with wickedness, as they nonchalantly continued their breakfast.

“Where is he?” a female voice was demanding from the hallway and Maxine immediately knew that Lord Devitt and Wakefield were still in residence.

Before she could think of anything else, a black-haired woman walked into the dining room. To Maxine’s great relief, it was not Ysabella. But she also knew this woman as she had been to many Theobald party, accompanying Lady Alice.

Margaret Everard-Devitt sauntered into the dining room, eyes narrowed at her brothers. “Where is my husband?”

Nicholas paused and looked at his sister. He shrugged. “Probably still passed out in the drawing room, my dear.”

Margaret crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you do last night?”

“The usual,” Maxwell wryly replied.

Their sister did not seem to like the answer. “The usual?”

“Of course,” Nicholas said with a smile. “Would you care to join us, sister?”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed further. “I was sick of worry the moment I realized he has not come home!”

“Should you not be telling your husband that?”

With a scoff, Margaret whirled around and walked out of the room.

Maxine watched as Nicholas and Maxwell chuckled before resuming their breakfast. Not a minute longer, she heard a commotion from outside the dining room, probably inside the drawing room.

“I have told you not to drink too much!” Margaret’s voice was saying.

A voice replied, probably that of her husband, but it was hard to discern as it sounded more of a painful moan than a statement.

Nicholas was the first to throw his napkin on the table, jumping on his feet, saying, “I want to see this,” followed by Maxwell. The two men rushed outside.

“Max! Albin!” Nicholas’ voice soon followed and Maxine and Albin jumped to follow the group outside.

Maxine and Albin found Margaret with her hands on her hips, looking at her husband as the man struggled to stay on his feet, arms wound around Oscar’s shoulders.

“Never mind,” said Nicholas, grinning from ear to ear, “I believe Oscar can manage.”

Maxine winced when she saw Oscar’s flustered face.

“This shall be the last time, Cole,” Margaret said.

“Told me to go!” was her husband’s reply.

“Yes, but not to get brutally foxed!”

“Should’ve suggested the library then!”

Nicholas guffawed. Maxwell snickered. Margaret turned to her brothers with a murderous look in her eyes.

Nicholas raised his hands. “Dare not blame us, sister. Your husband is correct. You told him to go to Grey’s and you very well know what happens at Grey’s!”

Margaret scowled but did not say anything. She followed her husband and Oscar out the door where a carriage was already waiting.

“Until next time, Devitt!” Nicholas cried out.

Margaret glared at him. “I would not go as far as berate you both,” she said with a smile. “For I am certain someone shall do it for me soon.”

Nicholas and Maxwell shrugged. They both turned to peek into the drawing room.

“The bastard’s still asleep!” he said with a loud laugh. He and Maxwell returned to the dining room.

Maxine and Albin waited until Oscar returned, breathless. “Should anyone look for me, I shall be in the kitchen,” he snapped at Albin.

Albin and Maxine watched with amusement as the arrogant butler disappeared, easily tired after that one task.

“Close the door, Max,” Albin ordered, grinning widely, walking away.

Maxine walked to the door, closed it and turned, intending to return to the dining room. But before she walked away, a loud knocking sound came to the door.

She rolled her eyes. Surely Nicholas had better mornings than this one, yes?

Whirling on her feet, she walked over to the window to see the new visitor.

And her eyes widened in horror.

It was a very angry Ysabella Everard.

---

Maxine rushed into the dining room and found Albin. She noticed Maxwell following her movements but ignored it.

“Lady Ysabella is at the door.”

Albin’s eyes widened. “Well, did you allow her entry?”

“No.”

“Whyever not!” the footman hissed.

“I—I—Oscar has given specific instructions that I am not allowed to open doors,” she uttered the truth. “And—and I missed to take the paper into the dining room. I must get it now,” she lied.

Albin shook his head and walked out of the dining room.

“Where is my husband?” Ysabella’s angry yet familiar voice boomed from the hall.

Maxine panicked.

Nicholas jumped to his feet, excitement on his face. Maxine sighed with relief when he rushed out to meet his sister in the hall.

She would have loved to see the scene in the drawing room, but she could not risk being recognized by Ysabella or her husband. And so Maxine contented herself in listening to the ruckus outside.

It was only then that she noticed that Maxwell did not join his siblings. He stayed and continued with his meal as though his sister was not about to cause murder outside.

Maxine swallowed and pretended she was in another place. “The paper, valet.”

Maxine flinched at the sound of his voice.

She blinked. “Milord?”

“The paper. You told the footman you missed to take the paper to the dining room,” Maxwell said, one thick brow arched. “Where is it?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” she said, stiffly turning away from him to disappear into the kitchen. She knew the man’s eyes were following her.

Why could he not focus his attention on someone else? Why did it have to be her? Was she utterly suspicious?

She nearly squealed in surprise when she bumped into Molly and Lottie. The two servants were standing at each side of the doorway, listening to the ruckus outside. Ysabella was not talking about how she could box better than her brothers and it was apparent she was talking to her husband.

“Who opened the door?” Oscar asked from one corner. He seemed fine now, but it appeared as if he was not intending to return to the drawing room anytime soon. Lord Wakefield was far heavier than Cole Devitt.

“Albin, sir,” she replied.

“And why are you here?” Oscar asked with a frown. You must go back—“

“Lord Maxwell is asking for the paper,” she murmured.

Molly jumped to her feet. “I shall get it for you, Max,” the maid said, rushing out of the side entrance.

Oscar’s eyes followed the maid until she disappeared from the kitchen. He turned to Maxine. “Was it not your task to take the paper?”

“I—I forgot, sir. I beg your pardon, it shall not happen again.”

“Oh, do stop berating Max,” Molly said just in time before Oscar could say anything, reappearing into the kitchen with the paper in hand. She walked over to Maxine with a sweet smile. “Here, Max.”

Maxine smiled. “Thank you, Molly.”

“And the last of your uniform is nearly done. I will give it to you by the end of the day.”

“You shall not be working on anything else other than your chores today, Molly,” Oscar said, voice cold.

Molly rolled her eyes, letting only Lottie and Maxine see it, before she winked and disappeared into the service corridor.

“Go take the paper to his lordship,” Oscar ordered.

Lottie leaned her ear into the doorway. “I believe Lady Ysabella has already departed.”

Maxine nodded with relief. She gave Lottie a smile. “Would you wish to deliver the paper to Lord Max?” she asked in a teasing tone, but a part of her was hoping Lottie would agree.

Lottie’s face flushed. “Oh, no, no!” She vigorously shook her head. “Scullery maids cannot serve anyone directly.” She looked over at the scowling Oscar and pushed Maxine through the doorway. “Go.”

Maxine found Nicholas chuckling with mirth in the dining room, having settled back in his chair with contentment. She placed the paper beside Nicholas, gaining yet another unsatisfied scowl from Maxwell.

Well, he did ask for the paper, but her master was the other brother.

Maxine stood beside Albin who murmured under his breath, “You ought to have seen the ruckus.” The footman’s voice was filled with amusement. “Lord Nick did look a bit flustered for a second. Lady Ysabella was not happy at all.”

“As I have figured,” she murmured back with a small smile.

“I pray Lord Wakefield shall hold on to his promise.”

“Which is?”

“To know his way home next time.”

Maxine bit her lips to hide her smile. She focused her attention on Nicholas who had gotten hold of the paper before Maxwell snatched it for himself.

“I must say the gossip section is far more entertaining than the politics part,” Nicholas said to his brother, sliding the paper across the table with disinterest. “It is getting tedious how the Herald gives too much attention on Osegod.”

Maxwell did not comment as he read the article.

“And they take photos of the man and his friends in a more precise manner as they do us!” Nicholas added with a shake of his head.

Maxine nearly rolled her eyes. When would Nicholas stop his condescending words against the Herald? She knew Samuel wrote for the politics section and to hear her master talk about her brother’s work in such a manner hit a nerve.

Very much later, Nicholas stood up and loudly yawned. Maxine knew she ought to be scandalized but she realized that when it came to the Everards, such incorrect manner was acceptable.

“You ought to go home, brother,” Nicholas said. “I have work to do.”

Maxwell nodded. “I do plan to go to Kenward.”

“For how long?”

“Not long,” Maxwell replied, standing from his chair.

“What will you be doing there? Bore yourself to death?”

“No,” Maxwell snapped. “I have missives waiting for me there.”

“Can they not be delivered here?”

Maxwell did not reply.

“You do not trust anyone at all, do you?”

Maxine watched Maxwell shrug before he disappeared from the dining room.

Nicholas shook his head. “Do you believe he is part of the family?” he asked Albin and Maxine.

Albin nodded while Maxine shook her head.

Nicholas laughed. “Good answer, Max. Good answer!”

“His lordship does like you,” Albin muttered when they were finally alone.

She offered no comment.

“Very well, back to work then,” Albin said, walking back into the kitchen. “Molly! The dining room!”

Maxine walked over to the copy of the Herald. Both Maxwell and Nicholas may not know which articles Samuel wrote, but she could point them out easily. She scanned through one article after another until she landed on the one that caused Nicholas’ disinterest.

In the middle of the article was a very good photo of a handsome man who could very well be merely a year or two younger than her father.

Maxine’s eyes searched for the description of the photo and her suspicion was proven correct.

Alan Osegod, Lord of Ransford, Head of the Town Leaders, smiles for the camera with his friend Amelia Trilby during the recent Trilby Ball in Willowfair. The Trilbys and the Osegods have maintained their friendship for many years and have never hesitated to showcase the fact.

Maxine veered her gaze back on the photo, studying the face of the woman.

The photo was taken better than the others she had seen the Herald had printed before, but if there was anything it lacked, it was colors. She did not know what Osegod’s hair color was or the color of his eyes, but one look at the woman standing beside him and she knew. Her elegant and graceful stance, her square jaw, her dark hair—everything screamed of recognition.

No, it was far from simply knowing. It was more likely an instinct, a leap of all her senses telling her she finally found her. She finally understood what many had said before. She finally felt how it was to recognize one of your own.

One look and Maxine was certain what she was looking at.

One look at Amelia Trilby and she finally understood why her father never wished for her to know her mother: the woman was a bloody Trilby.

XI. Business

“What are you doing?”

Maxine blinked and found herself back in the present, facing the window while holding the curtains.

“I asked what you are doing, Max,” asked Oscar’s voice once again.

Maxine cleared her throat. She had been staring out into nothing for quite some time, perhaps longer than necessary. And to be caught not doing anything by Oscar himself would prove that the rest of her day would not be as good as when she awoke that morning.

Albin had risen earlier than her, giving her enough time to carefully work on her bandage around her chest and put on the uniform that Molly had fixed for her for it had been such a real struggle to be alone to do so since she came to the household. She even found herself whistling as she walked to the kitchen to have her breakfast with Molly, Lottie and Fanny. In fact, she had not seen Oscar until this very moment when she came back to Nicholas’ room to fix it after he disappeared into his study to work.

“Are you deaf?” Oscar asked, voice growing nearer as he approached Maxine.

Maxine whirled around, face flushed. “I am sorry, sir. I was—I was curious of something I saw outside the window.”

Oscar frowned and looked out into the street. When he turned to face her once again, his eyes were narrowed. “You have been neglecting most of you duties for days. I am this close,” he uttered, lifting his hand to show her the small space between his forefinger and thumb, “to reporting your incompetence to his lordship.”

Maxine blinked. “I am sorry, sir. I try my best.”

“Then stop staring into nothing and work! Have you shined his boots?”

“I—I shall do that after—”

“Brushed his hats?”

“That I shall be doing the moment I—”

“Aired the slippers?”

“I am yet to set—”

“Have you sent missives to the tailor and the perfumer?”

“I will immediately do so—”

Oscar’s eyes flickered with annoyance and impatience. “Is there anything you have done that is of significance?”

Maxine bowed her head with guilt. She had honestly found it difficult to keep track of everything a valet ought to do. It was hard enough to run around the household, waiting on Nicholas and his brothers for the past few days that she had neglected everything Oscar had mentioned. Yet it had been two days since Nicholas had any visitors. She should have done everything by then.

But Nicholas was no easy master as she had finally realized. He was nice, yes, and a very understanding master. But he had many needs that needed her assistance. Shaving, tying his cravat—although the two of them were yet to master it, putting on his boots, sorting his missives, getting him food and drinks, calling Albin or Oscar for other matters specific to their tasks, arranging his clothes, re-arranging them when he was not pleased, repeating the process if he changed his mind—to summarize it all, Maxine had concluded that she ought to have chosen a lady’s home to serve for a lord such as Nicholas Everard was too much of a dandy than she would have wanted.

“You have traveled all the way from Theobald to work here in Wickhurst and decided to walk into our doors without further invitation,” Oscar’s voice said, drawing her to the current situation, “or have you forgotten? Did his lordship’s baffling fondness toward you gotten into your head that you think you can simply ignore all of your tasks?”

Her eyes widened. She may not have had so much experience being a valet—in fact, she may have lived all her life being served and not the other way around—but she hated how Oscar was seeing her at the moment. But it was his job to see her that way—it was his job to maintain order in the household.

And she was not doing her job perfectly well in a way that would suit the standards of the perfectionist butler.

“I understand, Max, that you do not have the experience of a valet, but it would ease how I view your actions if you show me that you try your best instead of dallying with the maids longer than necessary or staring blankly at nothing as though you are having a nap with your eyes wide open!” Oscar’s patience was apparently at its limits.

She nodded. “Yes, sir,” she uttered, squaring her shoulders. “I promise—”

“Make no such promises,” Oscar snapped, staring her up and down with his cold, dark eyes. “I opt that you show me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oscar looked around the room. “Arrange his lordship’s clothing in the dressing room after you are done with the bed. And if he still does not need your services once that is done, promptly send missives to the tailor and the perfumer.”

She nodded. “And I shall air the slippers and brush the hats thereafter,” she said, “if his lordship does not call for me, that is.”

Oscar gave a short nod. “And do not forget to close the curtains after—”

“—desired temperature is achieved,” she finished, eliciting a satisfied nod from Oscar.

When the butler did not make any move to leave, Maxine swallowed. “I promise not to stare into blank space once you leave, sir.”

Oscar pursed his lips, sharply turned and walked away.

Maxine sighed. She shook her head, nagging at herself inside her head.

Stay focused, Maxine. Stay focused.

It had been two days since she found Amelia Trilby’s photo on the Herald. And since then, she could not think of anything else but the desire to pack her bags and find the woman in Willowfair.

But how certain was she that Amelia Trilby was her mother? What she felt when she saw the woman may not entirely signify anything. Mayhap she was simply too desperate to find her mother—that if she found Amelia Trilby and was facing her she would find herself disappointed.

Or mayhap she was correct.

Yet she would never know the truth unless she searched for it on her own.

There must be a way for her to find a connection between the woman and her father. Once she found it, she could go and find Amelia Trilby.

But she would not do so now. She had no money and she would not survive another journey to Willowfair. In addition, she was not yet certain what to say to the woman. “I believe I am your child,” would be brutally embarrassing, of course.

She brushed the thoughts of Amelia Trilby out of her mind. She would find more time to know more about the woman. For now, she had to please Oscar by doing her work and save money all the same. She would have to be very thrifty as she was not planning to stay long in Wickhurst. She was risking being found out with each day she spent here.

Once she had enough to survive in Willowfair and the moment that she knew more of Amelia Trilby—if the woman had any connection with her father at all—she would leave Wickhurst.

---

“Prepare for travel, Max,” Nicholas said the next day as Maxine helped him with his cravat.

Her hands paused but she dared not look up for it would merely render her speechless if she did so. “Travel, milord?”

“Yes,” he said, voice more serious than she had heard him use before. “I plan to visit Devonshire very soon. Prepare to leave anytime.”

“It would not be today, milord?”

“No,” he said, taking the cravat from her hand. He pulled at it and threw it over to the bed. “Bloody hell, we shall never perfect this task.”

“Apologies, milord. Albin does try to teach me every night and—”

“Fret not, Max,” Nicholas said, voice lighter now. “I am not going out today. Should Max come by, do guide him to my office at once.” At her confusion, Nicholas laughed. “I mean Maxwell, my brother.”

Maxine cleared her throat and hesitated.

“What is it?” Nicholas asked.

“I—I have the afternoon off, milord. Albin shall be your valet for the rest of the afternoon.”

Nicholas’ brows arched. “Truly?”

“Yes, milord. I have to go to the tailor and the perfumer to follow up on my missives.”

“But I thought you said you have the afternoon off.”

“That is how I intend to spend my afternoon off, milord, as per Oscar’s orders.” She let out an awkward smile.

“Then it is not an afternoon off!”

“Well, we—uh, we refer to it as such, milord.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Very well, off you go then.”

Maxine nodded. “I shall call for Albin, milord.”

When she reached the door, Nicholas called out to her. “While you are out to meet the tailor and the perfumer, Max,” he said, “care to spend an hour or two on your own.”

“Milord?”

Nicholas grinned at her. “Explore Wickhurst if you must, boy. You deserve that at the very least.”

She blinked, surprised.

“You would find pretty women, I tell you.”

She flushed.

“Now, go and get Albin.”

“Thank you, milord,” she said, jumping to her feet with excitement.

---

Very much later, Maxine found herself roaming around the many streets of Wickhurst. She dared not enter Haram, a place that Molly and Lottie had warned her about. They both said that it was not a place anyone new in Wickhurst should wander into without experience.

“The place is filled of all sorts of criminals!” Lottie had said.

“You would lose everything in your pocket if you are not careful!” Molly had added.

It was not hard to find the perfumer and the tailor. Both shops were familiar of Nicholas Everard and his specific tastes and it was quite easy to talk with them in person than through the missives. She would have to pick up the orders after a fortnight.

Once her tasks were done, she finally had the time to herself. Nicholas had allowed her an hour or two and she knew the perfect place to spend that.

Merely fifteen minutes after she stepped out of the tailor shop, Maxine found herself looking up at the giant building two blocks away.

Molly had said that this was the largest library one could find in Wickhurst. But for Maxine, it seemed to be the largest one in the Town. She was not certain if anything could be larger than this giant white building of rocks.

Squaring her shoulders, Maxine climbed the steps that led to the large wooden doors. The man standing guard outside gave her a good look but did not stop her when she proceeded to go inside.

She nearly gasped with awe when she stepped into marbled floors and total silence enveloped her. At one side, rows and rows of books and scrolls filled a very large hall. At one side were tables and lamps and some people reading books in silence.

“How may I be of service?” asked the bored-looking man behind the stone counter in the middle of the entrance hall.

Maxine tried to smile. “I was informed that I would find all articles of the Town Herald here.”

The middle-aged man looked at her for a very long time before he said. “You were informed correctly.”

She smiled with relief. “Where would I find them?”

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. “Date?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have to provide me with a specific date you wish to find.”

“I do not precisely know, but I would appreciate if you can point me to the articles that date back more than twenty-five years ago.”

The man let out a heavy sigh. He held up his hand. “Card.”

Maxine blinked. “Card?”

“You would need a card to view anything in this library.”

“I do not have any—”

“Then return once you have one.”

“But where could I—”

“You must apply for it.”

“Apply?”

“With legal papers. Name, residence and everything else.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment.

“If you do not have the card, you can leave. If you wish to have one, prepare the necessary papers.”

Maxine nodded.

She went home in defeat.

---

“When did you return?” Nicholas inquired even before Maxwell took his seat.

“Minutes ago,” he provided. “I departed for Wickhurst the very moment I received your note.”

Nicholas nodded. “Well? What do you think of it?”

He let the silence reign for a little longer before he answered, “Nothing.”

Nicholas looked scandalized. “Nothing!”

“Yes.”

“Then why bother come here in haste?”

“Do you truly need a reply to that?”

“I bloody need all the reply you could provide, Max.”

“I came in haste to make certain you did not make any foolish moves.”

His brother stared at him incredulously. “Whyever would you think that?”

Maxwell shrugged. “Osegod’s offer is rather convincing.”

Nicholas scoffed. “You do not know me well then if you believe I would jump to such offer without consulting Benedict or the rest of the family.”

“Relax, Nick.”

Nicholas sighed. “But you are correct,” Nicholas said. “His offer is rather convincing.”

“Of course it is,” Maxwell said. “But I do not like it.”

“You and your conspiracy theories.”

He shrugged.

“Do you believe that a business partnership with Osegod would do us harm? In what way? Politically? We are not into any political parties to begin with.”

He did not offer a reply. His mind was racing to many things at once.

“For God’s sake, Max, speak!”

“He could be behind the recent accident in the mines,” he finally said.

Nicholas’ face crumpled with disbelief. “How so?”

“He is a wise man and he knows that to make one agree to him equates to weakening that person’s greatest assets. A strong man would not need allies. A weak one would need many.”

“But this offer of partnership could also mean big business to us all.”

“All I am saying is I do not like the idea at all. He is close to the Trilbys. And we both know he is no saint.”

“No one is a saint, Max.”

“We must consult with Ben and Levi. Are you certain you are the only one Osegod approached?”

Nicholas nodded.

Maxwell kept silent.

“What do you ken would happen if we do not take his offer?”

Maxwell shrugged. He did not have to for he knew Nicholas knew what he was thinking.

“Bloody hell,” his brother cursed. “Osegod has finally set his eyes on us. Either way, should we take his offer or not, I fear for what would come next.”

---

Maxwell was on his way out the door when he saw the valet running toward the side entrance as though someone was lurking nearby.

He paused, thought hard and sighed.

He truly did not wish to have another confrontation, but with everything that had been happening around the family since Osegod’s name came to the picture, he could not help but think of the worst things.

Whirling back around, he nearly bumped against the butler. “I am afraid I forgot something. I have to write a very important note. Would you care to send for writing articles to the parlor and hot tea if you may?”

“Yes, milord,” Oscar said, briskly turning around to bid his request.

“And Oscar,” he added, “do make certain the valet delivers it.”

He caught the man’s curious gaze but ignored it.

Once the butler was gone, Maxwell proceeded to the parlor and waited.

It was a tedious task, but he had to do this.

---

Maxine was surprised when Oscar found her inside her room and said, “Good. You are back. Come to the kitchen and get back to work.”

She jumped to her feet and followed him outside.

“I do not know what you have done, but you must have done something for him to request your service,” Oscar was muttering as he pushed the tray into her hands. “Go take this to the parlor.”

“Who are you—”

“Go!” Oscar snapped.

Maxine turned and walked out of the kitchen, noting Fanny and Molly staring after her with worry.

What the bloody hell was going on?

She had barely taken off her coat and she was once more in trouble?

But surely she was not, yes? She was to deliver…

She looked down with a frown. There was a piece of paper, a pen and an inkwell and a cup of steaming hot tea.

She stopped outside the parlor door, thinking hard. Nicholas would not ask for writing articles if he could do all his writing in his study. It simply meant someone else had asked for them.

But who could—

Before she could complete the question in her head, the door opened and she was once more standing before Maxwell Everard.

His eyes were glinting with impatience as he stepped back and ordered, “Get inside. Now.”

Maxine squared her shoulders and walked into the room. She went straight to the table and set the tray on top.

“Do you need anything else, milord?” she asked, very much ready to leave.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Maxwell said, standing too close in front of her.

Her gaze wavered.

“I do not want to waste my time giving chances, but I am giving you another one, valet,” he said through his teeth, “tell me who you truly are.”

Maxine blinked and cleared her throat. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back as if she could reach his height, an impossible feat. “Max, milord. I told you my name is Max.”

When would he stop this? She thought it was merely one of his drunken stupors three nights ago, but now she was proven wrong. Her life had been rather peaceful when he was away. Why did he have to come back!

He took one step forward, his coat almost touching hers, but she dared not step back. She could never make Maxwell Everard see even for a mere second that she considered his presence overwhelmingly daunting.

“Then, please pray tell,” his menacing voice whispered above her, his green eyes cold and knowing, “why would a woman be called Max?”

A/N:

Apologies for the lack of updates. I have been very sick lately (worst stiff neck ever for two weeks followed by days of fever) but I am getting better now. I am not pushing myself too hard as I still have to work despite being sick and the only rest I can give myself is when I am home. I hope to get better within the week. Next week, I hope, will be back to normal and daily updates MIGHT resume. Thank you for your patience, dear readers! 

-Greenwriter

XII. Library Visit

“I…” Maxine could not put her thoughts together so she chose to say the words that first popped in her head. “I believe you are delusional, milord.”

His face merely darkened, forcing Maxine to involuntarily take a step back.

“I am no woman,” she blurted out.

He took a step forward and she took another back. He followed her, his stance menacing. “Do you wish me to strip you naked to prove my point, valet?”

Her eyes widened with horror. That would not be a good idea at all.

Bloody tarnation! How was she supposed to get away with this?

Maxine tore her eyes away from Maxwell, desperately looking for an escape.

“Well?” he asked, lips quirked into a devilish smug smile.

Her jaws tightened. She was caught. No, she was doomed! But how? How did he know?

He must have seen the question in her eyes. He tilted his head and forced her eyes to look back at him. “I am a great observer, valet.” His green eyes looked her up and down before settling back to imprison hers in an intense gaze. “They may see you as how you try to be, but what I see is what you try not to be.”

She wanted him to tell her. What did he see? What gave her away?

But he did not answer her unspoken question. Instead, he roughly grasped her arm and pulled her closer. “Now, tell me why you are here and who you really are.”

Maxine swallowed and craned her neck to escape his murderous gaze. “No one you ought to bother with,” she gritted out.

He let out a dry chuckle. “Bother with,” he said. His smile disappeared and Maxine went cold once again. “You dress up like a man, enter my brother’s estate, eat his food and serve him every day. Now, how do you suppose I ought not to be bothered by you?”

She pulled at her arm but he would not let her go. “I do not have plans that concern you or your family, milord. Believe me when I say that—”

“I do not easily believe anyone, valet.” He twisted his hand and she flinched in pain. “Now tell me why you are here. Who sent you?”

“I came on my own.”

“Who sent you here?” he repeated harshly.

“No one!” she shouted back, planting her free hand on his chest to push him away. “Let me go at once.” But he was as sturdy as a rock.

“You dare order me?”

“No, I dare oblige you, milord!”

“Should I drag you to the nearest Town Guard? Surely you would know where that will land you.”

“I am not who you think you believe me to be, milord.”

“Ah, so do I truly have to strip you naked and prove my point?”

“Would you dare strip a woman?” she asked, voice shaking.

Her question, in a queer way, must have rendered him speechless.

“Or would you dare strip a man? Either way is wrong and you shall find yourself in trouble more than I will,” she added when he did not offer a reply. “You cannot prove anything, milord, for I shall not be stripped, nor does the law allow it! And if it is true that I am indeed a woman, I have every excuse to be here as no one—not anyone—ever asked me my gender, nor have I verbally acknowledged anything.” She forced a smile on her lips. “That is, if I am truly who you believe me to be.”

His eyes glinted with fury and he narrowed them down at her. “Wait until I—”

Maxine opened her mouth to interject but the door to the parlor suddenly flung open, stopping Maxwell’s words all the same.

“Max! Good that you are here!” a familiar female voice boomed around the room.

“This makes matters easier then. Mother was quite adamant, see?” another female voice added.

For a moment, Maxine and Maxwell stood stunned and cold, facing each other with Maxwell’s back directed at the intruders.

Maxine was almost shivering with anticipation. What was he planning to do?

Before she knew what was happening, Maxwell pushed her away none too gently and whirled around. “Ysabella, Emma,” he said in the same menacing voice. “Whyever are you here?”

“Who is—” Ysabella started but Maxine jumped to her feet when she realized who was in the room. It was Ysabella! She quickly bent her head down and rushed toward the door in haste. She caught a glimpse of blue and green skirts when she passed the two ladies. “Who was that?” she heard Ysabella ask when Maxine was finally out of the door.

She dared not look back, nor did she dare stay to hear what Maxwell had to say.

She had to leave.

Now!

---

But why would she leave? Why would she when everything she had said to Maxwell in the parlor was all true? He could not prove anything.

But he might tell Nicholas.

And what if he did? She did not do any crime, did she? She would not land in prison if Nicholas found out.

Would she pack her bags and go away with no money? Or should she stay and wait for things to happen according to Maxwell’s next course of action?

If she left, she’d have to find her way to Willowfair poor as a beggar. If she stayed, there could merely be two possible things that might unfold:

One, she’d have to leave as Nicholas would definitely kick her out of his estate.

Two, Maxwell might keep this to himself for a while, giving her more time to prepare for a journey to Willowfair.

His threats of taking her to a Town Guard were frail for she had done no crime. In fact, her horse got stolen and Maxwell Everard had assaulted her in more ways than one, making her the victim here.

Ah, but she lied to them. But that was no crime, was it?

The door to her room burst open and Albin walked in, frowning. “Why are you here?”

“I—I think I am not feeling quite well,” she lied. Yes, lying could not be a crime, really. It was simply wrong, a matter she would have to pay for later.

Albin looked at her with concern. “Have you taken a tonic?”

She faked a cough. “I believe I must, yes.”

Albin sighed. “Very well,” he uttered, nodding. “We cannot have you sick. I shall call for Fanny to concoct a tonic for you. Do you have a fever?”

“No,” she said.

“Good, then. Rest for the rest of the day, Max.”

Feeling guilty, Maxine nodded and dragged herself to her bed.

Albin left, closing the door gently.

Should she pack or should she not?

---

Maxwell looked out through the window of his carriage with a frown on his face.

If he was correct, the valet had not left the estate, a matter he had expected her to do so. He had been waiting near Nicholas’ estate for nearly two hours now from the moment his sisters left, but there was yet no sign that the woman was intending to leave.

That, of course, presented more questions.

Did she stay because she was not guilty of anything, or did she stay because she knew he would take it that way? Worse, did she stay because she was correct and he was merely delusional?

But he could not be. He knew a woman when he saw one and the valet was definitely one!

He sighed and leaned against his seat. He would have to stay here until the wee hours if he had to. If she did try to escape, he would be right behind her.

But mayhap it was better that she stayed. He’d have more time to find out more about her—why she was here and who told her to be here.

---

Maxine was surprised when the door to her room opened and Nicholas walked in.

“Milord!” she said, jumping out of her bed. She looked for Albin but the man was not around. “Do you need anything, milord?”

Nicholas had a frown on his face. “Albin relayed that you are sick.”

She cleared her throat. “Simply not feeling well, milord.”

“Not good, not good,” he muttered under his breath.

“I know, milord. But I believe I shall feel better by the morrow. Fret not, milord.”

He took a long breath as he took a good look at her. “You look horrible.”

Probably because I feared that your insane brother had spilled my secret, she replied in her head. By the look of Nicholas now, it seemed that Maxwell did keep his suspicions to himself after all. She let out a small sigh of relief before saying, “I shall be better, milord.”

“It is bad that you are sick. I do intend to take you with me to Willowfair next week—”

Maxine’s eyes widened. “Willowfair?” She jumped to her feet with excitement. “When, milord? When do we leave?”

Nicholas paused and laughed at her reaction. “Goodness, lad, do not be utterly excited. I dread the moments I spend in Willowfair if you must know, but I have to go as part of my responsibility to my family. We have been invited to the Macy ball, one of the largest in Willowfair, and I could not simply say no.” He paused for a while to roll his eyes. “My sisters had made certain that Max and I do not miss the tedious ball, an order that obviously came from our mother.”

“All the more reason why you need a valet, milord!” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “I shall prepare your things. Simply bid the words and it shall be done.”

Nicholas waved his hand. “Do it some other time. For now, do rest and please, lad, do bloody take care of yourself. You have, at the very least, a fortnight’s worth of luggage to carry!”

“A fortnight?”

“Yes.”

“You shall stay longer in Willowfair?” she hopefully asked.

“No, but we have to travel to Devonshire before we proceed to Willowfair. Benedict, our eldest, cannot attend the Macy ball as he does not wish to make his newborn babe travel the long journey. I need to discuss important matters with him before the Macy ball.”

Maxine nodded. “Very well, milord.”

Nicholas nodded and before she noticed her face flushing because he went to see her on his own volition, out of concern, he was out the door.

Maxine shook her head. No, she did not fancy Nicholas Everard. She could not! She’d be gone soon. She’d find her mother and she’d go back to Theobald where she belonged.

---

Breakfast the following morning was quite a series of surprising events for Maxine.

Molly asked if her trip to the library had been successful to which she replied, “I am afraid not. They require one to have a card. I do not have any.”

“So does everyone else here,” Albin said while his mouth was filled with buttered bread.

“I do have one,” Oscar announced. “I could lend it to you.”

Everyone snapped their heads at the direction of the butler. Maxine’s jaw dropped, unable to say anything.

“Why are you looking at me as though I have grown a pair of horns?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Oscar,” Molly said, “we are looking at you because we had always believed you do have horns.”

He butler’s eyes narrowed.

“Which is not the case at the moment, that is,” Molly added in haste. “You will truly lend your card to Max?”

Oscar turned his eyes on Maxine. “If there is one thing I do appreciate, it is one’s desire to learn and the library is the best place for that.”

Maxine swallowed her food. “Thank you, sir. I shall take care of your card—”

“And return it at once this afternoon.”

“This afternoon? But I cannot go out and—”

“I will be giving you two hours to go to the library. I have books I wish for you to return on my behalf.”

Maxine dropped her bread on the plate. “Can I go now then, sir?”

Lottie chuckled. “I have never seen anyone so eager to go to the library before!”

Oscar sighed. “It is because you never really had the passion for books,” he said wryly, making Lottie’s face grow scarlet. Before anyone could say anything else, he turned to Max and said, “Be done with breakfast before you rush to the library. But be certain to come back before his lordship is up.”

Maxine nodded and hastily finished her breakfast. Oscar was lending her his card of all people! Oscar!

---

The man behind the desk looked at her with suspicion. “And you say you were asked by Mr. Oscar to look into certain articles because the Lord of Whiston requires them?”

“Yes,” she lied with a smile, “and to return these books, of course.” She pushed the mountain of books toward the man.

He looked at Oscar’s card and studied it with scrutiny. For a man who seemed vehemently bored by his job, he was acting too efficient.

“It is an authentic card, sir,” she persisted. “And I would appreciate if you could point me to the copies of the Herald that I have listed down for you.” She leaned closer and whispered, “His lordship is not as nice in the morning as you might believe to be, see? And he does not appreciate it when his orders get delayed.”

The man rolled his eyes and checked her list once again. “You have asked for nearly five months’ worth of articles!”

“No, sir,” she said, “I did not ask for them—the Lord of Whiston did.”

The man glared at her and stood to his feet. “Follow me,” he said, making a sharp turn.

Twenty minutes later, after a series of turns and rows of shelves, Maxine found herself sitting behind a chair, facing stacks of more than a hundred copies of the Town Herald before her. The librarian dropped the last stack onto another with a grunt.

He gave Maxine a fake smile and said, “Enjoy.”

Left alone, Maxine squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. She coughed as dust from the papers entered her airways.

One could say she was looking for a needle in a haystack. And the dreadful thing was that she did not even know what kind of needle she was looking for!

But she must do this. Where should she start then?

She looked up at the mountain before her once again and her shoulders dropped.

The Macy ball would be the best place for her to find Amelia Trilby. If she could not at the very least find a connection between the woman and her father, the trip to Willowfair might prove to be useless and—

Maxine paused.

“The Macy ball!” she whispered with awe. “Of course!”

Balls almost always followed strict schedules. Like the Theobald weekend parties, big balls such as the Macy’s would most definitely be on the same month every year.

“And the Trilby ball,” she said, pushing away early stacks of papers that did not correspond to the specific months she was looking for.

In no time, her hands were covered with fine dust, but she finally found articles that talked about the Macy and Trilby balls.

The papers were dated over twenty-five years ago and the library had not been taking care of them well. But as she got used to the fading scripts, she managed to scan through the pages of the gossip sections faster than she had first started.

She leaped in excitement when she found her father’s name mentioned on one of the articles.

“Lord Eustace Theobald was seen gracing the famous Macy ball in Willowfair merely two nights past. But it seems, dear readers, that the handsome lord is missing a wife! Where could Lady Theobald be?”

Maxine ignored the tiny pang in her chest. Her stepmother did not deserve what her father did those years ago.

She continued to read more articles where her father’s name was mentioned.

“The Trilby ball was once more filled with important guests from all over the Town. Young Lady Amelia Trilby was seen dancing with Lord Eustace Theobald. As whispered to us by a confidante, the two seemed rather chummy. Never had we thought that the Theobalds and the Trilbys were friends!”

Maxine did not find anything more on succeeding articles that placed her father and Amelia Trilby together as companions, but she soon found out that there were more balls and social events that the two were present at the same time, although not together.

“Lord Eustace Theobald seems to enjoy Willowfair immensely. The young lord has been in the town for nearly a year now. Whatever happened to Lady Theobald? A marital estrangement, perhaps?”

“Lady Amelia Trilby graced the opera the previous night, donned in the most beautiful red gown Willowfair has ever seen. She was accompanied by her mother, Lady Trilby. Also in attendance were Lord and Lady Everard from Wickhurst and their friend, Lord Eustace Theobald.”

“Lord Eustace was reported to have spent his evening yesterday alone during the ball. Unlike the Trilby ball, he was not seen dancing with anyone. Lady Amelia Trilby, on one hand, had been quite a busy young lady. Her dance card was completely filled with affluent names and she almost never left the dance floor! With the Trilbys being known as a secretive family, Amelia Trilby is proving quite the opposite as a star of this season!”

“We have been informed, dear readers, that Lord Theobald had taken a mistress. Mayhap now this answers our questions why his poor, rich wife is left in their estate of the same name, Theobald.”

Maxine need not read further, nor did she have to find more clues as to her father’s infidelity those many years past.

She found the connection she needed. They knew each other and had evaded each other’s presence on the Herald after an article of them dancing was published. That might indicate naught but innocent interaction, yes, but that might also mean two people being utterly careful.

She may not have found concrete evidence that Amelia Trilby and her father were lovers, but she was almost certain of the fact. She was playing a hunch she was willing to wager on.

She stood up and left the library.

Now she had to go to Willowfair and see if Amelia Trilby was truly her mother.

And she had to do it fast. She must disappear from Wickhurst before Maxwell Everard could blow her cover.

XIII. Besotted Fools

Maxwell walked into the building, his footsteps echoing though the quiet hall. It stopped when he reached the desk to face the man that could compete with his bored, passive look.

“Good day, my lord,” said the man, looking at him curiously. “How may I be of service?”

“The wo—” he paused to correct himself and continued, “What did the man dressed in a valet uniform look into?”

“You mean Lord Whiston’s valet, my lord? Lord Whiston your brother, my lord?”

He nodded.

“Articles, my lord.”

“Articles of which?”

“The Town Herald, my lord.”

Maxwell frowned.

“Said your brother required him to look into them.”

That was highly unlikely. “What were the specific articles he looked into?”

“I cannot truly point out, my lord. The young fellow did ask for articles dating twenty-five years past.”

His brows cocked high. “Months?”

“Nearly the first half of a year, my lord,” the man replied. “I do have still the list.”

He held out his hand for the list. The man hesitated. “Well? Give it to me,” he ordered.

“But I do not believe I ought to—”

“Is there a law that prohibits one to hand over a list of Herald articles?”

“None that I can think of, my lord.”

“Then give it to me.”

The man swallowed and handed him a piece of paper. He studied the months and frowned. This was merely giving him more questions to think of.

Why was she looking into these articles?

“Is there anything else?”

The man frowned at his question.

“Anything else that the valet looked for?”

“None, my lord.”

“Good,” he said. He started to leave but not without saying, “You did not see me here today. Understood?”

The man blinked and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Maxwell turned and walked out of the library.

This matter was turning out to be more baffling by the day.

---

There were far more reasons why Maxine was eagerly waiting for the day that Nicholas would depart from Wickhurst.

One, and the most paramount, of course, was her anticipation to reach Willowfair. Amelia Trilby, if she was not mistaken, was one who would not miss as big a ball as Macy’s.

Second, and the most comforting, was that she could be away from Maxwell Everard. The man would be at the Macy ball as Nicholas had shared two days later, but she was hoping he would be quite busy what with his family around.

Third, and the most ridiculous of all, was that she could be free of the enormous tension amongst the servants. Molly and Oscar had a big fight three days prior, the same day she had gone to the library to look into the Herald articles. Molly did not appreciate Oscar’s insult toward Lottie about books and reading. Maxine had to come back to the estate that day with Molly and Oscar shouting at each other, Lottie crying in one corner and Fanny trying to settle the situation. It was Albin who shouted for the two to keep their voices down as his lordship was still asleep.

Since then, Molly would take every chance she could to throw a word or two toward Oscar’s direction every time the young butler would show himself in the kitchen.

It was quite perplexing though that Oscar dared not throw a single word of insult at Molly, a matter expected of him. He would simply flush with fury at Molly’s incessant words of anger, but his mouth would simply remain tight.

One afternoon, while Molly was finishing a snack of tea and biscuits, Oscar rushed inside and immediately stopped in his tracks upon seeing the maid. Molly scoffed, stood up and said, “I must leave as I fear that someone would find it disappointing that I do not smell like books!”

Oscar’s face had gone scarlet with fury but he did not comment. He merely watched as Molly disappeared from the kitchen. Catching Maxine and Fanny’s gaze, he snapped at them, saying, “Go back to work!” and disappeared as well.

“He is besotted with Molly, dear,” Fanny later said to Maxine when they were alone in the kitchen. The housekeeper sighed, shaking her head. “And he does not know what to do with it.”

Maxine was staring at Fanny with surprise. “I thought I was the only one who noticed!”

Fanny chuckled. “Well, Max, you can say that now there are two who know of the fearsome butler’s secret.” Fanny winked and stood up to go back to work.

---

That evening, when Nicholas was out to spend the night at Grey’s, the tension between Molly and Oscar was as strong as ever.

Molly had finally gotten quiet and Maxine was not certain whether or not she preferred the woman’s angry spats or the eerie silence. The maid excused herself after dinner, escaping into the room she shared with Lottie. Lottie joined her a moment after.

Albin, quite not sure what to make of the situation, shared his sentiments. “This bloody situation is not for me,” he uttered before he, too, disappeared to retire for the night.

Maxine stared at Oscar who seemed unperturbed. “Do you think you ought to do something?” she asked him. This could not go on forever!

Oscar snapped his eyes at her. “Mind your own business, valet,” he said, dropping his fork and standing up.

She and Fanny let out a heavy sigh after the butler disappeared.

She came back to her room and found Albin still awake. His arms were folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He turned when Maxine entered the room.

It was quite funny, really, to be comfortable with Albin in the room. In the many nights that she had spent fretting over getting caught by the footman, Maxine had finally come into terms with the fact that Albin was no nosy roommate. He never ventured to her side of the bed, nor had he opened her closet. It was not unusual for her now to openly talk to him about matters in the household.

“I did try to talk to Oscar,” she said, sitting on her bed.

“I wager my income for this month that he brushed you off,” he said with a scoff.

Maxine did not comment.

“This is the first time, you know,” Albin shared.

“It is?”

He nodded. “No one had dared to speak against Oscar before. It was quite a surprise Molly did. She had always been naught but sweet and understanding, see?”

She sighed. “Then this might not be good if it is the first time.”

“That bastard deserves to know that he is not always on the right,” Albin muttered. “Molly was right to defend Lottie.”

Maxine studied Albin’s features. “What if he decides to do something? Kick her out?”

“He could not do that. Fanny has authority over the maids,” he said. “But should he do something that would lead to that, he would have to face me then.”

A smile crept up her face. “You do fancy her, do you not?”

Albin turned to her. “Molly? Of course, I do. She is aware of that.”

Her eyes widened. “She is?”

He nodded. “But I fear she does not feel the same, see?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Do not take this the wrong way, Max. Do not think as well that I do abhor you, but I am aware that Molly fancies you.”

Maxine choked on her breath. “Not possible!” But it was. She knew how Molly would bat her eyes and flirt at her. Bloody hell.

Albin laughed. “Do not look so horrified, lad! Molly is not that bad!”

“I—I know, but—but I do not feel the same!” she sputtered. “I see her as naught but a friend.”

“If ye say so,” Albin said with a chuckle.

“I do not have feelings for her, Albin.”

“I understood you the first time. No need to say it again.”

She let the silence linger for a while. “What do you intend to do about it?”

“’Bout what?”

“Molly.”

“Nothin’. I do have things I must focus on. I dream to be a butler someday, see? If she does not wish to be with me, I cannot do anything ’bout it.”

Maxine sighed. The personal conflicts between the servants were getting quite dramatic. Never had she thought that they too had their own problems to deal with. She had always believed that all they did was complain about work.

How naïve had she been! Of course they had their own lives!

Now she had more questions in mind. How do they manage courtship? Marriage? Children? How could they manage all that while serving their masters almost the entire day?

“I’m certain that she would soon see and appreciate who you truly are,” she assured Albin before she stood up. “I shall be in the kitchen to wait for his lordship.”

“Good night, Max,” Albin said. “And I am glad you are not one besotted fool!”

She snorted before she closed the door behind her.

She met Lottie while she was on her way out of the servants’ corridor. “How is Molly?”

The scullery maid sighed. “Still angry. I am afraid this is my fault, Max.”

“Of course, it is not. Oscar insulted you. Molly found the need to defend you as her friend.”

Lottie smiled. “I still believe I must do somethin’.”

“Things shall settle at their own course. They always do.”

The maid sighed once more and smiled at her. “I heard that you shall be joining his lordship in Willowfair for the Macy ball.”

“Yes.”

The girl pouted her lips. “I envy valets. You can all be with your masters all the time!”

Maxine narrowed her eyes. “You mean we can also be in the presence of their brothers ,” she teased.

Lottie’s face flushed. “Oh, do not tease me, Max!”

She chuckled. “I still do find it strange. You fancy Maxwell Everard. Why?”

Lottie shrugged. “He is different.”

She frowned. “That is all?”

“He seems kind.”

Maxine snorted and patted the woman’s shoulder. “Mayhap you should try being a valet. You might just discover more things about the masters.”

Lottie smiled. “Good night, Max.”

“Good night, Lottie.”

---

Nicholas arrived in the wee hours of the morning. His demeanor, Maxine immediately noticed, was not as light as she was used to. He had a serious look on his face and he seemed to be very sober. It was as though he did not go to Grey’s at all.

She anxiously looked out the door. Nicholas was alone.

Good, she thought with relief.

She escorted Nicholas up the stairs and into his bedchamber.

“Are my things ready?” he asked in a serious tone as he let her help him with his coat.

“Yes, milord,” she said.

“Good. We leave first thing on the morrow.”

“You mean later, milord?”

“Yes.”

Maxine nodded. This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She would be on her way to Willowfair!

“Go and get your rest, Max. It would be a long and difficult journey.”

“Yes, milord.” After ensuring that he had everything he needed, she walked out of his room and down the stairs to bolt the doors.

She returned to her room and found Albin deep in sleep.

She would be in Willowfair soon.

---

The long and difficult journey Nicholas was talking about may pertain to the actual journey on the road, but for Maxine, she soon found out it would be long and difficult for her for merely one reason: Maxwell Everard.

The man arrived just as Maxine was loading up Nicholas’ luggage on top of the carriage with Albin.

He had stepped out of his carriage and his eyes immediately found hers.

Why was he here?

Her question, of course, was immediately given answer as Maxwell’s driver unloaded two large bags from the carriage and dropped it beside Maxine.

“Do be careful with them,” Maxwell ordered before he rushed up the stairs to enter his brother’s estate.

Maxine gaped at the open doorway. She looked up at Albin perched on top of the carriage. “Did he mean for us to load his luggage up there?”

“I believe so, yes,” Albin replied.

“In Lord Nick’s carriage?”

Albin grinned with amusement as he nodded his head.

“This carriage?” she pointed to be certain.

Albin laughed. “Give ’em to me, Max. You cannot change the fact he is joining ye!”

Maxine stared down at the bags.

Bloody tarnation.

---

“You fret too much, brother,” Nicholas said, drawing Maxwell’s attention.

“I do not,” he denied.

“Why the frown on your face then, eh?”

His eyes flickered with annoyance and he reached out to draw the curtain of the carriage window close. “I always have a frown on my face. Was born with it as our dear mother would say.”

Nicholas guffawed. “But I have been your younger brother for years and I have studied the different forms of frowns you have. The one you are wearing now speaks of worry.” Nicholas drew the curtain open once more. “I wish to see the dreary scenery of the Town.” He looked at Maxwell once more. “Stop fretting over Osegod. We are travelling to Devonshire to see Benedict. We let big brother decide then.”

He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

“Why did you bother to bring along your valet?” he asked moments later, eyes still closed.

“Because I do have one while you do not,” his brother replied.

“An incapable and clumsy one is not one for a journey such as this,” he said.

“Max is doing a terrific job serving me. Why do you care about my valet so much?”

“I do not,” he snapped, opening his eyes. “I merely think that taking a stranger to Devonshire where we shall be discussing Osegod is not a good idea.”

“He is my valet, Max,” Nicholas snapped back. “You think the worst of everyone.”

“In our current situation, I am inclined to do so.”

Nicholas scoffed. “You should have considered becoming part of the League of Founders. You talk like them.”

“I would dare not—”

“I know, I know!” Nicholas said with a laugh. “You would dare not be part of such organization that requires paper works.”

“Precisely,” he said, looking out the window. “I wonder if your valet had already fallen off his seat,” he said.

“Stop with my valet, Max! For God’s sake, the young lad is perfectly fine sitting with the driver and it is doing him bloody good for he would surely die sitting here with your insults.”

“If you say so,” he said with a shrug.

“He is useful to me.”

His brows cocked. “In a manly way?”

Nicholas frowned. “Whatever the bloody hell do you mean by that?”

“He looks like a woman is all I am saying.”

“You bloody cynical bastard,” Nicholas uttered, shaking his head.

Maxwell scoffed and looked out into the window once again. The valet had succeeded in accompanying them to Devonshire and later to Willowfair.

Whatever the female valet was planning, Maxwell would be there.

---

They could have taken the shorter route to Devonshire, but Maxwell had insisted that they take the longer one where there could be more villages to pass by should an emergency arise. They found a small tavern in Marsden, a small village near Theobald, to rest and feed the horses.

He knew that the valet was very aware of his presence. She had been careful not to look at him when they finally arrived for their stop, but she could not seem to hide her agitation. What could be causing it? Surely it was not him? She had never showed such anxious behavior before they left Wickhurst.

Whatever the reason, it must merely mean one thing: she was no innocent.

After a bland supper downstairs, Maxwell went straight to his room and watched from his window as the valet unloaded the luggage from the carriage with the driver. He shook his head when she nearly toppled over a bag in her attempt to carry two into the tavern.

He shut the window close and prepared to go to bed. Benedict was expecting them tomorrow.

The matter with the valet could be settled once they arrived in Devonshire.

But not long before he had fallen asleep, he was awakened by a knock on the door. How long had he been asleep? Was it morning already?

Maxwell slowly slipped out of bed and padded across the room. The knock came once again.

“Who is it?” he asked through the closed door.

“It is I,” said the familiar voice.

For a second he felt a shiver run through his spine. Even without her face, she sounded like a woman. Everyone else who bloody believed she was otherwise was a fool!

He reached for the door handle and swung the door open. His brows were already raised as he looked down at her. She had not changed her uniform, but it was quite easy to see that she had spent hours thinking.

“What is it? Here to offer me a different service, valet?” he asked, his tone filled with insolence.

Not much of a surprise, the valet simply glared back at him. She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I am not one who likes sitting in silence, anxiously waiting for the worst things.”

“Quit the introductory speech, valet,” he snapped.

She shrugged in agreement. Her pale grey eyes locked with his and for the first time Maxwell saw something that he had never seen before: pride. “I demand that we negotiate,” she said.

Maxwell was stupefied.

Did she just have the audacity to come to him to demand a negotiation? In the middle of the night?

Bloody hell, who was this woman?

XIV. Silence

“A negotiation,” he wryly uttered, looking her up and down.

She stuck up her chin in response to his gaze. “I had to do what I did because I am in search of someone. I do not wish to cause the Everards harm.” When Maxwell remained quiet, she added, “I am inclined to believe that you suspect me of spying for whatever reason you may have. That is not the case.”

“I do not hear a negotiation. You are wasting my time,” he said, taking a step back.

She held out her hand to stop the door from closing. “I shall leave the moment I find what I am looking for. Merely give me a month or so.” He watched while her hand disappeared inside the breast pocket of her coat. His brow rose when it reappeared and she held out a ruby necklace. “This is my most valuable possession at the moment and I give it to you in return for your silence.”

His lips twitched in an incredulous smile. “Do you realize, woman, that you are facing an Everard? We mine jewels. Why do you believe that I would take that piece of garbage?”

He saw the hurt in her eyes before it quickly vanished. She smiled. “I know the Everards cannot mine rubies, my lord.”

“And I say I do not need—”

She surprised him yet again by grabbing his hand and forced the ruby necklace into his palm. “There. It is yours for now. You will have to return it when I leave.” She stepped back and turned away. “For your silence, my lord.”

Maxwell did not realize that he was gaping after the valet.

Did she call that a negotiation?

It was a bloody attack!

---

Maxine’s heart was pounding hard against her chest when she reached the cabin she had to share with the carriage driver. The man was already snoring, deep asleep.

She had done it.

She faced Maxwell Everard and delivered what she had been practicing for hours earlier.

It was true that he did not need the ruby. But it was the only valuable possession she had that she could not part with for long. Her father had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday and she would get it back. But for now, Maxwell Everard would have to think that she was not who he suspected to be. He might now believe she was a thief who stole a ruby. Bloody hell, he might even be inclined to think she was gentry.

Her move was not to pay him for her silence, her move was meant to startle him and make him think of her true motives further. It would give her time. She was innocent of anything other than hiding who she truly was. He would not find anything suspicious about her.

For the meanwhile she was satisfied that the man was left even more baffled.

For certain he would confront her once again and by then she shall be prepared.

---

Maxine was cursing inside her head.

She was not complaining, really, but why did Nicholas have to bring so many bags? Her arms wanted to give up on her, having gone two trips down the stairs carrying two bags at once. If Albin did not provide a list of the things that Nicholas preferred to be brought along with him during travels such as this, she would have packed merely two bags for him. Surely he would not need this many! His brother surely did not!

And speaking of the brother, did she have to carry his things as well?

She merely had one bag! One bag! And these two brothers brought along as much as her wardrobe in Theobald!

A voice inside her head let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. Of course! Who else would carry them? The driver did not even bother to offer help. The brothers, of course, went straight down to breakfast. She was on her own, carrying a burden of trousers, coats, shirts and everything else packed in large bags.

On her last trip down, she was carrying Maxwell’s bags, ones he left inside his room for her to bring back down to the carriage.

Nicholas was talking to a man while Maxwell was standing in one corner, ready to depart.

Maxine caught his eyes and she almost fell over when her right foot tripped on the edge of the bag she was carrying.

A strong hand managed to grasp her arm to pull her straight back. She jumped away when she realized it was Maxwell, causing her to stumble back and lose her balance once again. He caught her once more.

“You are too bloody inept for a valet,” he snapped at her under his breath and without another word snatched the bags from her hands and walked out the door.

Recovering from her shock, she ran after him. “I can do it, milord!” she called out with annoyance but he was not listening as he threw one bag to the driver who piled it on top of the carriage. He threw the next one and opened the carriage door.

She tightly shut her lips to silence the frustrated growl stuck in her throat. Turning sharply around, she walked up to the driver.

“Where do you think you are going?” Maxwell snapped behind her.

“I am riding with the driver,” she said over her shoulder.

“No, you are not,” he uttered.

She skidded to a stop. What was he doing now? He helped her with the luggage and now he did not want her to ride with the driver? Why? Because he had confirmed she was a woman? “Whyever not, milord?” she asked, trying her best not to sound too proud. After what she did last night, Maxwell Everard might just decide to tell his brother the truth and leave her here at Marsden.

And she could not have that. If they ever did that, it would almost be like leaving her outside the Theobald doorsteps. Her father’s estate was merely half a day away!

He was frowning at her. “You cannot ride with the driver just yet, valet,” he repeated, “because you have to fetch my brother first,” he finished, climbing inside the carriage. He slammed the door shut. “And make it fast. We do not have all day,” his voice added from inside.

Maxine gritted her teeth and returned into the tavern.

Nicholas was laughing with the man he was talking with and he turned with an inquiring look as she approached. “Are we ready to leave, Max?”

“Yes, milord.”

“Good then!” He turned to the tavern owner and said goodbye.

The old man nodded and turned to Maxine. His gaze settled on her and he frowned. “Have I seen you before, lad?”

Maxine’s heart hammered against her chest. No, she had not seen this man before. She did not stay long in Marsden after her horse was stolen. There could be no way this man would identify her—unless he was familiar of her father, of course. She had his eyes after all.

“Oh, he used to work for the Theobalds,” Nicholas answered for her.

“Mayhap you have seen me around the village while I was running errands,” she offered.

The man’s frown deepened, unsure whether to take her answer or not, but he must have thought it was useless to wonder too much so he shrugged.

“Good day, milord!” he said to Nicholas.

Nicholas nodded and walked out of the tavern with Maxine. This was what she had been afraid of, she thought. When she learned that they were to stay in Marsden, she had started to panic.

That man was merely a reminder that she must make haste.

---

Devonshire was amongst the largest estates all over the Town and it was inherited by none other than the eldest of the Everards, Benedict.

He had been spending most of his time here since he married his wife to keep her away from unnecessary gossips. She was Ysabella and Emma’s governess. Benedict found himself in love with her and caused quite a scandal by marrying the governess after breaking his engagement with one of the richest families in Wickhurst. After their marriage, Benedict and his wife struggled to have a child, losing their first one and finally rewarded by their first born, Ayah, merely months ago.

Maxwell and Nicholas immediately went to see their niece.

“She does look like an Everard,” Nicholas muttered as he frowned down at the dark-haired babe in his arms.

“She is an Everard,” Benedict said in his deadpan voice.

“Is there a chance for her eyes to change color?” Maxwell wondered.

Agatha laughed. “I believe that is hardly possible, Max.”

He shrugged and lightly teased the child’s nose before stepping away.

“Would have loved for her to have her mother’s eyes,” Benedict said, “but she is an Everard in every way.”

Agatha’s golden brown eyes glimmered with amusement. She walked over to Nicholas, her hands outstretched. “I shall leave you three alone for now,” she said. Nicholas handed Ayah back to Agatha.

“You have a very beautiful child, Agatha,” Nicholas said.

Their sister-in-law laughed, her auburn hair moving along as she lightly shook her head. “You would have one if you find a wife soon.”

Maxwell scoffed and walked over to the liquor cabinet to prepare a drink.

They all waited until Agatha and Ayah were out of the library.

“Have you decided?” Nicholas asked the question. Maxwell turned to Benedict who settled behind his table.

Their brother was different from them all in many ways. He had been through tragic events in his life. His face was filled with scars caused by their now brother-in-law Cole Devitt. But it was a story long forgotten and buried. None of them would dare speak of it now that Benedict seem to not be bothered by Devitt or the sins they both did to each other in the past.

Maxwell had once thought that it was Agatha who saved their brother from making the worst mistake of his life. Marrying a woman he did not love for business was almost suicide.

And that was what he feared the most. Benedict had a penchant to put business first before his own welfare and Maxwell only hoped that this new life with his wife and daughter would change that predisposition.

“I do not like this, Ben,” Maxwell honestly said, walking over to the chaise. “Osegod is not one we must associate ourselves with.”

“You believe the rumors about the man,” Nicholas nearly snapped. He turned to Benedict. “I say we hear what he has to say first before we make a decision. If he is a man who cannot accept rejection, then we continue with our lives and hope he is a good sport. If he is a man who turns out to be a very good business partner, then we win.”

Maxwell shook his head. “We had always been doing well, Nicholas. We do not need more.”

“But he can help us with new projects. He has the power and the authority. We can open more mines and—”

“I have to agree with Max,” Benedict interjected in a serious tone.

Nicholas sighed. “Of course, you will. I have guessed as much.”

“But I fear that a rejection from the Everards would urge Osegod to do more drastic things.”

Nicholas gaped. “Do not tell me that you believe he had something to do with the accident in the mine as well!”

Benedict shrugged. “It is possible.”

Nicholas turned to Maxwell with an incredulous look on his face. “What could have made you think he did it? What would he get from it?”

Maxwell was quiet for a while. He knew what Osegod could be capable of. He had overheard Margaret talk with a fellow Leaguer and it was the first time he had ever heard his sister sound scared. They had been talking about Osegod and how to bring him down, but that was a matter he could not easily disclose to his brothers. Not without Margaret’s permission, of course.

“I suggest we talk with Levi and Margaret,” he said.

“We barely know what Osegod specifically wants. He merely mentioned his desire for a business partnership. We must hear him out first,” Nicholas said.

“I agree,” Benedict said, making Maxwell snap his head in surprise.

“Ben, you cannot be thinking of inviting the man—”

“I have already requested details of his plan. I will study them once they arrive,” Benedict said. “I do not wish to meet the entire family without a good report. They will have questions and I will have to answer all of them.” He stared at Maxwell. “For now, you can be assured that I do not plan to engage in any sort of business with Osegod until we have discussed everything with everyone.”

He would have liked it best if Benedict had already expressed his refusal, but Benedict shall always be Benedict.

“How are the mines?” Benedict asked.

“We have secured every corner possible,” Nicholas said. “The workers are taking extra care with the explosives.”

“Did you transfer the storage facility?”

“At the southern part,” Maxwell replied. “Ben, that accident was not supposed to have happened.”

His brother nodded. “I know. But we cannot point a finger solely on Osegod simply because we believe it is him behind it. It could have been an unlucky accident and it could also be as what we both believe. For now, we shall have to be careful. Make certain that all workers are being checked. Have all of them renew their passes.”

Nicholas and Maxwell nodded.

“Does mother know?”

“Of the accident, yes,” Nicholas said.

“Osegod, no,” Maxwell added.

Benedict stood up and sighed. “Then it shall remain that way until I have the details of Osegod’s proposal.” He walked to the center of the room. “He might try to approach you in the Macy ball.”

Nicholas groaned. “Not possible. I shall be surrounded by young maidens.”

Benedict rolled his eyes.

“He might try,” Maxwell said, standing up, “but it shall prove to be quite a challenge. There will be a ton of people there. Not good for business deals.”

“But even so, do be wary.”

“Of course,” Maxwell said with a nod. “Has Agatha arranged for an early dinner?”

“Why?”

He walked to the door. “I am famished.”

---

Later that evening, Maxwell and his brothers spent the night drinking in the drawing room, talking about their mother and siblings. They also discussed the small hunting game they planned to have within Devonshire before departing for Willowfair. They might not find anything bigger than a squirrel, but it had been a long time since Benedict had joined them for such game.

None of them discussed Osegod. Benedict had decided to wait and so they shall.

“I will to retire early,” he said, standing up to leave.

Nicholas merely nodded and Benedict simply waved his hand. Both men were engrossed in a game of chess.

He walked out of the drawing room and found the valet standing outside, jumping to alertness when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a frown. Had she been listening to their discussion?

“Waiting for my master, milord,” was her short reply. Her pale grey eyes would not meet his.

Stubborn.

He meant to walk away, but he could not help himself. This might not be the perfect time and place to discuss about her ruby necklace or where she acquired it, nor was it the time to interrogate. Bloody hell, he was not even quite sure yet how to interrogate her. But he could not simply walk away without saying a word.

So he simply walked up to her and said, “You do not have to do everything for my brother, valet.”

“But it is my task,” she snapped back, adding too late, “milord.”

“Of course, you must understand why I said that.”

He did not expect her to decode his statement for it was rare for anyone to do so, but she surprised him yet again when she stuck up her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “You wish that I do not spend more time with your brother or your family so I cannot do what you believe I am doing which is spying, a matter I find atrocious if not unbelievable, of course.”

He cocked his brows high. “You are quick-witted. Even more reason to suspect you.”

She smiled. “If that is what you truly wish to do, milord, I cannot stop you. But you must remember that I have paid for your silence and I hope that you keep what you know to yourself.”

“You realize that I can throw your bloody necklace at your face, walk back in that room and tell my family everything, do you not?” he challenged, gauging every reaction on her face.

He found none that would have caused him alarm.

“I am here for personal reasons, milord. I repeat that I do not wish to cause any of you any harm.” Her eyes did not leave his as she finished, “My mission is entirely for myself and has nothing to do with the Everards.”

He did not move, nor did he speak. He was hoping that she would give something he could easily decipher to be bad. He could not do anything if she had done nothing wrong. Yet.

“You ought to leave me alone and do my job in silence, milord.”

“Do not tell me what to do, valet,” he snapped, finally walking away from her. “I shall keep your necklace,” he said over his shoulder. “But know that I am watching.”

As he walked to the staircase, he thought he heard her say, “Why am I not surprised?”

She must be wondering why he accepted her so-called payment , or why he had not done anything drastic yet.

As a matter of fact, he was not planning to for it was better to have her close.

One could not shoot a prey if one does not have it in sight after all.

XV. On the Way to Willowfair

Maxine thought that the brothers’ plans for a hunting trip meant she could have some rest, but to her utter horror and disappointment, Nicholas ordered her to assist them with their things for Agatha would be joining them for a picnic nearby.

Devonshire had servants, of course, but they had their own duties and responsibilities. Benedict’s valet had to go to the village to procure important things while the other servants were tasked to help Agatha set up tables and chairs for the picnic.

Maxine was left to carry spare riffles and bullets, both for Nicholas and Maxwell. Benedict did not need a spare as he claimed he was not positive he would even be able to shoot the one he was carrying.

Maxine would not have minded at all if only Nicholas did not think it wise to bring an extra pair of boots. Boots! How did he expect the small wooden parts of Devonshire to be made of? Thorny spikes for grasses?

She was lagging behind the three brothers as they leisurely walked to the woods. Agatha would follow suit later as she was not expected to join the hunt. Or was she? She had forgotten to inquire Benedict’s valet about that particular detail.

On the way, Maxwell kept looking over his shoulder. Was he checking on her? Was he thinking that she was listening in on their conversation? What else could she do to prove to the bastard that she was anything but a female valet who would not wish for anything but reach Willowfair and find her mother?

As they reached the edge of the woods, Maxwell stayed behind and walked up to her, his steps impatient. He was already frowning at her as he neared and she quickened her steps. “Give them to me,” he ordered, his arm outstretched as he tried to reach for the riffles.

“I can manage, milord,” she gritted through her teeth. Bloody hell, these riffles were heavy.

He glowered at her. “What is in the bag?” he asked, eyeing her extra baggage.

“Boots, milord?”

“Boots?” he incredulously asked.

“Lord Nick’s, milord.”

He rolled his eyes and snatched the riffles from her shoulders. “Give them to me.”

“Milord, I can—”

“We shall not be hunting anything at your pace,” he snapped at her before he turned to join his brothers. “Nick! Why the bloody hell did you need an extra pair of boots!” she heard him ask his brother.

“I can bloody carry anything I wish!” Nicholas snapped back. “And why are you carrying the riffles? Where is Max?” Nicholas looked over his shoulder with a frown.

Maxine sighed.

“Your bloody incompetent valet is lagging behind,” Maxwell uttered, walking up to Benedict to join him. “Hurry on!”

Nicholas laughed. He turned around to face Maxine while he walked backward. “Can you shoot, Max?”

“Of course—” Maxwell started to answer but realized his brother addressed a different person. He stopped to glare at both Nicholas and Maxine.

Maxine focused her gaze on Nicholas. “I am afraid not, my lord. I fear I might miss and hit something else—or rather someone else,” she said before pointedly looking at Maxwell, brow arched. At the back of her head she knew she must not provoke him, but his murderous glare was provoking her as well!

“Ah, too bad then,” said Nicholas. “We could use another player to join us. Ben is not a good hunter, see?”

“With merely one riffle, I shall prove otherwise,” the eldest of the brothers replied without looking over his shoulder.

They had now reached the edge of the woods.

Feeling quite lost, Maxine stopped where the picnic had been set up as the brothers trudged on ahead into the woods. She had never hunted before, nor was she prepared to know her task as a valet when the masters were out for such sport.

“Stay there and wait, Max,” Nicholas cried over his shoulder and she nodded with enthusiasm.

Good. There was no way she would survive a hunt. Maxwell might suddenly be possessed and think of her as his prey.

---

Nearly four hours later, the three brothers emerged from the woods with two dead rabbits.

“Rabbits?” Agatha asked from her table. “We heard numerous shots ring out earlier and you merely managed two rabbits?”

“Do you have anything bigger than a fly in Devonshire?” Nicholas asked, shaking his head with disappointment. “I caught these two,” he said, motioning for Maxine to retrieve the rabbits.

Maxine obliged, albeit unwillingly. She heard Maxwell scoff as she carried the dead rabbits away to the side. Ah, bloody hell, why did men love killing things!

“Benedict tried his best but missed every prey, of course,” Nicholas was saying, taking a seat around the picnic table. He crossed his leg over the other as he finished, “And Maxwell decided to sit on a rock and wait for the hunt to be over.”

“You did?” Agatha asked Maxwell with a laugh.

“No use wasting bullets for mere rabbits,” Maxwell replied, sitting beside Benedict.

“What have you been doing while we were trying to prove our manly spirits in the woods?” Benedict asked his wife.

Agatha smiled. “I just arrived an hour or so ago. Ayah was quite restless and she refused to sleep.”

“She is not sick, is she?” her husband asked with worry.

“No. She is sleeping now as we speak.” Agatha motioned her hand at Maxine. “I was asking your valet, Nick, where he came from when the three of you arrived.”

“Truly?” Nicholas asked.

Maxine nearly groaned with frustration. Benedict Everard’s wife had been paying her too much attention since she arrived at the picnic site.

“I was previously employed by the Theobalds, milady,” she replied, ignoring Maxwell’s intense gaze from the side.

“The Theobalds? They live merely a few miles away from here.”

She swallowed. “Yes, I believe so, milady.” She focused her attention on Lady Devonshire.

The woman was not precisely beautiful, but something in her was striking. Mayhap the eyes? Agatha Everard had the most striking topaz brown eyes she had ever seen.

A knowing smile lifted the woman’s lips. “You must feel quite discomfited by my questions. I beg your pardon.”

“It is fine, milady.”

“I am always curious about service people as I have been one myself.”

Maxine was aware of it, of course. Benedict Everard had caused quite a big scandal by marrying his sisters’ governess many years back. It had made Maxine curious when she read the articles. There were really still people in the Town who would risk everything for love.

It had brought many bothersome questions then. Had her mother not loved her then? If she did, she would have risked everything to keep her, yes?

But there were very few people like Benedict Everard. He had the riches and the status to cause a scandal and survive it. Mayhap her mother never had a choice. Or mayhap she simply did not want anything to do with her.

“Max waited on me last Theobald weekend party. I asked if he would like to be my valet in Wickhurst. He arrived months ago,” Nicholas was saying, drawing Maxine away from her thoughts.

“But I must ask, valet,” Maxwell started, shifting in his seat to face her.

“He has a name, Max. It is Max,” Nicholas corrected before laughing.

Maxwell glared and ignored his brother. “I was trying to ask where he came from. And I do not mean the previous employment, of course.”

Maxine swallowed. She wanted to throw the man a murderous look but she could not do so in the presence of his family.

“Willowfair,” she replied.

“Willowfair!” Nicholas uttered in surprise. “Truly?”

“Yes, milord,” she said. “I was born there, but I can barely recall anything as my father took me to Theobald when he… where he was employed as a footman.”

“Ah, like father like son, eh?” Nicholas asked.

She nodded. “Yes, milord.”

Until the picnic was over and the family decided to continue their small rendezvous inside the estate as suggested by Benedict after he noticed that his wife had left her spectacles in the manor and demanded that she retrieve them at once before she later complained of headache, Maxine avoided Maxwell’s assessing gaze.

But as they walked back to the manor, Maxwell brushed Maxine aside to carry the riffles, grudgingly saying, “You could barely carry dead rabbits,” before walking away.

Maxine let it pass as what he said was true. She had never encountered a dead animal before.

She could not remember how she managed to walk fast to the kitchen to deposit the rabbits or how she found the room she had to share with the driver to change her uniform to be free of the smell.

The one thing that made her day end fairly well was the thought of Willowfair.

She had to endure yet another long journey, but she would eventually get there.

The driver was snoring in his sleep when Maxine closed her eyes with a smile.

---

“Max can handle himself, Max,” Nicholas uttered as they both stood in the doorway of their brother’s estate, ready to leave. “Ah, I do love that he is called Max. Is it not funny?” his brother added with a laugh.

“I merely said he is too inept,” Maxwell wryly uttered. “Look how he handles the luggage, for God’s sake.”

“He is a good valet,” Nicholas said, patting his shoulder. His brother started to climb down the stairs to enter the carriage while the valet and the driver finished securing the bags. “Cease complaining about my valet. And he shall be fine riding with the driver.”

He followed his brother into the carriage. “I would not lift a finger if he falls to the ground.”

“He will not. And who lets their valets ride inside the carriage? Have you bloody lost your mind?” Nicholas asked with an incredulous scoff.

Maxwell sighed and looked out the window. Agatha was carrying Ayah in her arms, Benedict beside them. He gave a short wave and leaned back against his seat.

“Well, you managed to convince Benedict to postpone any engagement with Osegod,” Nicholas said as the carriage drew away.

“Yet he is still willing to hear the bastard out,” he grumbled.

“A matter I find satisfactory. We cannot let a good opportunity pass, brother.”

“You mean to say an opportunity to walk away from the wrong path?” he asked.

“Always cynical, Max. Always cynical,” Nicholas said, shaking his head and clucking his tongue in resignation.

---

Maxine jumped off the carriage the very moment they stopped outside a tavern in the village of Cromwell.

She waited until Nicholas and Maxwell disappeared into the tavern before she stretched out her arms and legs. The driver did the same with a groan.

“I do not know why we must take the longer route,” the driver said with a groan. It would merely take two days if we went back to Marsden, see?“

“Who ordered to take this route?” Maxine asked, wincing in pain.

“Lord Max, I believe.”

“Of course,” she said wryly. She could almost picture the man talking to his brother about taking a longer route to avoid imaginary enemies. What was with Maxwell Everard and his suspicious nature, really?

“Come on, lad,” said the driver, pulling her by her coat.

“But the luggage—”

“—can wait,” the driver said. “We must get supper first, aye?”

She heard her stomach grumble. “Aye!” she answered. “The luggage can wait then.”

But merely minutes later, she and the driver returned to the carriage with disappointment. Food would not be ready in two hours.

“Two bloody hours!” the driver exclaimed as he climbed on top of the carriage to grudgingly pull the bags. He threw the first one down for Maxine to catch.

“I am famished,” Maxine said when the last bag was on the ground. She sat on the one of Nicholas’ luggage to rest. The driver was leaning against the carriage.

“Should’ve taken the basket of bread the maid in Devonshire offered,” the driver said.

“Then why did you not?” Maxine asked in horror.

“Thought they were cooked with potion!”

“Potion? For what?”

The driver’s face turned serious. “She had been lookin’ at me as though I am an angel from aboveground, lad. You should’ve seen ’er face! She was try’na seduce me that’s what!”

“Seduce you!” she cried out in disbelief. “But they were food, you fool!” Maxine could not help but laugh. “Potion,” she added in disbelief.

The driver leaned closer to whisper, “Have you not heard? Lady Devonshire was once rumored to be a witch. Her servants must’ve taken a lesson or two, see?”

“You jest,” she said with a laugh. “Witches are not real.”

The driver shrugged. “And I was merely tryin’ not to get in trouble with me wife, see?”

She scoffed. “Ah, yes, of course. I almost forgot you do not live with us in the estate. You come by every day for yer job, yes?”

“Aye,” he uttered with a nod.

“And Lord Nick is fine with it?”

“’Cors he is,” the man replied. “I know his schedule. I am by the driveway before he even wakes.”

“What are you doing?” a voice rang from above.

Maxine and the driver jumped to their feet in alarm. She looked up and saw Maxwell Everard glaring down at them through the window.

“Working, milord!” she replied.

“That is not how it seems,” he snapped. “Get the luggage upstairs!”

Before she knew it, he had disappeared from sight.

“Tell me, my friend,” Maxine asked the driver, “who is my master, really? That bloody bastard or Lord Nick?”

The driver laughed and gave her shoulder a pat. “Go on before you find yerself out the door and without a post.”

“But he could not fire me!”

“He might,” the man said with a shrug. “Go and give the man what he wants and come join me for supper.”

She nodded and looked down at the luggage before her.

With a groan, she bent down to resume her work.

---

She deliberately took her time attending to her true master, delivering his luggage inside his room and helping him change his clothes, a task she once found quite difficult. It was fairly easy if one could get used to it, really. She simply had to focus her eyes on the back of his head as he stripped and put on new clothes.

“You may retire for the night, Max,” said Nicholas after she had arranged his clothes. “I am not leaving my room until the morrow. My dinner shall be served here. I will not be needing your services.”

“Very well, milord,” she said.

He gave her one of his disarming smiles. “Good night, Max. And I do apologize for my brother. He is not your master, thus do not mind his cynical remarks.”

“No need for apologies, milord. I have gotten quite used to your brother.” A lie, of course.

Nicholas laughed. “Good for you then! I have never gotten used to him at all! The more I spend time with him, the more I am inclined to believe he is from aboveground!”

Maxine smiled and bowed.

Leaving Nicholas meant going to his brother. As much as she wanted to join the driver down for supper, she must deliver Maxwell’s things first for she was certain the man would not give her rest if she deliberately forgot about him.

Moments later, she was knocking outside his door. When it swung open, Maxine grabbed his bags from the floor and said, “Good evening, milord. I am here to deliver your things as you have strongly ordered earlier.”

As expected, he was glaring down at her, his dark, long hair a curtain at both sides of his face. A very angry lion , Maxine silently noted.

She honestly expected him to grab the bags from her and slam the door at her face, but he did not. He took a step back and said, “Put them over to the bed.”

Maxine prayed for patience as she drew a deep breath and entered the room. A shiver ran through her when she heard the door close behind her.

She deposited the bags on the bed and turned. “Good night, milord,” she murmured, her steps hastily taking her to the door.

“Not on the bed, valet. Put them on the floor.”

She made a sharp turn to return to his luggage and drop them on the floor. She started for the door once more, steps filled with intent. All the while, she kept her head bowed to maintain composure and patience.

“I am not done with you, valet,” Maxwell Everard’s voice said and she looked up to find him leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

Maxine was desperately crying inside. What had she done to deserve this? It would be a very good welcome to have Nicholas Everard act like this toward her, but not this one brother—never! He scared her beyond belief and her courage had almost reached its limit.

It would kill her if she lost all control and she would shiver with fear in front of him. Or worse, beg him to spare her!

“I am not going to murder you,” he snapped, taking in her reaction. He motioned his head to one side of the room. “Sit.”

Maxine turned her head and found a small table with two chairs. On top of the table was a tray of food.

She cleared her throat to conceal the involuntary grumbling of her stomach.

Maxwell Everard spoke once again, his voice cold and authoritative. “I said sit down, valet.”

Maxine dragged her feet to the chair.

Bloody hell, the food smelled good!

“I assume you wish to interrogate me, milord?” she uttered when he did not speak. “Can you please do it fast for I have not taken my supper yet and I am famished,” she added, stealing a look at the tray before veering her eyes back on Maxwell.

He pushed away from door and walked toward her. He took the other seat across the table.

She scoffed in disbelief. “You wish to interrogate me while you have your supper? Truly, milord, I do not wish to suffer from both hunger and your irrelevant interro—” the rest of her words were left unsaid when Maxwell pushed the tray toward her.

“Eat,” he ordered.

She blinked in surprise, not believing her ears.

Irritation crossed his emerald green eyes. His dark mane and thick brows did not help smooth his features either. “Eat, valet.”

“When I said I am famished, milord, I did not mean you ought to give me your supper.”

“I have already taken my supper,” he snapped. “Eat.”

She looked down on the tray. And suddenly she remembered the conversation she had with the driver. Was the food mixed with potion, perhaps?

She mentally shook her head.

Of course not, you fool! It must be poisoned , her mind shouted.

“I said eat, woman! How bloody stubborn could you be?”

“But why are you offering me food?” she could not help but ask.

“Because you have to be full as you answer my questions,” he reasoned. “Eat.”

Her jaw tightened. “I have lost my appetite.”

His right brow cocked high with warning.

Maxine sighed and stared down at the food with longing once more. “Are you certain this is not poisoned?”

“What?” he incredulously asked.

She did not answer and picked up the fork and knife. If this food was poisoned, she prayed that she would have enough strength to stab him with the knife later before her last breath. She cut a piece of meat and was about to take put it in her mouth when she paused.

“What now?” Maxwell Everard snapped at her.

“If you truly plan to interrogate me, would you care to ask the questions while I chew? I would hate to answer with my mouth full.”

“Stop with the sarcasm, woman, and eat.”

“You must realize this is awkward, yes?” she asked.

“You do not have the right to feel awkward,” was his fast reply.

She fed the piece of meat into her mouth and almost closed her eyes at the taste. It had been quite a long time since she had eaten meat! Why did she leave Theobald again?

Maxine was surprised Maxwell Everard managed to wait until she was halfway through her supper before opening his mouth.

“You say you are looking for someone. Who?”

She sighed with disappointment. Of course, he could not wait until she finished. This man truly did not like wasting time, did he?

Maxine took her time chewing her food, enjoying Maxwell’s impatient glare. Swallowing, she reached for the glass of wine and sipped.

“Answer,” he ordered.

“My mother.”

She hastily forked more meat before he could recover from his obvious shock.

He frowned. “And why do you find the need to pretend to be a man?”

Ah, an easy question. She swallowed, drank wine and answered, “Because the world is less cruel to men.”

“And where do you suppose your mother is?”

She chewed more meat and this time she took more time as it was a bigger chunk. Swallowing, Maxine gave her reply, “Willowfair.”

His brow rose once more. “So you were not lying.”

“When I said I came from Willowfair? Of course I was not.” She stuffed her mouth with a bigger piece of meat. Mayhap she must finish this supper as soon as she could. Another set was waiting for her downstairs anyway.

“This travel is convenient for you then.”

“Very much so,” she replied with her mouth full.

His face was even curious now. Surprisingly, the anger had diminished. “And what do you intend to do once you find her?”

“Talk to her and return home,” she honestly replied before she gulped the rest of her wine.

“And where is home?”

Her eyes slanted with annoyance. “I’d rather not answer.”

“You have been doing quite well, valet. Do not raise my suspicion once more.”

“Where I return home is far from Wickhurst and the Everards. That is all you need to know, milord, as I am quite certain that is all you are concerned about.”

“And how can I be certain that you do not go home to a place where they are awaiting for your report?”

“On what, milord?” Her face crumpled with disbelief. Truly, how pathetic could this man’s imagination get? “Report on what? On how the Everard brothers waste their time? How they throw up into a spittoon? On how their brothers-in-law were fetched by their wives after a night at Grey’s? On how you all hunt rabbits?” she asked, assuming an innocent look on her face. “Is that the report you wish me to relay on—who is it again that you believe I shall be reporting to?”

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. “Do not test my patience, woman.”

Maxine clapped her hands to together, feigning a happy smile. “Ah, mayhap you wish me to report about the life of the Everard servants? I do have a ton to say about them, see? One maid fancies a valet she barely knows, a footman fancies that maid, a butler fancies that maid as well, the housekeeper is a bad cook, the other maid is besotted with one of the brothers—a matter I am inclined to correct very soon—and what else? Ah, of course! I almost missed the important detail about the carriage driver!” She slapped a hand on the table, her face forming a sardonic smile. “He snores in his sleep!”

Without warning, Maxine stood up, ignoring Maxwell’s deadly gaze.

“I have enough of your suspicions, milord, so please, if you can, do give me the time to reach Willowfair so I could prove to you that everything you think about me is naught but farce and uncalled for,” she managed in a calm, controlled voice. She turned and walked to the door, ready to eat another supper with the driver downstairs.

Maxwell Everard was quietly listening to her tirade but his voice stopped her when she reached the door.

“Where have you been sleeping in the entirety of this journey?” he demanded, voice bare and dry.

“In a room, of course.”

“You said the driver snores.”

“He does. Would you like to hear it? You are welcome to come by our room later if you wish to—”

“And where are you going now?”

“Downstairs, milord,” she said, turning the knob and pulling the door open.

She squealed in surprise when it slammed close before she even took the first step out. She whirled to find Maxwell standing behind her, a frown on his face. “You are a woman.”

She understood what he meant, of course. She scoffed and lifted her chin. “And you are the only one who is aware of the fact, milord. For everyone else, I am a man who is expected to sleep in the same room with another male servant.”

“And you have been sleeping with whom in Nicholas’ estate?”

“Albin the footman, of course.” She shrugged. “He does not snore if you wish to know.”

He reached behind her and locked the door. He pocketed the key. “You sleep here tonight.”

Her mouth dropped in horror. She looked over at the bed. She whirled back around to try the door. The bloody bastard locked it indeed!

“I shall bring down this door if you do not open it.”

“You can barely manage to carry two bags up and down the stairs,” Maxwell Everard uttered, loosening his cravat. “Trust me, woman, you cannot break down that door.”

With as much patience she could muster, Maxine drew in a long breath and slowly let it out. “As much as it is tempting to sleep on a bed, milord, I do not think it is proper at all that we share the same room!”

He frowned. “Who bloody said you will sleep on my bed?”

She blinked with confusion.

“Get the covers from the closet and sleep on the floor,” he ordered, throwing his cravat to the side.

“I do have a cot in the room I share with the driver, milord. What makes you believe I would prefer to sleep on the floor, in your room, with your presence?”

He whirled to face her, his eyes murderous. “Because I order you to.”

“You are not my master—”

“Ah,” he said, his face lighting up with a sudden smile, “but I am the only one who knows of your secret.”

Maxine’s jaw tightened. Her hands balled into fists.

“Why are you doing this?”

He merely raised his brow and shrugged. She started to panic. What did that shrug mean? She found she could easily read him, but that one gesture she found quite confusing.

“They might find out and—”

“Should I go out and knock on Nick’s door? I am certain he would like to hear about your secret.” He was taking his shirt off. Her heart started to hammer.

“I have supper waiting for me downstairs,” she said in desperation.

He threw his shirt to the side. “You just had one.”

“But I am still hungry and—”

Maxwell walked to his bed. “You sleep in this room, woman, or we both go out and face Nicholas.”

“As I have said, milord, they might find out and wonder why I slept—”

He took the key from his pocket and slid it under his pillow. He grabbed the other pillow and threw it at her. She caught it as he said, “Then do your bloody job and get up early before everyone here starts thinking I am a nancy. And turn the bloody lights off.”

Maxine turned to face the door. She tried the knob once more. Leaning her forehead against it, she vowed to someday take her revenge on Maxwell Everard.

XVI. Miss at Macy

Maxine knew that Willowfair was not as big as Wickhurst, but it had its own charm and flair as one of the most affluent towns.

She had never been here—as she had in all places of the Town apart from Wickhurst—but she could picture herself walking its streets. It was not as busy as Wickhurst. As a matter of fact, it was quieter here.

Although the people who roamed the streets wore the same clothes and the buildings seemed as tall and large, there was a different kind of calmness.

“You must be tired,” said the driver as he guided the horses to turn right. “You slept late and you woke up too early.”

She swallowed. She had lied to the man, of course, for she did not spend the night in the room she was supposed to. He merely concluded that she came in late while he was already sleeping and woke up earlier than him and she did not correct him for how could she? How could she ever explain why she slept in her master’s brother’s rented room?

But the driver was correct when he said she must be tired for that was what Maxine was at that very moment.

Spending the night inside the same room as Maxwell Everard was probably the longest night she had to suffer. Not merely did her mind refuse to give her rest, but her senses did not also let her sleep. The bastard slept soundly the entire time. She counted the hours until she thought it was time to shake him back to his senses and demand that he give her the key, which he did by throwing it on the floor before he returned to sleep.

“You did eat your supper, yes?” the driver asked. “I made certain they put it aside for ye when you did’na return.”

“Yes,” she wryly uttered. She ate it for breakfast.

The man clucked his tongue. “I could not imagine what you’d have to go through in Willowfair, lad. These bloody balls could truly drain a valet. And they do intend to stay a few more days after that, aye?”

She sighed. She could already picture herself running about to fetch everything for Nicholas. He was a very picky dresser. She merely had to experience waiting on him as he prepared for two balls in Wickhurst and they were not very fond memories. He would change his coat every bloody minute and find things in his shirt he did not like before he left which would lead to more running and fetching whatever it was he wanted.

But she had packed the best suits for him and she hoped he would find them satisfactory as she had plans of her own.

The carriage drew to a stop outside a large townhouse. “They rented this place?” the driver asked.

Maxine nodded. “Yes, for the ball.”

“Bloody rich bastards.”

Maxine grinned. “It is fully staffed as well.”

“Bloody rich bastards indeed.”

She scoffed and jumped out to open the carriage door.

“Ah, finally!” Nicholas cried out, stretching his arms and legs on the pavement. “I am too bloody tired.”

“You did not do anything,” Maxwell snapped as he stepped out of the carriage.

“The bags, Max,” Nicholas ordered, following Maxwell up the stairs to enter the door held open by a serious-looking butler. “I meant Max my valet, Max, not you,” he added with amusement.

“Bloody tarnation, Nicholas, shut up or I’ll make you,” Maxwell replied over his shoulder.

Maxine watched as the two brothers disappeared into the townhouse. The butler stepped out and said, “Do you need help?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she shamelessly replied.

The man nodded. “I shall have the footmen come out and help. You must be tired.”

She merely smiled. Thank God for kind servants!

“Let the footmen take the bags, sir,” said the butler. “You must have all the rest you can before the rest arrives.”

Maxine stopped cold. “The rest?”

“Of course! The rest of the Everards!”

She felt blood rush down to her feet. “T-the Everards?”

The butler looked at her with confusion. “You are not aware? They always stay in the same townhouse for the Macy ball.”

She cleared her throat to catch her breath. “This is the first I am aware of it.”

“Ah, you seem new. Mind not, sir, you have a full staff to help you!”

Maxine gulped. She felt a pat on her shoulder. She turned to see the driver staring at her with pity.

No, she was not to be pitied for she felt far worse than that.

She was beyond horrified!

---

“How is Ben and Aggie?”

Maxwell veered his eyes toward Emma and waited for Nicholas to reply. When his brother did not, for he was currently having a conversation with Cole Devitt and Margaret, he sighed and uttered, “They are fine.”

“Fine?” Alice Everard asked with a frown. “Fine is not a good word, my dear.”

“Max saying fine means Ben and Aggie are doing marvelously great,” Ysabella said from one corner. Her husband, Wakefield, nodded in agreement.

“And my grandchild must be marvelous as well, yes?” their mother asked, her blue eyes glimmering.

“Of course,” he said, eyes now roaming around the parlor. “Where is Ralph?”

“He is out, of course,” Emma replied with a sigh, opening her book with disinterest. “Work, he said.”

“He is meeting McKenzie Haverston,” Margaret added, standing to her feet. “Which reminds me that we must leave, Cole,” she added to her husband.

“Meg, we just arrived,” Cole reminded her.

Margaret narrowed her eyes. “And Fiona is excited to see the Haverstons, her cousins most especially.” She looked around. “Where are the girls?”

“Upstairs with their governess,” her husband replied.

“Fetch them.”

“Are they not staying here with us?” Ysabella asked.

“No, we are staying with the Haverstons in the duration of our time here. Fiona needs to be with her family, dear.”

Maxwell watched as his sister gave their mother a peck. Before she left, she turned and walked up to him. “Did you talk with Ben?”

Maxwell frowned. “How did you know?”

“How did I know about Osegod?” she whispered.

He waited for her reply.

“I have my ways,” she said with a shrug. “What did Ben say?”

He saw their mother looking at them from her chair. “Why don’t we talk about this at a more convenient place?”

Margaret sighed and nodded. “Very well, then. I shall see you soon.” Her sister looked over her shoulder and murmured under her breath. “I do not wish to go to the Macy’s because the Trilbys will be there, but I have to put a face for Cole is in need of connections.”

“I understand.”

His sister looked him in the eye. “We cannot have Osegod attached to us, Max.”

He nodded. Margaret did the same and turned away to leave.

“Well, who would like to go to the park?” Ysabella asked, jumping to her feet. Her husband turned the other way, pretending to study the painting on the wall. “William?” Ysabella asked.

“Yes?” her husband asked absently, feigning to grow a deeper interest on the painting.

“The park?”

“What park?”

“The park I wish to go to. Now.”

“We just arrived, Ysa,” he said, still looking at the painting.

Maxwell shared a look with his mother who seemed to enjoy the moment.

“I will take you,” said Nicholas, jumping to his feet.

“I will stay,” Emma said.

Ysabella frowned at her husband. “William?”

Wakefield finally tore his eyes off the painting to face his wife. He gave her a smile. “Of course, darling, whatever you wish.” He stood up with a groan.

“But wait for me,” Nicholas said, ringing the bell. The butler arrived. “Do tell my valet to bring down my coat.”

“You have found a valet?” their mother asked when the butler left.

“Yes,” Nicholas said with a smile. “He worked at Theobald.”

“Must be a good one then,” their mother said. “Rachel and Eustace hire only the best.”

Maxwell could not help but scoff.

His family turned to look at him with a frown.

Nicholas grinned. “Max does not like my valet.”

“Why?” Emma asked.

“They share the same name,” his brother replied with a laugh.

“I wager you hired the man because of that one shallow detail,” Ysabella said, taking her husband’s hand in hers. She pulled Wakefield toward the door. “We shall wait for you outside, Nick.”

Just as Ysabella and Wakefield were exiting the door, the valet came rushing in. Maxwell watched as she jumped away from Ysabella and bowed her head as the couple passed by her.

He frowned when he saw her sigh of relief the moment Ysabella and Wakefield were out of the room.

“Ah, there you are, Max,” Nicholas uttered with a laugh.

“You must be so happy every time you summon your valet,” Emma wryly uttered, watching the valet help Nicholas into his coat, a bloody difficult thing to do in Maxwell’s opinion as the valet kept her head bowed as though she was suffering from a bad neck injury.

Their mother merely laughed as Maxwell scowled at Nicholas.

“Thank you, Max,” Nicholas said, chuckling. “Are my clothes ready for the ball tonight?”

“Yes, milord,” the valet replied, head still bowed.

She was far too nervous in the presence of his family. Why?

“Good, then,” Nicholas said, “Do have your rest for now. I shall be back later after a walk in the park.”

“Yes, milord,” she replied, bowing before leaving the room.

Nicholas looked at Emma, Maxwell and their mother with a satisfied grin. “That was my valet named Max.”

Their mother laughed, Emma rolled her eyes and returned to reading, and Maxwell gave his brother a murderous, dry look.

Nicholas walked out of the parlor just as Ysabella shouted for him to hurry.

“I pity the valet,” their mother said with a chuckle.

“Why?” Emma asked.

“Why, of course your brother must be letting him do the smallest of things simply because he enjoys ordering Max around!”

Maxwell shook his head and stood up. He went up to his mother and kissed her dark head. “I will take a nap. And I hope to sleep until the ball is over.”

His mother lightly slapped his arm and pointedly uttered, “Do that and consider yourself without a mother.”

He turned to Emma. “Is your dance card empty?”

“I shall remain empty,” his sister said in a bored tone.

“Good,” he said as he walked to the door.

“I can never expect grandchildren from the both of you!” he heard his mother’s frustrated cry when he stepped into the corridor. The woman might be telling the truth.

---

Dressing Nicholas Everard for a ball could be considered one’s greatest feat, but for Maxine it merely meant freedom for hours thereafter. The man would not be home until the wee hours. She had long surmised the fact that Nicholas Everard was born to enchant the streets during the night.

She may fancy him for his good looks and kind heart, but she could never imagine herself as a wife to someone such as him. It was never nice to wait until he arrived from wherever he spent his nights.

But waiting on Nicholas and helping him prepare for the ball had its advantages. For one, she managed to stay away from the rest of the family, including Ysabella and Wakefield who could potentially recognize her. Second, she did not have to suffer Maxwell Everard’s calculating and provocative gaze.

“What the bloody hell is taking you long?” a voice boomed outside Nicholas’ bedchamber.

“Have pity, Max! I am almost done!” Nicholas shouted back as Maxine carefully tied his cravat. “Are you certain you’ve practiced enough?” Nicholas asked her.

“Yes, milord,” she said with confidence. “I have asked Albin for help.”

Nicholas waited until she was finished and turned to the mirror. His handsome face alighted with delight. “Very good, Max!”

Her face flushed. “Thank you, milord.”

The door shook as the impatient Maxwell rapped on it once more.

“Bloody hell!” Nicholas cursed, striding toward the door. He flung it open and for a short second Maxine met Maxwell’s eyes. They had not talked since that morning he threw the key at her. Her eyes waved and she looked away to focus her attention on a candlestick.

“Let us go,” she heard Maxwell snap at Nicholas and when she turned, the brothers were gone.

She stared at the empty space outside the doorway and waited until she could not hear anything at all but her breathing.

Everyone had left.

Jumping to her feet, she rushed out of Nicholas’ chamber and briskly walked back to the room given to her. The driver was not in the room, of course, as he was driving the family to the ball.

Maxine drew in a deep breath and walked to grab her bag from under the bed.

She opened it and pulled out something covered with linen wrapper. She returned to the door, looked out into the corridor and smiled with satisfaction. She closed it once more and locked it.

Walking back to her things, she pulled at the linen wrapper and stared at the magenta gown before her.

It was time for yet another guise.

---

Maxwell was looking out into the center of the dance floor, watching Ysabella and Wakefield dance a waltz, all the while intent on avoiding eye contact with a group of mamas and their daughters.

“Do they see us as a tableful of feast?” he heard Ralph ask Nicholas.

“No, they see us as a tableful of money,” Nicholas uttered with dread. “How do I survive this night?”

“A pair is coming your way,” Ralph said in haste.

“No, our way,” Nicholas hissed in panic. He turned to Maxwell. “Would you like to dance, Max?”

Maxwell glared at Nicholas. His brother guffawed and pulled Ralph away, saying, “Come, brother. We must avoid hell at all cost!”

Maxwell saw a pair of mother and daughter stop in their tracks, disappointment on their faces as they watched Nicholas and Ralph rush to the other side of the ballroom. Before they could turn and see Maxwell, he turned to walk up to Margaret who had been standing with their mother and Emma and some acquaintances.

“Where is your husband?” he asked, standing beside her.

Margaret nonchalantly turned away from the group she was with. She motioned her head to the left. “He is with the Head of the Men of Courts of Willowfair, of course.” He followed her sister’s gaze and found Cole Devitt talking with an older man and a few others.

Tearing his eyes off his brother-in-law, Maxwell checked those nearby. Emma and their mother seemed not to notice them so Maxwell said under his breath, “Have you seen him?”

Margaret nodded. “He is with the Trilbys. Far corner, right side of the room.”

“Is that why you are here?” he asked, nonchalantly looking around the guests dressed in their best gowns and suits.

“Why are you asking?”

He stole his sister a glance. “I know the League is investigating him.”

Margaret appeared distraught but she quickly recovered with a smile. “I am not here for a mission, Max,” she said under her breath. “And I have long decided to stay out of the Osegod case.”

“Then you must tell Ben to cease interacting with—” he started to say, but his eyes caught something and he stopped.

“What?” his sister asked.

His jaw tightened as his eyes followed the woman across the room.

“Max?” Margaret asked.

“I shall be back,” he murmured and without warning, took off.

He circled the dance floor, eyes still on the woman.

He could start to feel his blood boiling inside as he neared. She was quietly standing behind a stone pillar, unseen by most.

But he saw her and he could not deny that it was her.

She may have changed into a gown and made attempts to don her hair, but she was the same woman.

He walked around the pillar, out of her sight and stopped right behind her as she poked her head to the side, watching a group of guests standing in one corner. He looked down at her magenta gown and nearly scoffed when he saw her boots peeking through the hem below.

His eyes travelled up, feeling absurd that he was surprised she was shaped as a woman after all. Her bare arms looked fair and smooth that he almost reached out to touch them to be certain. Her hair she managed to pull up with pins.

She had done well, but not extravagantly enough to have allowed her entry into this kind of ball.

How she got in without an invitation was the least of his concern. His greatest question was what he must find answers to, especially when the subject of her interest were the very same people he and his sister were talking about moments ago.

“If you do not tell me who you are or why you are here,” he started, a cold smile creeping up his lips when her shoulders stiffened at his voice, “I promise you shall be in a big trouble,” he finished.

XVII. Simply Maxine

Surprising her from behind might not have been the best idea for the moment she whirled around and faced him, Maxwell felt as though he was the one attacked.

Her pale grey eyes were wide with horror, but the rest of her face was nearly stunningly astounding.

Whoever this bloody woman was, she was beautiful , Maxwell thought in his mind. Why would he lie to himself when the fact was laid bare in front of him? He was not one to deny a fact when it was presented before his own senses.

His brow twitched. A reaction he failed to control.

She was no longer the valet with her hair tightly tied behind her nape. She had let it down and it was brushing over her shoulders.

Here, in the Macy ball, she was naught but what she truly was: a woman.

Just as Maxwell was reorganizing his thoughts, taking all pieces back together, she turned and quickly sauntered away from him.

That would not do, of course, for he had many things to discuss with her and his patience was running empty.

With merely three steps, he managed to catch her hand and pull her back.

“Let me go—”

“Care to dance?” he nearly growled as he dragged her to the dance floor, surprising a couple who was just about to make a turn as the waltz continued. He pulled her toward him and heard her gasp of surprise. “If you could dress as anyone you wish, I assume you also know how to dance.”

She tried to pull her hand free but Maxwell would have none of it. He tightened his hold, wounding his other arm around her waist and twirled with the other dancers. Her feet stumbled but he caught her, pressing her against his length.

He bent his head. “You are doing quite well, my dear,” he whispered beside her ear. She tried to pull away from him once more but he persisted. “Dance or you shall find yourself on the front page of the Herald on the morrow.”

She turned away from him but he saw the light of anger in her eyes.

“Now you pretend to be a gentry and I hate to believe you did this as a pathetic excuse to experience a ball.”

“You very well know why I am in Willowfair,” she hissed. He forced her to turn and her feet stumbled once again.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Someone you do not know.”

From the corner of his eye he could see a few guests staring at their direction. Maxwell Everard had never danced with any lady not his family in as big a ball as Macy’s, after all.

“That is why I am asking, woman. I do not know you. Who are you?”

She turned her head and pale grey globes met his emerald green ones.

“A woman searching for her mother.”

His brow arched with suspicion. “And she is here?”

“Yes.”

He let the silence linger for a while as he continued to dance with her. They must leave the dance floor soon for they were drawing more attention.

“If that is your only motive, then why have you been specifically hiding from Ysabella?”

She stiffened in his arms. A corner of his lips quirked in response.

“I wonder why? Would you wish me to fetch her? Surely she would love to meet you?”

Her eyes rapidly blinked as she thought of a reply. Maxwell waited until she said, “Your sister unnerves me in a way.”

“A lie.”

“The reason why she does unnerve me is an entirely different matter.” Before he could ask for her to elaborate her statement, she added, “As I have said, my lord, I shall disappear from your lives without a trace the very moment I am done with my quest, so please, if you can keep this secret for a while, I shall forever be grateful.”

Maxwell sighed. From the corner of the ballroom he could see Margaret curiously staring at him. He stopped but did not let go of the woman. “Come with me and dare not run away.”

He turned and dragged her away from the dance floor.

Guests followed them with eyes filled with curiosity. He did not bloody care.

He brushed aside a young man who was blocking the doorway.

“Careful!” shouted the man but Maxwell ignored him, intent on dragging his brother’s valet out of the ballroom into an empty corridor.

“People saw us walking out of the ballroom. They must think—”

“You would be a man by the morrow. Believe me, there is no reason to fret,” he snapped at her, turning into another dark corridor until they reached the last door to the right. He pushed it open and surprised two footmen having a conversation inside. “Out,” he ordered and the two men jumped to their feet to rush out the door.

The woman tried to run with the footmen but Maxwell grabbed her and slammed the door, the sound echoing around the empty and dimly lit library.

“Ah, how convenient,” Maxwell said as he turned the lock. He saw her flinch and he finally let go of her hand.

As he expected, she tried to attack him but he stepped aside and caught her hands.

“Would you wish to be revealed for who you truly are in front of the ton, or would you rather behave and answer my questions?”

Her pale grey eyes glinted with silent fury but she stopped fighting him and relaxed in his hands.

Satisfied, Maxwell let her go. She jumped away from him, eyes alight with murder. “Now,” he began, leaning against the door just in case she decided to risk her life and be an utter fool by escaping. “Who is your mother?”

“Why do you wish to know?”

“Because I bloody want answers, woman,” he gritted through his teeth. “Answer my question.”

She looked around the room. “I must go before I am found out.”

“That shall indeed be the case should you continue to refuse answering my question.” He narrowed his eyes. “I do not appreciate getting merely bits and pieces from you. Now, answer me. Who is your mother?”

“We cannot stay here. Your family shall—”

“What makes you believe I will not tell Nicholas or my family? You have to stay here and tell me who your mother is or I go and fetch everyone as I drag you across the ballroom.”

She stormed toward him and if it was not for the door behind him, Maxwell would have stepped back for the fury in her eyes were enough to make even a Town Guard feel a tinge of fear. “I paid you for your silence,” she hissed.

Maxwell shook his head. “That bloody necklace is not worth anything to me.” Again, there was the hurt in her eyes. Maxwell ignored it. “Tell me now.”

“Amelia Trilby.”

Shock was not enough a word to describe Maxwell’s reaction. But he was not like many. He had always managed surprises quite well without acting like a child as Nicholas or Ralph would. He had always relied on his calmness, but tonight it seemed as though he was too bloody calm for too bloody long after he heard the name from the woman’s lips. The time seemed to have stretched on as he recovered.

His astonishment slowly dissolved into confusion when her eyes wavered and she uttered, “But I am not certain. It is merely a guess.”

He scoffed, feeling suddenly incredulous. His hands came to brush his hair away from his face. “And you risked everything because of a bloody guess?”

Her face tightened and although he could not see clearly, Maxwell knew her face had turned scarlet.

“I have avoided risks all my life, my lord,” she slowly uttered. “I avoided them all for this very moment.” He saw the trace of tears brimming in her eyes and he frowned. Was she about to cry? “Please, I beg you,” her voice crackled and she paused, collecting herself before she continued, saying, “let me do what I came here to do and I shall be out of your life.”

She had said it too many times yet Maxwell could not entirely believe her. Who would believe someone who had been a lie from the start? “Why would I? You claim to be a Trilby. The Trilbys, if you must know, do not have a clean name on my list.”

“I barely know her.”

He cocked his brows higher with a mocking chuckle. “Yet you believe she is your mother. Do you even know her? She is Amelia Trilby, probably the Town’s richest and influential bachelorette.”

“And she could not have a child?”

“I am merely saying, woman, that mayhap you have been living in a fantasy that you could be gentry.” He scoffed when she stepped away, horrified by his words. “Why? Am I not correct? Do you fancy yourself in a much better gown than you are wearing now? A good pair of sandals other than those filthy boots perhaps? Do you dream of living your life in balls such as this one? Do you desire a carriage of your own? An estate of your own? Or mayhap you wish to gain attention and be known? Tell me, am I correct or not? Are you too bloody naïve as to think that it would be easy?” He shook his head. “Amelia Trilby giving you wealth and comfort? Now that will be more bloody scandalous!”

She had stiffened as he talked and her face blanched that he nearly regretted his words. Her jaw twitched as she said, “I am a bastard, my lord, and I am fully aware of the fact. The things you claim I aspire are the same things I always knew I could never enjoy. For someone who is too observant, you have been wrong more than you have been correct.” She lifted her chin haughtily and added, “Now, if you may please remove yourself, I would like to escort myself out of this rather dire atmosphere.”

Much to his surprise, Maxwell did move away from the door. She was trying to act proud and brave, yet he knew he had done enough damage for tonight. She was a woman still, after all.

And that is what makes this bloody difficult. She is a woman, his mind whispered.

She stiffly pulled the door open and walked out.

Maxwell intended to follow her but yet another surprise was waiting for him in the middle of the corridor.

The female valet was facing a man Maxwell had been avoiding the entire evening.

The woman curtsied and quickly disappeared, making her way back to the ballroom.

The dark-haired man turned to Maxwell, his handsome face all-knowing as he smiled. “I never expected my little adventure along the corridor would lead me to an interesting find, Lord Kenward.”

Maxwell gave Osegod an empty smile in return. “I wish that you forget about my tryst with the young maiden, Lord Ranford.”

Osegod chuckled. “By the by, how is your brother, Benedict?”

Maxwell started to walk away. “He is doing fine,” he replied over his shoulder. “Pleasant evening, my lord.”

Osegod nodded. “I hope to enjoy your company at a longer time soon, Kenward.”

Maxwell merely gave a short wave of his hand. He turned to the left, intending to go back to the ballroom and find the woman again.

He found her standing outside, her face uncertain.

Another surprise.

He walked up to her. Perhaps he had been making too many advances toward her, attacking her at every turn that she did not even bother to escape him this time.

She had managed to collect herself at such a short time, a difficult feat for a normal individual. Even his sisters found it hard to recover from his angry tirades in the past, yet this woman could easily do it.

He stood beside her and followed her gaze. She was looking directly at Amelia Trilby who was completely ignorant that she was being watched. The black-haired woman may be as old as their mother, but her beauty still outshined most young maidens in the ballroom. A flock of men both young and old, some even older, surrounded her. It was like watching a goddess in red, flowing gown, seeping every drop of blood of those besotted fools.

And just as when Maxwell thought that Amelia Trilby was ignorant of the attention she was getting from the woman outside the ballroom, her head turned and she saw them. Maxwell’s gaze travelled from Amelia to the woman beside him.

A long moment passed as the two women simply stood watching each other from across the ballroom. But when his companion started to move, Maxwell stopped her.

She stiffened when his hand circled her bare arm. “It is not the perfect time to cause a scandal.”

Her jaw tightened.

“If you truly wish to confront her, do so in a place where she will have less reason to throw you out.”

The look of longing in her eyes was too strong for him not to notice when she looked away from the woman she claimed to be her mother and tilted her head up to stare at him. With the longing he saw the resignation.

“It is time you leave,” he whispered, pulling her away from the doorway and the ballroom.

---

Maxine could not believe she had let herself be led outside the Macy estate without as much as a fight.

And she could not believe that she had let Maxwell Everard guide her inside the carriage. She barely cared that the driver might have recognized her.

As a matter of fact, she could barely feel anything.

Her mind was still reeling at the memory of Amelia Trilby’s gaze. It was as though the woman had recognized her. And she recognized him.

Or was she wrong?

Or mayhap she was correct. Could it truly be that a mother would recognize her child beyond reason? Beyond fact?

“Who are you?”

Maxwell’s question snapped her back to her current predicament: him.

“You know my name, my lord,” she said with a sigh.

“Your name, valet.”

Her eyes flickered with annoyance. “My time as a princess must have already expired. I am now back to being a valet,” she uttered with derision. He obviously did not like her attempt to humor for his frown merely deepened. Maxine sighed, not quite surprised that she was finding Maxwell Everard less unnerving by the day. Meeting his gaze, she said, “Simply Maxine, my lord.” Her lips quirked when she saw his doubtful look. “I have told you I am called Max. I was not lying.”

“Your father’s name?”

“Everything about my family is not significant to your cause, believe me.”

“You refuse to tell me your father’s name because he is not aware you are here.”

She scoffed and looked out the window.

---

Maxwell frowned at Maxine. He could threaten her to tell him everything, but this woman would simply disappear at the risk of being found out. If that were to happen, he would lose his chance of finding out more about her, of whether or not she was telling the truth or not.

But the more he found out about her, the more he was being disappointed. She could be telling the truth and it would merely prove that he had been fretting over nothing!

He watched as she sat across from him in the carriage. Her hands were folded over her lap, her shoulders square, her back erect.

“You are no servant for you do not speak like one. Your tone is that of a gentry.”

He saw her lips twitch into a smile. Was she mocking him?

If he was correct and if she was a gentry, then her presence as his brother’s valet would not do the family any good. And if she was indeed a Trilby, then he ought to kick her out at this very moment.

Maxwell’s thoughts paused as an insane idea came to him.

If she was Amelia Trilby’s daughter, then she could be useful.

If she was truly a Trilby, this Maxine woman could be of good use.

XVIII. Everardly Trouble

As the carriage neared the townhouse, Maxwell noticed Maxine massaging her wrist.

She was looking out the window, her posture naturally proud. She was definitely gentry. His eyes veered back on her hands.

“Are you hurt?”

Her head slowly turned to face him. Her pale grey eyes matched his stern look. Brow arching high, she asked, “Now you ask?”

“I did not mean to—”

“I do not truly care what you meant to do, my lord,” she said, gathering her skirts. “But I would appreciate if you could ask the driver to stop the carriage here.”

“Why?”

She offered a short smile. “As you may very well see, I do not dress as a footman and he will be very curious as to why you brought home a baseborn woman into your expensive townhouse.”

“Baseborn? Is that what you are?”

A corner of her lips twitched in a mocking smile. “A plebeian if you must prefer then,” she said, knocking on the carriage roof when he did not.

“I did not mean to demean your nature, Max. “

“What would you prefer then? Low-class? Coarse?” She tilted her head to the right. The carriage was drawing to a stop. “Wretched?”

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. “You surely do make the most out of—”

“—insults?” she finished for him, offering him a disarming smile. “Of course, I do, milord.” She pushed the door open and climbed out.

He followed, surprising her and the driver. “Go back to the ball,” he ordered to the man. “I shall walk my friend to her estate,” he said.

“Yes, milord,” the driver replied and before Maxine could protest, the carriage was driving away.

She shook her head and continued on foot toward the townhouse. He walked behind her in a leisurely pace, studying her steps.

She could be gentry after all, he thought. She walked like one and she talked like one.

But from where could she be? Who was her father?

“I ought to demand that you stop following me, but since we are toward he same destination, I would appreciate if you walk on ahead,” she said over her shoulder, adding, “my lord.”

“Why?” he asked with doubt.

She stopped and rolled her eyes. “If you are thinking that I would attack you from behind, please, do spare me of your wild imaginations.”

Maxwell was thinking precisely that. How did she bloody read his mind?

He walked past her and she continued walking behind him.

“I am not done with my questions, if you must know,” he said when they turned a corner near the townhouse.

“Whyever am I not surprised?” was her sarcastic response from behind.

Her boots echoed along the pavement. She wore boots to a bloody ball!

“As you know, I am a very curious man.”

“Ah, whyever am I surprised you consider yourself one?”

“What one?”

“Man.”

He glared at her over his shoulder and she was smiling at him as though she had not called him an animal!

Whirling around to face the street as it was the only option for him to stop himself from strangling her, Maxwell counted until his breath was even.

“You have planned this,” he uttered.

No answer came. He stopped and turned to find that she had disappeared. He turned around and found no trace of her. It was then that he realized they had reached the townhouse and she had probably turned to enter through the side door.

Maxwell cursed under his breath and run up the front doors.

---

Maxwell surprised a maid when he stormed into the service corridor.

“Milord!” she uttered, eyes wide. “How can I be of—”

“I wish to speak to the valet,” he impatiently said. “Where is he staying?”

The maid blinked in surprise.

“I meant my brother’s valet.”

The woman’s face flushed. “You meant Max!”

“Yes.”

“The handsome lad?”

Maxwell did his best not to gape. “If you believe so, yes.”

She pointed down the corridor. “The last door to the right, milord. He shares the room with the driver.”

He walked away without saying another word. The maid hurried out of sight just as Maxwell reached the farthest door. He pushed it open.

The woman gasped in surprise, whirling around to face him. To his utter horror, she was on the process of wearing a shirt. Her chest was bandaged. Glowering, he stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him. He swallowed as she glared at him and said, “You did not bloody lock the door. Not my fault.”

“I locked it!” she hissed, pulling the shirt over her head in haste. Maxwell looked down. Good that she was already in her breeches.

“As you can very well see, I am the evidence of your incompetence,” he managed to say while staring at her bedraggled state.

“What do you want?” she demanded with a sigh. “More answers to your questions?”

His eyes went to the magenta gown on the bed. “You have planned this.”

“Of course. I would not have brought a gown if I did not.” She bent down to pick up the garment and started to fold it.

“Why did you go to the library in Wickhurst?”

She stiffened and stopped what she was doing. When she turned to face him, her eyes were alight with anger once more. “You have been spying on me.”

He shrugged. “I suspect you to be one as well. We are even.”

She scoffed. “Spying on the Everards. Of course, your ever famous conclusion.”

“Why were you in the library?”

“I was looking into Herald articles.”

“Be specific, Max ,” he prompted.

“Do not call me that, milord.” She returned to her task and he waited until she was done. She placed the linen wrapper back into her bag and slid the luggage under the bed. “I was looking for my mother.”

“In articles?”

“Yes, of course.”

“How?”

“You mean the process or how I read the articles?”

He narrowed his eyes in warning.

“I merely looked for signs of how my—” she stopped and did not continue.

“How your what?” he demanded.

She shook her head and faced him. Silence lingered between them for a while. “Clues. I was looking for clues.”

“Of what?”

“If Amelia Trilby was truly my mother. I saw her photo on a recent Herald article and I started to suspect that she could be the woman I had been looking for. My visit to the library gave me clues to prove my theory. Now I am here to prove it.”

“By confronting Amelia Trilby? Are you daft? She is a Trilby.”

“I know and I am—” she stopped once more and he frowned. What? What was she? She shook her head. “I am her daughter. I am certain of it.”

“How could you be certain? Instinct?”

“Of course,” was her confident reply. “Now, milord, if I could respectfully ask that you leave my room.”

“You mean the room you share with the driver.”

“I rather like that man, milord. He is by far the best male company I had since we left Wickhurst.” Her voice was filled with contemptuous meaning.

“He is a man and you—”

“I am a man as well in his eyes. Please, milord, I am tired and I have to take a nap before Lord Nick arrives.”

“Lord Nick.”

“He prefers to be called as such.”

Her face flushed at the mention of Nicholas and Maxwell’s frown merely deepened, his brows forming a straight line. “You do fancy Nicholas, do you not?”

Her jaw dropped but she quickly recovered. “Another atrocious theory, milord. Bravo!” she uttered with a clap and the most pretentious of smiles.

“You do, do you not?” he repeated.

“I may have,” she said with a smile, surprising him, “as most women did. But that has changed for it was merely a passing fancy. I have more important things to mind than growing feelings toward anyone, most of all an Everard.”

He was highly in doubt.

In less than a second her face turned stern and she uttered, “Now, if you could kindly step out of my room.” When he did not move, she added, “Please, milord. I am tired.”

Maxwell looked her up and down. The upper part of her shirt was still unbuttoned, showing her collarbones and allowing a peek of the upper portion of her bandage.

When his eyes returned to her eyes, her face was flushed. Her hands went up to close the shirt up to her neck.

“At the very least you do know what to hide,” he commented before he turned and walked out the door.

He walked back to his own chamber, no longer interested in going back to the ball.

If the woman was a Trilby, Maxwell could not allow his family to be tangled with her family again for it might lead to bigger trouble. And now that he knew that League was investigating Osegod, it would not do his family good to be on the bad side of the Trilbys who were Osegod’s greatest allies.

Perhaps Maxine could be a pawn they could use should the Trilbys or Osegod make their move against them. Or perhaps he was making a mistake. Or mayhap not.

He must wait and see what Osegod was planning to do. If the man did something untoward, then perhaps they could make one of his Trilby friends pay the price. The question he had in mind at the moment was in what way could his brother’s valet be useful?

---

The Everards, most of them, were present in the townhouse the following day.

And they were all too loud. Ralph and Emma would not stop bickering down the corridor. Ralph was taunting his sister about someone she danced with last night, a matter that Emma had denied, saying she danced with no other but her brothers and brothers-in-law. It had to take Lady Alice to shout for the two to stop their ruckus, but it was already too late for Nicholas and Ysabella joined in, both asking questions that Emma could not answer at once.

Nicholas threw threats while Ysabella was overwhelmed by the gossip.

Maxine had to ask one of the footmen to wait on Nicholas for her during breakfast, feigning an aching head. Ysabella and her husband were in the dining room and unless she wanted Ysabella to shout and reveal who she truly was Maxine had to find a way to hide.

But sooner or later Nicholas would call for her.

And he did just that before luncheon. She came to his bedchamber and he looked as bad as when he arrived the previous night.

“Do you need—” she started but stopped when she noticed that Maxwell was also in the room, sitting in one corner holding a copy of the Town Herald. He looked up, his face looking utterly bored.

“Ah, there you are, Max,” Nicholas said, turning to face her with a frown. “This bloody cravat. I wish to change it.”

Maxine wanted to cry. She had tied that cravat that morning with difficulty and now he wanted it changed?

“It is a simple tea party, Nicholas,” said Maxwell. “Do not be such a bloody nancy.”

Maxine walked to find darker cravat for Nicholas while her master snapped at his brother, saying, “Adrien Haverston shall be there, Max. You know how that bloke is. He would—”

“I do not believe Westershire would bother to care for your cravat.”

“I meant he would be there and so would be his female friends!”

“Adrien Haverston had been married for years, Nick. He no longer invites female friends. Where the bloody hell have you been?” Maxwell asked, jumping to his feet.

“But will there be no other guests apart from—”

“No,” Maxwell said. “We are the only guests. Get that bloody cravat off him,” he ordered at Maxine when she started to make the first knot. “It is hideous.”

“Says the man who wears his hair down like a woman!” Nicholas shot back but he took the cravat from Maxine and threw it aside.

“And what do you call a woman who ties her hair up? A man?” Maxwell asked and Maxine stiffened, glaring at Maxwell over Nicholas’ shoulder.

The man’s lips curled into a small smile and he shrugged.

“Now that you have said it, I believe it is a good question!” Nicholas was saying as Maxwell left the room. “But by the by, Max, Levi sent a note that he and Tori shall be in attendance today after having missed the ball due. Their carriage broke down on their way yesterday and—”

“Your brother has already left the chamber, milord,” Maxine said with a smile.

Nicholas whirled around. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed his coat and allowed Maxine to assist him.

“No cravat, milord?”

“You heard my brother,” he snapped and walked out, muttering something that sounded like, “bloody tea party!”

Maxine went to pick up the two cravats Nicholas threw aside and carefully folded them back in his bag. They would be leaving Willowfair soon.

She paused, staring at an empty space. Should she stay here? Should she at least try to find her mother and talk to her?

She was so close.

If she left with the Everards, she might not have another chance.

The door to the bedchamber swung open and Maxine turned around with a smile, expecting Nicholas. Perhaps he had changed his mind and wanted the cravat after all?

“Nick, Levi and Tori have finally arrived and they look as if they had been to hell and—” the unexpected visitor was saying before stopping all at once.

To her utter surprise and horror, it was not Nicholas standing in the doorway. Nor was it Maxwell and she wanted it to be Maxwell now that she realized who it was.

The woman walked toward her with a frown on her face, her words forgotten as she took careful steps toward Maxine.

Ysabella frowned at her, her green globes lighting up with curious familiarity.

Maxine could not move. She wanted to move. She wanted to be able to turn and run toward the window and throw herself out.

Ysabella opened her mouth and closed it again when no words came. She tilted her head to the right and then to the left, narrowing her eyes at Maxine.

And when she opened her mouth again, a word came out. “Maxine?”

XIX. An Afternoon in Willowfair

Maxine simply stood frozen. It seemed as though she was transported back to that night many months ago when Ysabella and Wakefield followed her into a corridor. It was the same as when Ysabella surprised her by entering her bedchamber with a plate of food.

“Maxine! It is you!” Ysabella cried out, rushing toward her in disbelief. “What—what—what the bloody hell are you doing—”

Maxine knew the moment she covered Ysabella’s mouth that there was no turning back. There was merely one person who knew her the most amongst the Everards and it was the woman standing before her with her emerald eyes wide open with wonder and surprise.

“Hush!” Maxine hissed in panic, eyes darting toward the open doorway. “Quiet, Ysabella,” she whispered.

Ysabella nodded and Maxine uncovered her mouth and rushed toward the door to lock it. When she turned around, the woman was already walking toward her. “Why are you here? Why are you wearing—do not tell me—oh, bloody hell—you are the valet, are you not?”

“Hush!” Maxine desperately hissed. “Hush, Ysabella.”

“But—but—you are a valet! How did it come about? You have been avoiding me and now I know why! Oh, this is famous! How did you—”

“Ysabella, calm down,” Maxine said, taking grabbing the woman’s shoulders. “Please, you ought to be quiet.”

Ysabella closed her mouth but her eyes spoke hundreds of words.

There was no way to handle this situation but to be honest and straightforward. “I came here for a reason but you cannot let anyone know who I am.”

Ysabella frowned, her face suddenly filled with worry. “Has something happened?”

Maxine shook her head. “No. Nothing bad has happened. My family is safe, although I believe they are very worried because of what I have done.”

“What have you done?” Ysabella grabbed her hand. “Maxine, does Samuel know you are—”

“No! And you cannot tell my brother. Please, Ysabella, I need you to keep your silence.”

Ysabella stared at her with a mixture of wonder and concern. “But surely you need not be—you need not be a valet! Why are you hiding? Tell me, I will help.”

Maxine was already shaking her head even before Ysabella finished her statement. “Your silence is more help than anything else.”

The woman sighed and looked over her shoulder. “Are you to tell me that no one knows you here? No one at all?”

Maxine swallowed. “Your brother, Nicholas, believes me to be a man. He met me during the Theobald weekend party when I was posing as a footman and invited me to apply for the valet position. When I decided to run away from home, I had nowhere else to go but Wickhurst.”

“Nick does not see you as a woman? Truly?” Ysabella asked with disbelief.

“You did not notice the fact until you had a good look at my face. And you merely recognized me because you know me.”

“No one has ever suspected? No one at all?”

Maxine hesitated but it seemed impossible to keep it a secret from Ysabella. “Well, your other brother, Maxwell, knows.”

Ysabella seemed unperturbed. She simply blinked and waved her hand in the air. “Well, of course. Max always does notice the hidden things.”

“He is suspicious of me. He believes I am a spy to the family.”

Ysabella let out a snort. “Worry not. He and Emma share the same love for conspiracies.”

“But you shall not tell him who I really am,” she said in desperation. “Please, Ysabella, if you do this, I will have no other choice but to leave.”

“But Maxine—”

“If more people know I am here, the more I am at risk of being found by my father. I would not be able to do what I have set out to do if that is to happen.”

“But we can help. You do not need to hide.”

Maxwell had told her that the Trilbys and the Everards were not in good terms. She did not wish for the family to be bothered by her troubles, especially if her main goal was from the very same family the Everards were not chummy with.

“I cannot tell you why, Ysabella. I cannot tell you why I am here or why I have to be here.” She held her friend’s hand tightly. “But I promise that I shall find my way home when my task is over.”

Ysabella sighed once more. “I fret that Lord and Lady Theobald are sick with worry at this very moment, Maxine. Samuel as well! What if something happens to you? I would not be able to forgive myself should that happen.”

She shook her head. “Fret not. Nothing shall happen to me. I promise you. I am not one who would venture into danger.”

Ysabella was silent for a while as she thought about it. Finally her friend nodded but not without giving her a stern look. “Do promise me one thing: you will seek me out if you are in trouble. You will come to Nicholas or Maxwell and me should you need immediate help.”

“Nothing untoward shall happen to me, Ysabella. But yes, I will find you should I be in trouble.” She looked at the closed door once more. “Now, go. We do not wish for your family to know why you are inside a closed room with a valet.” She chuckled at her own jest.

Ysabella surprised her by throwing her arms around Maxine’s neck. “I wondered why you never responded to my letters and now I know why. I sent them to the wrong address! I started writing to you a fortnight ago!”

She laughed and let Ysabella let go of her. “I am sure to read them the moment I return to Theobald.”

“I know I ought not to say this, but I quite envy the adventure you are having, my dear,” Ysabella whispered with a wicked smile.

“I forgot to give my felicitations. I am glad you are married to Lord Wakefield.”

Her friend’s face flushed. “So am I, dear Maxine.” Then a flicker of interest lit up in Ysabella’s eyes. “Have you, by any chance, grown a fancy toward Nicholas? How do you find him?”

Maxine felt her face heat up. “I do like your brother, Ysabella. He is rather nice although too dandy for my taste,” was her honest reply. “But do not think that I would consider marrying him,” she added sternly. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I know of your reputation on matchmaking as my brother had told me many times and I would not be one of your victims. Marriage is not on my list of priorities.”

Ysabella laughed. “Very well, then, if that is what you wish.” The woman started to turn but stopped. “How about Maxwell then? He recognized you as a woman. That must mean something.”

Maxine was stupefied for a moment. That thought had never crossed her mind.

“Ah, but he is not good for you. Nick is a much better pair.”

“Ysabella,” she said with warning.

Her friend merely laughed and walked to the door. “I shall see you around, Maxine.”

“I am called Max now.”

Another round of laughter rang around the room. “How marvelous! Max! No wonder Nicholas hired you!”

---

“You look like death itself, brother,” Ralph said, laughing as Levi entered the drawing room.

The second of the Everard children glared at Ralph as he guided his blonde wife toward the nearest chair. “Move,” he ordered at Ralph who immediately jumped off his chair to give to Lady Victoria.

“Thank you, Ralph,” Tori said with a sigh. She looked up at her husband and smiled. “You do indeed look like death itself, darling.”

Levi shook his head and headed to Nicholas. “Move,” he ordered and Nicholas jumped out of his spot. Levi dropped on the chaise beside Maxwell. “Should we attend the tea party? I am utterly tired.”

“Of course!” Ysabella said, entering the drawing room. “Mother is already at the Haverston estate with Emma and Margaret.”

“Where is Lindsey?” asked Ralph.

“At Standbury,” Levi replied. “And we are glad we left her with the nanny. The misfortunes of our travel would have caused my daughter such great distress.”

Ysabella rolled her eyes. “You always believe your daughter is in distress.” She turned to Tori and said, “He does fret over her too much still?”

Tori smiled. “Always.”

“Then we better get along and get this party over with so Tori and I can go home to Standbury the soonest possible time,” Levi said to everyone in the room. No one moved except Wakefield who stood up to walk beside his wife. “How are you faring, my friend?” Levi asked the man, tone meaningful.

Wakefield shrugged. “Great, really.”

“He is not regretting marrying me, brother, if that is what you are trying to imply,” Ysabella said with a scoff. “Well, what are you all waiting for? It is time we leave.”

Maxwell sighed and announced, “I cannot go.”

Everyone turned to him with a frown. “Whyever not?” Ralph demanded.

“I do not feel very well.”

“You look utterly fine,” Levi said.

“I am not,” he lied. “I went home early last night for the same reason.”

“Then I shall not be going as well,” Ralph said.

“As do I,” Nicholas added. “If there are no other guests, I do not think I would enjoy the party. Adrien Haverston seems to have proven to be a bore after all and I do not think a party with little children and—”

“Wait until I tell mother,” Ysabella said, stomping her foot. “She has been looking forward to this.” She turned to Ralph. “You have no valid reason,” then to Nicholas, “and you have the most pathetic one.” She turned to Maxwell with a smile. “As for you, brother, you can stay and have a rest.”

“That is not fair!” Ralph said. “He is not sick! Look at him! He appears to be capable of killing ten beasts with one hand! I’d wager he could climb up a hole with both if it is not a crime!”

“I feel weak,” Maxwell uttered wryly.

“We should leave,” Levi said, grunting as he jumped to his feet. He looked down at Maxwell. “Are you certain you are not coming?”

“Yes. I have already told mother before she left.”

That last statement was enough for everyone to file out of the room without dragging Maxwell along.

He waited until the two carriages rolled out of the driveway before he stood up and waited for the valet to escape the townhouse.

---

Maxine gasped in surprise when a hand caught her arm and pulled her away from the door the moment she stepped out. She looked up and found Maxwell Everard dragging her toward the carriage.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, pulling away from him.

“Taking you where you wish to go, of course,” he uttered over his shoulder. He opened the carriage and said, “Climb inside. Fret not, Max , the driver is a hired one. Your driver friend is currently driving my family to the Haverston estate.”

She hesitated but the determination she saw in his eyes made her turn and climb into the carriage. Once inside, Maxwell knocked on the roof and said, “Fairview estate,” he stated for the driver.

The carriage started and Maxine slid to the other end of the carriage so she was not facing Maxwell. But he did the same and challenged her with a cynical look.

“You plan to see her, do you not?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened. “You have hindered me from talking to her last night.”

“A matter I shall try to do again today,” he said, raising a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “If your mother wanted you, Max , she would have already taken you in.”

A pang of pain seared through her heart and she knew he saw it reflected in her eyes.

“I do not mince words. I do not lie to anyone on matters such as this.” His eyes locked with hers. “You must think of this very carefully.”

“Think about what?”

“Have you confirmed that she is truly your mother? Do you know who the Trilbys are and what they can do? Do you know of their connection to Osegod, the Head of the Town Leaders?”

Maxine could not speak for she could not find a good answer to his questions. She merely wanted to talk to her mother. How dangerous could that be?

“Do you know what the Trilbys could do to their own?” he asked after a while, his voice more serious now. The tone he used was not one she had heard before. “They have let one of their own be hanged for her sins and denied any connection to her thereafter. They took her child and kept her from the rest of society. They led the child to believe she is a daughter of a servant. They have let that child grow up thinking she was nobody until she was rescued from the Trilbys.” Maxwell Everard’s eyes were ablaze with fury and spite as he spoke. “I know this, Max , because that child has been rescued by my sister and her husband years ago. I know this because the Trilbys might someday come for her and we fear that they would should they have enough power.”

Maxine felt a shiver run through her spine.

“Now, tell me,” Maxwell continued, “what do you think the Trilbys would do should they know about you?” He gazed at her for a while, waiting for a reply. When none came, he spoke again, but this time his voice was softer, almost kind. “If Amelia Trilby is truly your mother, then I am inclined to believe that she did not want you for a reason.”

She flinched. She understood what he meant and why he wanted to stop her, but she wanted something she had always wanted since she knew what the word bastard meant. “I want to know why she did not want me,” she said in a shaky voice. “That is all I wish to know, my lord. I simply want to present myself and demand for answers.”

Maxwell fell silent, looking out the window. Maxine let it reign, collecting herself as she did so. The carriage made three more turns before it finally slowed.

“That is her estate,” Maxwell said and Maxine looked out the window when they finally drew to a stop.

From across the street she saw a large white estate. “But before you step out and present yourself to this woman, I want you to think of your decision. This may very well be your last chance to talk to her. You have not written a call card, nor have you given her enough reason to accept you into the estate. She might immediately see your presence as a threat to her status. She would most definitely wonder about what you are after.”

Maxine stared at Maxwell. “You suggest that I wait.”

“Yes.”

“But I am here. This might be my last chance to be this close to her. I cannot let it pass.”

“Willowfair is not going away, Max . It shall stay here for your return in the future.” He turned to face her. “The opportunity to meet Amelia Trilby, on the other hand, may only be once. Willowfair will welcome you back but the woman inside that estate has the option to forever close her doors on you. You only have one chance and you ought to make certain it works.”

Maxine sighed. A big part of her wanted to open the door and climb out. She wanted to run across the street and knock on the door. But another part of her believed that Maxwell was correct. What would happen after the door was answered? Did she believe the butler would give her permission to enter? Did she believe the man would not go to his mistress and announce that a woman claiming to be her daughter was outside? Did she truly think that after hearing that, Amelia Trilby would rush down the stairs and welcome her into her estate?

…she did not want you for a reason…

Perhaps Maxwell was correct. Amelia Trilby did not want her for a reason and that very same reason could still stand true. If she truly wished to speak to the woman, she would have to do it properly.

She would have to make certain that should she come knocking on her door, it shall remain open and allow her entry.

“You do not have to get inside that estate today,” Maxwell continued, “but we could stay here if you wish.”

She turned to look at him. “Stay here?”

“Watch the estate, of course. You would like that, would you not?”

She slowly nodded.

Maxwell shrugged and leaned against his seat. He closed his eyes and murmured, “Have your fill if you must, but dare not do a stupid act.”

Maxine glared at him before she turned her attention back on the estate. It spoke of great wealth and power. It stood tall and extravagant beside its neighbors.

Maxine could not remember how long she stared at the estate, hoping one of the windows would open, when the front doors opened and three footmen walked out carrying bags. They loaded them on top of a carriage parked outside. Maxine’s heart hammered against her chest as she watched them work, her hope rising to her throat.

Moments later, once the carriage was ready, a young man in black coat walked out. Her eyes searched the open doorway. She was disappointed when she saw no one but the butler standing there. The windows were drawn closed as well. No Amelia Trilby in sight.

“Who is that?” she asked, stirring Maxwell from his nap.

He pushed away from his seat to peer through the window. “Amelia Trilby’s cousin, the Lord of Thorne.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She snapped her head to face Maxwell with awe. “You mean the Lord of Thorne.”

He rolled his eyes. “I believe I have said the very same thing, yes.”

She turned her eyes to catch a last glimpse of the young man entering the carriage. “But—but—” she turned to Maxwell once again, “But I thought he is old!”

He stared at her for a while before realization crossed his eyes. “Ah, you must have heard the stories then.”

“Everyone heard of Thorne, my lord!” She shook her head in disbelief. The carriage had already driven away and the butler had closed the Fairview front doors. “I even used his name to scare away two drunken men on my way to Wickhurst. If they knew what he looks like, I believe I would have been in utter trouble! He is way too young to be the lord who kills his servants and children!”

Maxwell was frowning at her. “What do you mean two drunken men?”

She blinked in confusion. She was talking about Thorne and he asked about drunken men. “The two men I shared a hackney with on my way to Wickh—”

“Are you daft!” he hissed. “You rode a hackney with two foxed men who could have potentially endangered your life? Where have you been living all these years? Inside a bloody dungeon? Do you know what happens to women who—”

“They thought I was a man!”

“You are not a man!”

“Well, they thought I was! And I led them to believe I am Thorne’s servant, see?” she said with pride. “You ought to have seen their faces. They were terrified at the mere mention of Lord Thorne!”

“You are one crazy woman,” he said, shaking his head.

She turned to the window once again. “I have heard many stories about the Lord of Thorne. I did not for a second think he could be a Trilby.”

Maxwell was still shaking his head as he muttered a reply. “It is not a common knowledge.” He leaned against his seat once more. “The Trilbys like to paint their names with mystery and danger.”

“Yet that Lord Thorne did not appear to be dangerous. A tiny bit mysterious, yes, but not dangerous.”

“He is, Max .”

She turned and saw the serious look on his face.

“He is one of the Trilby everyone does not wish to cross or disappoint.”

She frowned. “Then the stories are true? That he kills his servants, children and anyone who cannot do his bidding?”

Maxwell shrugged. “I would not go as far as say that he kills merely for the fun of it,” he said, “but I could safely say he is not one to be trifled with.” He closed his eyes. “He may appear young and handsome, but he is as dark as his family.”

“You merely said that to give me a scare,” she said, lifting her legs and crossing them underneath her.

“Do not do that.”

“What?” she asked, finding that his eyes were merely half-closed and he saw her change of position.

“It is not proper.”

“I am wearing breeches, my lord,” she snapped, looking out the window once more.

“Still, you are a woman and—”

“Oh, another carriage is pulling into the driveway,” she exclaimed and Maxwell pushed away from his seat to join her in the window. A man started to climb out. “That is—”

“Osegod,” Maxwell’s cold voice finished.

“He must be very close to my—” she paused and corrected herself, “—Amelia Trilby.”

Maxwell let out a weird noise.

“What does that mean?” she demanded when he leaned away from the window to go back to his nap. From the corner of her eye she saw Osegod enter the Fairview estate with ease before the door was once again shut. “What did you mean by that sound?”

“He is not merely Amelia Trilby’s friend, Max, “ he said.

She frowned. “You mean to say he could be her lover?”

He shrugged. A yes.

She stared outside the window once more. Amelia had not shown herself and Maxine had lost hope of catching a glimpse of her. What could she be doing with Osegod now?

She found that she did not care if the man was truly Amelia’s lover or not. She did not care about the woman’s affairs at all. All she wanted was to face her and ask her questions. Then she could go home to Theobald and be with her parents.

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming desire to go back and embrace her stepmother. Rachel would know what to do.

She pulled away from the window and leaned against her seat. She stared at Maxwell. His eyes were closed.

Maxine let out a silent scoff. Even asleep, the bastard still looked as though he was scowling.

“I envy you and your siblings,” she found herself saying. He opened one eye to stare at her from across the carriage. “You know both your parents.”

He opened the other eye and now he was looking at her with half-closed eyes. “We are lucky, yes.”

She scoffed. “Of course, you would crow about it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. A smile.

Maxine covered the flush on her face by loudly clearing her throat and looking away.

“We could leave now. I no longer wish to continue with my plan. I will think of this thoroughly before I proceed.”

“I will help you.”

She stiffened at his words. Turning her head to face him, she frowned in disbelief.

He raised his brows at her. “I said I shall help you meet your mother soon.”

Maxine blinked. “You will?”

Maxwell Everard shrugged. “Yes,” he uttered with a sigh, straightening in his seat. “But not now.” Something flashed in his eyes but it was gone before Maxine could read it. “Not now, but soon.”

A/N

I regret that I can no longer update daily like the previous story. My health has been paying the price for all the sleepless nights I have to put up with to provide daily updates. I am currently on medication as I have a flu. I was advised to change my sleeping pattern as it is one of the causes of my stress, apart from my work of course. I will continue to write for this story and provide at least two chapters a week or a chapter every two or three days. But be assured that I will not let a week pass by without an update. Thank you.

XX. A Lord with a Plan

“You do not entirely believe me,” Maxine told him as they traveled back to the townhouse. “Why would you want to help me?”

Maxwell Everard did not look away from whatever he was staring at outside the window. He sighed. He apparently found her questions bothersome. “If you are truly who you say you are, proving that you are Amelia Trilby’s daughter will erase all doubts I have about you.”

Maxine scoffed. This Everard brother was indeed wise. “Very well, I agree.”

He turned his head and their eyes met. Her heart oddly raced inside her chest and she suppressed it by cocking a brow. “I simply said I’d help you. I did not ask that you agree.”

Her heart stopped racing as she froze with irritation. With a stiff, cold smile, Maxine uttered, “I do adore your arrogance, my lord.”

He offered a cynical, short bow, one very close to a nod, and said, “As I do your beautiful mockery.”

She offered the same cynical, short curtsy with her head. “Thank you.”

His lips quirked. It could have been a smile, it could have been a frown. Maxine sighed and looked out the other window. “Since you have so graciously imposed helping me, you surely do have a plan, yes?” she asked, belatedly adding, “my lord.”

His hand rose to brush his long hair away from his face, eyes still outside the window. “We will have to wait.”

“You have said as much moments earlier. I would appreciate if you can elaborate further.”

“I will have to figure out a way to set up a meeting with Amelia Trilby.”

“The Everards are not in good terms with the Trilbys you said,” she pointed out.

He turned to look at her again. “I do have connections.”

“Thus we must return to Wickhurst first,” she concluded.

“Yes.”

Maxine studied Maxwell Everard when he tore his eyes from her again. What had changed his mind? Why was he helping her now?

Merely weeks ago he threatened to take her to the Town Guards. Now he was suggesting she stay in Wickhurst?

---

“He claims he needs fresh air,” Nicholas murmured inside the carriage. “The entire bloody Town does not have fresh air unless you are under a bloody hole!”

Maxine pursed her lips to keep herself baring her teeth. She did not know why Maxwell had insisted that he sit with the carriage driver, but she was quite certain she had something to do with it. Did he think she could not handle the journey simply because she was a woman?

But surely he would not think that? He had let her sleep on the floor. He had let her suffer the journey to Willowfair.

Perhaps he simply needed fresh air, she silently reasoned to herself for she did not wish to entertain any thoughts about Maxwell Everard being concerned about her wellbeing. For now, she had to focus on keeping Nicholas from this dire tirade about his brother. It had been going on for nearly an hour since they had left Willowfair.

The rest of the family had not yet departed as Margaret asked for another day so her adopted daughter, Fiona, could have a longer stay with the Haverstons.

Nicholas and Maxwell had claimed to have prior engagements in Wickhurst they could not postpone, thus they were all relieved.

Maxine was thankful that Ysabella did not seek her out since their last encounter. The woman dared not even notice her when she entered the parlor earlier. She merely wished that Ysabella could keep this secret long enough for Maxine to finish what she had set out to do.

“Ah, perhaps he is tired of my jests,” Nicholas was saying, drawing Maxine’s attention. “What do you think, Max?”

Maxine smiled. “I believe he is tired of hearing you refer to him and I as Max, milord, with pun intended.”

“But you are both Max, of course I would refer to both of you as Max!”

Maxine simply smiled. She looked out the window.

“Have you a woman back home, Max?” Nicholas asked, surprising Maxine.

She swallowed. “A woman?”

He nodded. “Yes. A lover.” He frowned. “Or mayhap you are married? But you look too young to be with a wife.”

“I have none, my lord.”

“Ah, then perhaps a lady you intend to court?”

“Yes,” she lied simply to get it over with. “As you do, milord?”

Nicholas’ laughter rang around the carriage. He shook his head. “No, I do not.”

“Lover then,” she said. It was not a question.

The man chuckled. “Yes, of course.” He looked out the window. “Do you know of Rock’oles?”

Maxine blinked. “I have heard of it, milord, yes.”

Nicholas turned to fully face her and she suddenly grew conscious. She had never ridden inside a carriage with him before. “You are not curious?”

“Of course, I am, milord.”

He chuckled. “Of course, you would be. Are you aware that the chambers are carved into the rocks?”

“Yes, milord.”

“And are you aware of how beautiful the women are?”

She flushed. “No, milord.”

“They are, you see,” he said, leaning back against his seat. “The most beautiful creatures indeed!”

“You have seen them all, milord?”

The question gave Nicholas pause. He blinked and inclined his head to the right. “Now that you have mentioned, no, I believe I have not seen all.”

Her brows rose. Now she was utterly curious. “Not everyone show themselves?”

“Most of them, yes, but I have heard that there is one particular woman who does not wish to be seen.”

“She does not? Then why is she there?”

Her master shook his head. “No, she does show herself to the men she chooses to welcome into her chamber, but none of this lords would dare talk about her at all.”

“She is a mystery then?”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Indeed she is!”

“Have you made no attempts to be invited into her chamber?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Whyever not?”

He shrugged. “I had always assumed she does not exist.”

“Well, mayhap she does not.”

“But she does, see? I know she does. I have passed through her chamber countless of times.”

“And you have never seen her at all?”

“No. She never leaves. The woman would not talk about her, of course. Secrecy is of utmost importance in Rock’oles.”

“What could be the reason for her not to show herself?”

“How would I know?” he said in defeat. He suddenly straightened in his seat and slapped his thigh. “You just gave me a very good idea for fun, Max!”

“I did?”

“Yes!” Nicholas’ eyes were alight with mischief and excitement. “I shall make it my mission to find out who this mysterious Rock’oles woman is!”

Maxine simply smiled for she did not how to properly react. A man would know, but for a woman like her, the topic was simply uncomfortable.

“Mayhap she is part of the case!”

“The case, milord?”

Nicholas’ eyes flickered with alarm as though he had been caught telling a secret he must not. “Never mind, Max, never mind,” he said, leaning back into his seat. His smile returned. “I shall find out who this woman is.”

“Good luck then, milord,” she said.

“I will find out who she is.”

“Yes, I believe you will,” she replied.

She turned to look out the window. Perhaps she could demand later that Maxwell must share the carriage ride with his brother and that her rightful place was beside the driver.

---

Back at the tavern, Maxine was talking with the driver inside their small rented room. The man was narrating how he courted his wife with freshly baked breads every morning when a series of knocks came to the door.

“Have you tethered the horses?” Maxine asked him with a frown.

“’Cors I did!”

“Then who could—” The rest of her words were interrupted by another series of knocks.

“Go answer it,” the driver urged. “I am weary.”

Maxine stood and walked to the door. She pulled it open an inch.

Her eyes widened when she saw Maxwell standing too close to the door.

“Well, who is it, lad?” asked the driver from behind.

Maxwell’s frown deepened when he heard the driver. “Outside,” he hissed.

“I am being called upstairs. Do sleep. I will find my way back later,” she hastily told the driver before slipping out into the narrow corridor. “What is it now?” she asked Maxwell in a whisper.

But instead of offering a reply, he turned and said, “Upstairs.”

Maxine’s jaw tightened. “I am not sleeping in your room, my lord.”

He paused in his steps and turned. “I said, upstairs, woman.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Do not—”

“You are being too considerate, my lord. Simply because you know I am a woman?” she asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” was his surprising answer. “Now, upstairs.”

Maxine shook her head, still quite confused why he seemed unperturbed by his own admission.

“Do not force me to—”

“I will go upstairs if I get the bed.” He scowled at her and she smiled. In the many encounters she had with Maxwell Everard, Maxine knew that to insist on sleeping with the driver meant an endless night of hissing and growling in this corridor. But if she were to concede, she would, at the very least, have to make certain that the defeat would be comfortable. “If you must know, I do have a bed in that room I share with the driver. What makes you believe I would suffer another night on the floor?”

She enjoyed watching his jaw grow tight before he harshly brushed his hands through his hair. She thought she heard a growl but she waited until he conceded with the slightest of nod. “Upstairs,” he snapped.

She gave him a mocking curtsy and walked past him to head upstairs to his room.

---

“Why are you doing this?” Maxine asked in the darkness.

Maxwell was somewhere in one corner, on the floor and she did not even care. He had forced this situation after all.

“Doing what?”

“All of this. Why?”

“Because I enjoy normalcy,” his voice wryly replied.

“And my presence is not what you would call normal.”

“You are correct, yes.”

“And you wish to get rid of the very subject that threatens your normalcy .”

“Exactly. You are not part of a routine I am comfortable with.”

She fell silent.

“You can speak your mind, Max .”

She slowly turned in the bed to face the other side of the room where she believed he was situated. “I have lived my entire life in a routine.”

He did not speak for a long time that she started to believe he had fallen asleep. “And this little adventure of yours is far more exciting.”

“Not really,” she said with a yawn. “But it is different. Not entirely exciting at all. Scary is what it is, truly.”

“How so?”

She smiled. “For one, I am sharing a room with Maxwell Everard.”

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?”

“My full name is Maxwell Arthur Everard.”

“The Lord of Kenward.”

“The Lord who wishes to sleep.”

Maxwell scoffed. “Enjoy the floor then, Lord Maxwell Arthur Everard,” she whispered.

“Enjoy the mattress.”

“I shall.”

“And cease talking.”

“So should you.”

“I will have the last word.”

“I can stay up all night.”

“You just yawned.”

“But I am very much awake.”

“And I am determined to have the last word.”

“As I am determined to make you concede.”

“Dare not dare an Everard.”

“Dare not dare a woman in breeches.”

“Sleep.”

“I shall.”

“Now.”

“If you give me the last word.”

She stiffened when she heard a rustle, followed by his footsteps. The door opened and light burst into the room. As his silhouette loomed in the doorway, he said, “Not tonight,” he droned before walking out of the room.

Maxine let out a snort. What a blood childish bastard!

---

Their arrival in Wickhurst surprisingly offered Maxine a great deal of relief.

But to her great disappointment, Albin was not in residence as he left to spend a week in the small village of Dovier where his parents resided. The footman had finally gotten his well-deserved vacation, but it meant that Maxine had to face more work and Oscar’s watchful eyes.

Maxwell Everard was also back in his own estate, providing Maxine more time to think about everything that happened in Willowfair. Was he truly going to help her? He would not forget his promise, would he? Surely he could think of a plan very soon. She could not stay here forever.

Nicholas was out that very same night, probably on his way to Rock’oles to start on his new mission .

Maxine was inside her room, alone now until Albin was back, staring up at the ceiling with a frown.

If Maxwell Everard would ever change his mind, what would she do then? She had allowed him to convince her to wait and waste the time she could have used to meet her mother in Willowfair.

She was starting to regret not confronting Amelia Trilby at the Macy ball. Her mother would have talked to her. She would have wanted to face Maxine.

If Maxwell did not offer her a plan soon, she would make one on her own.

Her family might be closing in on her. She knew her father. He would not rest with worry, her stepmother as well. And Samuel! Her brother might be forced to use his connections to find her. He knew too many people who knew too many individuals.

Maxine’s thoughts were suddenly put to a halt when she heard the door open. Her heart started to hammer inside her chest in anticipation. But she started to frown when she remembered that Maxwell had gone back to his estate.

What a ridiculous thought! For a moment she thought he would barge into the room and demand that she sleep upstairs!

Maxine jumped out of bed when the door opened wider. And she caught her breath when she saw Molly step inside.

“Hello, Max,” Molly said, closing the door behind her. She batted her eyes at Maxine.

And she was in her nightgown.

“I missed you, see?” Molly purred, making her way toward Maxine.

Maxine stepped back in alarm.

What the bloody hell was Molly doing!

XXI. Holy Molly!

“Molly,” Maxine slowly uttered, taking another step back until the back of her knee touched the edge of her bed.

“Yes, Max?” Molly asked, stopping right in front of her. “You have been gone for quite a long time and I had a long time to think.” The maid took another step forward and Maxine gulped. The woman was batting her eyes too much. “I decided that I must tell you how I feel.” Molly’s hand went up to touch the edge of her white nightgown. “But then I decided against it and chose to show you instead.”

The woman started to pull at the strings of her nightgown and Maxine jumped in panic. She reached out to grab Molly’s hands and hold them still. “Stop. What are you doing?”

Molly’s lips curled into a sensual smile. “What I ought to have done a long time ago, Max.” She leaned forward, lips puckered.

In her attempt to escape, Maxine leaned backward and lost her balance. She fell unto her bed and before she could roll away, Molly jumped on her and straddled on her hips.

“Let us not act like little children, Max.” She leaned down, hands resting on both sides of Maxine’s face. “Albin is not here, but Oscar and the others are merely a few doors away. We must be very quiet.”

Maxine shook her head. This could not be happening to her!

She grabbed Molly’s hand and with all the strength that she could muster, she pushed the woman away. “Molly, you cannot do this.”

Molly blinked. “But I want to! I desire to do this. I have been waiting for you to come home, Max. I can no longer—”

“No, Molly, you do not want this. I do not want this.”

Molly blinked and then stiffened. Her face turned ashen as she opened her mouth in disbelief. “But—but you—”

“I consider you a friend,” Maxine said, gently pushing Molly to the side and when the woman’s legs freed her, she jumped out of bed and rushed to the door. “But not like this, Molly, please.”

The woman’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “You do not fancy me? Not at all?”

Maxine swallowed. Bloody hell. “I’m sorry, Molly,” was all she could say.

Molly gasped and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, this is embarrassing!”

“No, please, Molly, do not—” Maxine stopped. Well, it was indeed embarrassing. “Please, let us forget this ever happened, Molly.”

The woman shook her head. “But I—Oh, Max, why can’t you—” Molly stood up and walked toward Maxine. Her hand desperately clutched Maxine’s shirt. “Please, love me. I want you. I know you can love me. I will make you and—”

Maxine winced. “Molly, that is highly unlikely. I am certain that what you feel toward me is merely a passing fancy. It shall wear off and—”

“It will not! I have met many men before but you are different. You look at me as though I am different and it makes me feel loved.”

Maxine pulled away from her grasp. “Molly, I do like you as a friend. I enjoy your company,” she said, motioning to the bed, “but not in this way.”

Molly’s face tightened and a new look enveloped her eyes. “I shall make you change your mind,” she uttered with determination. “I shall make you come to me. I have heard how Lady Ysabella had changed Lord Wakefield’s heart and I would be as patient as her if need be. But please, do not make me wait and suffer for years as Lady Ysabella did.”

Maxine shook her head and reached for the door. She pulled it open. “Not everything goes our way, Molly.” She stared the woman in the eyes. “It has been a very long day for me, Molly, and I am certain it has been the same for you. Please, go back to bed and let us both forget this night.”

Molly shook her head. “No, Max, I shall not forget this night. But I will give you your well-deserved rest.” She walked to the door, much to Maxine’s relief. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Somehow Maxine dreaded the morrow from the tone Molly used.

“Good night, Molly,” she said in a rush the moment the woman stepped into the corridor. Without waiting for another word from Molly, she shut the door close and turned the lock.

She lifted her hands and watched as they shook in front of her.

If Molly had turned more aggressive, Maxine could have been found out.

She went back to bed, fully awake, dreading for tomorrow, blaming Albin for leaving, Ysabella for setting an example, and Maxwell Everard for… for what?

She stopped her thoughts right there. No need to think of Maxwell Everard now.

---

Breakfast was not as what she had expected. Since she left for Willowfair with Oscar and Molly still treating each other coldly, Maxine had expected to aid lighten the mood.

Never had she expected though that she would arrive and find herself hiding from Molly instead.

“If I dinna know better, Max, I’d think his lordship starved ye in Willowfair! Look at how fast yer eatin’!” Lottie uttered, eyes wide with amazement.

Fanny chuckled beside the woman. “And if I do not know better, I’d think my cooking has improved!”

Oscar was silently chewing his food. He turned to study Maxine with a frown. “You have never been in such a rush, which is why I refuse to think that you are doing so now because you are eager to work.”

Maxine merely smiled, her mouth still full. She heard footsteps coming from the service corridor and she immediately jumped to her feet. “Werk,” she mumbled through her full mouth.

The door opened and Molly stepped into the kitchen, wearing her uniform. Her smile brightened when her eyes landed on Maxine. “Hello, Max!”

Maxine swallowed her food and forced a smile. “G’morning, Molly,” She started to rush out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going? His lordship is still asleep.”

Everyone else was watching them. Lottie was hiding a smile. Oscar was scowling. Fanny was staring at Oscar with a knowing look.

“Have to air the room,” she lied, walking away but Molly stepped in front of her, eyebrow arched high, lips curled into a sultry smile.

“Are you avoiding someone by any chance, Max? I wonder who and why?”

Maxine flushed. She started to panic. Could Molly have told everyone what she planned to do? But surely not! “’Cors not, Molly. Good day,” she replied, circling around the woman to get to the door.

“I will see you later, Max!” Molly cried after her, making her cringe.

For a moment Maxine thought that she would rather face a hundred Maxwell Everard than deal with one Molly.

---

Maxwell surprised his brother when he entered Nicholas’ study unannounced.

Nicholas frowned at him. “I am not aware that we have something planned, Max. But if we did, I am afraid that I cannot join you. I have somewhere to go.”

Maxwell looked around the room. “Where is your incompetent valet?”

“And why do you ask?”

Maxwell stood in front of his brother, the table separating them. Without answering the former’s question, he announced, “A previous mistress of mine has found my estate and would not leave.”

Nothing registered on his brother’s face for a few more seconds before Nicholas burst out laughing, slapping the table with one hand. “For someone who is too careful, you ought to have known that this was bound to happen!”

Maxwell did not reply.

“Now, pray tell who this former mistress is. I am not aware that you kept one.”

“I shall not disclose her name,” he said for he had no name to give. If Nicholas was to go to his estate, he would find no one but his old butler and footman.

“Then why the bloody hell did you come here to tell me of the woman’s presence?”

“Because I intend to stay here for a week until she is compelled to leave my estate.”

Nicholas gaped. “You do realize it is your estate, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And you allowed her to stay there?”

“No, of course not. But she would not stop knocking on my door.”

Nicholas went to his feet.

“You cannot go there,” Maxwell uttered.

“I will not, brother,” Nicholas said. “I have no desire to check your former mistress. I am off to find a new one as a matter of fact.”

He frowned. “You are going to Rock’oles? At this time of day?”

Nicholas grinned and winked. “Better be there early before the others come to flock the place.” Nicholas walked to the door. “Do feel at home here as your former mistress must be in your estate.”

Maxwell shrugged. He knew it would be easy. Nicholas was never the curious one.

---

Maxine helped Nicholas into his coat.

“By the by, Max,” Nicholas said before he turned to the door. “My brother, the one who hates you and you hate in return, is currently living under my roof until his former mistress decides to leave his estate.” Nicholas grinned and leaned closer to whisper, “Know that he does not need a valet at all.”

Maxine cleared her throat to fight off a laugh. She bowed and said, “Very good, milord. I shall keep that in mind.”

Nicholas turned on his heels to depart his estate once more.

She had never cared where Nicholas went before, but now she did. Nicholas not in residence meant she had more time in her hands. And if the valet had more time in his hands, the maids would know.

Molly had shown herself twice since Maxine left the kitchen that morning and it was apparent that she had been seeking Maxine out. Whatever she had in mind, Maxine would dare not want to know. Yet now Molly had more opportunity to trap her.

But before her life was sucked out of her, Maxine suddenly remembered what Nicholas said. Maxwell was here. Molly would have to find a later time for her seduction then.

Ah, thank goodness for the tiger brother! She paused when Nicholas’ words completely sank in. Maxwell was here to hide from a former mistress? Who could it be? Shaking her head, Maxine thought that it was not her business to know.

She turned to search for Maxwell, intending to pretend that she was serving him but all the while confronting him with questions. He had promised to help her and he ought to start now.

Maxine heard Molly’s voice from somewhere, calling out, “Max!” and she dashed to the stairs, stumbling on the way up. She rushed to Nicholas’ room and locked herself inside and waited. She stopped breathing when she heard Molly’s light footsteps outside and released a breath of relief when the maid walked away. She waited a few more minutes to be certain before she opened the door and poked her head outside.

The corridor was empty. She walked out and stealthily made her way down the corridor. She thought she heard female voices in one of the rooms she passed by. Perhaps Molly and Lottie?

Maxine prowled back to the staircase and hastily made her way down to go to the library where Maxwell might be. He was not there, nor was he in the drawing room.

“Have you seen Max?” she heard Molly’s voice from up the stairs and she groaned.

Bloody hell, Molly!

---

Maxine later found herself hiding in the garden. It was a very small one, but it had tall sham bushes for hiding until Molly was done with her luncheon.

Truly, why was she hiding from the woman? Had she not said enough last night? Surely Molly would not push herself into her again, yes? But she could never be certain. The woman was too impulsive. Maxine would never be safe until Albin returned.

The footman must be on his way back by now. Merely a few more days, Maxine said to herself as she paced the garden, killing her time.

“I have been searching for you,” the familiar voice said. She jumped in surprise to find that Maxwell was standing in the garden entrance, frowning at her. “Why the bloody hell are you here?”

She moistened her lips, her heart still racing against her chest from mere surprise. Or mayhap it was the sight of him in his half-opened white shirt with his hair framing his face that caused her heart to prance. Had he been asleep this entire time? She had not searched any of the chambers after all.

She mentally shook her head at the atrocious thought that came to her by the sight of him.

Maxwell Everard causing Maxine Theobald’s heart to prance? Bloody tarnation, of course not! He is causing it to stop then, a very tiny voice whispered in her head, one she immediately ordered to go mute.

He raised one thick brow. She had never realized they framed his emerald green eyes in an oddly beautiful way until now. “Well?” he asked, his voice oddly, soothingly familiar in her ears.

What was happening to her?

This must still be one of the many effects of what had happened to her. This must be Molly’s fault. She was now seeing Maxwell Everard as a better option.

No, of course not! He never was!

He rolled his eyes and stepped farther into the garden. All the while, Maxine found herself stepping back in equal measure as though she was afraid that if he went near she would start to tell him of her recent troubles, Molly in particular. He was the only one who knew of her secrets, after all, and she needed to tell someone, lest she would go insane.

“Very well, if you do not wish to tell me,” he said, frowning at her, “but do stop walking away. Else how would I be able to approach you?”

Maxine stood frozen. Why was her heart still racing? And why the bloody hell was Maxwell Everard looking broodingly handsome inside a garden?

“Why are you here?” she asked. “Ah, I heard you are in hiding from your mistress.”

His lips quirked. “You are interested to know about my mistress?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “Please, my lord, if you may, grace me with your question for that is why you are here, yes?”

“I came to ask you something, Max ,” Maxwell said, stepping closer. She could not step back even if she wanted to. His eyes had held hers prisoner and along with it her entire body. “You are gentry, yes?”

She blinked, hearing his question. “I cannot say.”

“It is a yes, then.” He tilted his head to the other side, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Tell me who your father is.”

“The reason why I refuse to say anything is him.”

He slowly shook his head, looking at her as if she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “You look flushed. Why?”

Her throat closed up on her. Yes, why the bloody hell was she flushing!

“Molly,” was the only word that she could think of.

“Molly?” he frowned. He took another step closer. Did he crush her supply of air with each step? Maxine suddenly found it harder to breath.

“T-the chambermaid,” she supplied, stammering, blinking as he took another step closer. Why was he standing so close? She craned her neck to the side, wincing at her muddled thoughts and racing heart.

“And why is this Molly causing your face to flush, Max ?”

Maxine’s wince deepened. She closed her eyes and the words rolled out of her lips. “She tried to seduce me last night and it was the most horrible night I had to ever spend with anyone, you included! And that speaks volume, considering it is you I compare the situation with! She came into the room dressed in naught but her nightgown and she jumped on me and nearly stripped naked! You must understand that I have never been very much afraid for my virtue than I did last night! It was simply horrible! And although I succeeded in convincing her to leave my room, she vowed to make me fall in love with her like how your sister, Ysabella did with Lord Wakefield! She would not leave since then and I have to resort to hiding in every corner I could find whenever she is about! And I have not had my luncheon yet and I am famished!”

She did not realize how much she had shared until a soft, rumbling sound made her open her eyes. And to her utter bewilderment and amazement, she saw Maxwell Everard laughing. The rumbling in his chest slowly turned into a deep one until she heard a distinct sound that was very similar to genuine laughter.

His eyes glimmered, a green pool of mirth. Bloody hell, a laughing Maxwell Everard looked entirely, scandalously exquisite. No wonder why his mistress would not leave his estate!

When his laughter died down, Maxine found her breath again. She frowned and uttered, “You laugh at my predicament!”

He shrugged, a slight curve of a smile remained on his lips. “You could simply act as though you are a nancy,” he said.

For a moment Maxine was confused for she had forgotten the subject. Yes, of course, Molly! “A nancy? How?”

“You act like a woman, which you already are,” he said, looking her up and down. “But do so in a subtle manner.”

“But how could I—”

“Bloody act as though you fancy someone from the male breed!”

She blinked, feeling incredulous. They ought to be talking about her mother and how to present herself in front of Amelia Trilby. Instead, here they were, talking about how to pretend to be a man who was a nancy to escape the advances of a chambermaid!

He rolled his eyes when she did not say anything. “Pretend that you fancy a man.”

“A man?”

“Yes.”

“But who—”

“Me,” he said with a shrug. “I would not mind.”

“This is ridiculous. I could not pretend to fancy you! Lottie fancies you and she would hate me should I act as though I do too!”

“Then bloody choose—Molly or Lottie?”

“Why would I choose between Molly and Lottie when I could very well choose between the butler and the footman to be the subject of my fancy? Surely you are not the sole option as there are other men, including the driver and your brother …” Her words faltered as she realized what was coming.

It was not an attack. No, Maxine would not consider it as such for she had seen it coming. She saw how he closed the distance between them and she definitely waited in anticipation, her words hanging in midair, completely forgotten, as Maxwell leaned lower and touched his lips against hers.

No, it was not an attack for she waited for it. She held her breath until his lips touched hers in a very light, featherlike whisper of a kiss.

Her eyes were wide when he leaned back. His emerald green eyes locked with hers before they moved down to look at her lips. And he leaned closer once again, this time taking another step to close the distance between them until their chests touched.

When Maxine could not muster to push him away, Maxwell leaned back once more, assessing if she would dare do it now. But she could not for it felt somehow beautiful.

And for the third time, now with certainty and confidence that she would not push away, Maxwell’s hand went behind her to pull her against him before once more taking her mouth in his in a deeper and powerful kiss. His lips patiently moved over hers and she hinted a faint taste of honey and tea. They moved against her stiff lips, urging her to open wider and when she did she felt as though her world had completely turned upside down.

The senses she had felt with the first two semi-stolen kisses were nothing compared to this one. The hint of honey and tea were followed by something solely Maxwell Everard, overwhelming her senses like never before. Surprising her with every movement of his lips and sending tingling sensations spiraling down to the tips of her toes and fingers.

His other hand came to rest on her nape, angling her head to fit her mouth against his, to prepare her for his onslaught, this time deeper as if he too was learning her texture, her taste, her warmth.

And then it was over. He stopped and so did she.

Her breathing matched his heavy one as he took a step back, staring at her, both bewildered and amused.

“I did not expect it to be very good,” he admitted, reaching out to tuck a stray of her black hair behind one ear. “And now I am even more confused why no one else has ever noticed you are a woman.”

She slapped his hand away. “You are trying to seduce me,” she accused, glaring at him. “After having established that I am gentry, you decided to seduce me.”

“No,” he replied with a scoff. “Gentry or not, woman, I have always known I am out to seduce you.”

Maxine gaped in disbelief. He did not even blink when he admitted such appalling fact!

Maxwell sighed and wryly uttered, “Do bring me tea and sandwiches in the drawing room.” He turned and walked out of the garden as though nothing had happened—as though he did not do anything!

“You—you bloody bastard!”

Maxwell stopped and turned to face her. “I merely admitted to seducing you, woman. No need for profanities. And I believe mine was better than Molly’s?”

Maxine knew she ought to be appalled, even scandalized, but she found that she was simply shocked. But she could not allow him to think that his advances were welcome! With a scoff, she rushed past him. “You are one perplexing form of a being! No gentleman would do and say things you just did!”

“Tea and biscuits, Max !” he called after her.

“After I sort out my thoughts, milord!” she shouted back over her shoulder.

As Maxine walked back to the kitchen, her heart skipped. Maxwell Everard kissed her and she kissed him back.

She scoffed, fighting a smile. Now, who was the bloody fool?

XXII. Open Talk

Maxwell waited inside the drawing room, fingers curled under his chin, eyes narrowed into a frown. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them once more.

He took a deep breath, cocked his head to the right and frowned even more. He let out a sigh and shook his head.

Ah, whatever it was, he could not deny it.

That kiss was astounding. Why would he ever deny it was not? Men who did looked like fools and he was no fool.

He did not plan to kiss her. Truly, he did not. She did not even look ravishing with her hair tied tightly behind her and that horrid valet uniform. But her voice invited him, her words seduced him. Pathetic as it may be, but he was pulled in and to pull back was unthinkable.

And she did not fight back. She welcomed the kiss. He scoffed at the memory. She did kiss him back.

He stilled when the door to the room opened and the valet walked in, her face stone-like and unreadable.

Who was this woman? Where did she come from? He wanted to know, yet he knew that forcing the truth from her would merely lead to one of their useless disputes.

She had fixed her hair tightly behind her once more and Maxwell regretted not having ruined it earlier. She did look beautiful with her hair down in the Macy ball.

“Have you rearranged your muddled mind?” he asked when she placed a tray of sandwiches and tea on the table before him.

Straightening to full height, she lifted her chin and haughtily looked down at him. Definitely gentry , he thought. “Quite,” she admitted.

“You do admit I caused you confusion,” he said, greatly satisfied when her eyes flickered with annoyance.

“Yes, of course,” she uttered. “But it makes me wonder if you do know where you are.”

Maxwell frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Mayhap you have mistaken your brother’s estate to yours, my lord,” she said with a shrug. She waved her hand around the drawing room, adding, “As you have mistaken that your mistress is at your residence and not here .”

Maxwell’s lips twitched. “Ah, you are bringing up the subject of my mistress again. Why?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Now that I have delivered your sandwiches and tea, could I leave? I was hoping you would discuss how you are to aid me in my mission , but it seems that you are not currently in the right mind to do so.”

He studied her for a while before motioning his hand over the tray. “Eat.”

She frowned. “You do like to order me around.”

“And you do hate to be ordered around,” he countered. “Eat. You said you are famished.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Well? Would you rather share your luncheon with Molly ?” he asked, voice filled with meaning.

“I cannot eat your meal. Anyone could walk in and find us—”

Maxwell impatiently stood up and walked to the door. He turned the lock and faced her once again. “Satisfied? Now, eat.”

She sighed and sat on the chair he vacated. “Very well, since I am famished.” She picked up the sandwich and turned to him with a mocking smile. “And while I feed myself with your sandwiches, I would appreciate if you could grace me with your marvelous plan.”

“My plan,” he uttered, walking to the chaise across from her. He did not have very precise plan at the moment. The only one he had was one he could not share with her.

“Yes, the exact one that will rid you of my presence.”

His brows rose. “That is a rather harsh way of putting it.”

“A fact,” she pointed out, taking a bite from the sandwich.

He watched her mouth move as she chewed. “You kissed rather well. Did you have lovers before you became a man ?”

Her pale grey eyes flickered with annoyance. “Mayhap I did, mayhap I did not.” She forced a smile and disarmed him with her next question. “You also did a marvelous job at kissing. Did you have so many lovers before you decided to you shall debauch a lady pretending to be a man?”

Maxwell could not stop his lips from twitching into a small smile. “I did, yes. Would you like to sample more than mere kissing?”

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged and looked away. “What do you plan to do? I cannot stay here longer than a month. I must find a way to talk to her.”

Maxwell tore his eyes away from her lips. “I am talking to an acquaintance. I expressed my desire to be introduced to her. You shall know the moment his reply arrives.”

She looked at him with doubtful eyes.

“I am telling the truth, woman.” He nodded at the tray. “Finish your food.”

“A week,” she uttered, looking him squarely in the eyes. “A week and if your acquaintance does not deliver a reply, I am packing my bags to Willowfair.”

“You have no money.”

“My pay is currently untouched.”

“It will not get you far.”

She picked up another sandwich. “A hackney is cheaper than you believe.”

His eye twitched. He was unexpectedly infuriated. Making note of his reaction for later assessment, Maxwell uttered, “A hackney. Of course. What will be your way to protect yourself should you be in danger once again this time? Lord Thorne?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Who then?”

“What,” she corrected.

“What?”

“I shall purchase myself a hunting knife, of course,” she said, standing up. “Thank you for the food,” she said, picking the last sandwich from the tray. “I will finish it inside my room.”

Maxwell watched her walk to the door, her back straight and shoulders squared proudly. “Do be sure to lock the door. Molly might be lurking in one corner.”

“Duly noted, my lord.” She pulled at the door and stared at him over one shoulder. “One week.”

Maxwell shrugged in response.

“One week,” she repeated.

He shrugged again.

She walked out the door and Maxwell watched it slowly close.

A week would not suffice, but he shall try to make a fast move.

---

Maxine was met by Lottie along the service corridor two days later. She was about to run and hide, thinking it was Molly, but soon realized it was the scullery maid.

“You cannot believe what I saw, Max!” she said, squealing with excitement.

Maxine frowned. “What?”

“Lord Max!”

“Of course, but he had been in residence for two days now.”

“But—but he is—” Lottie’s face flushed. She leaned closer and whispered, “He is in the garden in naught but his sleeping robe!”

Maxine was not surprised at such news for she had long established that Maxwell Everard was indeed an Everard—he did whatever he fancied.

“And he talked to me!”

Now that was something surprising. “He talked to you? How? Why were you in the garden?”

“I was lurking—I mean I was on my way into the end of the service corridor when he saw me, see?”

“What did he say to you?”

Lottie’s face flushed. “He wanted tea.”

“Tea.”

“Yes.”

“In the garden?”

Lottie nodded.

“Then fetch his tea—”

“He specifically asked that you serve it to him. I cannot serve him tea! Oscar will butcher me should I ever do it!”

“But Lord Nick is bound to wake up soon and—”

“Oh, Max, please do give him his tea. I did promise him it shall be served right away. I cannot break my promise!” Lottie was nearly as tall as Maxine and she could have pressed her own face in front of her out of desperation.

Maxine sighed. “Very well.”

“Now, go! I shall help you get away from Molly. Ye do not have to worry ’bout her, Max. I have yer back. Albin is bound to arrive today or tomorrow at the latest.”

“Oscar did try to reprimand her this morning. It did not work, Lottie,” Maxine uttered wryly.

“Ah, but Albin is way better with words than Oscar is. He could put Molly in her place.”

She did not comment. Molly had been quite a nuisance, always popping out of nowhere to talk to her or initiate a conversation that involved a lot of batting eyes and sultry smiles. If there was anything Maxine learned from the woman about seduction, it would be the many ways on how to do it wrong. Lesson one, of course, would be making certain you are seducing the correct sex.

---

Merely five minutes later she walked into the garden, balancing a tray of tea and biscuits.

She found Maxwell, indeed in his sleeping robe, sitting on a chair with a book in hand. At that very moment, Maxine could believe she was approaching a perfectly chiseled statue of Eros reading a book on how to masterfully seduce Psyche. When did Maxwell Everard turn into a god in her eyes?

He looked up when she approached and watched her place the tray on the small round table before him.

“What took you so long?” he asked, reaching for the cup. The image of Eros quickly vanished at the sound of his voice, taking Maxine back to reality.

“My feet?” she replied with a mocking smile.

He returned the sardonic look. “Always loved sarcasm for breakfast.”

She looked down at him. His hair was a mess and his robe was bedraggled. One would think he wrestled with himself in bed. And yet you thought of Eros, a voice whispered inside her head. She brushed it away. “Would you wish for your breakfast to be delivered here, my lord?”

He shook his head. “Later. I shall have it with Nicholas.”

“And what of your acquaintance? Has he delivered a reply?”

He shook his head.

“I merely gave you one week, my lord.”

“It has only been two days, Max ,” he pointed out. He sipped from his tea. “How are your trysts with Molly?”

“She is turning to be a sore loser, a matter I hate to see come to worse,” she said, “which is why I would need to know what you plan to do. I can no longer prolong my stay here.”

He nodded. “You may go.”

“Out of Wickhurst to Willowfair?”

“No, from the garden to wherever you ought to be.”

“You deliberately sent for me. Why?”

“Because I wanted to see you,” he said, crossing his leg over the other. His face remained unreadable. He appeared to have recited something from the book he was holding that it made Maxine wonder if he meant it or not. “I do mean it. I wanted to see you.”

Her face crumpled in incredulity and awe. She scoffed while her mind searched for a coherent argument. There was none. She slowly shook her head. “You do have the most eccentric way of attempting to make a woman’s heart flutter.”

He raised his brows. “Flutter? No, I meant to make it skip a beat, Max .”

She tilted her head to the side to study him. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged. “I find it odd myself.”

“And yet you still do it?”

“Yes, for my own sanity, of course, not yours.”

“You are succeeding in causing havoc to my sanity, indeed. You baffle me!”

“Not as much as you do me, trust me.” He motioned with his head. “Now, go. I’ve had my fill.”

Maxine’s eyes widened, mouth hanging open. She turned and walked away from Maxwell Everard. She had long known he was a cynic, but he was far stranger than she had expected as days went by!

---

Maxwell waited until his brother was alone in his study before he barged in to calmly ask, “Why did you agree to such an atrocious idea?”

Nicholas paused from his writing and looked up at Maxwell. “How did you find out?”

“Mother sent a note of inquiry to my residence,” he said, waving the paper, “which my footman delivered this morning.”

“Is your mistress still in town?”

Ignoring his brother’s question, he scowled. “Why did you bloody do it, Nicholas? Is Benedict aware of this?”

Nicholas nodded. “He proposed the idea.”

Maxwell’s face tightened. “And no one bothered to tell me?”

Nicholas sighed. “It is because you are very much opposed to Osegod. That is why I decided not to tell you.”

“Is Margaret aware of this?”

“Why would Margaret have a say on such small detail? It is merely a dinner, Max, fret not.”

“Osegod is Margaret’s concern, you bloody idiot!”

Nicholas frowned. And then his brother blinked. “You mean that the League is—”

Maxwell cursed under his breath and dragged a chair to face his brother.

“Ah, finally ready to share, Max?”

“Before you make more stupid decisions that could ruin us all, yes,” he snapped.

Nicholas waved his hand. “Then, please, be my guest.”

Maxwell looked at his brother, not quite sure how much he ought to tell. But Margaret had not said he could not share what he knew and the woman had been quite busy of late to have the proper talk they planned to set. Nicholas would merely do more stupid things if he was kept in the dark.

“In Ysabella’s wedding, I heard Margaret and Thomas Hayward talking.”

“Thomas Hayward? Wakefield’s brother?” Nicholas asked. “Do not tell me he is a Leaguer!”

“He is. And he is currently tasked by the League of Founders to handle a case that involves Osegod.”

“What case?”

Maxwell shook his head. “I do not know.”

“Then you are not certain—”

“Our sister did something that she would not have done if she was not afraid, Nick,” Maxwell seriously interrupted.

Nicholas stilled. “What did she do?”

“Do you remember Aurora Randolph?”

Nicholas blinked. “Of course. Ysabella and Emma’s friend. She did leave Wickhurst months ago—” he stopped and his eyes widened. “Do not tell me—”

“Her disappearance was brought about by the League.”

His brother’s face crumpled in disbelief. “How in bloody tarnation does that woman fit this case?”

Maxwell shrugged. “I was not able to find out, but I know that she is wanted by Osegod, along with her child.”

Nicholas leaned forward in surprise. “Aurora Randolph has a child?”

“One she keeps as a secret.”

“The child belongs to Osegod?”

“I cannot say for certain, but it is a possibility.”

“And where does Margaret fit in all this?”

“She was the one who gave Thomas Hayward the information of where to find Aurora Randolph.” When his brother’s face remained blank, he added, “And the League is planning to use her and her child as pawns to trap Osegod.” Nicholas’ eyes widened. “You see, Nick, for Margaret to allow such act against a woman and her child means that whatever the League of Founders has against Osegod is enormous. For her to put at risk the life of a mother and child merely means that Margaret is also desperate to help them achieve their goal.”

Nicholas blinked and leaned back against his chair in disbelief. “No, I refuse that Margaret would do such a thing. If Aurora was being hunted by Osegod, helping her would have been the better option. Surely we could—”

“Margaret did not merely want the League to succeed by having Aurora and the child. She also wanted to rid us of any connection to her, in turn any connection with Osegod,” Maxwell interjected. “And now you wish to host dinner for the man. I am telling you, Nick, Maggie will not like this.”

Nicholas rubbed his hands against his face in frustration. “I am yet to process that the woman my sisters tried to match with me is in fact a mother and is being hunted by the very man I invited to dinner at the Everard estate, Max, so please spare me for a moment.” He opened his eyes and stared at Maxwell. “How the bloody hell could I have known!”

“Cancel the dinner.”

“I cannot. It would be suspicious.” A long silence reigned between them. “This is why you believe Osegod is behind the mine accident.”

“Yes.”

“But if Margaret succeeded in ridding us of Aurora Randolph, why is Osegod still after us?”

Maxwell shrugged. “This sudden interest in our family and the business could mean more. Aurora Randolph could simply be a coincidence to a plan.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Ben would not like this.”

“I do not care what the League is doing or why they are doing it for it has already been established that Osegod is not merely the head of the Town Leaders. The League of Founders has formed a mission to destroy him and that is enough reason for us to stay away. He is far beyond what we know.”

“But we cannot avoid him. It is too late,” Nicholas said. “He has already made contact. He is bloody coming for a bloody dinner!”

Maxwell did not reply, simply stared. Nicholas gauged his reaction.

“You have a plan, do you not?”

Maxwell shrugged. “Of course, but I was hoping I do not have to utilize it.”

“What plan?” When Maxwell did not reply, Nicholas urged, “What plan, Maxwell?”

Maxwell sighed. “I know someone we could use to help us acquire information about Osegod’s plans. We must learn if his intentions are purely business or a part of a bigger one that will place us at a disadvantage.”

“And how will this person help us?”

“This person is a Trilby and I wager that the closest we can get to Osegod is through a Trilby.”

“No, no,” Nicholas said, shaking his head. “We cannot use Edmund. Margaret and Cole will not allow it. The young man has gone through enough.”

“But I am not talking about Edmund.”

“Who—”

Nicholas’ question was interrupted by a sudden clashing sound. They both turned and found the valet standing in the doorway, her face white with horror. The service tray and its contents were on the floor where she dropped them.

Maxwell jumped to his feet, not quite sure which is better: to be swallowed by the ground or be blown to pieces.

XXIII. Ruckus

A nearly eerie silence fell into the room. Nicholas might be simply shocked but for Maxwell, it was something else entirely. It was far beyond being startled. Fear and panic were laced with the fuddled look on his face as he gauged the valet’s reaction.

The first to move was her. She blinked and everything in her face changed. She managed to pull an invisible curtain to hide the hatred he saw in her eyes. “Pardon, my lords,” she murmured, bending down to gather the tray and the teacups. “I shall have this one cleaned right away,” she added as she straightened on her feet.

“Ah, bother not, Max,” Nicholas said. “Let the maid clean the mess later. My brother and I are discussing something of import.”

She nodded stiffly, eyes on Nicholas but never on him, which was far worse than receiving a murderous glare.

Maxwell started for the door the very moment the valet walked out.

“Where are you going?” Nicholas demanded.

“I would like to have a moment to think alone,” he snapped over his shoulder. “You stay here,” he ordered, slamming the door behind him.

She was already nearing the end of the corridor and into the hallway when he ran up to her. “What you heard was—”

“I do not wish to see you or hear your voice,” she seethed. Her shoulders were stiff and her steps hurried.

“You have not yet heard of my entire plan. You do not—”

“Max!” a voice said from the main doorway. He stopped and turned to find Ralph striding toward them and the valet. “Good that you are here. Samuel and I called upon you in your estate and were informed that you are here.”

The woman had stiffened beside Maxwell, her already blanched face turning even paler. He returned his eyes on Ralph and realized that Samuel Theobald was walking right behind his brother.

“Good day, my lord,” his brother’s friend greeted. “Pardon for the intrusion, but your brother insisted.”

The valet whirled around and scurried back into the corridor where she came from and disappeared.

Maxwell frowned and turned his attention back on the two intruders.

“Samuel is currently in a big dilemma, one that needs our help.”

The young man beside Ralph apologetically smiled. “I merely specifically asked for Ralph’s help but he has decided for himself that you and Nicholas could offer assistance.”

“A matter of truth as my brothers do know more people than I,” Ralph said. “Can you spare us a bit of your time?” he asked Maxwell. “Is Nicholas in residence? We are about to discuss a delicate matter that requires your confidence.” Ralph started to move. “We must bring this to the study.”

Maxwell studied Samuel Theobald. He met the young man’s hesitant pale grey eyes.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as realization crept in.

“What was that?” Ralph asked.

“Nothing,” he snapped. “I said, lead the way.”

His eyes wandered down the corridor. She was gone. She must have escaped into the secret service corridor.

As his brother and Samuel Theobald entered the study, Maxwell hesitated. What if she suddenly decided to act on impulse and escape?

“Max?” Ralph asked while Nicholas’ voice from inside could be heard saying, “What is this now?”

Maxwell turned and entered the room.

She would not go away for now , he reassured his mind before he closed the door and locked it.

“What is it? Make it fast,” he ordered Ralph.

“Very well,” said Ralph, turning to face Samuel. “I hope you do not mind?”

Samuel nodded his blonde head. He appeared more distraught now that the talk was about to start.

Ralph turned to Nicholas who seemed utterly lost and confused. “You cannot repeat whatever we discuss in this room with anyone.”

Nicholas slowly nodded. He appeared startled to be facing two more gentlemen after his unfinished talk with Maxwell.

Ralph turned to Maxwell who wryly said, “Go on with it.” His eyes were on Samuel now pacing around the room.

“Samuel’s sister is missing,” Ralph began. Maxwell gave no reaction as he continued to study the young Theobald.

Nicholas, on the other hand, was even more confused. “Sister? You do not have one, Samuel.”

“He does,” Ralph provided. “Her name is Maxine and she has gone missing.”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened as he closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from shouting all profanities his tongue would allow. A part of him was itching to get out the door and find the woman, but another knew that it would merely intrigue the other men in the room.

“I do not understand,” Nicholas said, frowning at the pacing Samuel.

The young man finally stopped and said, “She is my father’s bastard and she had been kept a secret all her life. And now she is missing and we cannot find her.”

Nicholas blinked and his eyes widened in surprise. “You have a sister?”

“And she is missing,” Samuel repeated, tone impatient. “And I am desperate to find her as my parents are.”

“Have you gone to the Town Guards?”

Ralph gaped at his brother and rolled his eyes. “I am one, brother.”

“My father is currently still hoping that Maxine will return as she had promised but we have not heard from her for so long. He does not wish to make her disappearance public in fear that she will hate him for it.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

“She ran away,” Maxwell impatiently explained. “And since she is a bastard, and a secret one at that, the Theobalds are trying their best to look for her without the matter being out in the open.”

Samuel rubbed his face with his hands. “I am very close to announcing a reward for her return on the Herald. But she has not been abducted. She is of age to go wherever she wishes.”

Ralph turned to both Maxwell and Nicholas. “We were hoping that you could ask amongst your trusted acquaintances. I fear that Samuel’s sister might be in danger.”

“Why so?” Nicholas asked.

Samuel answered, his voice sounding fearful and concerned. “She has no friends. She has never been away from Theobald. She had lived all her life in the manor.” He groaned. “I fear that she is too innocent and naïve and anyone could take advantage of her. She is all alone.”

Maxwell cleared his throat to suppress the fury he felt directed toward himself.

Nicholas slowly stood up. “Have you considered that mayhap she ran away with someone?”

Maxwell glowered while Samuel shook his head. “My sister is not one who would run away with a lover if that is what you are suggesting, my lord.”

“Then bloody publish the announcement! Who bloody cares if she is a bastard?” Nicholas said in frustration. “What good would it do that your family maintains its good reputation if your sister could be in potential harm?”

“They know where she might be,” Maxwell said, staring at Samuel.

Samuel nodded. “She left a note informing me that she is out to find her mother.”

“Her real mother?” Nicholas asked.

“Yes.”

“And you do not know who her mother is?”

“We know. My father provided the information the moment we learned of Maxine’s disappearance.”

“You are telling us that your sister is out there to find her mother, someone you all know?” When Samuel nodded, Nicholas added, “Then bloody hell find the woman!”

“She does not know who her mother is,” Samuel provided.

Nicholas shook his head. “Now you are telling us that your sister is out there looking for a woman she does not know?”

“Yes.”

“And she could be lost?”

“Yes.”

“You do know how atrocious you sound, yes?”

“You know people, Nick,” said Ralph. “Maxine could have found employment somewhere.”

“What do you intend to do the moment you find her?” Maxwell spoke.

Everyone turned to Maxwell with a frown.

“Bring her home at once, of course,” Samuel replied.

“You are not going to take her to her mother? That is if she had not found the woman yet, of course.”

Samuel shook his head. “My father has reasons why he never revealed who Maxine’s mother is and I too believe that my sister is better off far away.” He turned to Nicholas. “We believe she is in Wickhurst.”

“What makes you believe that your sister is in Wickhurst?”

“She has made an acquaintance with Ysabella during the last Theobald party,” Samuel provided. “I saw the letters Ysabella sent her weeks ago.”

Nicholas groaned. “Of course, our dear sister. Of course.”

“We went to Ysabella and she claims not to know where Maxine is,” Ralph said. “But since Ysabella is the only person she knows outside of Theobald, we believe that Maxine might have decided to stay in Wickhurst where she can easily find help should she need it while she searches for her mother.”

“My sister may be naïve, my lords,” Samuel uttered, “but she is no fool.”

Maxwell wanted to contradict and say that Maxine Theobald was neither of both. He stared at Nicholas’ confused look. The bloody bastard could not even figure out that his valet had the same eyes as Samuel Theobald, the blind fool!

“Where was she last seen?”

Samuel shook his head. “She stole my horse in Theobald and one of our footmen found it a week later. She sold it.”

“And the person who procured it could not place where she might have went?”

Again, Samuel shook his head. “The horse was sold by a boy.”

“And we could not find the boy,” said Ralph.

Nicholas sighed. “I shall try asking a few acquaintances. If you could give me a good description of your sister, it would greatly help.”

“And watch Ysabella,” Ralph said. “She could have lied to us.”

Maxwell nodded. “You can be certain that your sister will be returned safely should we know where she is.”

Samuel sighed in relief. “Although I am quite certain that you will not be able to find her as I cannot provide a photo of her and Wickhurst is a rather large town, know that I am grateful, gentlemen.”

Maxwell merely nodded.

Now he needed to find her. Fast.

---

She must go.

Maxine rushed to the kitchen to deposit the tray and the broken teacups, surprising Molly and Fanny. The two stared at the tray and its contents.

“Max!” Molly called out after her. “Whatever happened? Is everything all right?” she asked, following her into the service corridor. “What happened, dear?”

“Bloody hell, Molly, leave me alone for once!” Maxine shouted over her shoulder. The woman stopped cold, stupefied. Maxine could care less for she was feeling a fury burning inside her.

She must go.

Samuel was here. He was here to ask the Everards for help and if she was found, she might never have the chance to face her mother.

She slammed the door to her room and paced around the small servant quarter, obliging her tears to retreat.

Letting out a shaky breath, Maxine closed her eyes. Maxwell Everard was planning to use her and her brother had finally appeared. This was enough sign for her to be on her way. It was time to go to Willowfair on her own, present herself in front of her mother and get what she wanted.

That was all she wanted—answers! Why was everyone else making it impossible?

She whirled to face her bed. Underneath was her bag. She could pack that very moment.

But she could not do so today. Maxwell would know what she was planning and he would attempt to stop her again. No, she would not go today.

Instead of grabbing her clothes to pack, Maxine decided to find a pen and paper. She scribbled a short letter addressed to her mother.

I am the daughter you gave away many years ago. I do not wish for anything but meet you and get answers.

Folding the letter, Maxine squared her shoulders.

It was time to depend merely on herself. No one was set out to help her. No one would be willing to do so without expecting something in return. She would deliver the letter and wait for a response. Should one arrive, she would go to Willowfair. Should nothing come, she would still pack her bags and hop on a hackney to Willowfair.

Her mother might not take her in, yes, but she would get her answers. And then she could go home to Theobald where she belonged and pretend that everything never happened. She’d forget about Molly and everyone in this household. She would forget Maxwell Everard and his wicked ways. He never planned to help her at all. She was naïve to have let him stop her twice in Willowfair!

He was planning to keep her to use her against her mother!

Maxine would forget that she ever met the worst of the Everards.

---

Maxwell nearly panicked when he was informed that the valet had disappeared.

“Up and disappeared and we do not know where he went,” said Oscar, the butler. “Fret not, my lord, for I shall deal with him the moment he arrives.”

She might not come back , he said to himself. But where could she have gone? Bloody hell, he ought to have stopped her.

Samuel and Ralph were long gone with the latter saying that they were not in high hope Nicholas and Maxwell could help find Samuel’s sister.

But Maxwell did know where Maxine Theobald was. And he had let her slip through his fingers.

He was a bloody idiot.

He paced the entrance hall while Nicholas locked himself in his study to finish his accounting works before heading out for the night.

She could very well be on her way to Willowfair by now and here he was waiting and hoping that she returned? Of course, she would not be returning should she have decided to go. Who would after learning of his plan?

His head snapped up when he heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and he almost did not believe his eyes when he saw her toward the corridor that led to Nicholas’ study.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, walking after her.

She ignored him and continued down the corridor.

He ran after her and grabbed her hand. “Stop,” he ordered, pulling her back to face him. “Stop, Maxine.”

Her eyes registered surprise, but not for long. He had never used her name since she told him. She quickly managed to deduce why he was using it now and her face tightened further. “You must have had a good talk with my brother,” she snapped, pulling her hand free.

Maxwell shook his head. “What you heard earlier—”

“Have you told them the truth yet?” she asked in a cold tone. “Ah, of course, you did not. That would ruin your plan, after all.” He grabbed her hand again. “Let go of me, my lord.”

“You are planning to go away,” he uttered without question.

Her eyes lit up with intense fury. “You have been keeping my secret for one reason: you know I am a Trilby and you plan to use me against Osegod. And to think I almost enjoyed your peculiar seduction, one you obviously attempted to control me to your advantage!” Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “I knew you cannot be as good as your siblings. There is always one who has bad blood in every family, yes?”

His grip tightened around her wrist. “You have not heard of my entire plan,” was all he said, ignoring her insult. “I am not planning to use you without your consent. And you cannot leave. It is dangerous.”

“I have never been in real danger until you arrived and showed yourself in front of me,” she shot back. “I cannot stay here and do not think you are the sole reason why. I cannot let Samuel find me here and as to my experience with you, my lord, I cannot trust that I can peacefully sleep knowing you are bound to betray me at any time.”

“What is happening?” Nicholas’ voice asked from behind Maxine. He was standing outside his study, looking at them with curious eyes. “Are you insulting my valet again, Max?”

“None of your business,” snapped Maxwell before saying, “You come with me,” to Maxine. He started to drag her away from Nicholas and down the corridor. “Dare not follow us, Nicholas!” he shouted over his shoulder.

XXIV. A Dinner with the Everards

“Let go of me at once! Your brother would—” Maxine was not able to finish her sentence for Maxwell made a sudden turn, dragging her along with him, and climbed up the stairs. “I said, let go of me!” she hissed but he was not listening.

They reached the second landing. He turned to the left, his steps thudding along the corridor.

Maxine pulled at her hand when she realized where he was taking her. He was taking her to his chamber.

She let him drag her until they entered the room and mayhap he thought she had finally given in for he let her go the moment they walked through the doorway. But she surprised him by whirling around, running toward the door.

“If you wish to leave, you must leave now for if you do not allow me to help you then I will be inclined to tell Samuel where you are.”

Maxine stopped cold at his words.

“You can no longer hide whatever disguise you take for I know where you intend to go.”

She gritted her teeth and stormed toward the door. And then she slammed it close before she spun on her heels to face him. Shooting him a darting look of fury, she said, “You are a heartless bastard.”

For the first time since she had met him, Maxine saw a flicker of guilt flash before his green eyes. “I have told you. I was planning to use you upon your consent.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits, narrowed like a hunter about to shoot his prey. “And that is why you are a heartless bastard, my lord,” she growled. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Consent or not, you were planning to use me.”

“Acquire your help then,” he hastily rephrased. “In return to the help I am offering.”

“One I willingly, ungratefully and strongly decline!”

The anger she saw on his face was sudden. His face turned scarlet as he stalked toward her, gritting through his teeth, “And you believe that I shall let you go to Willowfair alone? Have you no mind of what might happen to you!”

“I do not care!” she shot back. She looked him up and down and scoffed in disbelief. “And now you pretend to be the gentleman and worry about my safety? Why? Because now you are aware that I am gentry? That I am the secret daughter of a family friend?” She pushed him away when he took another step forward. “Your manners are outright misplaced, my lord, for I am not fooled. Nor shall I allow you to do it again!”

“Samuel will know of your whereabouts should you leave without me.”

Maxine nearly groaned. Of course, why did she forget about that threat? She turned and faced the door. Closing her eyes, Maxine counted until her breathing returned to almost normal. “Very well, I leave in five days. Should you be there or not, I shall take my chances.”

“You must wait—”

“You no longer dictate when or how I execute my plans, my lord. Go and get my brother if you must,” she said over her shoulder. “But I will not be stopped. You join me or you do go and tell my brother and prove that you are naught but a conniving brute.”

Maxine noted how his entire form stiffened at her last words. But he did not reflect whatever reaction he felt into action and instead let out a frustrated sigh. “What time?”

“The afternoon,” she said, reaching for the door and pulling it open.

“Dare not play a trick on me, Maxine.”

Maxine felt a sudden gush of fury at the mention of her name. “I would dare not, my lord,” she lied, walking out of the room. “Do prepare your carriage for I’d love to ride one over a hackney.”

Maxine walked along the corridor, her steps hurried and stiff.

She would be gone sooner than five days. And Maxwell Everard would not be coming along.

---

Maxine was surprised to see Albin in their room, stripping his clothes off. She averted her eyes and walked over to the bed.

“No welcome words for me, eh?” the footman asked. He looked tired, but his eyes glimmered. The vacation surely did do him good.

“Welcome,” she murmured. “I was not expecting you to return this soon. How is your family?”

“Good, good,” he said with excitement. “Now, what happened while I was gone?”

Molly tried to debauch me, Maxine wryly said inside her head. “Nothin’ you will enjoy,” she said with a faint smile.

“Molly and Oscar are talkin’ to each other now?”

“With sarcasm, yes.”

Albin chuckled as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head.

The door burst open and a scowling Nicholas walked in, surprising both Maxine and Albin.

“My lord!” they both exclaimed, jumping to their feet.

He saw Albin and he nodded, “Good you are back, Albin.”

“Yes, milord,” the footman muttered, wearily shooting Maxine a nervous look. For their master to seek them out himself was rather strange indeed.

Still assuming his a scowl on his face, Nicholas turned to Maxine and demanded, “What the bloody hell did Maxwell want?”

Maxine swallowed. “Nothin’, milord,” she murmured.

“That was not nothin’, Max. What did the bastard tell you?”

She cleared her throat, fully aware of Albin’s curious gaze. “He merely wanted to have a word, milord.”

“About what?”

“I—about the accident in your study,” she said, adding, “with the tray and teacups.”

Her master gave her an incredulous look. “There is something else I do not know about. What happened?”

Your bloody brother knows everything. Why don’t you ask him? “I—I refused to wait on him this morning, milord,” she lied. “And I did forget quite a lot of the things he wanted to be done.”

Nicholas scoffed. “That bastard!” he said, turning round to leave. “You did well, Max! Fret not, I shall have a talk with the man!” His voice trailed down the corridor as he said, “He acts as if he is the master of this bloody household, taking control over my own servants!”

“It seems to me that things definitely happened while I was gone,” said Albin, shaking his head. “Come on, lad, best we take supper early.”

---

“Max!” Maxine groaned at the sound of Molly’s voice. “Please do forgive me if I have caused you distress,” said the chambermaid, standing from her chair.

“Mind not, Molly,” Maxine said, sitting at the opposite end.

Oscar eyed her and turned to Albin. “You look as though you have not gone on vacation,” said the butler.

Lottie frowned. “He does look quite refreshed, actually.”

Molly nodded. “I agree.” She picked up a piece of bread and leaned over the table to place it on Maxine’s plate. “Eat well, Max.” She winked at her before settling back in her chair.

Albin turned to Molly and frowned. “You are flirting with Max.”

Molly blinked in confusion. “I am not aware it is prohibited.”

Albin blinked and shook his head.

Maxine cleared her throat and reached for a glass. Molly jumped to her feet and grabbed it from her with a smile. “I will get you water, Max. Do sit back down. You must have had a long day.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened as he pretended to enjoy his meal. Fanny and Lottie continued their talk, pretending to be ignorant of the awkward situation. Albin, on the other hand, had a growing frown on his face. “Stop it, Molly. Max can get his own bloody water.”

“Oh, pardon me, Albin, you must also want one,” Molly snapped at him.

“It is fine, Molly, I can get it myself,” Maxine said, standing on her feet.

“No, Max, let her do it,” Albin said, glaring at Molly. “Let her act like a bloody fool.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “I am no bloody fool!”

Albin dropped his fork, sending it to clutter over his plate. “When I left you weren’t, but now you bloody are!” Albin growled back, forcing Lottie and Fanny to cease their pretense. Oscar closed his eyes in an attempt to keep calm.

Molly, on the other hand, had suddenly gone berserk. “I am merely trying to serve Max! Because I like him! Do not be a hypocrite and tell me that men do not woo women by doing their bidding! The one difference is that I am a woman! What is wrong with that?”

The footman gaped and turned to Maxine. “Something happened while I was away, did it not?”

Maxine vehemently shook her head.

“Well, of course, nothing happened because he threw me out of the room!” Molly cried out, her eyes filling with tears.

Maxine nearly groaned. There was simply too much of a drama for a day that she could not seem to fathom how she could ever survive the next.

“You bloody did what!” Albin shouted, jumping to his feet. “You crept into our room like a wench!”

“Stop!” Oscar shouted, silencing Albin. He had a scowl on his face as he glared at the footman. “You do not call her a wench.”

Albin’s eyes widened. “Well, to me that is what she is at the moment!”

Lottie and Fanny gasped in horror. Molly’s eyes began to stream with tears as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, her face pale.

Oscar reached out across the table to grab Albin by the collar. “No woman deserves such insult.”

Albin’s face had an incredulous look on his face. “Says the man who once insulted a scullery maid for not reading!”

“A matter I personally handled well in private with Lottie,” Oscar gritted out, pulling at Albin’s collar.

“Yes, he did. He did express his regrets,” Lottie said, nodding her head.

“Well, I do not care!” Albin shouted, brushing away Oscar’s hand with ease. He jumped to his feet and turned to Molly. “You disappoint me, Molly.” He walked out of the kitchen and disappeared into the service corridor.

Molly tried to speak but no words came out of her mouth.

Maxine swallowed and said, “I will talk to him,” she said to Molly. “Surely he is merely tired.”

“Do that,” Oscar ordered, his voice calm and collected, “before I decide to report him to his lordship.”

Fanny had stood up to comfort Molly. Lottie was wiping her own tears.

Maxine nodded and walked out to find Albin.

---

Alan Osegod, the Lord of Ransford, was not merely handsome, but he was utterly charming if he wanted to, a matter that Maxwell and his brothers easily took notice the moment the man spoke his first words to their mother while dinner was being served.

“I am sorry that Lady Ransford cannot join us tonight,” he said as their dinner started. He turned his dark head toward Lady Alice and then at Benedict, adding, “She has been feeling quite ill of late.”

“I am sorry to hear that, my lord,” said their mother, giving the man a consoling smile. “I did hope to make her acquaintance.”

Maxwell shared a look with Margaret sitting across from him beside her husband. He quickly veered his eyes to Nicholas, giving his brother a slight scowl.

“By the by, Lord Ransford,” Ysabella said, feigning a charming mien, “did you also enjoy the Macy ball?”

The head of the Town Leaders turned to look down the length of the table at Ysabella. “Yes, Lady Wakefield, I did.”

Ysabella grinned. “Good!” She looked past her husband to share a secret, awkward smile with Emma. Maxwell knew that his sisters would rather have a kitten for a guest than Osegod. Even their youngest siblings knew that this was a bloody disaster.

“Felicitations on your daughter, Benedict,” Osegod said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Benedict replied, face unsmiling, which was not odd at all. “My wife sends her regret for not joining us tonight.” If someone could deliver a statement that sounded so impassionate without causing suspicion, it was Benedict.

“I am hoping that this pleasant dinner will lead to more fruits for you and your family.” He turned to Levi and said, “And I believe your daughter is also growing up lovelier by the day, Lord Standbury?”

Levi looked harassed after having traveled from Standbury on horseback after receiving the urgent note from his brothers two days past. “Yes,” he replied.

Osegod grinned and turned to Margaret next. “Your daughters are to start school soon, I believe, Lady Ashmore? They will rule their own season before you know it!”

“He is not attempting to be our father, is he?” Ralph whispered to Maxwell.

Margaret must have heard Ralph and she loudly cleared her throat with a forced smile. “Yes, my lord, they are to attend school soon. Although I regret that my husband is not as enthusiastic about your last statement.”

Cole bent over his plate to give Osegod a look. “That is quite true.”

Osegod let out a chuckle. “Then perhaps your son will grow up like each of your brothers,” a statement that drew a slight groan from Cole. Osegod turned to Lady Alice and said, “You do have a good family, my lady. I am quite envious. I ought to have asked my wife for more children!” He turned to give Nicholas a jesting look. “And when do you plan to marry, Nicholas?”

Maxwell did not wish to wait for his turn, really, for he did not desire for his name be mentioned by this bastard. Osegod had been calling them by their given names as though they had been living their entire lives together at Grey’s.

“I am yet to enjoy the rest of my life, my lord,” was Nicholas’ reply, followed by a chuckle. “You ought to ask Maxwell. He is older.”

“By a year,” Maxwell said, turning to Osegod, “I might attempt to woo a woman, but that would not be anyone’s concern.”

“But of course it is!” Lady Alice uttered in disbelief. “Do you have a lady in mind, son?”

“I might,” he said with a shrug, “if Ralph finds one first.”

Ralph choked on his food. “I am yet to live the fullest of my best years,” their youngest brother said after a gulp of wine.

Osegod was great at feigning amusement. He chuckled at the right moment and laughed at the perfect ones. “I do not regret that I traveled to Wickhurst for this dinner,” he said after three courses. “I finally get to experience what the rarest of the few did and they are quite correct.”

The twins were awfully quiet tonight, Maxwell noted. It would have been a great distraction if they chattered like they would normally do. But it was rather obvious that their guest was making everyone uncomfortable.

“Whatever do you mean, my lord?” Lady Alice asked.

“That the Everards are the best companies they’ve ever had.” He looked around the table and said, “I merely hope to have a family as big as yours, ladies and gentlemen, for if I do have one as amazing as yours, I am certain that I would not want for anyone to take them away.”

Maxwell saw Margaret stiffen before she quickly covered it with a warm smile.

“You did raise your children well, my lady,” Osegod praised.

Their mother placed her hand over her chest in gratitude. “I did my best.”

Osegod swept his eyes over everyone once more before reaching for his wine, his eyes gauging each of them with a glimmer of what seemed to Maxwell as anything but joy. “Cheers to friendship and family.”

They awkwardly picked up their own glass. Maxwell did the same but did not raise it for a cheer. Instead, he gulped the rest of his wine and waited for the blasted dinner to be over.

---

“Well, I surely would not wish for another dinner such as that,” their mother said hours later as they all stood outside their estate to watch Osegod’s carriage drive away.

“The most awkward one I had to suffer,” said Ysabella. “Worse than when we invited Lady Ashmore last year!”

“My mother seems more amiable in my eyes now more than ever,” Cole admitted.

“I need a bottle of brandy,” Benedict said, turning around to walk back into the manor.

“As do I,” said Cole, followed by Levi who said, “I traveled for two bloody days just to hear that man laugh?”

Wakefield laughed as he joined his brothers-in-law. Ralph turned to Maxwell and Nicholas. “You know something.”

Maxwell did not spare his brother a look as he said, “I know you are becoming a good Guard to have noticed such fact.”

“Go back inside, children,” Lady Alice said to them. “Did I mention that I purposely told the cook not to serve the cake tonight? They are being served in the parlor.”

Ysabella and Emma snickered and joined their mother up the doorway.

“Cakes!” Ralph said, slapping Nicholas’ arm before whirling around to join the twins and their mother, leaving Nicholas and Margaret to slowly follow behind.

When they reached the entrance to the parlor, Maxwell stopped Margaret while Nicholas entered the noisy room. He stared at his sister and asked, “Does he know what you did?”

Margaret’s jaw tightened. “I am sure that his statement earlier did not mean anything for I am confident that he does not know,” her gaze wavered and she added in a whisper, “or hopes he does not.”

“You must talk with the rest and I mean everyone, Maggie,” he said.

Margaret nodded. “I will. Soon, I will. I have to think first. Give me time, Max. I do not wish for everyone to suddenly feel more cautious around him. He is a wise man and he will definitely sense we know something.”

“But we do not know as much as you do, Maggie,” Maxwell said. “We simply do not want to have anything to do with him.”

His sister nodded. “I know.” She lightly gave his arm a reassuring touch. “I promise to talk to them soon.”

---

Maxine hid in the shadows. Her feet were sore and her muscles about to give up. She had walked all the way here from Nicholas’ estate with naught but her coat and bag.

It was the only way to escape Maxwell Everard. It was the only time to escape him, in fact. A dinner with his entire family was the perfect opportunity.

A sound of a carriage approaching startled her and she leaned back against the wall and into the shadows.

The horses whined and the sounds of their hooves echoed in the air as the driver pulled at the reigns. The carriage halted. Maxine heard the door open. She heard laughing voices and footsteps. The horses started to move once more and the carriage drove nearly out of sight.

It was then that Maxine decided to step out of the shadows.

The man and woman were walking up the stairway when she emerged.

Ysabella’s startled cry was followed by her husband’s shout of, “Bloody tarnation!”

But the moment Ysabella recognized her, the woman gaped. “Oh, Sweet Mr. Jones, you scared me!”

William Wakefield pulled his wife away in alarm and stepped forward. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Very gallant, darling, but she is a friend,” Ysabella said with a chuckle.

Wakefield frowned. “She?”

Maxine smiled. “I regret to think, Ysa,” she said to Ysabella, “that your husband seems to have forgotten about me.”

Ysabella snorted. “He did now, did he not? Fret not,” her friend said, stepping forward, “I shall remind him later.” Her face turned serious as she stared at Maxine. “For now, do tell us what happened.”

The momentary smile on Maxine’s lips disappeared. “I need your help,” she said, looking at Ysabella and then warily at Wakefield. “I need a place to hide.”

XXV. Outsmart Thee

“How could you be so blind, William?” Ysabella asked her husband who could not keep his eyes off Maxine. “It is truly her!”

Wakefield inclined his head to the right and narrowed his eyes. “Apart from the eyes, I do not quiet see how she can be Maxine.”

Maxine gave Ysabella a look. “I told you I am good, did I not?”

The door to the study opened and the butler came in with a tray of fresh tea.

“Morris, I expect you to keep our guest’s presence here a secret,” Ysabella said to the middle-aged man.

The butler looked at Maxine and nodded, saying, “Yes, of course, my lady. Whatever you wish.”

Ysabella let out a satisfied smile. “Morris can be trusted,” she reassured Maxine.

“Of course, he can be,” Wakefield dryly uttered.

His wife ignored his remark. “Morris, do you see her as a woman?”

The butler studied Maxine and shook his head. “I honestly do not, my lady. A pretty boy is what I see.”

Wakefield threw his butler a look. “Finally, you and I agree on one thing.”

Morris nodded. “Yes, my lord. But I must also point out that we both have always agreed on many matters. For one, we both liked Lady Ysabella, only that I never ignored it as you did so for many years. Also, we both agree that—”

“You can leave, Morris,” Wakefield said, voice filled with warning. “And do tell the servants that they cannot speak of our guest’s presence to anyone else.”

Morris shamelessly nodded before he walked out of the study.

Maxine would love to have worked with that Morris than Oscar. Mayhap she ought to have come to Ysabella instead of Nicholas!

“Now, tell us what is the matter. Why do you need to hide, Maxine?” Ysabella asked, concerned. “You are not in grave danger, are you? Because if you are, I do not believe it is wise that you hide from your family. Samuel was here a week ago and he was very much worried.”

“I cannot let him find me just yet, Ysabella,” Maxine said. “I have to face my mother first.”

Ysabella seemed surprised but she did not express it in words. “So that is why you ran away.”

Maxine nodded. “Yes.”

“I do not understand your predicament, Maxine, for I have never been in one of the same nature. But I do know how it feels to want to fight for something only you can comprehend. Which is why I understand why you wish to hide from your brother.”

“And yours as well,” Maxine hastily added.

Ysabella stared at her with confusion. “Nicholas?”

“No. Maxwell.”

Her friend frowned at her. “You have said that he knows that you are a woman, but not who you are—”

“He now knows who I am.”

“And he wants to take you back home to Theobald, does he not?”

More than that, she wanted to say yet there was no reason to cause a rift between the Everard siblings. Whatever Maxwell was planning, Ysabella had nothing to do with it.

“He is simply making things quite difficult for me,” was all she said.

“Hmm. Curious,” Ysabella said. “Maxwell seems not to be someone who would meddle in someone’s affairs.”

“He found out that his brother’s valet is a woman,” Wakefield pointed out, “and now he learns that she is gentry. Any man would feel inclined to meddle.” He shifted in his seat. “But I will allow you to stay here if you truly wish to hide. I could not simply kick you out now, yes?”

“And I would not allow it if that is to happen,” Ysabella loyally uttered. “I have offered you my help and I will give it to you.” Her eyes wavered for a moment before she said, “But, Maxine, know that should I find the need to tell your brother, I will. Not now, of course, but I also can no longer lie to him. He is a dear friend as well, see? And I honestly believe he should know.”

Maxine sighed. “I understand.” She looked at Ysabella. “Merely for a few days, Ysabella. And I will be gone.”

“I do not feel comfortable, Maxine. Let us help you. We will take you where you wish to go.”

Maxine started to shake her head but Ysabella stood up and added, “We will take you. We will not meddle, but we will take you. Is that right, darling?” She turned to her husband.

The handsome blonde lord nodded. “I believe my wife is correct, my lady. Should something happen to you, it will be on our conscience.”

“But I do not wish to inconvenience you with my—”

“I do not want to lie to your brother and I could very well not let you go to Willowfair with naught but a small bag. Do you even have money?”

“I have a few townsends.”

“That will not do.” Ysabella took her hand. “We will help you.”

No questions asked, Ysabella offered help. Unlike her brother, she was honestly concerned over her safety. No other agenda in mind but to help a friend and for the first time Maxine felt how it was to have one.

Her eyes watered. “Thank you.”

“Do not cry. You are in right company. Whatever my brother did wrong to have forced you to come to me, do forget about it. Maxwell is an odd sort and can make things quite uncomfortable and difficult. Do not tell me he must still be insisting on you being a spy!”

“Not after he learned that I am a Theobald.”

“Then he is a stupid fool—” Ysabella stopped. Her hand came up to cover her gasp. “Oh my! Oh sweet Mr. Jones!”

“What is it?” Maxine and Wakefield asked in unison.

“He is being a fool, is he?” asked Ysabella.

“Well, for how his odd mind has been running, I believe he is more than that,” Maxine could not help but say.

Ysabella simply laughed. “Ah, famous!”

“What is it?” asked Wakefield.

“Nothing, darling. I merely remember what Maxwell once told me about men being fools.”

“And what did he say about fools?”

Ysabella smiled and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Mayhap I will tell you at another day.” She turned to Maxine. “For now you rest. Respites are things I am most passionate about,” she uttered to Maxine with a wink.

Moments later, as Ysabella led her to a private chamber made ready for her, Maxine turned to study the young woman.

Ysabella’s face had gone serious again, probably thinking about the situation, and Maxine realized how different the woman had become since the Theobald party.

The playful wickedness was still somewhere there, but something else had emerged. Ysabella had somehow grown up.

“You have a different air around you now,” Maxine noted with a smile. “It is not dire, but it is different.”

Ysabella turned to smile at her. “I have changed a little, have I not?”

“Marriage must be the culprit?”

But the woman shook her head. “Mayhap the things that happened before I married Wakefield made me grow.”

“Things?”

The woman nodded. “Disappointments, heartaches, loss—everything I never thought I would ever go through.” She looked ahead. “It was not a very good experience, Maxine, but it allowed me to realize things.” Ysabella chuckled lightly, adding, “I became a woman, see?”

Maxine nodded, not entirely comprehending her friend’s statement. For truly, when and how could a lady realize that she had turned into a woman?

---

The entire household of Nicholas Everard in the junction of Vinge and Dosette was in ruckus by the time Nicholas and Maxwell arrived.

Oscar, the butler, tried his best to appear normal when he opened the door for the two brothers, but there was no way he could have concealed the shouting from another part of the house.

“What is happening?” demanded Nicholas.

Oscar cleared his throat. “The servants are having a spat, my lord. I shall settle it at once.”

Maxwell frowned. “And why are they fighting?”

Oscar winced as he turned to Nicholas. “The valet is missing, my lord. We suspect he ran away without notice.”

Maxwell went cold. “Missing?”

Nicholas was outraged. “Max? Why the bloody hell—”

“The footman believes it is because of one of the maids, although I do disagree. The maid in return believes the footman may have caused the valet’s disappearance due to a squabble over her.”

Nicholas suddenly whirled on his feet to face Maxwell. “Or it could simply be because of you, you bastard. What did you truly say to Max when you dragged him away days ago?”

Oscar turned to Maxwell as well, looking confused.

Maxwell was not listening for his mind was already somewhere else. He faced the butler, ignoring his brother. “When did the valet disappear?”

“We noticed his disappearance merely moments ago, my lord, when Albin could not find him.”

“Bloody hell!” Nicholas cried out in frustration. “Now look what you have done!” he said to Maxwell. “You do not merely cause your own valets to scurry away, but you also have to do it with mine!” When Maxwell turned toward the main door without a word, Nicholas shouted, “Where are you going?”

“To find you a bloody valet!” he shouted, already rushing out of the manor.

“Where are the servants? Send them to me at once! What have you all been doing behind that blasted service corridor!” he heard Nicholas’ order as he bounded down the stairs.

Where could she have gone?

He had to go home and think. Maxine was no fool and he was certain she had planned to outwit him. But that would not simply do. He would outwit her first.

---

Maxine was planning the trip to Willowfair with Ysabella in the parlor the day after she arrived. She had not told the woman who her mother was, nor had her friend inquired.

“Why would you think Maxwell will follow you to Willowfair?”

Maxine shrugged. “I have grown to know your brother in a short time, Ysa. He will definitely be following me to Willowfair.”

“Odd,” said Ysabella. “But why? Has he offered you help of any form?”

“No,” she lied. “He now simply wishes to drag me back home to Theobald.”

“Then he ought to have taken you back to Samuel. I wonder why he never told your brother yet?”

Maxine did not comment. If she explained why Maxwell was doing what he was doing, it might only cause more trouble. And she was done with theatrics for that was sure to happen should Ysabella know the truth behind her brother’s schemes.

“William will finalize whatever he needs to be done here in Wickhurst and then we can leave in a day or two.”

Maxine hesitated before she voiced her mind. “Ysabella, I was thinking of going alone.”

“But Maxine, we have discussed this. I cannot let you—”

“But if you go and should your brother learn that you are on your way to Willowfair or have left town, he will know I am with you. If Samuel relayed to him that he came to see you, then my brother must also have told him about our acquaintance. That is why I came to you for I know that he will think I will not do so because I know of his knowledge about us.”

“And which is why I deduced you will be here for I know that you will try to outwit me,” Maxwell’s voice said from behind them.

Maxine stiffened. Her mind calculated the hours since her escape from Nicholas’ estate. Merely one bloody day and the bastard found her.

Ysabella jumped to her feet while Maxine remained seated, trying to appear calm.

She heard his footsteps approach. “I remember you spoke of Ysabella’s name with familiarity and knowing my sister, in addition to what Samuel has relayed, I am quite certain Ysabella now considers you a friend and will undoubtedly offer you refuge.”

Ysabella stepped forward and Maxine closed her eyes in defeat. “Max, Maxine is my friend. Whatever you believe she is planning, it is not what it is. She is—”

“She is going to meet her mother, I know,” said Maxwell. “Which is why I am taking her to Willowfair.”

Maxine gritted her teeth. Ysabella frowned with confusion. “You are not taking her back to the Theobalds?”

“Is that what she said?” Maxwell’s voice asked.

Maxine jumped to her feet and whirled to face Maxwell and almost stopped in surprise. He did look messier than the usual. His face was rumpled as his clothes.

Ha! The bastard must have been fretting over the loss of his number one asset against the Trilbys and Osegod!

“I do not desire your help, my lord. I chose to accept Lord Wakefield’s,” she haughtily told him.

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. “I am sorry, Maxine , but did I hear you wrong? Should I turn around and get your brother instead? I am certain he would love to hear your argument.”

“By then I will be gone.”

“By then you will be on your way to Theobald! Would you rather be whisked back home before you could even say hello to your mother?”

Ysabella turned her head from Maxine to Maxwell and back. “Now I understand why she is hiding from you, brother. You speak to her like a heartless man!”

“A monster is what he is!” Maxine corrected. “Is that not right, my lord?”

“And you are one excruciatingly stubborn lady,” he snapped at her before turning to face Ysabella. “I will take her to Willowfair.”

“But we have already decided. William has agreed to provide Maxine with his protection. And how can I be certain that you will not turn around and take her to Theobald instead?”

Maxwell sighed and said to Ysabella, “Come with me for a moment.” He turned on his heel and added to Maxine, “You stay here.”

“I stay here under my own decision, not because you order me to,” she snapped back, sitting back in her chair.

---

“What?” Ysabella demanded the moment they left the parlor.

Maxwell faced his sister and said, “She is a Trilby.”

Ysabella frowned. “I do not see why you think it will discourage me from helping her, Max.”

“And the Trilbys are close to Osegod, Ysabella.”

His sister blinked and her eyes began to waver.

“I cannot have you be involved in this, especially when your husband’s brother is handling a delicate case against Osegod.”

Ysabella’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You mean Thomas? But he is—he is a Leaguer?”

“And you cannot tell anyone.”

“But—but how is that possible! Thomas? A Leaguer?”

Maxwell did not want to tell Ysabella everything for it meant telling her about Aurora Randolph, what Thomas Hayward did to his sister’s former friend and how Margaret was involved in her disappearance. But then, Ysabella was not aware that Margaret was a Leaguer. In fact, neither Emma nor their mother knew. If they found out about Margaret’s actions, they might never understand.

Aurora betrayed Ysabella as a friend before the League of Founders found her, and whether or not Ysabella had forgiven her, Maxwell still believed that Aurora’s sins against his sister was nothing compared to what the League was planning to do with Aurora and her child with the help of one of their own. It was better to let Ysabella believe that she was a victim of a vicious old friend than learn that her sister did something far worse, especially when a child was involved.

“Should the Trilbys learn of your relationship with Maxine, they will start to question the motive behind you helping her and they will look into your husband and his family. Hayward’s case is highly sensitive and we cannot let Osegod or any of the Trilbys start looking into his life either. But I, on the other hand, have no connection to anyone involving the League of Founders and their missions. I can present myself as an Everard and a friend of Samuel’s, but not of any Leaguer.” He paused, allowing his sister to digest the little information he offered. “At the very least, Ysabella, try to keep this to yourself. I am not quite certain if your husband is aware of Thomas being a Leaguer and you can tell him if you must although I highly suggest you both do not let Thomas know that you know.”

Ysabella had gone serious. She nodded. “Is that why you believed her to be a spy?”

Ah, so Maxine told her that. “Yes.”

“But now you surely do not believe it still. She is more of a Theobald than a Trilby, Max.”

He nodded. “But I believe she still might not be a Trilby.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“She is simply making decisions based on complete theory. She has no strong proof yet that she is a Trilby.”

“The very reason why she is adamant to face the woman whom she believes to be her mother,” Ysabella said, nodding her head. “I can understand her desperation, Max.”

He frowned. “You do?”

“Of course!” his sister hissed. “You ought to have seen how she had been living her life in Theobald! Oh, it was a lonely one, Max. She imprisoned herself and I believe I know the reason why.”

“Imprisoned herself? Why?”

“Because she is a bastard and she does not deserve to live the same life we do. Or so she believes it to be so.” Ysabella’s eyes watered. “But now she has finally decided to go out and search for something that will complete her being.” His sister grasped his arm. “Max, please, help her. Do not make this difficult for Maxine. I will let you take her to Willowfair and I trust that you will not take her to Theobald without giving her a chance to do what she came here to do. I will disappoint her, yes, but only because I know that I must do so to protect something far bigger.”

Maxwell nodded and started for the door.

“But will you take her back to the Theobalds after this?”

His sister’s question made him pause but he did not offer a reply.

“Max, what if she is truly a Trilby and they wish to keep her?”

“If that is to happen, the decision will be hers and not ours.” He pushed the door open and walked inside to announce the disappointing news to Maxine Theobald.

---

“You must feel betrayed,” Ysabella solemnly uttered, not meeting her eyes. “I will understand if you despise me now.”

But Maxine understood. Yes, it did hurt her that Ysabella did not insist on taking her to Willowfair instead of Maxwell, but she also understood that Maxwell was Ysabella’s older brother. And by the look on the woman’s face, Maxine was certain that Ysabella now had knowledge of her connection with the Trilbys.

She was an Everard still, after all. And she would always choose family over anything else.

Which is why Maxine had always thought that she was better off alone on this journey. Friend or not, Ysabella had priorities.

But then she would not be alone, of course and it was time to accept it. She could never escape the man.

“Fret not, Ysabella,” she gently said, turning to face Maxwell. “I am certain that your brother will lead me straight to my mother without a different agenda. And he will be good to me, yes?”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened at her provocation. “Why, of course, my lady.”

“Ah, then I no longer regret having outsmarted you.”

“Merely for a day,” he corrected. “And I outsmarted you in return.”

Ysabella let out a dry scoff, her face turning bright now that Maxine seemed to have taken the news quite lightly. “You both try to outsmart each other, but both are too smart to succeed with precision!”

Maxine and Maxwell ignored her statement, still glaring at each other—she, for being caught; he, probably for having the trouble of catching her.

“We leave first thing on the morrow,” Maxwell told her.

“You do not order me around, my lord. I am not your valet,” she said, lifting her chin. “We leave first thing on the morrow.”

Maxwell scoffed in disbelief, raking his fingers through his long hair.

“I am glad to finally know that my brother is capable of different sorts of facial manifestations after all,” Ysabella said, taking Maxine’s hand. “Come, Maxine, we must prepare for your travel on the morrow. And I assure you, you will reach Willowfair. Max has given his word not to take you back to Theobald.”

But Maxine paused at the door to ask, “How did the household react to my disappearance, my lord?”

Maxwell cocked an eyebrow from where he was standing in the middle of the parlor. “You mean how did Nicholas react to the disappearance of his valet?”

“No, I believe that is not how I placed my question.”

“He is angry, of course,” he said with a shrug. “Now you cannot return without facing his wrath.”

Maxine scoffed and shrugged. “I should express my apologies to your brother in the future, Ysa,” she said, tearing her eyes away from Maxwell. “I mean, of course, Nicholas, not the scowling one we just left behind in the parlor.”

XXVI. Announcements

“I believe you do not have an actual plan?” Maxine asked the very moment the carriage drew away from the Wakefield residence. “Which is why I ought to tell you, my lord, what I plan to do.”

But it seemed that Maxwell was not listening for he asked, “I wonder why you decided to wear a dress?”

Maxine ignored him and continued, “I expect that your task is merely to accompany me to Willowfair so I do not put myself in danger. You will stay in the townhouse Lord Wakefield has rented in my behalf while I go and knock on my mother’s door.”

He tore his eyes off her blue dress and met hers. “I do have a plan.”

She rose in brow with a mocking smile. “You mean to tell me about your acquaintance ? Surely you must know that I am not daft, my lord, for I know there is no such person! You have merely been playing me!” She tore her gaze away from his and absently smoothened the skirts of her dress. “But fret not for I have not revealed your devious plans to your sister.”

He was silent for a long while as the carriage drew them farther away from Wickhurst. Maxine was not uncomfortable with his intense gaze, but she was growing frustrated by his presence. He had succeeded in taking over the task of taking her to Willowfair and she felt utterly defeated.

She felt like a puppet being passed around from one hand to another. Yes, she may find everything outside of Theobald new and she was stranger to most of them, but how could she prove she was capable if people like Maxwell Everard thought that she could not go on her own? And in addition to that, he had been planning to use her to spare his family from the so-called wrath of Osegod and the Trilbys!

“I will not allow you to use me or force me into helping you with your plans against Osegod or the Trilbys,” she said without looking at him. He remained silent. “How do you expect me to do so when I am not even quite sure if my mother would accept me?”

---

Maxwell studied her composed feature. She appeared to be strong as she wanted to appear, but her words were enveloped with complete uncertainty, one that stroke a nerve within him.

He never pitied her for he found it pathetic to do so. She did not need his pity. But at that brief moment when she sounded lost and uncertain, he could not help but be sympathetic.

“You do not have to be chummy with your mother. No one expects you to.” They could always threaten Amelia Trilby to provide them with information. He could use Maxine to do so. Surely, the woman would not want to have her dark secret revealed.

At his last statement, her eyes wavered. Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “A part of you wishes that she will welcome you.”

A flicker of fury crossed her pale grey eyes. “Do not attempt to understand me, my lord,” she snapped. “Someone like an Everard would never understand what it feels.”

“I can understand what it feels to be abandoned. We do,” he said in defense.

Her lips quirked into a sardonic smile. “Of course, most of us do.” She turned to meet his eyes. “But not all knows how it feels to be unwanted.”

A shiver ran up his spine.

“Again, my lord, I do not wish to be part of your plan. Whatever it is you want to achieve against the Trilbys or Osegod, do spare me.”

Maxwell shrugged, not entirely certain how to respond to that. Osegod had not done anything as of the moment, but he could not let another accident happen. Mayhap she need not be part of the plan. She need not take part in it. Mayhap her very presence in this world was enough to threaten a Trilby.

---

After hours of silence with nothing but the sound of the carriage wheels against the ground and the constant sounds of the horses, Maxwell heard Maxine’s loud sigh.

He stared out the window. Moonlight was streaming down the distant holes. “You did insist that we travel straight to Willowfair through Marsden without any stops,” he pointed out.

“I do not believe I uttered a word of complain,” she wryly replied.

“You look tired,” he said. “We could stop by Marsden. We have been travelling for nearly a day after all.”

“I cannot trust you in any taverns, my lord.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course it was his entire fault. But she must be bloody tired. And so was he.

“And I heard that bandits flock Marsden.”

“Bandits are the least of our worries at this time of day. They attack in the wee hours.”

“Ah, very considerate of them then,” she snapped. “For I know someone who attacks stealthily behind one’s back at any given time.”

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. “I told you, my lady, that I did not intend to use you without your consent.”

Her shrug merely infuriated him further, yet he knew that he had no right to express it. He had caused this response from her, after all. She had started to warm up to him until she found out about his plans.

Once you are still trying to hang on to , a part of him whispered. He ignored the nagging voice.

The carriage slowly drew to a stop in the middle of the road. Maxine looked out the window and frowned. “Why are we stopping?”

Maxwell stared outside from the other side of the carriage. “What is it?” he asked at the driver over the sound of whining horses.

“I hope you brought enough money, milord!” The driver shouted. “We have company.”

“Bloody tarnation,” he cursed under his breath.

Maxine snapped her head and glared at him. “What did you say about bandits again, my lord?”

“Stay quiet and let me deal with this,” he ordered, searching his breast pockets for his purse.

“Would you make me pay for the things they will take away from us?”

“I said, be silent, woman,” he hissed just in time as two men poked their heads through the windows.

They were grinning and chuckling with triumph. “Oi, guv!” said the man from Maxine’s side of the window. “What can ye give us poor bandits?” He looked at Maxwell and then at Maxine. “Payment for a passage fer two. Discount on the driver, guv!”

Maxwell sighed and turned his head to face the young bandit at his side of the window. The moment the young man saw his face, he groaned.

“What is it, Ned?” the other bandit asked.

“Everard, Barto,” the other man said.

“What?”

The bandit named Ned nodded at Maxwell. “He’s a bloody Everard.”

“How’d you know, you idiot? He didna say ’is name!”

Ned scowled at Barto. “You fool! Ken ye not remember ’is face!”

Barto poked deeper into the carriage, up to his shoulders. He had a frown on his face. “No, I don’t.”

“What is it!” a woman’s voice called out from outside. “Get the purse! They do not have trunks! What is takin’ ye so long!”

Ned poked his head out of the carriage to shout at the woman from behind the carriage. “Everard!”

“What?”

“The one with the long hair!”

“Ah, bloody hell, he is one!” Barto groaned upon closer assessment of Maxwell’s face. He poked out of the window and shouted, “Please, Alex, just this one time! They’d never know!”

“No! Leave ’em! Let’s go!”

Ned growled and jumped away from the carriage. Barto exclaimed in frustration at the top of his lungs, causing Maxwell to raise his brows. “How many bleeding Everards are there!” Barto cried out. He then turned to glare at Maxwell. “Ye are one lucky man, guv!” He turned to Maxine to give a slight bow. “And ye are lucky to be with an Everard.”

“I said no Everards!” the woman Maxwell could not see was shouting. “Do ye want to be skinned alive by me friends!” She was arguing with the other bandit.

Maxine was frowning. She had stayed silent and unmoving the entire time. “What the bloody hell happened?”

The three bandits were still shouting at each other behind the carriage. Maxwell sighed and knocked on the carriage roof. The carriage started once again.

“What happened?” Maxine asked, poking her head out of the window to see the bandits behind them. Maxwell did the same, but the road was dark and he could not seem to make out the face of the woman.

“My sisters.”

“Who?”

“My sisters are friends with bandits.”

Maxine’s eyes widened. “You mean Ysabella and Emma?”

Maxwell shrugged. “I had thought it was merely a rumor.” He leaned back against his chair. “It seems it is true after all.”

---

Maxine woke up when she felt a gentle shake. She slowly opened her eyes and found Maxwell bending over her. “Wake up and rest upstairs.”

“Hm?” she asked, trying to collect her thoughts. The last she remembered, she was thinking about Ysabella having a grand time with her bandit friends. Or was it a dream? Ah, bloody hell, she could not discern reality from a dream.

“Upstairs,” Maxwell repeated, opening the carriage door. He hopped out and extended his hand to her. “Come.”

Maxine bent her head to find a small tavern outside. “No. I wish to continue on to Willowfair,” she said, shaking her head.

Maxwell sighed. “You look like you will pass out at any moment. Do not be stubborn.”

“I can sleep in the carriage.”

“But I cannot,” he droned, taking her hand and gently pulling her forward. “Move.”

Maxine’s feet moved and she soon found herself being led up the stairs by Maxwell after a brief talk with the tavern owner.

Her thoughts were still muddled as she looked around the dimly lit room. “I am not sharing,” she absently said, trying to figure out where the bed was. Ah, there it was, right at the center.

“You have not had supper. You must eat first,” Maxwell’s voice said from behind her.

“No. Sleep,” she said, walking toward the bed. “I want to sleep.”

His hand caught hers and forced her to turn around to face him. She tried to fight her lids from dropping. She was too sleepy.

He was frowning down at her. “Bear it for a little while more. Supper is being prepared as we speak.”

She shook her head and yawned. “No. Sleep.”

But his hands came to grip her firmly by the upper arms. And his head was descending down toward her.

Maxine sleepily blinked. “What are you doing?”

He paused to answer, “Waking you up,” he said before his lips touched hers in a soft, careful collision.

The sudden surge of warmth rushed through her, down to her toes and the tips of her fingers. Her heart increased its pace until it was hammering against her chest.

Maxwell’s mouth was moving over hers and she was opening her mouth to answer his kiss and invite him in. And then she blinked and her mind began to work, the wheels spun, blowing the hazy smoke out of her mind.

She raised her hand and pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, eyes wide, hands clenched into fists beside her.

He blinked his emerald green eyes and they faltered for a moment before he regained control and shrugged. “I said I was set to seduce you, did I not? It had nothing to do with my plan to use you.”

Maxine stiffened. Her brain was merely able to grasp the words ‘seduce’ and ‘use’. And as if it had been waiting for its turn in the long line of thoughts inside her brain, she remembered what he did moments ago.

She rushed forward and punched his arm. “You took advantage of a half-asleep woman! You are indeed a monster!”

He stepped away from her. “I mostly do act upon my instincts, but I would dare not take advantage of a woman who could hardly reciprocate the act!”

“Instincts? And your instinct told you to kiss me?”

He blinked and appeared to think for a few seconds before he nodded. “Yes.”

“You are insane. You are not sleeping here tonight.”

“I already have a room.”

“And you are to take me straight to Willowfair on the morrow.”

“As planned, yes.”

“And you do not interfere with my plans to meet my mother.”

“Arguable, of course.”

Her eyes widened. “You will not interfere, my lord. I do as I please.”

“And I say it is arguable. You do not know what shall happen the moment you announce yourself.”

She ignored his statement. “And the moment I wish to go home, you take me home.”

He shrugged.

“And you do not show yourself in front of me ever again.”

Maxwell Everard smiled before he forced his lips to form a tight line. “That remains to be seen.”

Maxine whirled around to walk to the chair at the corner of the room. “I will have my supper now.”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Maxwell shake his head. The bloody queer bastard kissed her again. Because of his bloody instinct!

---

“Was your life at Theobald utterly dire that you chose to run away?” he asked as she finished her supper.

“Is your room not ready that you are still here?” she calmly asked.

“There is no other available room.”

She scowled. “But you said earlier that you do have a room!”

“I do,” he said, “this one.”

Maxine gritted her teeth. She would not waste her time and effort to demand that he find another room. Maxwell would not do so even if she threatened to jump out the window.

“I get the bed,” she said.

“Of course.”

She pushed the plate away and wiped her mouth with a napkin. When she placed it on the table, she looked up to see his arms crossed over his chest and he was still watching her with an expectant look on his face. He was still waiting for her reply.

Maxine sighed. “No. My life at Theobald was not dire at all. I received enough love from my father and stepmother. I grew up with my brothers and they treated me very well.”

“I was told that it was you who does not wish to be presented to society. Why? Because you do not wish to cause ruin to your family, because society will reject you as they did many bastards?”

Maxine’s lips formed a tight line before she shook her head. “Perhaps, but mostly because I am ashamed of it.” Before he could tell her about the many bastards that roamed around Wickhurst like they were gods themselves, she stood up and stiffly walked over to the bed.

He watched her slip under the covers. “Ysa’s dress will be ruined, but since you are sleeping here, I must preserve myself.”

Maxwell did not offer a rebuttal. She was trying to lighten the mood the best way she knew how and he was fine with that. What he was not comfortable with was that she spoke the truth for at that moment he was doing his best not to continue the interrupted kiss.

---

“Are you certain that is my sister’s dress?” Maxwell asked with a frown when she stepped out of the carriage outside the townhouse.

For the second time, Maxine was in Willowfair.

“Yes, of course,” she said with a huff.

“You borrowed it?”

“Yes,” she wryly replied.

“Then you shall return it?”

“I will if you truly insist,” she snapped at him.

“Good. That bloody dress reveals far beyond it should,” she heard him say while he walked away to the front door.

“I would have worn my shirt and breeches but I realized you seem to be nicer when I am in a dress!” she retorted with the most sarcastic tone she could muster. She turned around to grab her luggage.

“What are you doing?” Maxwell barked from the door.

“Getting my luggage—”

He grabbed the bag from her none too gently. “You are no valet today, Max ,” he snapped.

Maxine sighed and waited until the door was opened by a butler. “Good day, my lord,” said the man. “My lady,” he added when Maxine followed Maxwell through the door.

He let a footman take her bag from him. “I assume you wish to go now?” he asked, turning to face her. “Or perhaps you wish for tea first? A few hours of respite?”

Suddenly, Maxine’s heart began to race. Did she have to go now?

She blinked. Of course, she must! There was no reason to drag the time.

“No, I wish to go now.”

His brows rose. “And?”

She moistened her lips, looking around the townhouse. She hesitated before she sighed. “Well, come on, then.”

She turned to leave.

“What?” Maxwell asked behind her.

“You are coming with me, my lord,” she said over her shoulder as the butler reopened the door for her. She waved at the carriage driver, signaling him to wait.

“You are scared,” Maxwell said to her, already by her side.

She did not comment and climbed into the carriage. He followed and watched her from across the carriage, his gaze assessing and intense. Maxine cleared her throat and said, “Well? Do tell the driver where we are going!”

He sighed and shouted the instruction to the man.

They drove to Amelia Trilby’s Fairview estate in silence.

“Admit it. You are scared,” Maxwell said with a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

She was terrified.

“I still do believe you must wait for the perfect time to introduce yourself,” he said. “I told you had I plan.”

“One I no longer believe is of existence,” she snapped at him, moistening her lips once more. She was suddenly thirsty. Her throat felt dry. “I was here weeks ago,” she added. “I ought not to have let you stop me.”

He did not say another word.

Moments later they were outside Amelia Trilby’s estate. It was as humongous as she remembered it.

“Should I go with you?” Maxwell asked, his tone sardonic and dry.

She forced a smile. “Yes, of course. However will I survive without you?”

He rolled his eyes at her before he reached for the door.

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath as Maxwell climbed out of the carriage. She let him assist her for her legs felt suddenly weaker than they were earlier.

They both stared at the large main doors of the estate.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, taking a step forward. He walked beside her up to the front doors.

She could hear the rushing of blood to her ears along with the strong thumping sounds of her heart.

Maxwell lifted the knocker and she nearly flinched.

Ah, bloody hell. Mayhap she should have waited for a day or two. This was foolish. She must have waited!

She started to turn to tell Maxwell the same thing but the door opened and the butler’s straight face greeted them. “Good day,” the man dryly uttered. “How may I be of service?”

Maxine opened her mouth but no words came out. Maxwell lightly nudged her side. She poked back with her elbow.

“H-hello,” she greeted. She knew her smile could be considered terrifying at that moment. “Well, I have not sent a calling card, but I believe your mistress would want to see us,” she said to the butler.

“She does not easily receive callers, particularly ones without prior notice.”

“She will see us. I am quite certain of it.”

The man lifted his brow and lifted haughtily lifted his chin.

She was starting to dislike this man by each passing second. “Simply announce our presence and we shall see if she will welcome her surprise callers,” she insisted with a frozen smile on her lips.

“How should I announce your presence?”

Maxine turned to Maxwell before returning her gaze at the haughty butler. “Do tell her that Maxwell Everard and his wife are here for tea.”

XVII. Mother

At the mention of his name, the butler’s face changed. And then he nodded. “If you could wait a moment, please,” he said before he closed the door.

“Wife?” Maxwell hissed at her.

Maxine shrugged. “A Trilby might be curious as to why an Everard is at her door.” She straightened to face the door. “How does it feel to be used? Satisfying?”

If Maxwell were to think of the word wife associated with himself, it was like thinking of his mother marrying Osegod. It was dreadful, atrocious and simply unimaginable.

Yet at that moment, if he were to associate Maxine with the word wife and attach it with his title, the idea was surprisingly pleasant, which is why he hissed.

She ought not to have planted such ideas in his mind.

Ignoring her question, Maxwell concentrated on maintaining his apathetic mien.

The door opened and this time, the butler did so widely. He stepped aside, saying, “I will lead you to the parlor, my lord, my lady.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Maxine turn to look at him with a smile. Maxwell sighed and stepped through the doorway.

“Be a little gallant, my lord,” Maxine said beside him, hooking her hand through his arm. “You must assist your wife .”

Maxwell cleared his throat, about to give a sharp retort, but he knew the butler was listening. He shot Maxine a mocking smile and said, “Ah, forgive me, wife , it has passed my mind that I have one,” adding under his breath, “since minutes ago.”

Maxine did not comment and he knew why—he felt why. Her hand tightened in his arm and Maxwell knew that if she relaxed it, he would feel it shaking. And if he were to push her away, it would not be a surprise if she fell on the ground for her steps wobbled as though they were losing strength.

Yet at the back of his mind, he was irked. He wanted to berate her for announcing his presence. Amelia Trilby might use it to her advantage. After all, Osegod wanted to be close to the Everards for reasons unknown to them.

They could use Maxine and she might be naïve enough to allow them to. Her desire to be acknowledged by her mother might be too strong to prevent that.

As they entered the vast parlor of Amelia Trilby, one that was too lavish for Maxwell’s eyes, he wished Maxine was wrong and the woman was not her mother.

---

Maxine could have traded her collection of books or her garden in Theobald for a few moments of quiet and calm. The room was silent, of course, and so was Maxwell sitting beside her after the butler disappeared to find his mistress.

Tea arrived moments later and that too did not help. The biscuits tasted amazing yet were not enough remedy to how she felt.

Deep inside her was a storm. It was as though she was standing under a giant hole and a swirl of water, wind and thunder was coming down on her, taking her in an endless twirl of chaos. Her racing heart thundered through her ears, her hands shaking despite her great effort to clasp them together and she could not feel her legs. Had they disappeared? She was tempted to pull up her dress to make certain that they were still attached to her.

“You must be prepared for anything that might transpire,” Maxwell’s calm and collected voice said beside her.

She wanted to snap at him, to provoke a repartee and a battle of wits, for the thought of it was calming in a way.

“I should not have come here too soon,” she said. “I have sent her a missive and I am not certain if she had read it. And if she did, I may have very well blown all my chances.”

“I would agree, but seeing your distress I believe it is not the perfect time to do so.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Do keep in mind, Maxine, that she may not be your mother.”

The door to the parlor opened and Amelia Trilby walked in wearing a very bright red dress.

“But she is,” Maxine whispered for Maxwell to hear as she gawked at the woman walking toward them with a frozen small smile on her face. Her hair was as dark as Maxine could remember it and her eyes were grey and dark. Not light as hers and the Theobalds, but Maxine wanted to believe they were the same as hers for apart from their eyes, Maxine could see herself in the woman. Her lips, her brows, the shape of her face—even her skin.

This woman was her mother.

She may be as old as Rachel, but she looked younger with every step that she took. Her eyes immediately landed on Maxine when she stood to her feet to give a short curtsy. Maxwell did the same with a bow.

Their eyes met and Maxine noted the recognition in Amelia Trilby’s eyes.

And then the woman blinked and her eyes went to Maxwell, entirely forgetting Maxine.

Amelia’s smile widened.

“Lord Kenward,” she said, approaching Maxwell and as she did so, brushed her gown against Maxine’s. She smelled of roses. Maxine watched as Amelia Trilby offered her hand for Maxwell to kiss, which he did.

“Good afternoon, Lady Trilby,” Maxwell murmured. “We apologize if we have inconvenienced you without a calling card.”

Amelia lightly chuckled while she shook her head. “Mind not, Lord Kenward.” She then turned to her and Maxine’s heart started to hammer against her chest once again.

Amelia Trilby’s smile faltered before she said, “I have not heard that you have taken a wife, my lord. I am quite certain dear Lady Alice would not have let it be ignored by the Herald!”

Maxwell cleared his throat but Maxine spoke before he could. “I am not his wife.”

Maxine was surprised that the woman did not look surprised. In fact, she motioned at the chaise, reminding both Maxine and Maxwell that they were still standing, and positioned herself in a winged chair across them.

She looked around the parlor covered with expensive wood panels before her eyes returned to Maxine. “You are the sender of that missive, are you not?” Amelia Trilby asked, her red lips curling into a different smile.

Maxine nodded. “Please, do not blame Lord Kenward for he does not know what I did, nor did he know of my plan for using his company as an excuse to gain yours.”

Now that she had found her voice, Maxine could feel her legs and regained control over her faculties. Her mind was working once more, clearer than ever with her goal. Her breathing was back to normal. But her heart was still racing.

Amelia Trilby’s eyes slightly wrinkled at the sides in an attempt of a smile, reminding Maxine that she was facing a woman that could be fifty or more. Her dark grey eyes met Maxine’s. “And you are here to claim you are my child.”

Maxine straightened her back and squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

“Do you have proof?” the woman asked, lips and eyes mocking her.

“My father,” Maxine lied.

“You must be jesting, my dear,” she uttered, looking at both Maxwell and her. “I may be known to have many beau, but I have always been careful with each of them and I can tell you very frankly, dear, that all never caused me anything to fret about.”

“Please, my lady, I am not here to force you into accepting me into your family,” Maxine said, her voice already shaking. “Nor do I wish to ruin your name or take anything from you.” Maxwell shifted beside her, leaning closer as if to give her comfort. And he did succeed for Maxine remembered she was not alone.

Her eyes found Amelia’s once more. “I am here to ask one question, one I require an honest answer to.”

Amelia acted as though she was confused, her eyes veering from Maxine to Maxwell and back on Maxine. “My dear, I do not understand what you are talking about.” She shook her head and asked Maxwell, “Please, my lord, I know that one of my family has had a squabble with one of yours in the past, but please do not let me think that this is one of your foolish games for revenge. Noah’s actions had been naught but his own and we all deject him for it. But if you believe that a rumor about me having a bastard is a good way to tarnish our family’s name for Noah’s horrid actions, then I believe I do not deserve this!”

Maxwell’s voice sent warmth over Maxine as he spoke, “I am merely here to accompany a friend, my lady. Your brother’s past actions do not have anything to do with this. We Everards do not make a sweeping statement and the sin of one is not the sin of all. Would you not agree?”

“Of course! What Noah did was horrible!”

“Then you must also realize that should we have wanted to ruin your family with a great scandal, we could have simply used Fiona’s name.”

Amelia’s face hardened at the mention of the name. “That child is not one of us. Her mother was a whore who merely married into our family for money and status. She is not a Trilby. It was wrong of Noah to have taken the child from your sister’s estate, but he was merely driven by anger as he still thought the child was his until recently when we discovered that his deceased wife had had an affair before she went crazy and nearly killed her own sister.”

Maxine could not understand half of what Amelia and Maxwell were talking about, but she could sense Maxwell’s anger brewing beside her. “I would rather we talk about you and your daughter, my lady,” Maxwell wryly said.

Amelia scoffed before she turned her head to stare back at Maxine. “I am not your mother, child. I do not have a daughter and I never will have any child.” She stood to her feet and haughtily looked down at Maxine. “I know what happens to anyone who bears a bastard and I am not one who had been foolish enough to do so. Do not think no one had attempted this horrible act before, dear. There have been quite a number of young boys and girls knocking on our doors, claiming to be our bastards. I am merely surprised now that you have managed to convince an Everard to help you.”

Maxine stood up to level her eyes with the woman. “But you are—”

“Who did you say you are again?” Amelia Trilby asked, brow arched high.

Maxine’s nostrils were flaring but she controlled herself. No, she could not let this woman go away without answering her question. “Maxine Theobald,” she replied.

And the most amazing thing happened.

Amelia Trilby stumbled back on her feet and whatever she could have done to cover her surprise would have not sufficed for she had gone pale until Maxine feared she was losing blood. But before anyone could speak more, Amelia shook her head and she laughed. For a moment Maxine saw fear reflected in the woman’s eyes before she quickly covered it with a short chuckle. “No, I am not your mother. You are mistaken.” She vigorously shook her head once more. “A Theobald!” She scoffed and the chuckle that followed seemed rather to dry and forced.

“Please, my lady, if you could spare me—”

Amelia shook her head even more and she stiffly turned away, already heading to the door. “Enough!” she said when Maxine called out to her once again. “My butler shall see you to the door. Good day!”

Maxine started to go after the woman but Maxwell’s hand stopped her. She turned to beg him with her eyes. “I have—I have not asked my question. She must listen to me. I must talk to her, please, I cannot go home—”

“We must go,” Maxwell gently said, looking into her eyes. The butler walked in and cleared his throat but Maxwell ignored him. “We can find another time,” he told her, his eyes and tone filled with promise.

Surprisingly, Maxine believed him.

“We will find our way to the door,” Maxwell snapped at the arrogant butler while Maxine allowed him to lead her out of the parlor and Amelia Trilby’s Fairview estate.

XXVIII. The Lord with a Scar

Maxwell paced around his chamber, frowning with his thoughts.

Now that he had seen Amelia Trilby’s reaction to Maxine’s name, he had to start believing that the woman had more things to hide.

Perhaps Maxine was correct. He could not deny that she could not be wrong.

Pausing in the middle of the dark room, he sighed in frustration.

If Amelia Trilby simply admitted the truth and answered every bloody question her daughter might have for her, they could be traveling back to Wickhurst by now. Amelia could have said anything for Maxwell knew that any answer would have been enough for Maxine.

She was not here to have her feelings cared for. She came here knowing her mother’s answers could shatter her heart.

Yet the denial she experienced earlier in the Fairview estate could be worse.

But not all knows how it feels to be unwanted…

The words she had spoken before sent a shiver through him once again.

He ran his fingers through his hair and stalked out of his room.

Soon enough, he was pushing her chamber door open and found her sitting at the foot of her bed, hugging the bedpost with one hand as she stared blankly at the floor. She had changed into a simple blue dress for dinner earlier and she was still wearing the same one now.

Maxwell shut the door behind him and frowned at her state. He was furious, not at himself or her, but at the woman who did not want her.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, padding toward her with careful steps, bending his neck to peer down at her face as he neared.

When she did not answer, Maxwell squatted on the floor, resting his forearms on his knees, searching her eyes to meet his. “Maxine, are you feeling all right?”

She blinked and her pale grey eyes met his. “Wrong question.”

He frowned.

“You know how I feel. You should have asked when I will start to feel all right.”

His lips quirked. “When do you ken you will start to feel all right?”

She allowed a faint smile and sighed.

Silence lingered between them. He did not know what question to ask for it seemed that he was not capable of asking the correct one at the moment. One wrong one was enough.

“She does not want me,” she murmured.

His jaw tightened.

“Does she have to?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I am starting to believe that I did a foolish thing.” She fiddled with her fingers. “I should not have left Theobald for such a petty thing. I should have listened to my father. I should have been content with Rachel’s love. I did not have to go all the way here to beg for one answer to a question I already very well know.” Her beautiful grey eyes brimmed with tears. “It was foolish of me to have hoped there was another reason. But there merely was one all along.” She sniffed with a bitter smile. “She does not want me. She did not want me then when she threw me into my father’s arms and she does not want me now.”

Maxwell chose to be silent. He leaned over to cup her face with one hand.

Dangerous , his brain whispered. He ignored it.

“She is a Trilby. They are amongst the oldest families in the Town. Their ancestors were members of the royal family aboveground and they still do believe themselves to have the same blood. They’ve tried to preserve it and they will continue to do so until every last one of them is gone.”

She let out a light scoff. “Royalties. Pathetic.”

“The Trilbys are, believe me,” he said in his cynical tone.

A tear fell from her eyes and he wiped it away with the back of his forefinger. “And you are saying the Everards are not?”

His brows twitched. “We are different, Maxine. You ought to know that.” He raised to his knees, not realizing he was drawing closer to her. “We work for what we want and we protect what we have,” he murmured as his head descended down on hers, careful, wary and teasing.

She was not breathing and he realized it when he felt the sudden gush of air from her mouth before he covered it with his. Was it one of relief or anticipation?

He did not wish to know, really, for he was focused on one thing: forget Amelia Trilby.

He pushed her on her back, his hands moving on their own like prisoners who had been set free. Like a child running around under a giant hole for the first time.

He was afraid to let go of her lips for he feared that if she were to speak, the words would be rational and he did not want to be rational tonight. He wanted to feel and make her feel things. He wanted her to experience what it was to be wanted in a different way—in a way he only knew how.

Yet they both needed to breathe and he pulled away from her, quietly gasping for air as his emerald green eyes looked down on her. Their breathing the only sound around them, whispering unspoken words he found hard to articulate.

But their eyes conversed and he managed to ask the question and she answered by running her fingers through his hair. He smiled.

That one small act was enough to devour her lips once again, this time in a hungry, consuming kiss.

---

Maxine could hardly recall how Maxwell managed to unbutton her dress although she believed he did so very gently, very provokingly. She could not also remember why she allowed him to strip it off her. Nor could she remember how they both went under the covers, or who ran to turn off the lights although she could recall a glimpse of his silhouette rushing back to the bed after the room went dark.

Yes, indeed, she did not remember much prior to the many things that she could remember.

How his hands ran up and down as though he was a sculptor perfecting a masterpiece, molding her hips, her ribcage, her breasts. She remembered how she felt when his hungry mouth left hers to follow a trail down her neck and lower. And Maxine remembered his words, the quiet whispers in her ear as he showed her why she was alive.

You’re beautiful…

And he whispered every beautiful thing in her—her fingers, her mouth, her nose, her eyes, her body, her soul… her mind. Her thoughts. Her words.

And at that moment Maxine felt that she could not simply allow him to do everything on his own. And so she gave as much as he gave and although she was quite certain she would later regret this night, she knew she would never regret having allowed it. She explored every plane of this eccentric man, every angle that made him different yet pleasing in her mind.

Maxwell Everard, of all men, was giving her the best adventure of her life.

Maxwell’s mouth left her breast, and when both of them were panting for something else she did not know and he knew he positioned himself between her legs.

He bent his head to kiss her nose before hungrily covering her mouth.

“You must know I am a virgin,” she whispered against his lips. She would allow that one rational thought for tonight. She could feel the evidence of his erection against her and her body was reacting to it. “And you must know I have read of this in books.”

She saw amusement on his face before he covered her mouth with his again, his tongue playing with hers, tasting her until her thoughts were gone.

And before she knew it, the pain came and her gasp was muffled by his mouth.

His hips remained unmoving. He lifted his head and kissed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Maxine blinked. She was no longer a virgin.

Bloody hell, she was no longer a virgin.

And she did not feel dirty as she was led to believe by her governess. She did not feel as though she was the worst creature there was.

In fact, she felt free. She felt utterly, vulnerably, happily free.

And she liked it. No, she realized she loved it.

The thought of the word love made her pause for a moment.

She wanted to think.

But how could she when Maxwell started to move, surprising her by the fact that it could get better when she thought it was over?

Maxine moved her hips and ran her hand through Maxwell’s hair, relishing on this different look on his face. He looked entirely determined, his jaws tight and his shoulders bunched.

And while she wanted to watch him, different sensations made her close her eyes. They were moving as one and her mind could hardly grasp the thought. But it was wonderful. She started to catch her breath once more as they both tried to race for that something—that one thing she knew she must get to.

And when she did, Maxine saw light when there was none.

---

“We must talk,” Maxwell insisted when Maxine woke him hours later, telling him he must return to his chamber.

“I am too tired, my lord,” Maxine said, feigning a yawn. She pulled at the covers, grateful for the darkness. She heard his frustrated sigh. And she heard him pace around the room. Naked, of course.

“Tomorrow,” he said and she did not reply, pretending to be asleep.

But tomorrow was yet another day for her to make decisions. And the least of her priorities was to decide on when they must discuss what happened the other night. Talking about it would merely lead to a loud battle of wits and reasons and Maxine was afraid that she might allow Maxwell to win.

“I cannot go back to Wickhurst or to Theobald without having another chat with my mother,” she said as they finished breakfast.

Maxwell had been staring at her—or glaring—for quite some time. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind. When he opened it again, Maxine was relieved to not hear a word about last night. “I have told you I do have a plan.”

She arched a brow, giving him a very doubtful look.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against his chair. His hair was slightly a mess and seeing him now brought back many memories from last night. She mentally shook them away as she asked, “What is this plan, my lord?”

“Could I make a bargain in exchange?”

“If your bargain is to discuss last night, then the answer is no. I am currently not disposed to talking about last night and you very well know why.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Very well. Finish your meal. We have somewhere to go.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are not trying to trick me, are you?”

He gave her a mocking smile. “I would never dare, my lady.”

---

“Ever since our sisters played matchmakers between McKenzie Haverston and his wife, Belinda, the man had grown a soft spot for our family,” Maxwell explained to her as they were being led to a library by the butler. “If you can recall, your mother and I were talking about Noah Trilby yesterday. He was married to Belinda’s sister who died in prison after having attempted to kill Belinda. She delivered her babe, Fiona, the one that incidentally fell into my sister, Margaret, and her husband’s care.”

Maxine’s eyes widened, having finally known the story.

“The Trilbys had been keeping Fiona away from Belinda until a tragic accident happened that led to Fiona to be sent to the care of Cole Devitt and my sister. Noah Trilby attempted to take the child back but Margaret, Cole and the Haverstons were able to rescue her. Fiona was reunited with Belinda and the rest of the Haverstons, but she decided to stay with us.”

“Interesting,” was all she could utter. She wanted to know more, yet who was she to demand more of their secrets?

The butler opened the door for them and inside was McKenzie Haverston. He stood up with a slight smile for Maxwell and a bow for Maxine.

“I have told Mac about you, although I did not tell him your name,” Maxwell said, motioning with his hand. “McKenzie Haverston, this is Lady Maxine. I am not in liberty to tell you anything more, I am afraid.”

The scar across the man’s right brow almost disappeared as he smiled at Maxine. “I am accustomed to meeting people who try to conceal more.” He pointed at the chairs across his desk. “Please. My wife is currently in that dratted place, the Angel House, with my sister-in-law, Mary. She would have stayed if she knew of your visit.”

“You know we are not here for a pleasant visit,” Maxwell replied. His head turned to Maxine. “McKenzie also happens to be a Town Guard,” he said, taking a seat, eyes on Maxine. “And since I could not ask my own brother for he has already been asked by yours, I have asked his help to acquire information that might be essential to your goal.”

Maxine turned to McKenzie. She could remember an incident in Theobald when Belinda Carrington was attacked by an unknown man inside her chamber. McKenzie Haverston had been very furious, she heard. She would love to talk more about that incident for it was a curious one, but she ought to keep her identity a secret for now. “I truly appreciate this, my lord. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I am afraid I cannot be more repentant than that.”

McKenzie laughed. “Fret not, my lady,” he said, motioning his head at Maxwell. “Should I need payment, I will ask Max.”

“Would you wish me to tell the twins, then? Maxine is friends with Ysabella, you see,” Maxwell said.

“Ah, then my services are free,” McKenzie Haverston said. “I would have to answer to my wife should I ask for anything from one of the twins.”

“Good,” said Maxwell, face turning serious. “What did you find?”

McKenzie’s playful mien slowly disappeared as he sighed and pushed back from his chair. “I found something quite interesting.”

“What?” Maxine could not help but ask.

“Before you say anything,” Maxwell said to McKenzie before turning to face her. “I asked McKenzie to look into Amelia Trilby.”

Why she was not surprised! “Because you doubted if she was truly my mother.”

“One I no longer believe to be so. Her reaction yesterday spoke more truth than she did.”

McKenzie waited until they were both ready to hear what he had to say. “When one wishes to know more about someone, one must visit the Town Registry. But then, of course, you would need a help from a person of authority—a good decision on Maxwell’s part to have reached out to me.”

“Quit the praises, Mac. Spare us,” Maxwell impatiently snapped.

McKenzie Haverston shrugged and looked at them both before saying, “I found something that surprised me when I checked into Amelia Trilby’s records in the Registry.” He reached out for a paper and slid it toward Maxwell and Maxine. “Amelia Trilby was born with a twin sister.”

XXIX. Twice the Trouble

It was quite a surprise, really, when the arrogant butler stepped aside to allow them entry with a smile on his face. His hospitality was not missed, but the forced curve on his lips was certainly unwanted. It was also a big surprise when Amelia Trilby sauntered into the parlor with a radiant smile on her lips, her velvet gown swirling about her as she walked.

She went directly to Maxwell who gave her a short bow before lightly kissing the hand she offered, or rather pushed into his face.

She turned to Maxine and said, “Please do forgive me for my ungracious exit yesterday,” she said to them, motioning at the chaise while she walked to her winged chair. “I had a terrible headache and your news was quite too much for me to handle.”

As Maxine prepared herself to say something, the door to the parlor opened once more and a very beautiful young woman, one Maxine was yet to find a beauty comparable to, entered the room with a frown on her face. For the many years she had been lurking behind lavish gowns and suits of hundreds of gentries in the many Theobald parties, Maxine could definitely wager that this woman was the most striking of all, even more so than Belinda Carrington-Haverston whom she had once thought to be the fairest. This woman could be a sculpture brought to life! Everything on her face seemed to have been carefully carved into perfection, her skin fair and glowing.

Her striking straight black hair was down, a few escaping to tease the sides of her face as she walked into the room, dark grey eyes on Amelia Trilby. Maxine was certain that if anyone else wore the grey gown she was wearing now, it would not appear silver as it did on the woman.

“Auntie, I must discuss something of import-” but she stopped short when she saw Maxine and Maxwell. She blinked, surprised, before she uttered, “Oh, do forgive me. I was not aware that you are with company.”

Amelia forced out a chuckle. “Vega, dear, I would like you to meet my callers.” She stood up and so did Maxine and Maxwell. “This is Maxwell Everard, Lord of Kenward.” Maxine saw the young woman’s brow arch at the mention of the Everard name before a stiff smile appeared on her lips. “Good morning, my lord,” she murmured under her breath as she curtsied. Maxwell bowed.

“And this, my dear, is Lady Maxine Theobald,” said Amelia, motioning at Maxine.

Vega turned to Maxine, eyeing her with scrutiny. Whatever she saw on her was not pleasant at all, Maxine thought, for the woman barely smiled as she muttered, “Aunt Amelia told me about you,” she said with a small curtsy.

“This is my beautiful niece, Lady Vega Trilby, the heiress of Wyndam,” Amelia Trilby said with pride in her voice.

“Unless my father tries to create a son, of course,” said Vega with a knowing smile.

A woman to inherit her father’s title was very uncommon, but not unheard of, Maxine thought. Yet with the Trilbys she was certain they had their own secrets. However did Vega Trilby became an heiress, Maxine might never know.

“Now, Vega, if you could wait for a while?” Amelia Trilby asked, giving her niece a meaningful smile, the meaning only known to them.

Vega graciously nodded at both Maxwell and Maxine before she turned and flowed out of the room. That was how Maxine would define the exit-the lady seemed as though she was gently floating as she walked.

When they were seated once more, Amelia turned to Maxine and said, “Again, my dear, I do apologize for how I treated you yesterday.” She turned to Maxwell and her smile widened. “I was merely surprised.”

“Perhaps,” Maxwell spoke for Maxine as she suddenly lost the ability to do so after Vega’s short appearance, “you could provide us with answers now?”

Maxine watched Amelia’s eyes waver for a moment before they crinkled at her smile. “Of course. I shall try my best.” It was apparent that she was trying to please them both, or if Maxine was correct, she was trying to please Maxwell.

Maxwell leaned against the chaise and crossed his leg over the other, assuming an easy mien. “Then perhaps you can tell us about your sister?”

The smile on Amelia’s face froze. She blinked and scoffed at the same time. “I am sorry, Lord Kenward, but you are mistaken! I do not have a sister. I do have a brother, one we have talked about yesterday, Noah.” She turned to Maxine and then back at Maxwell. “There had merely been the two of us.”

“Hmm,” Maxwell said, throwing Maxine a look before focusing his eyes back on Amelia. “Is that so?” He uncrossed his legs and angled his head to the right. “The Town Registry says otherwise. Unless Noah Trilby is your twin brother?”

Amelia Trilby blanched before she closed her eyes. Her lips pursed and her hands balled into fists.

“This is perhaps a suitable time for you to give in, Lady Amelia,” Maxwell continued in his flat, cold tone. “Please, we do not wish to hear lies. Do not take us for fools for we do have friends who could provide us with more information, ones we could easily visit again. And you do not wish for more of the townspeople to grow an interest on your rather delicate secret, do you?”

The woman’s lips thinned and her breath shook as she let out a heavy sigh of defeat. When she opened her eyes, the dark grey globes were nearly dark with controlled fury. Maxine saw something else-perhaps fear or desperation-but she could not name it for certain.

Amelia’s eyes left Maxwell and traveled to meet Maxine’s gaze. The lady gave her a long stare, one that was strong enough to send a shiver up Maxine’s spine. “My sister was banished after she gave birth.”

Although Maxwell and McKenzie had hinted the possibility, Maxine still felt as though her blood had drained down her face. She was not able to control the sudden explosion of cold from within her. Dread, shock and disbelief consumed her.

“Where?” she faintly heard Maxwell’s question.

Amelia Trilby shook her head. “I do not know. And I no longer care.” She veered her eyes toward Maxwell. “The last I heard she was taken in by bandits from the west. Highly unlikely as most of the Trilbys would say, but should one consider that woman’s lack of pride and taste, I would not be surprised if she lives the rest of her life as one of them,” Amelia added with disdain.

Silence lingered in the room as Maxwell allowed Maxine to regain her composure. She took a long breath and let it out.

Amelia Trilby was not her mother.

“Maxine,” Maxine uttered in a shaking voice. “She was named Maxine.”

Amelia Trilby scoffed as she shook her head. “And she thought it a wonderful idea to name Theobald’s bastard after her.” She gave Maxine a look of pity. “I do pity your stepmother, dear. She does not deserve such burden.” Before Maxine could react, Amelia let out a big smile and added, “Perhaps you would wish to meet the rest of the family? I am, after all, your aunt. Mama and Papa are gone, bless their souls, and the family would surely welcome you.” She said it as though the topic had changed to a more pleasant one.

Maxine frowned. Maxwell remained unmoving and silent beside her. What was Amelia trying to do now?“

“Your mother’s sins do not reflect on you, my dear. We do understand that. You can be certain that you shall be treated with utter respect with the Trilbys. Again, your mother’s mistakes are not yours and you shall not be judged.”

This sudden change was exciting, but it was more alarming.

She did not wish to judge the Trilbys, but there was something in her aunt that did not fall correctly. She turned to Maxwell and the look in his eyes told her what he was thinking.

He did not like this at all. But then he was thinking as an Everard. And what about her? Should she think as a Theobald? Should she think as a Trilby? For surely she could not think as Maxine for Maxine was definitely, immensely in great confusion.

“Why?” she found herself asking the very question she came here for. “Why did she not keep me?”

Amelia’s face disappeared. “I do not know, dear. I was not privy to everything that happened that year. I chose to stay away from it all, see? Mama and Papa made certain that your mother was kept away from the rest of the ton. They never took notice of her absence as her presence had always been ignored. She was the shy and awkward twin, you see. But I must admit now that a part of me was a bit awed that she had the audacity to engage in an affair with your father.”

Maxine jumped to her feet in all of a sudden. She did not wish to hear more about the woman that was not here. She did not wish to know more about her mother from someone who obviously despised her. “I wish to go now,” she said to Maxwell who was already on his feet.

Amelia stood and said. “You must be in utter shock, my dear.” She turned to Maxwell and smiled. “I do hope to make your acquaintance again soon, my lord, now that we both have shared secrets.” She gave Maxine a forced, gentle smile. “I would love to give you an embrace, Maxine, dear, but I fear it will merely scare you away.”

When Maxine started for the door, Amelia asked, “Is your father aware of this visit, dear?”

Her jaw tightened. “No. We are estranged. He does not want me back after I decided to leave Theobald.”

Amelia nodded. “Do think of my offer. Know that you also have a family with us.”

Maxine did not provide a reply. She rushed to the door, as eager to depart as she was to be here before she discovered the truth.

She needed to find her. She needed to find her mother.

---

“What do you intend to do next?”

Maxwell’s question was the hardest by far.

“You are going to search for her,” he said without question.

“I sent my father and stepmother a missive from the tavern,” she replied, looking around the carriage as though the answer was there. “To ease their minds, of course.” They were nearing Wickhurst and they had not had the chance for a proper talk.

After their visit to Amelia Trilby, Maxwell allowed her to be alone in her chamber in the townhouse. And when she appeared before him to announce that she wished to return to Wickhurst that very same day, he did not say a word and simply ordered for their things to be ready and the carriage be drawn out. By the time they stopped at Marsden for rest and on the entire journey toward the village, he offered her what she needed most: silence.

And although she did appreciate that, she found that she had not had enough time to think of her next course of action.

“You writing them a missive means you are not returning to Theobald very soon,” he concluded.

She sighed. Did she have to leave Willowfair? Did she have to return to Wickhurst?

“Do you truly believe that she took refuge with the western bandits?”

He was looking at her from across the carriage. She turned her head to meet his gaze. “I do not know, but if that is the only clue I have of finding her, then I must follow it.” Her mother could be somewhere out there waiting for her! The woman may not have wanted her, but mayhap she did not want her for a better reason. Mayhap that reason was to give her the safer chance-the better chance.

Many questions were running inside her head. Was her father aware of her mother’s banishment? Eustace Theobald would have to wait to answer that question.

When she kept her silence, he sighed. “Why did you lie to Amelia? Why did you tell her you are estranged from your father and that he does not wish to have you back?”

“Because they are the Trilbys,” she retorted. “If they can do such horrible things to their own, how can I be certain they cannot do the same to the Theobalds?” She shook her head as she added, “You ought not to have come with me. I ought not to have introduced you. They could use me against your family.”

She saw the surprise in his face. He did not say anything for there was none. He may have planned to use her against Osegod through the Trilbys, but Maxwell Everard was not entirely heartless as to talk about it now.

So instead he uttered, “It is dangerous to venture into the world of the bandits. We were lucky enough to have been attacked by scared ones. We may have met my sisters’ friends, but they were naught but three of hundreds-even thousands-of men and women who would wish to cause us more harm than good.”

“You are saying I ought to go home, then?”

He looked out the window. They could see the light streaming through the giant holes of Wickhurst now. When his gaze returned to hers, Maxine realized what he intended to say. She had always felt it coming. He had been keeping it aside, but now it seemed that he could no longer do so.

“I am saying we must talk about what happened between us in the townhouse. It is about time we do as we are nearing Wickhurst. I do not intend to arrive without discussing what we must discuss.” Maxine tore her eyes away from his. “Or have you forgotten what happened?”

When she did not answer he added, “Inside the room.” When she remained silent, he continued, “In the bed.” When she snapped her head and glared at him, he muttered, “Under the covers,” eyes intense, voice filled with meaning.

Her eyes flickered. “Will you stop it! It does not matter.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I was weak and you took advantage of me.”

He shrugged. “That, I did. But not entirely, of course. I did ask you.”

She scoffed. “Of course, you would never deny it.”

“And I intend to do right by you.”

Maxine lurched forward to hiss, “Cease your honorable acts, my lord! Spare me!”

“Then tell me what you intend to do now!” he said with frustration, raking his long hair with his fingers.

She gaped at him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon, my lord. By chance, did I steal your innocence?” she asked with sarcasm. She leaned back against her seat. “Oh, this shall be a big scandal if the ton finds out! Mayhap you could give me more time to figure out how to save your reputation?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “We will discuss this, Maxine.”

“When we reach Wickhurst then,” she said merely to make him stop.

He frowned at her. “You are wearing your shirt and breeches. Dare not tell me that you intend to go back-”

“Yes, of course,” she uttered. “I do intend to take my remaining articles from Dosett and Vinge. And I am yet to say a proper goodbye to the staff,” she lied. She did intend to go back to Nicholas’ estate for she cannot bother Ysabella and Lord Wakefield any longer. The woman was feeling guilty enough toward Samuel as it was.

“You are not-”

“Fret not, my lord, I shall be gone the moment I am done with what I intend to do. And your brother still owes me two weeks of pay.”

He was fuming, but he nodded his head. “Very well.”

She cocked her brow. “Very well?” Will he not ask where she was going?

“I could not keep you as my valet, can I?” he retorted. “My brother would kill me thinking I stole his bloody valet. And you cannot definitely continue working as one. And since your family is a friend of ours, you cannot disappear again. You are going back to Ysabella’s estate.”

Maxine bit her lower lip. He would be utterly furious the moment he found out.

---

“Max!” Molly exclaimed when Maxine entered through the side door. “Where have you been! We have been sick with worry!”

Fanny rushed toward her and asked, “Oh, child, what happened? You do not look so well.”

She smiled faintly. “I did not mean to disappear without notice,” she said, “but my mother disappeared from home and I had to help my ’Pa find her.” Not entirely a lie, but a lie all the same.

Molly let out a dramatic sigh as she cupped Maxine’s face with both hands. “I am sorry to what happened to your ’Ma, but I am glad you came back, Max.”

Maxine stepped away from Molly’s touch. The chambermaid could not keep her glowing eyes away from Maxine’s face.

Fanny asked, “And did you find her?”

“Yes,” Maxine lied.

The housekeeper sighed with relief. “Did you have your luncheon yet?”

“Yes,” she lied again. “Where is Oscar?”

“I will get ’em for ye,” said Molly, jumping in her feet.

When they were finally alone, Fanny whispered to her, “Go and put your things in your quarter, dear. You will have many things to settle.”

Maxine nodded and left to find her room to change into her uniform.

---

Oscar was indeed angry, but the moment he learned of her reason for leaving, he merely gave a curt nod, saying, “This will serve as my warning, young man,” he said, standing to his feet. “Next time you up and disappear, dare not consider coming back.”

Albin was more understanding, but it was apparent that the man was acting quite awkward, the reason for which Maxine later found out as they stood outside the parlor waiting for Nicholas to arrive from his afternoon walk with his sisters.

“I believed you ran away because of Molly and I,” Albin whispered to her. “Ye know I fancy her and after what I discovered the horrible things she did and my sudden outburst, I thought I scared you away. Molly nearly made me believe the same.”

Maxine chuckled. “No, my friend,” she said. “But know that I do not fancy Molly in return and-”

Albin gave her back a heavy pat. “I know, Max. Which is why I consider you a good friend-”

“Valet!” Maxwell’s familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. Maxine’s eyes widened upon seeing him. When did he arrive?

“Merely an hour after you appeared, I believe,” Albin whispered beside her. She did not realize she had spoken her question aloud. “See what he wants and return in haste. Lord Nick would want to see you when he arrives.”

Maxwell was scowling from the top of the stairs. Maxine gritted her teeth and came to him but he started to climb down. “Study,” he ordered as he walked past her.

She turned and followed him back down the stairs, aware of Albin’s curious gaze.

Maxwell pushed the study door open and waited until she rushed inside before he closed it behind her. She heard the distinct sound of the lock and she sighed.

“We are now in Wickhurst. And you are wearing the bloody uniform,” he hissed. “What happened to saying your proper goodbye and getting your pay?”

She blinked and swallowed. “You said you are going home to your estate,” she said in disbelief. “You lying monster.” Her eyes flickered toward him. “And I did not say when I plan to leave, my lord.”

“And I did not say you can go back to work as my brother’s bloody valet!”

“Do lower your voice!” she hissed back.

“You are to strip yourself of that awful uniform, get into a dress and you will come with me.”

“You cannot order me around-”

“You are my lover now.”

Her jaw dropped, mouth falling open. “What did you say?”

“Bloody hell, woman, we spent one bloody night making love or have you forgotten?”

She tried to speak, truly, she did, but no word came out.

Maxwell did not look calm at all as he usually was. In fact, he looked like a man who was about to strangle a woman dressed as a man. Any moment. Mayhap now.

When he moved his hands to plant them over his hips, Maxine could not help but flinch. He glowered at her as he said the next words that would render her speechless for quite some time. “For some odd reason, I do fancy you.” A sudden overwhelming of something bizarre and unknown came over Maxine. She simply stared at him, wide-eyed. “Well?” he asked with irritation. “What do you say about that?”

She was aware of her mouth moving, but she could not hear a word she was saying.

“Well?” he impatiently pressed.

Maxine blinked. “You are asking for my opinion?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Well, of course for I do not honestly know how to deal with it as much as I cannot figure how to deal with you!”

Again, Maxine blinked. “Y-you stay here for a w-while,” she stammered, already turning to the door.

He stared at her incredulously. “What?”

“I-I have somewhere to go,” she lied. She felt lost, confused and very much… well, overwhelmed!

“You are not running away from me, woman!”

“Truly, Maxwell, I need to think!” she shouted over her shoulder.

Her outburst was apparently effective for he did close his mouth and stayed where he was. She pulled the door open and slipped out into the corridor. She closed it behind her and leaned against it, breathing heavily as though she ran for miles.

When she looked up, she found Lottie standing in front of her. The scullery maid’s eyes were wide and her face white with horror.

XXX. A Kitchen Assembly

“Lottie,” Maxine gasped, stepping forward.

But Lottie jumped away from her, her face white as paper. The scullery maid’s dark brows furrowed into a frown of confusion and morphed into what Maxine feared the most—anger and horror. “Y—you…” Color returned on the woman’s face as the anger grew. “You’re a woman!”

Maxine looked over her shoulder at the closed door. In panic, she jumped toward Lottie and grabbed the woman’s hand to lead her away from the study.

Lottie pulled away from her hold the very moment they entered the service corridor through the narrow door situated between two large paintings.

“You lied to us,” Lottie said, eyes brimming with angry tears. “Y—yer a woman! A woman!” She let out a breath of fury as Maxine stayed silent, utterly speechless. What was she supposed to say? A tear fell from Lottie’s eyes. She wiped it away harshly. “And—and you’re his lover! Lord Max’s lover!”

Maxine went cold. Lottie heard everything.

Bloody tarnation indeed!

“Lottie, please, hear me first before you—”

The maid slapped her hand away when she tried to reach out. “Do not touch me!” Lottie shouted. She pushed Maxine away by the shoulder, causing her stumble back. “You stay away from me, you lying—you lying wench!”

“Lottie?” A voice called out from the far end of the corridor, the one that led to the kitchen.

Molly.

Bloody brilliant!

Maxine’s eyes widened when Lottie turned away. “Lottie, please, do not tell—”

“Let go of me!” Lottie screamed at her before she ran toward Molly.

“Lottie!” Maxine cried out after her, stalking Lottie down the corridor.

Bloody tarnation! Everything was crumbling to ruins now and she must stop it.

This is what you get for all your lies, a part of her said.

“Lottie!” she called out in panic once more, but the scullery maid was tall and her strides were long. And she finally reached Molly who was looking at them both with confusion.

“Max!” another voice called out from behind her. It was Albin. “Max! His lordship is here! Come quick!”

“You stay away from me!” Lottie hissed when Maxine chose to ignore Albin.

“Max!” Albin called out once again.

Molly reached for Lottie when the maid ran to hide behind her. “What is the meaning of this?” Molly asked. “Max? Lottie? What is the meaning of this?”

“Stay away from me or I am going to scream!” Lottie hissed once again over Molly’s shoulder.

Molly stared at Maxine with suspicion. “What is the meaning of this, Max? What happened?” She stared at Maxine and over her shoulder at Lottie. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, God, do not tell me that you—that you fancy Lottie! Is that why you—oh, dear Lord, but you cannot—”

“No, that is not it, Molly,” Maxine uttered in frustration.

“Bloody hell, Max, be quick!” Albin said behind Maxine, surprising her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from both maids.

“Lottie, please,” Maxine said as she let herself be dragged by Albin.

The maid looked utterly furious to be reconciled and perhaps she could spare the woman some time to think.

And pray that she would not let her secret out.

---

“Ah, so you came back,” Nicholas said when Maxine and Albin appeared in his chamber. He was loosening his cravat as he stared at Maxine. “And Albin has imparted to me that you disappeared because your mother disappeared. Is that correct?”

“Yes, milord,” Maxine murmured, itching to have this talk over with. She needed to find Lottie.

“And you wish to retain your post?”

“Of course, milord,” she lied. No, she was no longer certain she wanted to remain here.

Nicholas snorted. “Good. I was beginning to lose respect on you, young man,” he said. “I thought you left because of my brother.”

She stiffened. “No, of course not, milord.”

Nicholas chuckled and his face lit up. “Ah, this bloody day is quite a rewarding by every turn, I tell you. First, Rock’oles, second, my sisters were seemingly nice to me at the park, and third this! Now, what have I done to have such a good day?”

If she did not know that Nicholas was ignorant of her secrets, she would have thought that he was mocking her for her day was merely leading her from one nightmare to another.

“Milord,” she said, clearing her throat, “if I may be excused?”

Albin snapped his head at her, giving her a look of warning. Of course, he would. She had just arrived and returned to her post and now she wanted to be excused?

“I—I need to settle my articles, ones I brought back from home, milord.”

“Of course!” Nicholas said, nodding at Albin. “Albin can wait for me while you are indisposed.”

Maxine jumped to her feet to rush to the door.

“Max,” said Nicholas behind her. She stopped and turned to face him once again. “Did you find your mother?”

Again, if Maxine did not know that he was unaware of her dilemma, she would have thought he was mocking. “Yes, milord,” she lied.

“Good,” Nicholas said, nodding his head. “And Max,” he added.

“Yes, milord?”

“Bloody cut that hair. You look like a girl!”

She gulped and nodded without another word.

It was time to find Lottie!

---

Indeed, Maxine found her.

And she was not alone.

She was in the kitchen with Molly and Fanny, crying at the foot of the table while the two women consoled her.

The three of them looked up the moment Maxine rushed through the doorway.

Lottie stood up, her face streaked with tears. “I told them. You can no longer force me to hide your lies!”

It was Maxine’s turn to blanch. She panicked and her feet involuntarily took a step toward the doorway. There was still time to run and grab her bags. She could be out of the house before everyone else found out—before the entire Wickhurst found out!

One word from these women, one encounter with another maid outside this estate, and her whereabouts shall be known. Her brother would find her. Her family would find her. And she might never get the chance to search for her mother again.

“I—” she started but stopped. She blinked and took a long breath before she squared her shoulders and stepped forward.

Fanny was looking at her warily, Molly with disbelief and Lottie with anger.

“Yes, it is true. I am a woman.” The only weapon was the truth. Molly and Fanny gasped, their hands coming up to cover their mouths. “But I am not here to cause anyone—”

“She is here because she is Lord Max’s lover!” Lottie lashed out, pointing at her with one finger. “She fooled us all! She must have laughed behind our backs for having done that!”

“No!” Maxine desperately cried out. “I did not mean to cause anyone harm, please, believe me,” she said, looking at Fanny, begging for the housemaid to believe her. “I am here for a reason.”

“You lied to us,” said Fanny, her eyes filled with disappointment.

“You—you’re a woman?” Molly asked in horror and disbelief. “You—you—”

“I ran away from home to find my mother,” she said, searching each woman’s face. “I had nowhere else to go as I have nobody else apart from the people back home.”

“You have told us many lies!” Lottie screamed. “You said you disappeared because your mother disappeared and you have found her.” More tears ran down Lottie’s face. “And you are Lord Max’s lover. Do not deny it! I heard clearly!”

“The matter between Lord Maxwell and I has nothing to do with why I am here,” she said. “I can explain everything if you let me. And when I do, I hope that you can all understand—”

“What is the meaning of this?” Albin’s voice asked behind them.

Maxine whirled around and found the footman standing behind her. And with him was Oscar.

By the look on the faces of both men, Maxine knew that they heard everything.

Bloody hell. She might as well call Nicholas and the rest of Wickhurst and let them hear everything!

“What is the meaning of this?” Oscar asked, voice dangerously cold.

Maxine’s eyes watered in frustration and fear. A tear fell from her eyes.

She turned around to look at Fanny. The woman was giving her a blank look. She had seen it many times on Rachel when she would get very angry at Maxine or any of her brothers. “Please, allow me to speak.”

“I want her out of this estate,” Lottie said, sniffing with anger. “She has lied to us all. She is no man! She is a woman! And she—oh, God, I told you I fancy him! How you must have laughed at me!”

“Not worse than what I had done,” Molly said, glaring at Maxine. “You lied to us, Max—or are you even Max? We do not know you at all! And we have been kind to you! We welcomed you with naught but kindness!”

“And I have been living in guilt ever since!” she cried out, tears streaming down her face once again. “But I had no other choice for I did not have anywhere else to go. I was desperate.”

“She must go, Oscar,” Lottie said to Oscar. “We let her leave or I am going straight to Lord Nick myself and tell’em! We could all be in trouble because of her! He might believe we have been harboring her secrets from the start! She managed to seduce Lord Max! She might do worse and—”

“Sit,” Oscar ordered behind her, silencing Lottie.

She turned and found the butler looking at her, his face blank and unreadable. Albin walked over to stand beside Fanny, looking incredulous and vexed.

Maxine drew a breath and sat on the chair.

She heard protests from Lottie and Molly behind her, but Oscar ignored them. The butler stood in front of her and ordered, “Speak.”

She opened her mouth. How much should she say?

The truth. Just tell them the truth!

“Begin with your name.”

Maxine could feel everyone’s eyes on her and she bowed her head in defeat. This was the end of her lies. It was bound to eventually come out and she must at least be thankful it did not happen is a more tragic way. It could have been worse, really. They could have called the Town Guards and caused a big scene. This was better and she ought to be thankful for it.

She sniffed and mumbled her name.

“Clearly,” Oscar ordered.

“Maxine Theobald,” she clearly uttered using her regular voice.

The kitchen was filled with a lingering gap of intense silence followed by a collective gasp from the three women behind her. She dared not look up to see Oscar’s face.

A drop of tear fell on her clenched hands.

“My name is Maxine Theobald.” Another tear rolled over the top of her hand.

“You’re gentry,” said Oscar.

She shook her head. “I refuse to consider myself as one.” She sniffed and wiped her tears with her hands. “I am a bastard.”

Another collective gasp from the three women, and this time a, “bloody hell!” from Albin followed Maxine’s statement.

She braved to look up and stare at Oscar’s face. To her amazement, the butler’s face did not change. He continued to look at her without judgment in his eyes.

She gulped. “I had been living and hiding myself in Theobald until months ago when I decided to find my real mother.” She blinked away the tears and sniffled. “I had never been to anywhere farther than Marsden and when the opportunity to come and work for Lord Nick came, I did so without hesitation. I chose to lie to you all to keep my identity a secret as I know that my brother is in Wickhurst and should he know of my presence here, he shall take me back to Theobald.” She turned on the chair and faced the three women. Lottie and Molly were gawking at her. Fanny’s face was still unreadable. “They are not bad people, my family,” she explained. “They simply believe I ought not to look for the woman who did not want to have me.”

Albin was the first to ask the question. “Yet Lottie claims you are Lord Max’s lover. How does that fit your story?”

Maxine closed her eyes. “Lord Maxwell found out I am a woman and has been helping me search for my mother.” She looked away as she added, “We went together to Willowfair where I found my mother’s family.” She turned to face Oscar once more. “I did not intend to go back here when I came to Willowfair, but I was informed that my mother was banished after she gave birth. We had to go back to Wickhurst and that is why I am here.”

“You could have told us the truth,” Fanny spoke for the first time.

Maxine whirled to face her. “I know, but I have to be honest and say that I could not trust anyone when I first came here. I had no one but myself to rely on.” She turned to Molly and then at Lottie. Both women would not meet her eyes. She sighed in defeat and turned to face Oscar yet again. “I do not wish to inconvenience anyone, but I ask that you all keep my secret for a few days as I figure a way to find my mother.” Meeting Oscar’s eyes, she continued, “I promise to leave the very moment I formulate a plan. Bear my presence for a few days and I promise to disappear. I will tell Lord Nick the truth in time and none of you shall be held responsible.”

“Why don’t you ask your lover then? He does not want you working for his brother anymore,” Lottie snapped. “I heard everything.”

Maxine nodded, but kept her eyes on Oscar as she answered Lottie. “Lord Maxwell’s relationship with me is a complicated one and one that should not have even started. It would merely cause the Everards more trouble should I attach myself to them. As I have said, I found my family in Willowfair and I discovered that they are not the likes that the Everards should be entangled with. For Lord Maxwell or Lord Nick or any of the Everards helping me might very well cause more problems.”

With her eyes, she pleaded with Oscar. “Please, sir, I ask that you keep this secret from Lord Nick. If he finds out, he might tell my brother.”

“Your brother is Samuel Theobald.”

“Yes.” She stepped forward, her knees weak. “Please, Oscar, I cannot go home not knowing where my mother is. There are answers that I seek and—”

“You can stay.”

“She can?” Albin asked in surprise.

Oscar nodded. “Five day,” he said. “I care not if you are gentry or not. I care not if you are a Theobald or not. If you are still here in five days, I shall personally knock on his lordship’s door and announce your presence in his household. The only reason why I have decided not to do so now is because I would wish to settle this matter as quietly as I possibly can without causing his lordship alarm or draw attention to his name and cause a scandal.”

Maxine nodded. “Yes. Yes, I shall not need that long.”

Oscar gave her one last look before he nodded and turned. He left the kitchen in silence.

“You are sleeping with Oscar tonight, Albin,” Fanny ordered.

Molly and Lottie walked out of the kitchen without a single glance at Maxine. Albin followed them, giving Maxine a look of disbelief and awe. He was shaking his head before he disappeared with the women into the service corridor.

Maxine dropped back into the chair, fresh tears in her eyes. She had played many roles in many Theobald parties before to be invisible, but never had she felt it in its truest form until now.

“You cannot blame us if we feel betrayed, dear,” Fanny’s gentle voice said behind her.

Maxine continued to sob as she nodded. “I understand.”

“I cannot judge you for I do not wholly know your predicament,” the woman said as she walked past Maxine, “but do forgive me if I cannot offer you comfort at the moment.”

Maxine had never felt alone as she was now. And it was horrible.

XXXI. Unforeseen Departure

Albin knocked on her door that night. She opened it and he immediately stepped away when she appeared before him.

“Fanny says that you must join us for supper,” he said, eyes not meeting hers.

She nodded. “Albin,” she said as he turned to walk away. “I am sorry. And please, you can act your normal self in front of me.”

The footman turned to face her, his brown eyes almost dark in the corridor. “You cannot expect me to do that, not after what I discovered about you.” He started to walk away but stopped to whirl on his heels once again. His eyes were accusing. “I have treated you as a friend.”

“And I am your friend still!” she said, tearing up. “I do consider you a friend, Albin.”

He merely scoffed and walked away. She followed close behind, each step fearful, but she must face the others. She could not stay in her room, can she?

When she appeared in the kitchen with Albin, Molly and Lottie did not look up. Oscar simply ignored her as well. Fanny gestured at the empty chair beside her and Maxine dutifully sat down.

No one offered to give her food so she reached for them herself.

Fanny broke the most awkward silence Maxine had to suffer by saying, “Why are you looking for your mother?”

“Yes, I have been wondering of that as well,” Albin said. “If what you said is true and the Theobalds have been naught but good to you, why are you looking for her?”

Lottie scoffed and shook her head. Molly turned her head to wait for Maxine’s answer.

Maxine swallowed her food. “Rachel, my stepmother, has been very good to me. She treated me as one of her own, but I have always known that I was not hers.”

“You always knew you were a bastard then?” Albin asked with surprise.

Maxine nodded.

“Then why the bloody hell look for a woman who did not want you? Ye have a mother back home!”

Maxine flinched. Yes, why was she looking for the woman who did not want her and ignore the one who had always been there for her?

She could not find the correct words that would adequately answer Albin’s question so Maxine chose to silence. She could hardly convince herself that her reason was enough to cause the trouble she did.

“She wants to know what it would have been like if the woman kept her,” was Fanny’s reply.

Lottie looked up to gaze at Maxine. Molly blinked. Albin fell silent and Oscar continued eating.

Maxine felt a lump in her throat so she simply blinked away the tears and nodded. Fanny had given voice to the many thoughts and questions that even Maxine found hard to explain.

Everyone did not speak again after Fanny said the words and continued eating.

Supper ended not in a jolly one, nor horribly. It ended in a more tolerable way and that was good enough for her.

---

Two days had passed and yet Maxine was yet to make up her mind. She would be receiving her pay on the morrow and she was considering asking Maxwell to return her ruby necklace to her should she need more townsends for her journey. But asking for it would certainly cause him to suspect that she may be planning to leave.

No, she could not ask him for the necklace. He was too bloody wise not to be suspicious. He had once outwitted her. Well, yes, probably more than once.

It had been a difficult two days for her. None of the staff would talk to her, save for Fanny who tried to be considerate. But that was the woman’s nature. Although Maxine knew she was disappointed, even angry, Fanny was still Fanny.

Lottie had started to eat earlier than the others that Maxine was considering not joining them for supper later that night. She was supposed to be the one who must spare them of her presence, not the Lottie or the others.

As she was walking out of Nicholas’ study to fetch him tea, she saw Maxwell striding across the hallway with a bag in hand. He did not see her as she was on a rush and she stepped behind a pillar.

She heard him talking to Oscar but their voices were muffled, difficult for her to discern.

She frowned. Was he leaving?

Mayhap he was returning to his estate. Did his mistress leave him alone now? Was he planning something? He had not sought her out for two days since his confession in the study after all. Mayhap he felt utterly ashamed that he said those things? Did he realize he said the wrong things and that he did not fancy her at all?

Maxine incredulously shook her head. She ought to feel relieved then!

She ought to feel relieved that he was leaving the estate, for whatever reason!

But she suddenly felt quite lost instead.

She had managed to stay away from him, minding her tasks as a valet and all the while avoiding him and the other servants, but the knowledge that he was in the estate somewhere had been a comforting thought.

She walked to the hallway when she heard the front doors close. Oscar met her after closing the door. She bowed her head to keep on walking but he said, “Have you planned your departure?” he asked.

Maxine paused. “Yes,” she lied and caught herself. “No,” she honestly added. “But I shall keep my promise to leave in three days’ time.”

Oscar merely nodded before he walked off to wherever else he spent his time.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was never chummy with Oscar, but the man had been a good mentor. And he was a considerate man despite his cold demeanor.

Maxine made her way to the kitchen to prepare a fresh pot of tea for Nicholas and found Molly inside, washing a cloth.

The maid ignored her at first but as the silence lasted longer, Molly cleared her throat and said, “Lottie is very angry at you. She feels utterly betrayed.”

“Understandably so,” Maxine said, already tearing up. Despite everything that Molly had attempted to do, she had been good to Maxine. “And I also understand if you are too.”

“Of course, I am,” the maid snapped. “And I thought myself in love with you! How shameful! You turned out to be a woman! And a gentry at that! How bloody blind of me!”

Maxine did not comment.

“Now I doubt myself. I do not think I would ever trust myself should I find someone I fancy!”

Maxine turned to give Molly a look. “Mayhap you ought to consider someone who had always been there for you.”

“Who? Albin? He did confess to me and I do not believe we suit each other.”

“I meant Oscar.”

The maid stiffened in surprise. She gawked at Maxine, brown eyes filled alight with shock. “Now that you know we know you are a woman, you attempt to gossip!”

“It is not gossip, Molly,” Maxine said as she placed the pot of tea on the tray. “Oscar does fancy you but he is too afraid and proud to admit it, I am afraid. You ought to ask Fanny as she is aware of it as well.”

Molly scoffed. “Do not hope that I believe you. After all, you have lied to us too many times.”

Maxine shrugged. “Very well, I cannot force the truth upon someone who refuses to have it.” She turned away with a smile when she saw Molly absently looking at the bubbles of soap in her hands with a curious frown.

---

Maxine entered Nicholas’ study and prepared his tea in front of him as he worked. He had been extra happy since she saw him two days past.

But even though her master was in a jolly mood, Maxine was mentally worried.

She was trying to figure out the best way she could deliver her statement without sounding impolite. She wanted to ask if he could lend her another month’s worth of pay. Of course, she would not be staying here to work off the debt for she would be long gone by then. She had to pay him back after she returned to Theobald, of course.

“I have noticed that Albin has not been talking to you,” said Nicholas as he picked up his teacup. He frowned at Maxine. “Did the two of you fight?” A knowing smile curled on his lips. “About a lady, eh?”

Maxine shook her head. “Merely a small disagreement, milord.” Not wishing for him to delve further into the details, she said, “I believe you have met great success in Rock’oles, milord?”

His smile widened into a satisfied one. “Yes, very much so, I believe.” He replaced the teacup on the table. “My friends at Grey’s are missing me as I have been giving Rock’oles more of my attention. A man ought to work harder for his target, see?”

Maxine smiled. “You have met her then, milord?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She frowned. “Then how is it a success?”

“She is considering allowing me entry into her chamber,” he said with a chuckle. He looked like Samuel when he was younger, when he managed to finally urge their father to procure him a horse—the one she lost in Marsden.

For a moment, Maxine felt sorry for the woman in Rock’oles. It was clear that Nicholas merely considered her a challenge. But then, the woman had chosen to live such life and must be fully aware of such matters.

“Do you wish to know how I urged her to consider?” Nicholas asked, leaning his forearms on the table with excitement.

“Of course, milord,” Maxine lied. No, she did not wish to know every detail of that horrid place.

“Weeks ago, I met with one of the men who claimed to have—”

The rest of Nicholas’ words were left unsaid as the door burst open and Maxwell stalked inside. “Ah, there you are,” he said, walking closer toward her.

Maxine was still surprised by his sudden entry that she did not realize he had caught her hand. How could he possibly be here? She saw him leave!

Nicholas was scowling at his brother, but Maxwell was not paying him attention.

“Come with me,” Maxwell told her before he started to pull her toward the door.

“What the bloody hell are you doing to my valet, Max!” Nicholas demanded, jumping to his feet. “What in the devil, Maxwell! Are you bloody mad!”

“Let me go,” Maxine hissed at Maxwell.

“Let go of my valet at once, Max!” Nicholas shouted but Maxwell continued his pace. “Stop at once!”

Maxwell did stop but his hold tightened around her hand. “You must come along, brother, I need you,” Maxwell said to Nicholas who was already on his feet, stalking after them.

Maxine frowned as Nicholas stalked toward them. She turned to Maxwell. His hair was nearly hiding his face from her angle and she could not read him at the moment. But by the strength of his hold, Maxine was quite certain that whatever he had planned, he was determined to have it done. “What are you—”

“The carriage is ready,” Maxwell said to Maxine, finally turning to face her. For a moment she remembered their night at the townhouse. His green eyes were looking at her the same way they did that night and she almost nodded her head, ready to do whatever he had planned.

But she snapped to her senses and shook her head. “No, I am staying here and—”

His hand tightened as if he wanted to shake her to her senses. “I said the carriage is ready.”

“Ready for what?” Maxine and Nicholas asked in unison.

Maxwell rolled his eyes before he pulled Maxine closer beside him. “I am marrying your valet, brother,” he wryly said to Nicholas. “And you are coming with us to Tiny Town.”

XXXII. Let No Man Put Asunder

Nicholas stood in front of them like a total fool. He did not gawk, nor did his eyes widen. In fact, he simply stared.

Maxine took the chance to pull her hand free from Maxwell’s grasp and whirl to hiss, “What are you doing?”

Maxwell tore his eyes away from his speechless brother and gazed down at her. “Have I not made my intentions clear enough?”

She gasped and blinked in disbelief. “I am sorry, my lord, but I must have missed the question when you asked!” she snarled with derision.

From the corner of her eye she saw Nicholas move his head from her back to his brother.

“I am not marrying you,” she snapped at Maxwell, jumping back when he attempted to grab her hand. “Stay away from me, you horrid man!” she added, scurrying to hide behind Nicholas. “Your actions are appalling, my lord, I tell you that!”

Maxwell’s face darkened, stalking after her. “And what would you have me do? Allow you to disappear from Wickhurst after I have compromised you?” He scoffed, carefully following her around Nicholas. His brother turned to stare at them both while they circled him. “Do you think me daft?”

“No, I believe you are irrational apart from being asinine!” she hissed at him, stepping back as he moved forward, entirely aware that Nicholas was following their movements as he was trapped inside the invisible track they were making around him. “I am not marrying you!”

Maxwell bared his teeth and increased his pace until he caught her hand. But Maxine grabbed Nicholas’ hand as he tried to pull her toward him.

“What the bloody hell is happening!” Nicholas roared, glaring at them both. “What the bloody hell is happening!” he bellowed once more, this time his anger echoing around the room.

Both Maxine and Maxwell stopped and stared at him.

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak but Nicholas was already demanding, saying, “Do not make me feel more of a buffoon as I am feeling now, brother, for I will have none of it!” He turned to Maxine and frowned. “Why are you forcing my valet to marry you?” He turned his head back on his brother with a scandalized look on his face. “I do believe you are a man who fancies the opposite sex, Maxwell, so please be so kind and explain exactly why you would drag my valet to Tiny Town! You are no nancy!”

Maxwell’s face contorted. “What the bloody hell, Nicholas,” he said, pulling Maxine closer to his side. “Could you be any more blind and not see that your valet is a woman!”

Maxine closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. Was it time for her to stride into the offices of the Town Herald and chronicle her secrets for publication?

Nicholas looked dumbfounded when Maxine opened her eyes once more. He was staring at her with mouth hanging open and then his eyes widened as he looked at her closer, this time really seeing her.

Ah, bloody hell, the man was not completely blind after all.

“Now, if you could get over your shock, can we now proceed to Tiny Town?” Maxwell asked with impatience. He turned to Maxine, eyes dark and determined. “We are going to wed.”

“And I say no!” she cried out, pulling away from him. He did not let her, his grip tighter now.

“And as I have said, I cannot let you walk away from Wickhurst and from me, woman.” His voice was almost threatening as he said the words through his teeth. “You could very well be carrying our child in your womb this very minute or have you not thought of that?”

Maxine went cold. No, she had not thought of that.

Maxwell’s hand loosened around hers, silently telling her that she could pull away now if she truly wished to, but Maxine could not do so. She did not want to admit it, but she was allowing that one reason of having his child be a part of a decision that a part of her oddly and mysteriously wanted.

“We shall talk more later,” he promised, pulling her toward the door.

“Bloody wait!” Nicholas shouted once again, making them stop. They both turned to face Nicholas.

“She is a woman, Nicholas,” Maxwell said to his brother. “She had always been since the very moment she walked into your estate. Now, will you move and go with us to Tiny Town or not?”

“I—” Nicholas stared at Maxine once again. “I bloody need an explanation.”

“One you shall have in the carriage,” Maxwell snapped at him.

Maxine felt as though she was floating while Maxwell led her out of the study, down the corridor, the stairs, across the hallway, out of the estate and into the carriage.

Tiny Town? Bloody Tiny Town!

---

“You mean to say that the servants know and no one bothered to tell me?”

Maxine had been bowing her head for a long time but when Nicholas’ question boomed around the carriage, she looked up and said, “No. Well, yes, they found out but they had been unaware as well until two days past.”

“One of the reasons why I decided to take this trip to Tiny Town,” Maxwell said beside Maxine.

She turned her head to throw him a questioning look.

He sighed and muttered, “The scullery maid made a trip to the Wickhurst office of the Town Herald twice.”

Maxine’s eyes widened. “Lottie?”

“She did not go inside, but she attempted to twice,” he said. “I believe that it would not be long until she gathers the courage to knock on the doors.”

“But she—she could not be thinking of telling—”

“You ought to have told me when they found out,” he interjected. “Is that why they have been avoiding you?”

“How did you know?”

“It merely takes one meal in that dratted dining room to notice, Maxine. Everyone had been too wary of your presence like they had never been before,” he said. “Unlike my brother, you must know by now that I am not a blind fool.”

Nicholas glared at Maxwell from across the carriage. And then he turned to Maxine and glared even more. “You lied to me.”

“Have you asked her of her gender, brother?” Maxwell asked.

“No, of course not! But then who would bloody ask!” Nicholas said in outrage.

“Then she did not lie,” Maxwell said.

Nicholas’ nostrils flared. “You said that your father is—”

“From Theobald,” Maxwell interrupted. “Again, not a lie.”

Maxine threw Maxwell a darting look before she faced Nicholas again. “I did lead you on to believe a lie,” she admitted. “I am utterly sorry, my lord.”

Nicholas snorted. “And all for a crazy adventure of finding your mother?”

“Yes,” she murmured, bowing her head.

Nicholas fell silent and the awkward silence lingered for a little while with naught but the sounds of the carriage wheels against the road and the hooves of the horses. “Ah, bloody hell!” Nicholas groaned all of a sudden, making Nicholas and Maxine snap their heads. He was staring at Maxine with complete horror. “You have served me as my valet for months!”

Maxine frowned and blinked in confusion. “That I did, yes.”

“And you have dressed me too many times!” He pointed at Maxine as he turned to look at Maxwell. “She had undressed me countless of times as well!”

“I do not see why that would—” Maxine started but Maxwell had already turned to face her with a frown.

“In what level of undress have you seen my brother in?” he demanded.

“I once woke up completely naked! After a night at Grey’s!” Nicholas proclaimed with dread.

Maxine’s face flushed while Nicholas cried in horror and Maxwell glared at the information.

“I did not undress you that night, my lord,” Maxine murmured. “As I remember, you undressed on your own. I did naught but stand in one corner.”

Maxwell cursed under his breath and Nicholas groaned even more. “Bloody hell,” he said as he rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. “I am to have my valet as my sister-in-law. And she had seen me naked and had served me—”

“Bloody close your mouth or I shall make you with my fist down your throat,” Maxwell warned.

Maxine turned to Maxwell. “I do not have my bag.”

“I took the liberty of grabbing it,” he told her. She nodded and stole another glance at his face.

He seemed unperturbed. In fact, he seemed satisfied, a stark contrast to Nicholas’ current state.

“I am a Trilby,” she uttered with meaning.

Nicholas snapped his head and gawked across them. “You are a bloody what?” He glared at Maxwell. “I thought you said you shall tell me everything?”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and ignored Nicholas. He met Maxine’s gaze and said, “And you are also a Theobald.”

“I am a bastard,” she corrected.

“And so are half of the ton,” he said with a shrug. “Mayhap not in word, yes, but in character they mostly are.”

Maxine looked away and stared out the window. Was she doing the right thing? Ever since she had left Willowfair, she had started to doubt herself. Mayhap she ought not to have left Theobald. Mayhap she ought not to pursue finding her mother. Mayhap she ought to go back home.

And now mayhap she must get away before they reached Tiny Town.

---

Tiny Town was not merely known for being a separate state from the rest of the Town, thus with independent laws of their own that many eloping lovers took advantage of, but it was also quite far from Wickhurst. It was, the very least, a four or five-day journey from Wickhurst with constant stops, but one could cut it short to two and a half if they traveled with merely one stop at a small village but that would mean they must take the more difficult road instead of the longer and more comfortable one.

Maxwell was keen on the idea of reaching the infamous town for couples that he decided on the rougher course much to Maxine and Nicholas’ disappointment.

They spent most of the journey answering Nicholas’ questions, ones he often asked too many times that both Maxine and Maxwell had had enough at one point and shouted for him to ask the next question.

“How did you know?” he asked Maxwell.

“Bloody hell, Nick,” Maxwell retorted, “Just one bloody look and you will realize she is a woman!”

“I did not! And so did everybody else!”

“Ysabella knew—”

“Because she met her before!”

“No matter,” Maxwell dismissed, “I knew. I simply did. She had always been a woman, Nicholas.”

“And you chose to debauch her,” Nicholas snapped back, giving Maxine an apologetic look, saying, “Pardon my language, my lady.”

Maxine smiled. “I have heard worse from you, my lord.”

Nicholas groaned once more and it was followed by more unnecessary recollection of the many times she had seen him in his worst state and behavior.

As the lights from the distant holes grew dimmer, they decided to stop at the village of Oakley.

Maxine realized that it was the village closest to Theobald.

Mayhap she must go home?

---

“Do stop the ruckus, Maxine, please,” Maxwell groaned from the other side of the bed. Of course, he had insisted on sharing the bed now that they were on their way to Tiny Town. “This is the first that I get to have a proper sleep,” he added against the pillow.

Maxine stopped tossing and slowly breathed out.

He was here in one room with her for he must have suspected she would attempt to escape.

Theobald was very near. She could get out of Oakley now and run her way back home. She could lock herself back in her chambers and she would never have to see a single Everard again.

“What is the matter?” Maxwell asked beside her.

“I thought you said you wanted to rest.”

“What is the matter?” He rose to his elbows and loomed over her.

Maxine gulped as she stared up at him in the dark. The only light was coming through the windows from the lamps outside.

Since that night in the townhouse, they had never been this close again. She had made certain that it did not happen.

“You are frowning,” she murmured, averting her gaze.

He stared down at her for a very long time before he straightened on the bed in a sitting position. “Come here,” he gently whispered, taking her hand to pull her up beside him.

She was in her nightgown, one of the many things he packed for her. Up to that moment, Maxine was quite lost how he managed to do it.

Maxwell shifted on the bed to face her, his shirt half-opened as the night was proving to be rather hot. Maxine would still not meet his gaze and she chose to focus her attention on his right shoulder.

“What is it now?” he asked, peering down to catch her eyes.

Maxine’s jaw tightened as she blinked, forcing herself to meet his gaze. For a second she found herself lost in the depths of his globes as they glimmered in the darkness of the room.

“You have not proposed to me yet,” she rushed. She turned her head to the right to lift her chin in a haughty mien.

“Bloody hell, Maxine, we are to reach Tiny Town by the morrow,” he said a gentle yet impatient tone. “That ought to tell you what I had always intended to do. Does that not equate to a proposal?”

She arched her brow and her head snapped at his words. “Oh, God. How would I know? I have never witnessed a proposal, and neither have I experienced one to be an expert, but I can tell you for certain, my lord, that you are not very good at it.”

He closed his eyes to maintain patience. “It was never taught in school, nor was I given a chance to practice before.”

“Well, you ought to at least try!” She arched her brow. “Theobald is very near from Oakley, you see. I could gather my things and—”

“Bloody hell, give me a minute then!” he hissed at her. Maxine thought she heard him mutter, “Ah, bloody hell…” as he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

She offered her hand with a mocking smile. “I believe they hold the lady’s hand,” she explained.

Maxwell took her hand in his and then he stared at her for a long time.

“I very much hope you are thinking of the best words to make me swoon and are not sleeping with your eyes open, my lord,” she said.

His eyes narrowed with warning, but he finally spoke. “Maxine Theobald, I am proposing that we marry.”

She arched her brow. “That is your proposal? You have thought that long and you did not come up with a good reason why we must wed?”

“I was thinking of why we should not ,” he corrected. “I could not think of one.”

“Why would you refuse to think of a reason why we must?”

“The list can be too bloody long,” he snapped with impatience.

Her heart swelled but she did not let him see it. Instead she frowned. “Are you certain you cannot come up with a single reason why we must not move along to Tiny Town? Surely you have doubts!”

“I rarely doubt myself. People, I often do, but you have become an exception.”

“Then what of you being an utter fool, my lord, for surely this is a foolish idea!”

His hand tightened around her hand. “I am a lord, Maxine, but I am no fool.” He sighed. “I have witnessed many men make foolish mistakes simply because their hearts have been swayed.”

Her heart stopped for a moment. Did he just admit that his heart was swayed? “And you are about to join the rank,” she snapped instead.

“No, I believe I am saving myself the trouble.” He peered down at her. “You are not entirely convinced this will work?”

“Of course, I am not! This is too much! I have not imagined myself marrying anyone!”

His lips quirked as he brushed his hair away from his face with one hand. “Good.”

“What?”

“I thought you were about to say that you never imagined yourself marrying me.”

“I do not see the difference.”

“Ah, but I am not just anyone.” He pulled her closer toward him. “I have told you I do fancy you. We are good together.”

Maxine swallowed as his face drew near.

He stared into her eyes. “Will you marry me now?”

Maxine lost herself into the depths of his green globes.

She knew what he was capable of. She had despised him for it, but she also admired him for daring to do anything for his family. He had thought the worst of her, yet she also found herself appreciating his keen wit and understanding. He had annoyed her too many times, yet had also given her days excitement at every turn.

And Maxwell Everard was a great lover. Not overly romantic but certainly very passionate.

It took her almost forever to realize that she wanted to say yes. Not because she was in love with him for that was yet to be determined, but because she could see herself loving this man. And she could feel that he could too. Should they both give it time, Maxine almost believed she could have a happy life.

“A proposal deserves an answer,” Maxwell urged, snapping her back to the moment.

“Oh, bloody hell, please tell me this will be the last foolish thing I will do,” was her reply.

“And the most rewarding, I tell you,” he said with a smile, wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer against him. His mouth carefully covered hers in a sweet, urging kiss.

His mouth froze against her and when he leaned his head back, her heart started to hammer. Did he change his mind?

“Theobald is very near. I could gather a horse and ride there to meet your father. We could have a real wedding in Wickhurst or Theobald—wherever you wish it to be. We do not have to go to Tiny Town.”

Maxine saw images of her in a big white gown with her father, Rachel and her two brothers, Gabriel and Samuel. And she saw the entire Everards there as well, grinning and snickering at Maxwell. But it did not seem to be perfect enough.

And it did not have to.

She shook her head and wound her arms around Maxwell’s neck. “I have never been to Tiny Town,” was her answer.

“But you do realize we are still going to discuss more of this matter, yes?” he murmured against her mouth. Maxine simply rose to her knees to straddle his lap for she did not wish to think of anyone at that moment. Whoever she would have to face—her family and his—she would at least not do so alone. He would be there.

Yes, he would be there.

Was it ridiculous to be thinking she was being a fool for such an impetuous decision, yet feeling that she had made the best choice amongst the wrong ones?

---

“…will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep only to her as long as you both shall live?”

The clergyman’s question ought to have pushed Maxwell to dash toward the door and disappear from the rest of society without a single glance back. But today, he simply stood there facing a woman wearing the most simple blue chiffon dress to a wedding he had ever seen and said, “I will.”

Nicholas shifted in his feet beside him. If anyone was eager to run away today, it must be his dratted brother.

The clergyman with graying hair turned to Maxine and Maxwell’s heart started to pound. “Will you obey him—”

He silently groaned in his head at the first question. He ought to have talked with the man before they started to wisely hide the dangerous word ‘obey’ within his series of questions!

“—serve him—”

Ah, the second most dangerous word where Maxine was concerned. What was wrong with these vows!

“—love, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all other, keep only to him as long as you both shall live?”

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed as he held his breath waiting for Maxine to open her mouth.

Her beautiful pale grey eyes found his and he saw the smallest of smiles form on her lips before she said, “I will.”

Nicholas nudged his side as a jesting gesture and he was able to finally breathe.

The clergyman ordered him to take Maxine’s hand. “Say your vow, my lord,” said the clergyman.

Maxwell swallowed, trying his might to remember the words. He caught her gaze and found them in their depths. “I, Maxwell Arthur Everard, take thee, Maxine—” he paused for a second to consider his next words “—Trilby Theobald, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part.”

He saw Maxine’s eyes water at the mention of her name. He would dare not finish this wedding without letting her realize that whatever her name was—whoever she was—she would still be his.

The clergyman gave Maxine an expectant look. Maxwell lifted his brows, silently telling her that he was waiting.

“I, Maxine Trilby Theobald, take thee, Maxwell Arthur Everard,” she started in a shaking voice before she paused to swallow and continue, “to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—”

Nicholas loudly cleared his throat, interrupting Maxine’s words.

Maxwell glared at his brother but Nicholas hissed, “Obey.”

Maxine frowned while Maxwell continued to scowl.

“Love and obey ,” Nicholas corrected in a loud whisper, throwing the clergyman a wary look.

Maxwell and Maxine turned to the man standing in the middle. He nodded his head. “It is ‘to love and obey’ for you, my lady.”

“I care not if it is cherish or obey ,” Maxwell snapped.

“But the vow ought to be followed as it was written—”

“—to love and obey until death do us part,” Maxine interrupted, correcting herself. “There, I said it.” She threw Nicholas and the clergyman a mocking smile.

The man cleared his throat and motioned for the rings.

Nicholas handed the ring to Maxwell who sighed. With a slightly shaking hand he slipped it through her finger. “With this ring I wed thee, with my body I worship thee, with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost. Amen.”

Maxwell stared at the golden ring he procured in haste in Wickhurst and vowed to design one especially for her. He looked up and realized that Maxine was staring at the ring as well, her eyes aglow with excitement and what seemed like apprehension.

As the clergyman took both their right hands to join them together to say, “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder,” Maxwell realized that he had said his vows in truth.

As he watched Maxine listen to the rest of the clergyman’s words, Maxwell realized that he might be in love. There was no denying it. He ought to have seen it coming.

Now, how to tell her and how to make her love him in return?

XXXIII. A Proposition at Vinge

He found his answer as they traveled back to Wickhurst.

He would have to find her mother.

“What seems to be bothering you now,” Nicholas asked as they waited outside the carriage for Maxine to arrive.

They spent another night at Oakley and although they were now married, they were not able to enjoy an evening together for they both fell asleep the moment they reached the bed.

Maxwell had been having a hard time talking as well as he was bothered by his recent realizations.

Could he proclaim his confession today? Tomorrow? Or should he wait until Maxine had gotten a grasp of the situation?

This was never part of her plan at all. But neither did he plan for this as well.

Her priority was to find her mother. If he helped her find the woman first, then mayhap he could find the perfect time to sit down with her and actually talk.

The problem then would be how.

“Dare not say that you are regretting dragging us all to Tiny Town, brother,” Nicholas said with contempt. “I would not appreciate it. Have you not realized that I did not have any proper change of clothes for two nights now? And I have never been this weary on a travel before, I tell you!”

“Do shut up, Nick, before I kick your dandy arse to Wickhurst,” he snapped. “I am not regretting anything.”

“Then what is the matter?”

He considered his answer for a minute. He turned his head to stare at his brother. Nicholas looked like Nicholas—a childish dandy rake. Amazing, really, that at that very moment he wished he was with Cole Devitt and William Wakefield. Those two could offer better answers than the one he dragged to Tiny Town to be the witness to their wedding. Slowly shaking his head, he muttered, “You are not the person to understand my predicament.”

Nicholas scowled. “I do know many things, brother. Pray tell me. Do you worry about Mother? You ought to, of course, for she shall not rest until you experience hell.”

Maxwell ignored the tiny hint of fear at the mention of their mother. “As I have said, you are not suitable to hear it.” He straightened as Maxine exited the door in a pale yellow dress Ysabella lent her.

“Perhaps a trip to Madam Vernice will be your first priority when we reach Wickhurst,” murmured his brother.

“My wife dresses however she likes,” he snapped again, walking away from Nicholas to meet Maxine. “Are you ready?” he asked, taking her hand.

She looked troubled and Maxwell regretted leaving her upstairs. Giving Maxine a little time to be alone meant allowing her the freedom to think and how she spent her time thinking upstairs while he waited outside the tavern seemed to have resulted to yet another potential banter between them.

“I do not wish for our families to know that we are married.”

Of course, as he figured, he wryly thought. “Why am I not surprised?” he said with a sigh. “But why?”

“As you can see, I am not ready!” she uttered under her breath.

He was frustrated, but what else could he do? He nodded his head as it was the safest reaction at that moment. “But you are leaving Nicholas’ estate.” She nodded. Maxwell narrowed his eyes, doubtful of her obedience. “You are going home with me to Vinge Street.”

Maxine shrugged and sighed. “Where else should I be?”

Maxwell pursed his lips to keep from grinning like a total fool and turned to walk Maxine to the carriage. Nicholas frowned at the two of them before he shook his head and climbed before them.

---

“I simply need to talk with the servants,” she said to Maxwell. They were outside Nicholas’ estate.

“Let her be, brother,” said Nicholas before he ran up to the front doors. “Home! Finally!” he cried to Oscar who opened for them. “And Oscar, announce for a vacant valet post immediately!”

Maxwell gave Maxine a look of warning. “I swear, Maxine, if you are planning anything—”

“Oh, bother,” she said, leaving him inside the carriage. “Merely a few minutes, Maxwell. That is all I ask!”

She walked up to the front doors and hesitated when Oscar stepped aside to allow her entry. She gave the butler a small smile. “Oscar—”

“No need for explanations, milady,” Oscar said, face unreadable. “Lord Maxwell has already relayed his plans before you departed for Tiny Town.”

She flushed and cleared her throat but not without throwing Maxwell a look as he followed her into the doorway. “And Molly and Lottie?”

“In the kitchen, I assume.” Oscar closed the door and offered, “I could get them for you if you—”

“I will look for them, thank you.” She walked away to find the kitchen.

There, she found Fanny who gave her an awkward smile. The woman looked at her from head to foot. “You do look like a lady, my lady,” said the woman.

“I am still Max for you, Fanny,” she said to the housemaid. “And I assume you already know?”

The maid nodded. “Oscar did announce it the other day.”

She sighed and looked around. “Then perhaps it is a useless idea to try to explain.”

Fanny gave her a meaningful smile. “But you are also here to say goodbye.”

Maxine nodded. “Yes.”

She was surprised when Fanny closed the distance between them and embraced her. “I forgive you for deceiving us,” said the woman and Maxine could not help but have tears in her eyes. “You simply wanted to find your mother and I do understand a child’s yearning for one she never knew,” Fanny added before letting her go. “I do so hope that you find her soon, my lady.”

Maxine wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Fanny.”

Fanny motioned her head to the service corridor. She turned and found Lottie and Molly standing there, their faces wary. “Max is here to say goodbye,” Fanny said for her.

Maxine met Lottie’s eyes and the girl immediately looked away with guilt. Choosing to ignore what Maxwell shared to her about Lottie’s attempt to visit The Town Herald, she smiled and said, “I do hope that you can all forgive me for everything I have done.”

Molly nodded, an awkward smile curving her lips. “Mayhap after I forget the dreadful things I have done as well.”

Maxine chuckled, tears in her eyes. “You have been a family to me in some ways as I struggled to fit in when I first came here. I thank you all for that.”

Lottie cleared her throat and met Maxine’s eyes. “I’m sorry for having caused you trouble, my lady.”

For Maxine, it was enough. Somehow she understood Lottie as she did Molly. Young women such as themselves could truly do foolish things for the objects of their desires.

“Dare not tell me that you are to leave without telling me,” Albin’s voice said from the kitchen doorway.

Maxine smiled and surprised everyone by striding toward the footman to give him a hug.

“Ey!” said Albin in panic but Maxine persisted.

“You have been a very terrific friend, Albin,” she uttered, stepping away from the man. “Thank you.”

Albin scoffed and scratched his head. “Worry not,” he said. “I cannot say I am not glad to see you leave as I do not see myself working with a woman for a valet, but I also dread the moment that you do. You very well know why.”

She chuckled as did the ladies. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I very know how much of a struggle it is to wait on Lord Nick. I hope you find a suitable one to take the post, one who could perfectly tie a cravat!”

“And let us hope it is a man,” Oscar’s voice added as he stepped into the kitchen from behind Albin. He looked around at the servants. “His lordship has arrived and not in a fairly good mood. As you very well know, he is without a valet once again. Everyone back on your posts,” he ordered and Albin jumped on his feet to exit the kitchen, giving Maxine a wave goodbye. Lottie did the same, averting Maxine’s eyes.

Molly, on the other hand was absently staring at Oscar and flushed when the man turned to frown at her and ask, “What is it, Molly?”

Maxine and Fanny shared a knowing look as Molly stammered, “Nothin’,” and scurried away to disappear into the service corridor.

Oscar turned to Maxine and said, “Lord Max is waiting for you in the parlor, my lady,” he said, stepping aside to give way for her.

Maxine gave Fanny one last hug and walked out of the kitchen, Oscar in tow. She stopped in the middle of the dining room and stared at the butler. “Oscar, I do hope that you find the courage to tell her,” she whispered.

Oscar stiffened but did not say a word.

“You might be surprised and delighted, see?” she teasingly added as she turned to continue walking.

She heard Oscar clear his throat behind her and she smiled in satisfaction.

Perhaps in a more perfect time , she thought.

---

“A modiste shall be in the estate by the morrow to take measurements,” announced Maxwell, breaking the short silence that followed when they finally reached his estate at Vinge Street.

It was not as grand as Nicholas’, but it spoke very much of its owner.

Arnold, the aging butler, was not very much different from Oscar. He simply accepted the information that his master was now with wife and dutifully rushed to order the other servants to be ready for supper and prepare the master bedchamber.

“You will soon realize that I do not have a valet,” Maxwell imparted when they entered his study to wait for their chambers to be ready.

“You have one as your wife,” she said, snickering at her own jest. “Although I do hope you are not particular with cravats.”

Maxwell simply shook his head while Maxine looked around the room. “Quaint,” she murmured. “I like it.”

“Kenward is better,” he said from the window. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers. He seemed distant since they departed Oakley that Maxine could not help but wonder if he had any regrets.

Surely, not this early?

She sat on the chaise, contemplating whether to suggest they have separate chambers as was customary. But having had a taste of what it was like to be in bed with her husband, Maxine was certain they would simply be sharing the same bed every night.

Unless, of course, Maxwell had started to regret everything. Both of them had been too impulsive after all.

He turned to face her from across the room, his expression unreadable. His hair shadowed his face. Maxine started to feel dreadful.

“Why do you not wish to be introduced to society?” he asked.

That was not the question she was expecting. In fact, she did not expect him to ask one.

With a sigh, she set aside her thoughts about their new marriage and answered his question. “My past governesses have always been clear on who I truly am and what my nature can cause my family.”

She heard his loud scoff of disbelief. “No wonder. Those wenches abused your young mind.”

“But they spoke of the truth and I was never blind to the fact.” She turned away to absently stare at a column of books behind his table. “I never addressed my stepmother as Mother,” she admitted, feeling quite ashamed.

“Because you have always believed you have another one,” he said, walking forward to settle on the chaise opposite hers. His eyes were gentle as he added, “That is quite understandable.”

Maxine shook her head. “I love Rachel,” she said. “With all of my heart, I truly do.”

“But?” he asked, brows arched high.

Her jaw tightened. Maxwell peered down at her, his eyes gauging her reaction and she knew that he was realizing what was on her mind.

Ah, why did she have the wisest of men for a husband!

His eye twitched and that was when she figured that he finally realized the answer to his question.

“You believe you do not deserve her after what your father did to her.”

Maxine cleared her throat and tried to divert the subject. “I see drawings for jewelries,” she said, standing up to walk up to his table where papers of complicated jewelry designs were scattered. “Nicholas did tell me you design most of the Everard jewelries.”

Maxwell shifted in his seat. Maxine could feel his intense gaze behind her.

“You do not have to carry the burden of your parents’ sins. No child deserves it.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Rachel had said as much,” she muttered, frowning at a necklace design. “Did you draw these?”

“Maxine,” he called out but she ignored it.

“Please,” she muttered, “I do not wish to talk about my family.”

“Then perhaps you would like to talk about us?” he suggested.

She stiffened. Ah, so now he finally had the courage to talk about them. “You do regret everything.” She dared not look back. “You now believe we have both been such utter fools.” When he remained silent, she braved herself to turn, anchoring one hip against the table. His face was unreadable as he stared at her from where he was sitting. “Perhaps you think that I may not be carrying your child after all. No need for such gallant act, yes?” She forced a smile on her lips. “Do you wish a divorce? We may enjoy each other in bed, but we both know that it barely covers a good marital life.”

Maxwell started to frown and Maxine’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “Perhaps it is time that I return to Theobald. Mayhap my father would give me answers now that I know of the truth and assist me on finding my mother. No one, save your brother and the servants must know of our whirlwind marriage.”

Her husband raked his fingers through his hair, a sign of frustration.

And then he wryly uttered, “Are you daft?”

“No, merely preparing myself for the worst thing you might say,” she said with an awkward chuckle. Forcing her voice to sound brighter, she added, “Do you mean to talk about something else then? A good marriage arrangement? Separate chambers? A blind eye should you choose to have a mistress? Utter obedience?”

Maxwell’s frown deepened as he gazed at her in disbelief.

“I could live with separate chambers although I would appreciate that you give me ample time in the evenings. Mistresses, on the other hand, are forbidden. I will not condone it. Should I know that you have one, I will hunt you myself and know, my lord, that I will do worse than what my stepmother did to my father many years ago.” She blinked and reluctantly added, “Obedience I shall try, of course.”

Her husband’s mouth had fallen slightly open at her monologue.

She sighed with impatience. “That is not what you wish to discuss then? Well? What is it you wish to tell me?”

When he stood up, Maxine opened her mouth to speak but he held up one hand and snapped, “No, you are done talking nonsense.”

He paced before her, head bowed. She followed his movement, feeling quite lost. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

Finally he stopped in front of her and looked into her eyes. Her heart started to hammer. Was there something worse than a divorce? Did he have a terminal illness and was dying? Did he lie and knew where her mother was?

“I have to tell you something you must know. I was contemplating whether or not I ought to tell you, but after hearing about the horrible things on your mind, I believe it must be now,” he started. She waited for his next words. “I am in love with you.”

Maxine’s mouth hung open and if her weight was not supported by the table behind her, she might have found herself on the floor at that very moment.

Maxine merely blinked while her husband gazed at her expectantly.

How many times did Maxwell Everard have to surprise her in a lifetime?

Irritation clouded his features. “Well? What do you say to that?” he demanded. “I hate indirect conversations so would you answer whether or not you love me in return? If you do not, or believe you cannot in the near future, I shall give you your freedom.”

Was she hearing these very words from his mouth?

“I’d rather have this over with before we pursue the matter about your mother for I wish to have my peaceful nights of sleep back.” He brushed his hair away from his face once again. When she remained to be in shock, he urged, “Well, what do you say?”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again and tried one more time. “What do you intend me to say? You caught me by surprise! I was expecting a divorce, Maxwell, not a confession!” she snapped. “What do you wish me to say?” she repeated her question, both for him and herself.

“How would I know? This is the first I fell in love,” he said, waving an arm in frustration. “What do I do about it?”

Maxine let out a scoff of disbelief, gaping at the man before her. “Are you seriously asking me?”

He stared at her wryly. “Well, you are the subject of my affections. Who else must I ask?”

“Maxwell Arthur Everard,” Maxine said, slowly shaking her head in utter bewilderment. She pushed away from the table, stumbling on her feet, “You are the most eccentric lover one could ever land with!” She turned around to leave, mouth agape, still at awe.

“Maxine, I am not done with my confession—”

“Some other time, husband,” she interjected, pulling the door open. Turning in the doorway to stare at his disgruntled state, she added, “Your wife, as you may very well see, is currently in utter shock!”

“One week,” he said, turning on his heel to fully face her. “One week and you give me an answer.”

Maxine walked out without a reply but with a big, foolish grin on her face.

---

Later that night it seemed as though their odd conversation in the study did not occur.

Maxwell insisted that there shall be no separate chambers for them both and immediately demonstrated why by tugging her toward the bed to gently make love to her.

She knew that she was capable of loving him, but she had never realized until he confessed that he was capable of making her do so. Mayhap she already was in love, but how was she to tell when she had never even been with another man the way she was with him? How was she to know when no one had told her what it was like for a woman to feel such emotions?

All she knew was that she wanted him and she reveled at the way he could make her feel many things all at once.

She enjoyed their banters more than she detested them. She looked forward on touching him and to be touched by him with naught but their breaths to cloth them, with naught but their bodies to guide them. Furthermore, it was only with him that she felt at ease to be completely mindless as he kissed all worries away.

Very much later, as they both lay in bed, his hand gently running up and down her side, sending a tingling sensation down her spine, Maxine realized that in his arms she felt found.

She felt she belonged here.

If it was love, then perhaps it was.

He shifted to lie on his side to face her and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. His hand reached for her hair and he asked, “Have you always had it this short?”

“No,” she murmured against his chest, snuggling closer. “It had always been long.”

He brushed her strands with his fingers, pushing them away from her damp face. “You are forbidden to touch a pair of scissors for the next five years,” he said.

Maxine let out a snort. “First test of my obedience, my lord?”

He planted his mouth against her forehead. Maxine closed her eyes with a smile, wrapping her arm around his waist, not expecting a reply.

“Two,” he murmured against her skin.

“Hmm?” she sleepily asked.

“I am changing my proposition,” he explained. “Two weeks, Maxie,” he said and she smiled at the endearment. “I can survive two more weeks, but I require an answer within a fortnight.”

Maxine sighed. “Very well.”

“That is fourteen days,” he elaborated, bending his head down, his chin touching his chest, to look at her.

“I know how to count.”

“This day included.”

She slapped his arm. “I wish to sleep now, my lord.”

“Thirteen days starting on the morrow,” he insisted.

Maxine groaned and pushed him away in frustration. He held her close in an iron embrace. “Sleep,” he murmured against her hair.

“You are the oddest sort,” she murmured before sleep completely consumed her.

XXXIV. Ole Friends

Maxine was quiet inside the rolling carriage. They were on their way to Wakefield and Ysabella’s estate.

Amongst his sisters, Ysabella and Emma were the only ones who had been gullible and naïve, if not courageous, enough to be friends with bandits. And since Maxwell barely had any knowledge of all the details about these so-called friends, he thought it best to approach Ysabella.

Emma could provide them with more details without dallying to other unnecessary topics, but Maxine insisted that Ysabella would be enough for now.

His wife was still not too keen on the idea of letting another member of his family be privy of their recent marriage. He wondered for a moment if the Town Herald been sleeping all this time. Surely there ought to be a gossip about a certain lord eloping to Tiny Town with a mysterious lady by now—but no! No bloody gossip on any of the pages that closely pertain to him and Maxine.

He looked across from her. Apart from the fact that they both woke up earlier that morning together in bed and made love one more time before breaking fast, Maxwell did not feel any different from how he felt at the last day of his bachelorhood.

He was with wife now, one that he had so foolishly confessed to be in love with.

Now that he thought of it, there was one thing that was disturbingly different now. He was growing impatient by the day.

“Have you thought of an answer yet?” he asked.

Her eyes flickered with annoyance. “My mind is currently muddled to a great extent, my lord,” she snapped. “I am quite happy that we did start the day in a rather good mood as we did yesterday and the day before. Please, do not push it. I do still have more days to think.”

Maxwell merely shrugged and looked out the window, studying the usual sight of townspeople going about their business for the day. Did any of them know that Maxwell Everard was inside this very carriage with his new wife? Was someone in the Town Herald drafting an article about them at this very moment? It would not do them good, but a part of him wished for it to happen. It would save him the trouble of having to tell his mother for he’d rather proceed to a frantic confrontation than suffer the long process of preparing for the said confrontation.

“But please, do answer one question for me,” she broke the silence. He turned to find her eyes staring at him with great curiosity. Images of her smooth skin rubbing against his, of her fingers running through his hair, of her short hair sprawled all over the pillows and her legs wrapped around his flashed across his eyes. Should he order the driver to turn the carriage around? Perhaps they could delay this trip for another day? “Why do you think you love me?”

His brows furrowed into a frown, her question snapping him back to the present. “I do not simply think so, Maxie,” he corrected. “I am quite certain of it.” He returned his attention on the scene outside the carriage, brushing aside thoughts of his wife’s breasts, the sound of her purrs, the smell of her flesh. He anchored his chin on his fist before adding under his breath, “And I do not have to have a reason.”

“Of course you do,” she said, tone filled with disbelief.

“I simply know I am in love with you,” he dryly retorted. “Just as all of us know that there is a different world above us—we do not have to understand it to believe it.”

“You barely know me,” she insisted.

He sighed and looked at his wife again. “I was not aware that time is a requirement for such feelings. When do you wish me to repeat the same confession? In five years? A decade? Perhaps the next life when you are a rabbit and I a bloody cow?”

“No need to be sarcastic, my lord,” she snapped. “I simply want to help myself come to terms with the fact that you wasted no time confessing!”

“And make us both suffer with ridiculous ideas?” he asked. When she did not reply, he said, “I shall not urge you for an answer as it has not been a fortnight yet. We must focus on finding your mother first.”

“But you are desperate to have an answer now, are you not?” she asked with a wicked smile.

“Do not mock me, wife,” he droned, “or I shall ravish you inside this carriage. Believe me, I am nearly on the verge of my control.”

“Why do you want an answer now?” she asked, ignoring his warning.

“For one,” he replied, reaching out to grab her hand and pull toward him, settling her on his lap. He did not even notice that she did not resist. “I wish to not be bothered by sleepless nights thinking and dreading about your answer.” He looked into her eyes. “Second, because it provides me a bigger chance of being forgiven by my mother for whisking you away to Tiny Town without her knowledge. She is rather romantic, you see.” He tucked a stray hair behind one ear. He could not wait to see it grow. “Third, simply because I desire that you reciprocate my feelings.” She scoffed when he poked the tip of her nose with one finger. “Fourth—and it is related to the first—I love sleeping.” He leaned closer to tease her lips with a kiss. “With you, of course,” he added before hungrily claiming her mouth.

It was a great struggle not to pull at her stays and take her right there and then, but he did manage to do so. When he let go of her mouth, Maxine scoffed and chuckled, shaking her head. Silence lingered between them once more. Neither or them moved, his arms still around her and hers around his shoulders. “I nearly jumped out of bed this morning,” she admitted after a while, one hand absently playing with his long hair.

“Why?” he asked, nipping her jaw.

“I thought I woke up late,” she explained, her eyes glittering with mirth. “I was thinking of tasks such as opening your brother’s curtains, preparing his shaving articles, brushing his boots and other trivial things. I even thought about going to his perfumer!”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “We must train your mind to work differently every morning then,” he said.

Her laughing eyes traveled down to his throat and his cravat, followed by her delicate hand. “You can tie your own cravat, I see.”

“I learn faster than most people,” he said with meaning, lips twitching as she scowled at him. “I shall teach you should you promise to be a good student.”

“Do admit it,” she said, lightly tugging at the cravat, “You did marry me so you can secure yourself a valet.”

“Of course,” he said with a sigh. “I would dare not miss tormenting a poor lady in breeches.”

“Yet you dress me in dresses now,” she corrected, playing with the collar of her dress.

He frowned as he reached up to tuck them close under her chin. “Madam Vernice is losing her touch.”

“The dress fits perfectly, Maxwell.”

“Your collarbone is showing,” he said, still frowning as the collar returned to their original state under her collarbones.

“I wish to breathe, thank you,” she snapped at him, moving off his lap as the carriage drew to a stop. “Now, are you quite ready to face your sister?”

He let out a grunt as he opened the carriage door. “After a glass or two of brandy, yes,” he murmured under his breath.

---

Maxine paced around the parlor while Maxwell sat with complete ease in one corner, drinking tea.

“You are making me dizzy,” he said. “Fret not, Maxie.”

She stopped and whirled to face him. He looked utterly relaxed, his face with a hint of a smile. “How can you sit there so calm?”

He frowned. “I am always calm.”

She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “You will have to tell her. I believe I cannot do it.”

“Very well,” he said. “Now, sit.”

Just as she was walking toward him, the door burst open and Ysabella sauntered inside, her face excited. “Well? Were you able to face your mother?” was the woman’s first question. “Do tell me everything, please.”

Maxine received Ysabella’s peck and settled beside her husband. She gave Maxwell a nudge while Ysabella sat opposite them. The parlor door closed and they all looked up to see Wakefield making his way toward them.

“We did not find her mother in Willowfair,” Maxwell said.

“But I thought—”

“But we talked with her sister.”

Ysabella looked confused. So did Wakefield.

Maxwell told them about Amelia Trilby and her secret twin sister.

“Then she truly is a Trilby?” asked Ysabella, gazing at Maxine with amazement.

Maxine affirmed with a nod and another nudge at her husband’s side.

He sighed beside her. “After our short trip in Willowfair, we decided to come back to Wickhurst.”

“I was informed that you left weeks ago,” Wakefield said, settling on the armrest beside his wife.

“I have been very worried,” Ysabella said. “I did try to find you at Nick’s townhouse but was informed that you left for another trip with Nick.”

“Was it to find her mother?” Wakefield added.

“No,” Maxwell nonchalantly replied. “We went to Tiny Town.”

Ysabella and her husband shared a confused look. “What did you do—” Ysabella was not able to finish her question as the realization quickly seeped in. “Oh bloody hell. Did Nicholas compromise—”

“Bloody hell, Ysa,” Maxwell burst out, “All Nick did was stand as witness.”

“What?” Ysabella asked, confusion on her face. “Then he now knows you are a woman!”

“Yes,” Maxine replied.

“Ah, bloody hell! That is famous! You ought to tell me more of his reaction!” Ysabella chortled then stopped. “But why did you go to Tiny Town? If Nick stood as witness—”

“I believe, darling,” Wakefield said, staring at Maxwell and Maxine with awe, “that Max here married Maxine.”

Ysabella’s loud gasp filled the room.

“It is not as unbelievable as you make it appear, Ysabella,” Maxwell said. “Now, on to a more important concern, the reason why we are here—”

Ysabella jumped to her feet in horror. “More important concern!” She pointed at Maxwell as she exclaimed. “You eloped to Tiny Town with Maxine! And you believe it is not a big concern? Mother shall have another fit, Max!”

“Let us talk about Mother at a much better time, please,” Maxwell said beside Maxine. “And what is wrong with me marrying Maxine?”

“This is unbelievable!” Ysabella cried out. “Simply unbelievable!”

Wakefield shrugged and nodded, agreeing with his wife. “Although I have to admit I was merely slightly surprised.”

“No!” Ysabella insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why? Why did you marry?”

Maxine was as silent as mute. She bowed her head with a wince. She gave Maxwell’s side another nudge.

“Did you compromise her? What is it? Why did you marry—”

“Ysa, please,” Maxine finally said, her face flushing with embarrassment. “It is a matter that we should not discuss.”

“You ought to have married for love!” Ysabella cried out.

Maxine fell silent once again, utterly lost for words. Well, how was she supposed to respond to that?

“I have already made my confession, Ysabella,” said Maxwell, his tone laced with pride, making Maxine’s face grow even hotter.

“What confession?”

“The one your blasted husband took years to realize,” was Maxwell’s sharp retort.

“Oh,” Ysabella said while Wakefield scowled. “Oh, well,” Ysabella tried once again with a chuckle. “You did say something about a man doing foolish things for love. You did surely prove to me that you are less of a fool than most men I know, brother.”

“Ysa,” Wakefield said with warning.

“But you are still to answer to Mother. Wait until she hears of this!” Ysabella continued, ignoring her husband. “Our Mother is not getting younger, Max! Have you thought of that? I worry that her health would not—”

“As I have said, it is a matter I do not wish to discuss at the moment as we have a more urgent business to attend to. And Mother is perfectly healthy, most especially at every chance of planning yet another ball for another daughter-in-law.” Maxwell shifted beside Maxine to cross his leg over the other while Maxine sat stunned by the thought of Lady Alice introducing her to the ton as one of their own. “We have reasons to believe that Maxie’s mother has been banished after she gave birth.”

Ysabella and Wakefield looked astounded.

“And she might have found refuge with bandits in the west.”

Everyone heard Wakefield’s loud groan at the mention of the word bandits . Ysabella simply blinked and frowned. “And you believe my bandit friends might be of aid?”

“Yes.”

Maxine warily veered her gaze toward Ysabella. Her friend, now sister-in-law, had many things painted on her face. There was still the surprise of their marriage news, confusion and hesitation.

“Dare not tell me that you will not help us, Ysa,” said Maxwell.

“Well,” Ysabella started, clearing her throat. “I do not believe my friends shall appreciate meeting another member of my family—two, in fact.

Maxine flushed even more. Ysabella considered her a part of the family now. Surely the woman could not have grasped the idea that fast?

“I am certain your friend will only be happy to oblige, darling,” Wakefield said from behind his wife. “And I must admit, Max,” he added, addressing Maxwell, “I am quite excited to have you experience their rite of passage. “

“Will you help us?” Maxwell asked his sister, completely ignoring Wakefield’s statement.

Ysabella was quiet for a long while before she sighed and nodded. “Very well, if you promise not to tell Ralph, I will—”

“No one shall ever find out where or who your bandit friends are,” Maxwell promised even before his sister finished her statement.

Ysabella sighed. “Very well. When do you wish to leave?”

---

“Do tell me Maxwell was not lying and he is truly in love,” Ysabella whispered to Maxine as they were departing the estate. They were to leave on the morrow for Meriwether.

“Well, he did confess,” she whispered back.

“And?”

“And he is waiting for my reply,” she hastily said.

Ysabella let out a snort. “Oh, famous! Pardon me for saying, Maxine, but it simply never crossed my mind that Maxwell is capable of such big an emotion!”

“I do not feel the same excitement you do, Ysa,” said Maxine. “I feel as though I am floating in midair with everything in rumbles underneath. I do not know where I shall land.”

Ysabella gently nodded. “Yes, of course, I do understand your predicament, dear.” Her sister-in-law held her hand. “You are in search of your mother. You are yet to tell the Theobalds that you ran away from home to find your mother and landed yourself a husband along the way. You are a Trilby and that very fact can be disturbing in many ways since you married into a family that abhors them. You are yet to meet the entire Everards. And you being a bastard is the biggest worry, is it not?”

Maxine wanted to cry now that Ysabella had put into words the list of things that she had to face.

“Fret not, Maxine,” Ysabella reassured her. “We Everards care not of your nature so long as you are true. Now, I believe I missed another important matter of concern.”

“Pray tell,” Maxine said wryly, “I am very eager to add more on my list of worries.”

“You are married to the most alluring and cynical man there is!”

Maxine could only burst out in a chuckle.

“You are laughing at my expense,” Maxwell guessed correctly as he approached them.

“Of course we are,” Maxine replied. “Are we ready to go home now?”

“At the very least you now know where is home,” he said as he took her hand to settle it in the crook of his arm. He turned to face Ysabella. “Dare not say a word to anyone.”

“I would dare not, brother, for I do wish to witness you suffer doing so in front of everyone. But can I tell Emma?”

He narrowed his eyes with warning. “What did I just say?”

“I shall keep watch, Maxwell, worry not,” Wakefield said with a chuckle, walking toward them. “The carriage is ready outside.”

Ysabella sighed, angling toward her husband when Wakefield stood beside her. “Then when do you plan to tell them?”

Maxine stiffened but prepared herself for Maxwell’s reply. She was not certain she was disappointed or excited when he said, “After our return from your friends .”

Ysabella’s face brightened. “Very well, you must prepare yerselves to visit me ole friends at Meriwether, aye?”

“Ah, bloody hell,” Maxine heard Wakefield groan under his breath. “Ole friends indeed.”

XXXV. Rite of Passage

“Your husband seems excited than worried, Ysabella,” Maxwell dryly noted while the four of them waited across the street from where the red stone formations were located in the small village of Blucksley. Beyond the formations lay what the townspeople would call tree rocks for the stone pillars extended way up above. He had walked through similar formations in the hunting trips he spent with his brothers in the past, but those incidents could be counted in one hand. Such formations were rare. And most hid secrets.

It was no wonder that the one they were facing now hid another small village where bandits resided. And it was no wonder as well that his bloody sisters once found their way into that bandit village and made themselves new friends.

Ysabella turned her head to study her husband and she smiled. “He simply desires to see you experience Ned and Barto’s rite of passage , brother.”

Wakefield turned his blonde head at his wife. “I believe your friends unreservedly follow traditions, darling. I am merely happy to no longer be a part of it.” He turned to Maxwell and asked, “You do know Levi went through the same thing, yes?”

Maxwell ignored his brother-in-law and turned to Maxine who had been silent since they arrived in Blucksley. He faced her as she sat on a large rock beside Ysabella. He went down to level his gaze with hers and asked, “Are you certain you do not wish to do this on the morrow? We can do so at any day you wish, Maxie.”

Ysabella, sensing their conversation to be private, jumped to her feet and snatched her husband’s hand, saying, “I wish to stretch my legs, darling,” and dragged him away.

Maxine lifted her head and gazed at Maxwell, her pale grey eyes determined yet hesitant. “Do you reckon they can provide us with answers?”

He nodded despite the fact that he was doubtful. There were too many bandits all over the Town. Maxwell would indeed consider themselves very lucky if Ysabella’s friends could point them at the right direction.

“You are lying,” his wife said with a sigh, looking up ahead at the stone formations.

He scoffed and stood up straight, stretching his legs. “I am a cynic, Maxie,” he said to his wife, “but I do not diffuse hope when it is due.”

He heard her snort. “Of course—”

“Oi!” a loud voice boomed from across the street.

Ysabella and Wakefield whirled around a few paces away and Maxine saw his sister’s face light up as she ran toward the voice. Her husband was striding fast behind her.

Maxwell looked down at his wife and offered his hand. “I believe that is the bandit language for ‘move your arse’.”

Maxine rolled her eyes and took his hand to pull herself up. “I believe that is the bandit language for ‘trouble is coming’.”

They both turned and walked across the street to join Ysabella and Wakefield. The couple was facing two young bandits, both wearing newspaper boy hats and large coats.

“’This yer brother, Ysa?” the taller of the two men said.

Ysabella nodded with a smile. “Maxwell, yes,” she said. “And his wife, Maxine.”

Now that he had the chance to study both men, Maxwell let out a groan. “Not only did we meet these two gentlemen on a carriage ride to Willowfair,” he said, addressing his sister, “but I believe they were also in attendance at your wedding, Ysa.”

The taller of the two playfully pushed the other, saying, “Didn’t I tell ye he’s an Everard?”

“Aye,” said the other.

“Should we not move along?” Wakefield interrupted but his wife did not hear him as she made introductions. “These are Ned and Barto,” she said to Maxine and Maxwell. “They are Alex’s cousins.”

“And they do love ropes,” said Wakefield. “Go on, bring them out and let us get this rite of passage done at once.”

Ned and Barto frowned at Wakefield. “We didna bring any ropes, guv, no we didna!” Barto said, grinning with pride.

Wakefield started to scowl. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“Alex, see?” Ned said under her breath.

“We did read yer letter, guv,” Barto said to Wakefield.“

“What letter?” asked Ysabella.

Wakefield laughed and gave Barto a pat on the back. “Nothing, darling. Nothing.”

“He asked us to spare the woman,” Ned said, nodding at Maxine, “and use all ropes on the man,” he finished, nodding at Maxwell.

“A joke, of course!” Wakefield said, pushing Ned none too gently. “Off we go then!”

“Not a very good joke, William,” Maxwell heard Ysabella say as she followed her husband deeper into the tree rocks .

Maxwell grabbed Maxine’s hand and followed the group before them.

“Alex is excited to see ye,” Ned was saying, leading the group. “Wouldna stop fussin’ over us all, see?”

“Why did she not come along?” asked Ysabella.

“Her ‘pa won’t let her, see?” Barto said. “She can’t leave Meriwether for one bleedin’ month!”

“Why not?”

“Ah, long story, Ysa,” said Ned. “Come along! Hurry!”

Maxwell turned to throw Maxine a glance. She was awfully quiet.

Whatever they needed to find here, it better be better than nothing.

---

Anticipation left Maxine’s mind as the journey into Meriwether overtook her interest. Walking through the tree rocks was like walking into a dream. She found herself awed by the many revelations the Town had to offer. The tall stone pillars extended way up above them. Hints of lamp lights came from some parts above and she wondered if bandits were above there, watching their every step, guarding the entrance into their secret haven.

They walked across a rocky field and straight into a narrow corridor. It could have been a crack through a giant wall of rock, she thought. But the crack was as narrow as the service corridors around Nicholas’ estate, allowing them enough room to pass through, but not enough to walk side by side. Maxwell held her hand from behind him as light diminished for minutes, leaving them in utter darkness. After many blind steps, Maxine saw the light from the other end and they were nearly blinded by it when they finally emerged from the crack.

She looked up and her eyes widened in amazement to see a giant hole above them. It was daylight aboveground. The sky was lightest blue she had ever seen her entire life. A faint sound of the wind could be heard from where she was standing beside her husband. She sharply turned her head to get Maxwell’s attention but realized that he was looking up at the hole as well, eyes filled with awe.

“Welcome to Meriwether,” Ysabella uttered with a proud grin.

Maxine looked around and found stone houses scattered around them but never directly under the hole. From a far distance she could see trees and crop plantation. Not as large as the one they had in Theobald, but enough to sustain a small village like Meriwether.

“Alex!” Ysabella exclaimed and Maxine followed her sister-in-law with her eyes as Ysabella rushed toward a woman wearing breeches and boots.

Maxine stiffened when she saw the face of the woman beautifully beaming at Ysabella, her bushy black hair flying behind her as she quickened her steps to meet Ysabella’s embrace.

And beside her Maxine also felt Maxwell pause.

Ysabella tugged at the woman’s hand after their embrace and guided her toward them.

As the woman drew near, Maxine met the woman’s grey eyes.

---

Maxwell wanted to deny it, but the similarity was quite astounding. He wanted to study Alex closer, see if there was something else other than the dark hair and grey eyes, but the woman seemed too excited to have them as guests that she dragged Ysabella and everyone else into one of the stone houses.

Maxine did not move and Maxwell had to take her hand and pull her back to her senses. She flinched and when their eyes met he saw the panic in her eyes.

“We must see this through, Maxie,” he said, stepping closer. “Whatever it is you are thinking, do keep it to yourself for a while.”

She swallowed and slowly nodded her head.

He turned and followed Wakefield into the stone house.

“Have a great day, guv!” Ned and Barto called out before running away. “Thank us for no ropes next we meet, aye!” they added with a laugh. “An Everard jewel, please!” Barto shouted before Maxwell and Maxine completely disappeared into the stone house.

Alex was already standing in the middle of the house. Wakefield stood by Ysabella as she was lifted off the ground by a large, bearded man. “Ye must’ve had a jolly good time to not have written me a note, lass!” the man said in a booming voice. “How eez yer sister?”

“Emma is doing tremendously fine as we speak, buried in her books,” said Ysabella with a chuckle. “By the by, Gustav, allow me to introduce you to my family.” She stepped away from the man and waved her hand at Wakefield. “My husband, William Hayward, Lord of Wakefield.”

“Agh,” Gustav uttered, taking Wakefield’s hand and shaking it with such strength that Wakefield’s shoulder shook with it. “A lord! Ye lass know what ye want, eh?”

Ysabella merely laughed and waved her hand at Maxwell and Maxine. “And my brother, Maxwell Everard, Lord of Kenward and his wife, Maxine.” An awkward silence followed as Ysabella struggled whether or not she must mention Maxine’s name.

“I am a Theobald bastard,” Maxine spoke for the first time, surprising everyone but the bandits.

“Not a problem, eh?” asked Gustav, walking toward Maxwell and Maxine to both give them the same courtesy as Wakefield.

Maxwell noted how Maxine studied the man’s features before Gustav turned to face Ysabella. “Alex tells me ye want to speak with us, aye?”

Ysabella nodded. She walked over to where Maxine and Maxwell were. Alex and her father followed her with curiosity. “As you very well know by now, my sister-in-law is a bastard and she is in search of her birth mother.”

Alex and Gustav frowned. Maxwell took the chance to study father and daughter and realized that Alex took her bushy mane from her father. Her grey eyes were darker than Maxine’s. His first impression was slowly ebbing away and he was not certain if it was good or bad.

“Have a seat then,” Alex said, pointing at the tattered sofa at one corner.

Wakefield and Ysabella walked over to seat while Maxwell guided his wife to take the chair beside the sofa and stood beside her.

Alex and her father sat beside each other opposite Ysabella and Wakefield.

“Are ye not goin’ to sit, guv?” asked Alex.

Maxwell shook his head. “I am fine.”

“Very well,” Alex said with a shrug, turning to Maxine. “How can we help?”

When Maxine opened her mouth to speak, no words came out. Maxwell took the liberty to explain their mission and said, “My wife’s birth mother is a Trilby.” Alex and her father were surprised at the revelation. “And she was banished from Willowfair after she gave birth to Maxine.”

“We have gained knowledge that she was taken in by the western bandits,” Maxine was finally able to say.

A short silence followed as they allowed Alex and her father to absorb the information.

Finally, Alex blinked and she frowned. “Yer not thinkin’ that coz we ’ave the same hair coloring and grey eyes that we ’ave the same mother, aye?”

Maxwell held his breath. Yes, of course they thought of it at first sight, yet now that Alex had so wisely pointed it out in the open he thought the idea to be farfetched.

“Perhaps,” he heard Maxine reply in a weak voice. “But your eyes are darker and mine are pale.”

Gustav allowed a heavy sigh of relief before he chuckled. “For a moment I wondered if me wife, God bless her soul, did have another daughter!”

Alex snorted. “Impossible! Me ’ma was no Trilby! She was no gentry!”

Gustav nodded his head vigorously. “I vow to ye all that Alex ’ir eez me own! ’Er ‘ma died upon givin’ birth, see? But she was no gentry! We grew up together!”

Maxwell planted his hand over Maxine’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It would be quite astonishing if the two of you are related at all,” Ysabella admitted. “Apart from a slight similarity on hair and eyes, I do not believe the same.”

Maxine let out a nervous chuckle. “I had been searching for my mother for quite some time now and I do hope you forgive me if I jumped to conclusions,” she admitted.

“Nae need to apologize,” Gustav said, waving his hand. He leaned his forearms over his knees like a giant rock bending over into a ball and gave Maxine a serious look. “But dear lass, we’re not the only bandits! And ye say yer mother took refuge with the western bandits, aye?”

Maxine nodded. “As was told by my aunt,” she said. “My mother’s sister.”

“A Trilby?” Gustav asked.

“Yes.”

“You must’na believe a Trilby’s word, lass,” Gustav said, shaking his head. Maxwell could not agree more. “But I will ask ’round. I ’ave friends in the west.”

Alex nodded. “I will help.”

“No, you will not!” Gustav boomed and everyone flinched at the volume of his voice. “Ye can’t leave Meriwether.”

“But ’pa!” Alex whined, stomping her foot.

Gustav gave his daughter a sharp look before turning to face the Everards. “She nearly got ’erself in trouble two days ’go,” he explained. “Tried to rob a bloody Guard!”

“Oh, Alex,” Ysabella said, shaking her head with a mixture of concern and mirth.

“I did’na know he was a bleedin’ Guard!” Alex cried in defense.

“Still a fatal mistake!” Gustav said, shaking his head. “If yer ‘ma eez alive, she would’ve died!” As he fell quiet, he gazed at Maxine once again. “Pardon me fer sayin’ this, lass, but ye were unlucky to be born as a Trilby.”

“’Pa!” Alex said in horror.

“Fret not,” Maxine said. “The Trilbys do have a reputation for being horrible to people, even to the ones they consider their own.”

Gustav shook his head. “They’re far worse than that, lass, I tell ye.”

Maxwell frowned. “Pray tell.”

Gustav shook his head, saying, “Nae, guv. ’Tis a matter only fer bandits, see?”

Alex sighed. “The Trilbys have control over some of our own, that’s what my father is tryin’ to say.”

“Alexandria,” Gustav uttered with warning.

Alex shrugged and said, “They’re no enemies, ’Pa! They’re also enemies of our enemies!”

But Gustav’s gaze fell on Maxine. Maxwell felt Maxine cower in discomfort. He stepped forward. “My wife has lived all her life as a Theobald. She may have Trilby blood in her veins, but she is no Trilby.”

Alex slapped her father’s arm. “Now see what you’ve done!” She turned to Maxwell and smiled. “Yer wife is an Everard now, milord. And a Theobald, of course!”

Gustav merely grunted. “Forgive me, lass,” he said to Maxine. “I have a village to protect, see?”

Maxine nodded. “Of course, I fully understand.”

“But he’ll help ye still, is that not right, ’Pa?” asked Alex reassuringly.

Gustav nodded. “I’ll speak with me friends in the west. But nae promises.”

“That is enough for us,” said Ysabella.

Gustav’s gaze did not leave Maxine and he added, “But ask the Trilbys again, lass. They could’ve lied.”

Maxwell could not disagree on that matter. Amelia Trilby could have indeed misled them.

“One ought to be careful where the bloody Trilbys are concerned,” Gustav said in a very dangerous tone before his face lit up and he smiled. “What ye say to a bucket of brew?”

“I would love some, please,” Wakefield immediately replied.

Gustav slapped his knees and laughed. “I like yer husband, Ysa, lass!”

Ysabella smiled. “As do I, Gustav.”

---

Maxwell followed Maxine outside the stone house while Alex and her father entertained Ysabella and Wakefield with recent stories of misfortunes and fortunes on the road. Their laughter faded as he closed the door behind him.

Taking careful steps, he stood beside her and joined her looking at the children running about, gaily laughing as a young bandit ran after them with a stick.

“What do you plan to do now, Maxie?” he asked.

Maxine shook her head, keeping her silence.

“We can wait for Gustav to be done with his inquiries, and while doing so I can gather acquaintances to locate your mother.” He turned to study her face. “But that will mean telling them the truth about you and your family.”

His wife moistened her lips with her tongue and her jaw tightened. “I have seen this coming, you see,” she said in a voice only for him to hear.

“This matter requires time, Maxie. We are not failing if that is what you are thinking.”

He saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “You always know what I am thinking.”

“As your husband, it is now an instinct,” he said with a sigh. “It came with the ring on your finger.”

Her smile grew but did not reach her eyes. “Max,” she said after a while.

“What is it?”

“I want to see my family.”

He looked down and saw the longing in her eyes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Which one?” he asked without elaborating. He knew she knew what he was trying to ask.

She turned and tilted her head to plant a soft kiss on his jaw. “The only ones I have, of course—the Theobalds and the Everards.” She looked into his eyes and added, “Perhaps my brothers shall give you a taste of their own rite of passage , milord.”

Maxwell stiffened. He did not like how that sounded.

XXXVI. Our Own Chaos

The bustling town of Wickhurst, its gossipmongers, the quite-more-decent folks and even friends of the Everards were ignorant of the slight mayhem that followed the arrival of Maxwell Everard and his wife. Perhaps the servants had their ears pressed against the walls, hearing the incessant gasps and exclamation coming from their mistresses and masters, but none of them would dare let the story out as it was apparent that the Everards would wish the news be kept a secret—for now, of course.

Maxine could not believe that Maxwell was completely calm, utterly at ease in his chair while his mother fanned herself with her hands.

“I—I—” Lady Alice started once more, looking around the parlor at her seemingly amused children.

Ysabella and Wakefield were seated behind her, keeping quite a good distance from the lady for they knew they were in on the secret that ought not to have been a secret. Emma was studying Maxine with a small smile on her lips. Margaret was gaping at Maxwell with a mixture of amazement and shock, her husband standing behind her with a knowing grin. Nicholas was whistling a happy tune beside the astonished Ralph, pretending that he had known all along.

Maxine was quite certain that she would be seeing Benedict and Levi soon enough the moment her family’s arrival could be determined. If she were lucky, their wives might opt to skip the messy meeting.

“Another Tiny Town wedding!” Lady Alice gasped out, gripping Emma’s hand. “Maxwell Arthur Everard, you—” she stopped and gave up, shaking her head.

Maxine bowed her head, utterly aware of the woman’s disappointment.

“I have always known you are capable of it,” Lady Alice said, making Ralph scoff and Nicholas to snicker. Margaret let out a surprised snort as did Emma. “You are the sort to do it, of course—but it is not funny! All of you, stop laughing!”

Maxine flinched and she felt Maxwell’s reassuring hand cover her hand. He gave it a squeeze before he dryly stated, “Are you angry, Mother, because I eloped or because you were not invited?”

She could not let the answer pass without witnessing Lady Alice’s reaction so Maxine lifted her eyes and found the woman’s eyes wide, looking quite scandalous. “Both, of course!” She stood and paced the center of the parlor as her children followed her with their eyes. “I have made your father promise that we are to be the last to elope to Tiny Town. But it seems he perished without relaying such promise to his sons!” Maxine nudged Maxwell’s side when her husband chuckled inwardly but he was not the only one for the others were doing the same. “First Levi and then you!” she turned to throw Ralph and Nicholas a murderous look. “Are you to be next?”

“I have already reserved the largest church for my wedding in the future, Mother,” Nicholas lied.

“Your gown is already being made by Madam Vernice as we speak,” Ralph followed laughingly. “I believe it shall be more beautiful than my future bride’s.”

Lady Alice’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “Dare not mock me!” She whirled to face Maxwell and scowled. “And you sit there completely at ease!”

“I am conserving my energy, Mother,” her husband stated. “As you must already realize, I shall soon suffer a rather thorough beating from two very angry brothers.”

“One you fully well deserve!” Alice Everard snapped. She was nearly panting with extreme emotions that she had been displaying, ones that ranged from surprise, amazement, fury, joy and then back to fury. She was about to continue her tirade but when her eyes landed on Maxine and their joined hands, she paused and let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, dear lord, a Theobald! Who would have thought!”

“And now the truth just came to her,” Maxwell muttered near Maxine’s ear. “The worst is over.”

“Oh, what do I tell your parents, dear?” Lady Alice uttered, walking over to snatch Maxine’s hand from Maxwell’s. “I have never met you, but I do know about you.”

Maxine stiffened. “You do?”

“Of course! Rachel confides in me all her secrets and she has naught but beautiful things to say about you, dear!” Lady Alice looked at her with eyes glimmering with awe. “I have always feared that Lady Gedge would reveal who you truly are. You do not deserve to be presented to society by means of gossip!”

“Lady Gedge shall not have the chance, Mother,” Ysabella said from where she was sitting. “I have made certain of that.”

Lady Alice smiled and gently asked, “Now, tell me dear, did my son force you into this marriage?”

“Mother,” Maxwell uttered with warning as he snatched Maxine’s hand back to his, but his mother ignored him, eyes still on Maxine.

“Tell me, did he? For I shall not have it! Did he drag you to Tiny Town after having comprom—after seduc—after beguiling your innocence?”

Nicholas and Ralph guffawed but suddenly stopped when Maxwell turned his head to glower at them. Margaret and Ysabella were hiding their laughter behind one hand. Emma’s face was hidden by her hand as she shook her head in disbelief and embarrassment.

Maxine felt her face flush. “No, he did not, my lady.”

“Mother. You call me Mother,” said Lady Alice.

“I was there when your son proposed, Mother,” said Nicholas in a wicked tone. “Or was that a proposal, Max?”

Lady Alice frowned over Maxwell’s scowl. “Whatever do you mean, Nicholas?”

Nicholas shrugged. “If I remember correctly—”

“Nicholas,” Maxwell roared in warning.

“If I remember correctly, he did stalk her inside my study like a bloody tiger,” Nicholas said. “As they did try to explain earlier, she was working for me as a valet by then.”

“Stalked you?” Lady Alice asked, gazing at Maxine.

“And I begged her to marry me,” Maxwell said.

“That is not truly how it happened—” Nicholas started but Maxwell had jumped to his feet and he stuttered, saying, “B-but he did beg her, yes. On his knees if you so wish to know.”

“I was not forced,” Maxine said before Maxwell and Nicholas could ruin everything. It was hard enough to keep everyone as calm as possible when they told them of her identity and her deception toward Nicholas and his household. Of course, the matter of her being a Trilby was yet to be revealed but that was for another day when Lady Alice was ready for more undesirable news. As for now, with the exception of Nicholas, Ysabella and Wakefield, everyone thought she ran away from home to search for her mother whose identity was still unknown. The trip to the bandits was also left unshared for the protection of Alex and the whole village of Meriwether.

Lady Alice was frowning as she looked at Maxine’s hand clasped with Maxwell’s. “Maxwell, you ought to do better than this.”

Maxwell groaned. “What now?”

“That is no wedding ring!” his mother exclaimed, pointing at Maxine’s finger.

“One is being made ready, Mother, fret not.”

“Then it ought to be ready before the Theobalds arrive!” Lady Alice demanded, straightening to her feet. “And by God I do hope you can survive her brothers!”

“Ah, Samuel would have a fit, I tell you,” Ralph said with amusement. “He did ask for your help, did he not? And all along you have been keeping her a secret!”

Maxine warily looked at Maxwell. He did appear calm, but his jaw was tight.

“He deserves whatever punishment Gabriel and Samuel bestows him,” Lady Alice snapped.

“I would recommend a fortnight’s amount of laudanum, Maxwell,” Cole wickedly suggested.

“Have one concocted a day prior to their arrival,” added Wakefield. “And do try to not move too much as they throw the blows. It ends faster that way.”

Nicholas and Ralph guffawed until they were bent on their waists. Emma sighed and stood to her feet. “I can never stand such cruelty,” she said, “but I do hope you get what you have bestowed upon our brothers-in-law.” She looked over at Maxine and said, “As for you, dear Maxine, I welcome you to our very own chaos.”

“Chaos indeed!” Lady Alice agreed. “Now, I must go and find my writing articles as I have to inform your brothers to come to Wickhurst for another family dinner.”

“It was already done,” said Maxwell. “My missives must have already arrived in Devonshire and Standbury as we speak.” Lady Alice opened her mouth to speak but Maxwell further added, “And the Theobalds must already be packing.”

Lady Alice scoffed. “Very well, then, all of you be ready!” She looked at everyone and added, “No mischief!”

---

“Might I add that you are luckier than I, my dear?” said Victoria, Tori to her intimates, while they were sitting in a much larger drawing room in the Everard estate two days later. “When Levi and I eloped to Tiny Town, we merely had the carriage driver as witness. And you did not have to escape through a window!”

Emma laughed. “I still cannot imagine how you must have felt, Nick.”

Nicholas growled from a corner. “I am utterly at a loss as to why I never saw that she is a woman!”

“You are a blind fool as most of us were, brother,” Ralph snickered, “but then now that I think of it, I merely encountered Maxine twice. The first time I had my face buried in a spittoon and the second was with her scurrying away in hiding as I was with Samuel.”

“You seem awfully quiet than the usual, Maxwell,” Benedict noted, his scarred face crinkling at the slight grin on his face. When Benedict and Levi arrived with their families, Maxine found it hard to be accustomed to the eldest brother’s character. He was too reserved that the sight of him grinning now seemed more like a dream for Maxine. “Already suffering the imminent beating?” she heard Benedict continue. “I know for a fact that Gabriel has as much skill as you bloody bastards are with swords and pistols.” He turned to Levi and asked, “Was it him who knocked the soul out of that fool while you were in Adam’s?”

“The very same,” said Levi. “And there were other fools, Ben, not merely one.”

“He was a senior, I believe and we could have been no match, I must shamefully admit,” Wakefield added, pretending to look scared.

Maxine grew uncomfortable. Samuel would likely be more on the forgiving side, but she could not say the same for Gabriel.

“Oh, give Maxwell a moment of rest from your mocking,” Agatha, Benedict’s wife said as she stood up. “Come, Margaret, I will require your help.”

“Where are you going?” Benedict asked.

“To order Charlotte to start heating water, of course,” Agatha said, giving Maxine a wink as she passed, “and prepare some salve.” Nicholas and Ralph roared in laughter. “As you all very well know, warm water aids with bruises and a concoction of a domestic remedy for wounds is a must in a situation such as this.”

Her husband snorted and crossed one leg over the other. “I suggest you bother not, my dear,” he said, giving Maxwell a taunting look. “He very well deserves a good beating. Do look after Ayah instead.”

“But I do love Max,” Margaret said with a smile. “I will assist Agatha with thorough precision.”

Margaret pulled the door open just in time for a very angry-looking blonde man stride inside. Eustace Theobald was closely followed by his wife who looked awfully worried and two other gentlemen who appeared to be ready for murder.

Eustace’s face roamed around the room and immediately Maxine found herself shifting closer to her husband. She feared that if her father was to take her alone, she would never see him again. Add the fact that her brothers were there, eyes already on their target, there was also the chance that she would never lay eyes on her husband alive.

“Children,” Lady Alice said, voice serious, “I believe the parlor has enough tea and biscuits.”

Everyone stood as the previous jesting mood completely vanished, leaving naught but an eerie sense of silent panic and dread.

“Forgive me, my lords and lady,” Benedict uttered when everyone had left apart from their mother and the Theobalds, “but as head of the family, I opt to stay.”

Eustace did not bother, nor did he wait for introductions. He stormed over to where Maxine was and said, “Get up, young lady for you and I need to talk.” Without taking his eyes away from his daughter, he asked, “Could we borrow your study, Lady Alice?”

Lady Alice nodded. “Yes, of course. I will escort you.”

Maxine slowly stood up as her father gave her a look of warning. Maxwell did to, intending to come along, but Gabriel, in his large built and strikingly rough feature very much the same to that of their father, stepped forward and said, “It is very nice to meet you again, Benedict,” he greeted the eldest Everard, “but I wish to talk with one of your brothers.” Samuel was standing beside Gabriel, eyes on Benedict.

Maxine stepped forward and opened her mouth to speak, to tell them that there was no need for blood, but Maxwell stopped her by gently pulling her hand back. “Go with your father, Maxie.”

Lord Theobald snapped his head toward Maxwell and glowered. “You and I shall have another time to talk.”

“Yes,” was Maxwell’s short and serious reply.

Lady Theobald stepped forward, face filled with worry. “Come, Maxine—”

“You are not coming with us, Rachel,” Eustace said.

“I will,” Rachel said in a strong voice as she took Maxine’s hand. “I could not very well allow you to have a chat with our daughter alone at your state!” She turned and dragged Maxine out the door.

Maxine looked over her shoulder and found Maxwell giving her a reassuring smile before Gabriel’s back blocked her view.

As Lady Alice led them to her study, Maxine prayed that this chaos would not turn out as bloody as the other Everard brothers had pictured.

---

Rachel led Maxine into the study. Eustace waited until Lady Alice exited the room with a worried look.

The very moment the door closed, her father whirled around to face her. “Tell me why, Maxine,” he snarled under his breath. “Why!”

Maxine flinched and if it were not for Rachel’s comforting hand, she would have crumpled on the ground, crying with guilt.

“You step away from her, Rachel, she does not need to be comforted at the moment!” Eustace ordered. “She has been naught but irresponsible and impetuous!”

Her stepmother’s hand tightened around Maxine’s shoulder as she said, “And the reason for her actions could not solely be blamed on her, Eustace! She has begged that you tell her the truth for years and yet you—”

“Do not defend her!”

“I will as long as you continue berating your daughter over something you have deprived of her for years, treating her like a child when she is far older enough to understand!” Rachel shouted. “She is yours, Eustace, but she is not wholly yours and she deserves that other part of her!”

Her father fell silent, perhaps because of Rachel’s outburst more than the truth behind her words. Finally he sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “No wonder she did what she did. She took after you.”

Rachel’s brow arched. “She knows how to fight for what she wants, of course she took after me,” Rachel uttered with pride.

Maxine dared gaze up and look at her father but her eyes watered when his pale grey eyes mellowed and he asked, “Are you well?”

She could not speak for the lump in her throat was too great. She simply managed a nod as a tear fell from her eye.

“Do you have any inkling of what you have made us go through?” His voice was gentle now, but the anger was still palpable.

She swallowed and said, “Yes and I am sorry, Papa.”

Her father scoffed and said to his wife, “How the bloody hell can I scold her with menace if she calls me that?”

Rachel shook with silent laughter beside Maxine. “I taught her that, my lord.” And before Eustace could speak another word, Rachel added, “Perhaps it is time you tell your daughter the truth.”

“There is no need,” Maxine said. “I know the truth.” She looked into her father’s eyes. “I am a Trilby.”

Rachel stiffened beside her but spoke no further.

“I spoke with Amelia Trilby,” Maxine continued.

Her father’s eyes flickered with anger once more. “You must not have! The Trilbys do—”

“I understand why you found it necessary to hide my true identity from me, but I had to speak to them. I had to know where she is.”

Her father’s face tightened.

“Where is she?” she asked. “If you know, please tell me,” she nearly begged as more tears flowed down her face.

“She was banished as I found out very much later,” her father shared. “I honestly do not know where she is.”

Rachel pulled her closer toward her in a half embrace.

Maxine blinked. “I am named after her.”

Eustace nodded.

“I wish to know more about her then,” Maxine demanded.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “If you promise to not disappear again,” he bartered.

Her lips twitched into a smile. “My husband would dare not let that happen, I believe. You can be assured that—”

“Then we shall talk more about your mother on a more convenient time,” Eustace Theobald interrupted. “For now, it is my utmost desire to speak to this husband of yours.”

“Papa, please do not—”

“Do not call me that, Maxine, most especially when I am planning to throttle your husband’s neck,” her father warned.

“But, Papa, I married him because I wanted to!”

“Or perhaps because you have been tricked!” her father countered. “You ran away from home with a goal, child, and I believe you have not been naïve enough to have included marriage as part of that!”

“For God’s sake, Eustace, leave and have your way with her husband if you will,” Rachel said, waving her hand. “Go. Leave us for a moment.”

“No,” Maxine started to protest but Rachel squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

Her father stared at her with warning. “We are not done talking. Dare not think you are utterly forgiven for what you have done.”

She nodded helplessly. She would face another wrath from her father so long as she knew she had a husband to go back to. When her father turned and left the study, probably to join his sons inside the drawing room, Maxine turned to Rachel with worry.

“Fret not,” Rachel reassured, guiding her toward the sofa. “Your father cannot strike a blow.”

“But Gabriel and Samuel must—”

“Let men be men, Maxine,” Rachel gently uttered, tenderly studying her face. Her stepmother lifted her hand to smoothen her hair. “Oh, what did you do to your hair?”

Another drop of tear threatened to roll from her eye and Rachel wiped it off with her thumb. “I am sorry,” Maxine choked. “Forgive me—”

Her stepmother shook her head. “I must admit that you have worried us to such great extent, Maxine, but I also happen to understand why you did what you did. We have been treating you like a child but you no longer are.” Rachel took her hands in hers. “Are you quite satisfied now that you know the truth?”

“Somehow, yes,” Maxine admitted.

“How did you discover it?”

She related how she discovered the old articles of the Herald and Rachel’s eyes glimmered with awe. “But I would love to find her,” Maxine added later.

Rachel nodded and remained quiet. Then a smile curved on her lips. “And you have married, dear. Now, that is one matter I find hard to forgive. I would have loved to be there at the wedding.”

Maxine tearfully chuckled.

Rachel cupped her face and peered to look at her eyes. “Do you love him, dear?”

She swallowed. “I might, yes.”

Her stepmother sighed. “Perhaps it is better that you are not quite certain, but as you learn to love him, dear, you must also ensure that he loves you in return.”

Maxine meekly whispered, “He did confess he is in love with me.”

Rachel’s smile widened with satisfaction. “That is very good to know! The suffering you get in loving a man who does not love you back is immense, but to have him love you is the most rewarding.”

Maxine started to sob once more and Rachel frowned.

“What is the matter now?”

Maxine continued to sob and her stepmother patiently waited until it subsided into hiccups. She flung her arms around Rachel, smelling her scent, realizing how she had missed it. “I have never called you Mother for I always believed I do not deserve you after what father did to you,” she choked against the woman’s blonde hair. “You must have suffered a lot because of me.”

Rachel took hold of her shoulders to gently push her away and her stepmother gave her a stern look. “Your father’s sins against me are not yours, Maxine. I suffered not because of you, but because of the choices I have let others make for me. I entered our marriage upon an arrangement by our parents. I married your father knowing he had the potential to hurt me and I faced the consequences. But I also fought for him. I won the battle and gained an extra prize when you came into our lives.” Maxine whimpered at her stepmother’s words. “You are a daughter I never had and you always will be. Do you understand?” Rachel gave her a gentle shake. “I will always claim you as mine, dear, as I did your father. Anytime you are ready to call me Mother, then I shall be.”

“But you are—you always have been,” Maxine choked out. “Can I call you Mother now? I have refused to call Lady Alice Mother for I believe you deserve it first and foremost.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded. “Very well, then, of course. I would not have forgiven you should you have called Alice that first, my dear.”

“But I do plan to call you Mama,” Maxine said in jest.

Rachel pulled her closer in an embrace. “Whichever you so choose, Maxine. Whichever you so choose.”

---

Benedict winced as Gabriel sent Maxwell staggering back with one blow, but he dared not move to help his brother.

“Pardon our intrusion, Benedict, but we wish to have our way with this particular brother of yours,” Gabriel nonchalantly uttered as Samuel grabbed Maxwell by the collar to straighten him on both feet merely to receive another blow from Gabriel.

“Of course,” Benedict said, wincing once more when Maxwell grunted from Gabriel’s blow. “I had allowed my brothers do the same to my brothers-in-law. I would not deprive them the chance to be at the receiving end.” He watched as Maxwell wiped one corner of his lips with the back of his hand. “So long as you don’t murder him, of course. Keep in mind that Cole is a Man of Courts and Ralph a Town Guard. We would not wish this jolly family meeting to end somewhere else other than this estate.”

Maxwell wished his brother would stop talking. He did not intend to fight back, but hearing Benedict’s words made him wish he could picture Gabriel and Samuel as two Benedicts and have his way with them.

“You have three sisters, Kenward,” Gabriel said to Maxwell, hitting him with iron knuckles. “You ought to have recognized the consequences when you chose to debauch the only one we have!”

Maxwell let out another grunt when Gabriel’s last blow landed him on the edge of the chair.

“Careful with the furniture, gentlemen, my mother is particularly fond of that one,” Benedict warned when Samuel pulled Maxwell off the chair.

“I went to ask for your help, you bloody bastard,” Samuel growled.

Maxwell remained silent and concentrated on not losing consciousness, a matter that was surely to happen should the two brothers not cease their attacks.

Gabriel was as large as him, yet the man had a very powerful hand. He hurt in places, but it was nothing to what he had done to their family. Perhaps he deserved more.

The door burst open and Eustace Theobald stormed in. “That is enough,” he ordered his two sons. “Your mother and Maxine will be out in a moment.”

“The bloody hell I care,” Gabriel growled, grabbing Maxwell by his collar.

“And Lady Alice wishes to serve tea in this very room. Do clean up, all of you, and present yourselves in your best behavior.”

Gabriel pulled Maxwell closer and uttered under his breath, “She is the only sister we have, Kenward.”

“I know,” he ruggedly replied, panting.

“She is the only one,” Gabriel repeated.

Maxwell nodded.

Maxine’s eldest brother needn’t further elaborate. Maxine was the only sister they had and if something untoward happened to her in any way under his care, he would have to face them again.

Gabriel shoved him back unto the chair while Samuel continued to glower. “You owe us, Kenward,” were the only words the younger brother rustled before he straightened his coat and turned to face their father. “Time for tea then?” he asked.

Eustace Theobald’s eyes went to Maxwell as his sons exited the room. “You don’t hurt her,” he said in a voice far more dangerous than sons’.

Maxwell nodded.

“And you give her everything she deserves,” Eustace added.

Maxwell nodded again.

“Even a divorce if she wishes it.”

Maxwell refused to nod at that, very much aware of the gut-wrenching feeling the word divorce elicited, but he said, “A request I shall ensure she will never ask.”

Father and son-in-law gazed into each other’s eyes for a long time. Eustace finally nodded and turned to Benedict. “Your father would have been awfully satisfied if he ever witnessed this day.”

“Of course,” Benedict said with a smile. “He had always wanted our families to be united.”

Maxwell groaned as he slowly stood to his feet, every part of him hurting.

Ah, there was tea and dinner. The worst was yet to come then.

---

Maxine rushed to find Maxwell and discovered Ralph, Nicholas, Levi, Cole and Wakefield outside the drawing room. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Alarm crept inside her. “What happened?”

Ralph shrugged as he patted a large painting on the wall. “I was tasked to guard this precious thing. The walls were trembling as your brothers pierced the soul out of one of ours.”

Nicholas snickered and he motioned with his head. “Your husband, we fear, is still alive, Maxine, fret not.”

“Simply here to make certain Gabriel does not escape our mother’s attention and find his way back inside,” Levi added with a grin.

Three pairs of emerald green eyes were glimmering with mirth and Maxine flickered hers with annoyance, glancing over at Cole and Wakefield.

“Oh, do not mind us, my lady,” Wakefield said, “We are simply waiting for the room to be vacated.”

“We heard there will be tea,” Cole supplied dryly but with a glint of amusement.

“Blood-thirsty devils,” she muttered under her breath as she walked past Ralph who exaggeratedly held on to the edge of the painting and burst into the room.

Her husband had his back turned, pouring himself a glass of brandy. Benedict sighed in relief when he saw her and stood to his feet. “Ah, finally,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment as I search for my wife. As promised, she has prepared hot water and salve for the wounds and bruises.”

Maxine groaned as her brother-in-law walked past her.

“Is no one taking these beatings seriously?” she asked Maxwell whose back was still turned to her. “Maxwell, turn around and have me look at your face.”

“I am afraid I do look horrible, love,” he said but he did turn and she gasped at the sight of him.

“Oh God,” she said, rushing forward. He had a lopsided grin on his face as she carefully cupped his face to turn it left and right. “You do look awful from every angle, I am afraid,” she said. His left eye had closed and the other side of his face was starting to swell. Blood was on one corner of his lips and she carefully wiped it away with her thumb.

“Welcome to our own chaos,” he said before he gulped down the contents of his glass. She took it from his hand with a stern look.

“No more drinking,” she said, putting the glass away.

“Ah, it bloody hurts like hell, Maxie,” he groaned as she led him across the room. “I believe I will not survive dinner.”

“Of course you can, you fool,” she snapped.

“I’d rather sleep,” he said. “Take me home.”

“We are to sit around the table with everyone for tea and we shall dine with them afterwards.” She pushed the door open and the five men guarding outside earlier all jumped to their feet with expectant looks. The very moment they saw Maxwell’s face, Nicholas and Ralph shook with chuckles. Levi snickered while Cole and Wakefield had similar satisfied smiles.

“At the very least Wakefield still looked handsome after his beating,” Ralph chortled. “You, brother, look like—”

“Speak another word and all of you shall have a taste of the blows I was able to contain earlier,” Maxwell snarled at them.

Maxine glared at the five men as she dragged her husband away and up the staircase.

“Where is your old bedchamber?” she asked when they reached the second landing. “I will seek Agatha out while you rest for a bit. We cannot have your face all swollen during dinner. However will you chew your food!”

But Maxwell pulled her back with enough strength that she almost crashed against his chest. His head bent and he gave her a light kiss on the mouth. “It is over, Maxie, need not fret.”

She glared at him. “You look horrible, Max. You are a fool to think that I could simply ignore this!”

He kissed her once again. “I may be a fool, love, but I also do love like one.” Her heart plummeted at his words and she almost flung her arms around his neck. “Now, off to my bedchamber,” he said, pulling her with him. “Ah, bloody hell, it bloody hurts like a devil. And the worst is yet to come with tea and dinner!”

XXXVII. Rock’oles Scorn

“Well?” asked Cole, brows arched high. “Why are we here?”

Wakefield looked around the gaming room of Grey’s. “I do not see Nick or Ralph anywhere.” He frowned at Maxwell and narrowed his eyes. “Why are we here?”

“I do have a favor to ask,” he started but his brothers-in-law were already shaking their heads. “You have not heard it yet.”

“Well, if it is about your wife’s family tormenting you with daily missives, I believe there is no law against it and we cannot take them to courts,” Cole said. “I cannot help you.”

“And if you are planning to use me as part of a plan to take revenge, Max, I tell you that it is not necessary,” Wakefield added. “We dared not do it, Cole and I, am I right, Cole?”

He glared at the two men. “That is not what I have in mind.”

Both men leaned back against their chairs. “Then what is it?”

“I would like for both of you to talk to your wives.”

Cole and Wakefield frowned. “What for?”

“Ask them to talk to mine.”

“Do not tell me you and Maxine are estranged. It has merely been fortnight since that ruckus in your mother’s estate.”

“Do cease your outrageous imaginations, Wakefield,” he snapped. “Ask your wives to talk to mine. Convince her to agree to a grand wedding.”

“She has expressed no desire for a grand wedding,” Cole said under his breath. “And everyone understands it.”

Maxwell sighed. “Her brothers would not stop urging me to do it and I have tired myself of asking her.”

“Then bloody tell them to urge her ,” Wakefield uttered.

Cole looked at Maxwell for a while. “I shall ask Meg but I cannot promise that she will agree.”

“And Ysabella will most definitely do what her friend and sister-in-law wishes,” Wakefied said. “But of course, I will try.”

“She is proving to be difficult where the matter about her birth is concerned.”

Cole shrugged. “One cannot blame her. We have all witnessed many bastards meeting bad fates in the past.”

“But the story will soon come out,” Maxwell said. “Even if the Herald cannot publish it because of Samuel, the gossipmongers will soon smell the scent of a gossip.”

“Is that why you are taking her to Kenward? Ysabella shared your plans.”

“Yes,” Maxwell retorted, taking a gulp from his glass. “We decided to reside there.”

“Finally leaving Vinge, eh?” Wakefield chuckled.

“And what of her other family?” Cole asked.

“You mean the Trilbys,” he said and then shrugged. “She has not spoken about them.”

“And the search for her mother?”

“We have not discussed it since the family dinner.”

Wakefield studied him with assessing eyes. “And how is marriage faring you?”

“Very well,” he snapped. He took another long gulp from his glass. “I have a question,” he stated after a moment of silence. His brothers-in-law waited with anticipation. “Do you tell your wives you love them? If so, how often?”

Cole sputtered in his drink while Wakefield laughed at the top of his lungs, nearly toppling back on his chair.

“What?” Maxwell asked with frustration.

“Max,” Cole said, “do not tell me you have not yet told her. It is obvious that you do.”

“Of course I have told her. I am no fool.”

“Then do so every bloody day so she does not forget,” Cole said. “Not in words all the time, of course. There are other ways.”

“So long as she returns the words and actions, Max, you will remain a foolishly happy man,” Wakefield said.

Maxwell’s face turned grim.

Cole and Wakefield frowned at him.

Then Wakefield gasped as the realization came to him. “She has not said the words yet, has she?” He guffawed, slapping the table. “Ah, bloody famous!”

Cole’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “You are in a bloody big predicament, Maxwell.”

Maxwell swallowed his drink. “I gave her an ultimatum.”

It was Wakefield’s turn to sputter and Cole to chortle.

“Why the devil would you do that!” Wakefield cried out, coughing hysterically.

Maxwell shrugged, not offering a reply. He stared at Cole who could not stop from laughing. “I believe she will not ask for a divorce. She asked for our families to meet after all and that does not signify a separation, rather a union.”

“Or she could simply have asked to meet both families to confess—” Wakefield stopped when Maxwell glowered at him. “Why the bloody hell are you asking these questions if you go and act like the devil himself when we offer undesirable replies!”

Maxwell harshly grabbed the bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass. “She has not expressed the desire to be separated from me.”

“Of course, because she is still in need of your help,” Wakefield wryly uttered.

“Still in search of her mother, is she not?” Cole added conspiratorially. “I agree with William. Maxine still finds the need of you.”

“The two of you are bloody useless,” he snapped, emptying his glass.

Cole and Wakefield’s laughter slowly died down and their faces morphed into pity. “You must be patient,” said Cole. “Your wife is the kind of woman who does things impetuously. She is also rather proud. In fact, the two of you are utterly similar. You must know better.”

Wakefield leaned against his chair and sighed. “I say honesty is not working for your wife, Maxwell.”

He frowned. “Whatever do you mean?” Cole turned to Wakefield with the same questioning look.

His brother-in-law slowly let out a wicked smile. “I say you make her do her own confession.”

“How?” Cole asked before Maxwell could.

Wakefield leaned his forearms on the table and lowered his voice. “When I started to believe that Ysa was considering other men, my brother included, I started to recognize an undeniable surge of jealousy,” he stated, “and that jealousy turned to fear—intense fear, I tell you. And look where I am now.” He smiled at Maxwell. “I believe such feelings are not solely for men. It is also applicable on women.”

Cole shrugged and leaned back into his chair. “Meg has given hint that a scorned, jealous woman is not one we must make.”

Maxwell stared at each brother-in-law with doubtful eyes.

“Do as you please,” Wakefield said. “Continue to beg her for an answer or play a harmful trick to make her do it.”

He vigorously shook his head. “My wife shall have my neck should she know I tricked her. I am not even quite certain if she has forgiven me for having planned to use her against the Trilbys and Osegod.”

His companions dropped their jaws in surprise.

“Then do not do it,” Cole said. “To have been scorned once is enough for a woman, twice will be detrimental for your life.”

“Agree,” said Wakefield. “You are left to grovel then.”

Maxwell sighed. Grovel. If only that could work.

---

Maxine was frowning at her hands as she counted.

A fortnight had passed since Maxwell had very much insisted that she give him an answer.

Yet he had not talked about it at all since they returned from Meriwether.

Could he have changed his mind?

No, that couldn’t be.

He would not have suffered her brothers’ beatings if he loved her any less. He would not have passionately made love to her last night if he did not love her, yes?

Or perhaps he was getting tired?

That would explain it. It was very like Maxwell if that were so.

She looked out the window and sighed, the frown still on her face.

They were to leave his estate soon and settle in Kenward and she was merely eager to do so. She hated to confront that fact that sooner or later her identity would be revealed to the entire Town. She was already informed by one of the chambermaids that Lady Gedge, the biggest gossipmonger of Wickhurst, had instructed one of her servants to know who the woman Maxwell was hiding in his carriage three days past as he drove around the town. Apparently, the woman spotted their carriage while in the park with her equally gossip-hungry friends.

Her father had insisted that they announce her marriage to Maxwell before any scandal broke off, but she was not quite ready. How would Wickhurst see the Everards and the Theobalds now?

Maxwell was not aware of such thoughts as she kept them to herself. Even now as she quietly turned to find him reading a note delivered merely minutes ago, she could not quite muster the courage to tell him of her fears.

He would not care, of course. Maxwell was Maxwell. Yet he cared for his family so much. If she were to be presented as a Theobald bastard, then people like Lady Gedge would want to know more. They would want to know who her mother was and her being a Trilby would certainly be a big scandal.

And the Trilbys would not like that at all. How certain was she that they would not do anything to the Everards and the Theobalds in a great desire to protect their name?

She wondered if she could simply live in Kenward for the rest of her life and be an invisible wife to Maxwell.

That, again, would not do as well.

He had commented about an upcoming ball and that the entire Everards were invited, to which he hinted that he wished for her to go with him.

Maxine watched him slowly rise to his feet, folding the note in his hands. “I have somewhere to go,” he told her. “I am afraid I cannot make it in time for supper.”

Maxine waited for a while for him to explain where he was going but when he did not, she nodded and said, “Of course.”

He walked around his desk and walked toward her. Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her a kiss. A hint of a disappearing bruise was around his eye. “I will see you tonight—very much later tonight,” he wickedly added, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

Without as much sharing where he was going or who he would be with, her husband turned and walked to the door.

It had been a fortnight and he had not yet asked her the question.

Bloody hell, what was he planning? Surely he was planning something?

---

Maxine paced around the drawing room for nearly an hour since her husband left, thinking of the possible ways his mind was working, perhaps thinking of tricking her to make her own confession.

It was not like him to simply let the matter rest. He was not a very patient man. He must be concocting a plan , she thought.

“What could it be?” she whispered aloud, biting her nail, frowning at the floor.

She was about to turn and start pacing again when she heard a carriage drawing to a stop outside. She ran over to the window and found Ysabella hurriedly climbing down the carriage.

With a frown, Maxine rushed outside the drawing room to meet her sister-in-law.

“Good that you are here!” Ysabella exclaimed, her face fuming with anger.

“What is the matter?”

“It is your bloody husband and his two equally stupid brothers, that is what!” said Ysabella.

Maxine frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“He is not here, is he?”

“No, he left.”

“And where did he say he was going to?”

Maxine shook her head. “He did not say.”

Ysabella’s scoffed in utter disbelief. “Of course he would not say! He is in Rock’oles!”

Maxine blinked. “Rock’oles?”

“You know what Rock’oles is!”

Maxine went cold as her entire body stiffened. “Rock’oles,” she gritted through her teeth. “How did you know they are there?”

“Well, Ralph and Nick had the audacity to come by our estate and invite my husband to go with them!” Ysabella said, waving her hands about in fury. “Said Maxwell is on his way to meet them there for a jolly good time !”

Maxine’s jaw tightened. “And you personally witnessed this?”

“Of course not! William shared it after those bloody rakehells disappeared from our estate without him. He never fancied Rock’oles, see? But my brothers obviously still do, including your husband!” Ysabella turned and started for the staircase.

“Where are you going?”

“Packing your things, of course! We are to give that devil of a husband of yours a proper lesson! He said he confessed his love and yet he goes to such a horrid place for a jolly good time ! I am telling you, Maxine, this is not how marriage should work! You must teach him a lesson!”

Maxine’s thoughts ran wild as Ysabella continued to climb up the stairs. “Of course,” she said, “teach him a lesson, indeed.”

“Good! Now, you must help me—”

“Come along, Ysa,” Maxine said as she followed Ysabella up the stairs. “Help me change out of this dress.”

“What?” Ysabella asked, pausing in the middle of the staircase, dumbfounded. “I meant we must pack your bags, Maxine! You can leave wearing the same dress.”

“No, I need a different attire to enter Rock’oles,” she said, reaching her sister-in-law.

Ysabella blinked a few times before her eyes widened in realization. “What! You cannot mean to say we are—”

Maxine lifted haughtily lifted her chin, stopping Ysabella’s words. “I was raised by a very terrific mother, dear,” she said. “It is time to apply her examples to the test.”

“What do you mean?” Ysabella carefully asked with a frown.

“Well, I ought to fetch my husband and take him home where he belongs, of course!”

---

“If you believe this case to be impossible, then why the bloody hell do we have to come here again?” Maxwell asked under his breath.

Ralph nonchalantly rested his arm on the back of his chair. “Perhaps I ought to have asked Samuel’s help then,” his brother said, turning to throw him a scowl, “but that is quite impossible at the moment since the man is still utterly cross over your elopement with his sister!”

“One I do not bloody regret,” he hissed, looking around the large chamber. Nicholas was making his way toward them, the black-haired Tania in tow. “I cannot stay for long.”

“I will need your expert eyes,” Ralph hurriedly as Nicholas and Tania approached. “See if you can find anything odd. You remember faces quite well. See if you see anyone who does not quite fit in.”

“Everything about this place is odd,” he snapped before he forced a small smile on his lips and greeted Tania. “Tania.”

“Ah, Maxwell,” the woman purred as she joined Nicholas in a winged chair, literally sitting on his brother’s lap. “Why! I have not seen you in ages! I was starting to believe you have grown tired of this place!”

“As I believe I will never be invited into your chamber, I have lost interest,” he lied, lifting his glass to his lips.

Tania laughed, caressing Nicholas’ hair. “Then perhaps you would like to meet our new girl, Veronica?”

Ralph straightened in his chair as Tania jumped off Nicholas’ lap to find the aforementioned woman. He leaned toward his brother and asked, “Well? What did she say?”

Nicholas groaned. “Bloody hell, Ralph, we just arrived. I could not very well come up to her and ask her if she knows of a man by the name of Lord Durley!” he hissed. “You say he is the only constant name that appears on your investigation. Do you think me daft to simply blurt it out and blow your bloody chance? Are you a Town Guard or not?”

“And what of the woman who serves him? Have you found her? She is the missing link in this case, Nick.”

“Allow me more time, Ralph. You did not have to come here for this as you have been an utter failure in acquiring an invite into a chamber,” Nicholas snapped. “As I have said, I need more time.”

Maxwell could understand Ralph’s frustrations. It would have been easier if he could have one of the women invite him into her chamber, but him being a Town Guard was not helping at all. The women were wary to be alone with him.

“But you have been spending quite some time in this place since our last visit!” Ralph hissed at Nicholas. “A simple mention of the name could evoke a response!”

“And that will be tantamount to me being banned from this place!” Nicholas hissed back. “Would you rather I express my intentions of buying a dozen of slaves?”

“Perhaps, gentlemen,” Maxwell wryly said, eyes on Tania and a blonde woman who had a flush on her face making their way back toward them, “you can use the new girl. Tania has been here for ages and her loyalty is unquestionable. A new girl, on the other hand, can be swayed to cooperate.”

None of his brothers were able to say another word for Tania and Veronica reached their table by then. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce dear Veronica,” she said, pulling the girl closer. “Veronica, the handsome Everard brothers I have been telling you about,” she said, settling back unto Nicholas’ lap.

Veronica’s face flushed further as she looked at each men, spending a few seconds longer on Maxwell. Her lips curved into a sensuous smile, the innocent and naïve look completely gone. “You must be Lord Kenward,” she said, deliberately walking toward him. “I have heard of you, my lord,” she said as she settled beside his chair, her hand resting on the back, fingers deliberately touching his shoulder.

He could see Nicholas and Ralph staring at him cautiously. He threw Ralph a look of warning as Veronica surreptitiously teased his hair.

Ralph cleared his throat and said to Veronica, “I have an empty, lonely spot beside me, Veronica. Perhaps you would like to fill it with your gracious presence?”

But instead of obliging his brother’s request, the woman settled her hips on the armrest of Maxwell’s chair. Nicholas winced behind Tania while Ralph started to panic, shifting in his seat in discomfort while Maxwell hid his scowl behind a tight smile.

“I do like talking while staring at a person’s face, Veronica,” he gritted out, “so if you could kindly take Ralph’s offer so I can see your beautiful face while we carry this conversation further?”

Veronica and Tania chuckled but neither moved from their spot.

Maxwell started to count in his head, intending to leave when he reached ten, but stopped when his brothers froze in their seats, eyes wide with horror as they stared at a very specific space behind Maxwell. Ralph suddenly reached for Veronica, pulling the girl away from Maxwell none too gently, eliciting a surprised gasp from the woman as she landed straight on the spot Ralph offered earlier.

“Thank you, Ralph, for doing the honor,” Maxine’s cold voice said from behind him. Maxwell froze, finally recognizing the cause of his brothers’ horror.

Tania jumped to her feet with a scowl on her face. “Who are you and how did you gain entrance?” the woman demanded.

Maxwell tried to move but his wife’s hand stopped him, pushing him back on his chair by planting her hand on his shoulder. It was a very angry, heavy weight. He warily looked up and found Maxine’s face glaring at Tania before turning her head to glower at Veronica. “Fret not, ladies,” she said with a tight smile, her fury expertly contained, “I am merely here to fetch my husband.”

Tania’s brow arched. “Husband?” she asked, looking at each Everard man. “My dear, you must have come to the wrong table!”

Maxine’s hand tightened around Maxwell’s shoulder that it was almost painful. “No, dear, I believe I came to the right one.”

Veronica jumped to her feet, slapping Ralph’s hand away. Her face was flushed and she stiffly turned to face Maxine. She looked at Maxine from head to foot. It was also only then that he realized his wife was wearing her infamous shirt and breeches. Of course, she would , a small part of him wryly stated. “If you are here to fetch a husband, dear, then you ought to have come in your best gown. We do not welcome bedraggled—”

The woman was not able to finish her words as Maxine left Maxwell’s side, so fast that Maxwell could merely stare, to grab Veronica by the arm. “Bedraggled or not, woman, I can throw a good blow. My fist is currently being ready as we speak. Do you wish to have it now?” his wife hissed at the woman, her other hand closing into an angry ball of knuckles. “I beg you to say please.”

Tania and Veronica gasped in horror. Other women from the other tables nearby were also on their feet, looking at the scene with great interest. The other lords simply chose to turn their backs, quite aware that a wife was within the premises and they were afraid to be recognized and found out.

Veronica, however, did not appreciate to be brought to shame in front of the other women and she harshly pushed Maxine back. Maxwell jumped to his feet to catch his wife. He did not wish to cause a scene, especially in a place like Rock’oles. Ralph’s investigation was still ongoing and they could not afford to be banned.

“Please escort this woman out of here!” Veronica shouted in fury.

“Whoever is guarding the doors outside shall have a price to pay!” Tania added, stepping closer to Maxine. “I am telling you, lady, your husband is not here.”

Nicholas cleared his throat, so did Ralph. None of his brothers knew how to handle the situation. All were aware that Maxine did not wish to have her reputation revealed. They could not simply affirm her claim that she was the wife of one of them. And Maxine must have realized that too for she brushed Maxwell’s hand away and stiffly turned to leave. It was a silent order that he followed her now .

Maxwell started to follow but paused as he heard Veronica say, “And if one of the gentlemen in this room is truly yours, it shall not be a surprise at all!” Maxine halted in her steps, her fury palpable. “You gentry-bred know naught but to make your husbands’ lives a boring hell to live with what with your flimsy characters and dire choices of fashion! Go back where you belong—in an empty, lavish estate and wait for your husband to—”

“That is enough!” Maxwell barked, whirling on his feet to face Veronica just in time to raise his hand to stop Maxine from making an attack, one she obviously intended to do. Nicholas and Ralph jumped to their feet to stop Maxwell as he pointed one finger at Veronica and say, “You do not speak to my wife in such a manner, madam,” he wrathfully gritted through his teeth.

Tania gasped in surprise but he did not hear it nor did he care that everyone in the bloody chamber now knew of his marital status.

“You are obviously new here so please allow me to give you unsolicited advice,” he said, stepping closer so his furious face towered over Veronica. “Dare not generalize every man who comes through your doors for all do not have the same reasons you spoke of,” he harshly whispered before taking a step back, grabbing Maxine by the hand.

“You will forever banned from this place, my lord!” This time, it was a man’s voice who said the words, followed by a drunken laugh. Maxwell stopped yet again. He turned around with a mocking smile on his face, giving a salute to no one in particular as he said, “Gladly! Unlike most of you, gentlemen, I am merely happy to go home!”

He dragged his wife out of the chamber and stopped in the middle of an empty corridor. He forced her to face him and although the narrow corridor was dimly lit, he could see her scowling at him. “I was able to realize something while you were talking to that chit earlier,” his wife started. “You deliberately made me jealous, Maxwell. You conniving, devil! You made it appear that you are here to be with a woman, did you not! I knew you were up to something!” she said, pushing his chest with one finger.

His anger started to wane as he stared at his wife with amusement. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it has been a fortnight and you have decided you have begged enough for my answer, that is why!” his wife harshly exclaimed.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I beg your pardon, love, but I am here for a completely different reason.”

“What—bed that woman? I told you, Maxwell, I will not condone a mistress in this marriage!”

He sighed. “Ralph has asked for my help,” he said, looking around to see if anyone heard him. “Why don’t we go home and I will tell you all about it?”

She slapped his hand away. “Is Wakefield part of this?”

He frowned. “What?” Obviously, his wife did not believe his reason.

“He told Ysabella that you are to come to Rock’oles with Nick and Ralph. And you all know how Ysabella will react to that information!”

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me that Ysabella is here with you?”

“Of course! She is currently distracting the guards outside with a hysterical drama of looking for her own husband!”

“And you managed to slip right through looking like this?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Do not steer the conversation, Maxwell.”

“I am not, Maxie,” he wryly said. “As I have said, Ralph asked for our help which is why I am here.” He looked down the empty corridor. “Yet now that I think of it, Cole and Wakefield did suggest to make you jealous.” He caught her hand before it landed on his arm. “Which I did not agree to. I have no intention of doing so.”

She glared at him and pulled her hand away. “You are looking quite happy that I barged in here.”

He grabbed her by the waist to pull her against him. “Of course.”

“You are a brute, Maxwell,” she glared.

Maxwell smiled and said, “You did not merely marry me because I could help you find your mother, did you?”

She finally relaxed and she sighed. “I believe I married you because I love you, you cynical bastard.”

He leaned down to seek her lips. “Well, that was quiet easy, was it not?” he asked against her mouth.

“Banned! All Everard men—banned! She has no power to do so!” Nicholas was shouting with fury as he and Ralph stormed through the doors. “See what you did!” he said at Maxwell and Maxine. “Banned!”

Maxwell broke the kiss and turned to stare at his furious brothers. “My wife just told me she is in love with me, brothers.”

“How did you even slip through the guards!” Nicholas demanded from Maxine. “One rule for all members of Rock’oles: no wife or female member to enter the doors! I have followed the rules religiously and now I am banned!

“We must talk with the owner,” Ralph said, storming past Maxine and Maxwell, foot grinding the ground. “We cannot be banned!”

Nicholas followed Ralph. “Ysabella must have something to do with this! I knew Wakefield had that wicked look on his face earlier, that devil!” His voice rang down the corridor as he talked to himself.

Maxine frowned at Maxwell. “You do not look happy either. Is a membership in this place that important?”

He shook his head. “Not for me, no, but for Ralph it is. This place is part of a mission.”

Her eyes rounded with realization. She shrugged. “Then perhaps I must help them regain their membership. Would a letter of apology addressed to the owner suffice?”

“Let us hope it will,” he said. “Now, where is my conniving sister? We must find her before my brothers do.”

XXXVIII. Fears

Kenward was not too far from Wickhurst. In fact, one could reach it in merely a matter of a day. But the moment you arrive and walk through its grounds you would feel as if you have reached the farthest corner of the Town itself.

Merely a few miles were the mines owned by none other than the Everards themselves. It was where the gemstones were carved for polishing and eventually settle around the ton’s necks, fingers, wrists, heads and anywhere else they saw fit.

Maxwell’s estate was not as large as Theobald, but it could very well be for it had so much space.

“You are not obviously fond of fixtures,” she noted to her husband as she walked into an almost empty drawing room. “I could invite ten people for fencing in this room.”

He did not comment, simply shrugged and walked over to the nearest chair, two of three in the room.

“Why?” she asked, walking over to him.

He sighed, reading her question. One of the things she loved about their odd relationship was the lack of requirement for words. Both of them could easily read each other’s mind. On the other hand, it was also hard to keep a secret, especially the one she had been keeping for three days now. She was waiting for the perfect time to tell him.

“I see no use for paintings,” he uttered. “They do overwhelm my senses, most especially when I am designing.” His reply drew Maxine back to the present.

He reached out for her and pulled her closer so she was standing between his legs. “What are you doing?” she asked when his hands rested on her hips, caressing her through her heavy skirts. “I am telling you, Maxwell, I am tired,” she weakly protested, resting her hands on his shoulders.

His hands paused and he tilted his head up at her, feigning an innocent frown. “Pray tell, wife,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “what you think I am planning to do?”

Maxine gave him a look of warning and stepped away. “You are yet to show me the rest of the estate, you devil.”

The desire in his eyes did not waver even up to the moment when he had to take her from one room to the next and when she dragged the time wandering around his very small garden.

“I heard that Levi has a hole directly over his manor,” she murmured.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, love,” he said, “but I merely have one.”

“And I also heard that he built Tori rain,” she nonchalantly added as they walked back into the manor, leaving the garden behind.

“Are you trying to tell me that you wish for such romantic gestures?”

Maxine rolled her eyes and sighed. “I wish you did not have to say that.”

“Why?”

“It breaks the spell!”

“The spell?”

“The magic.”

“I do not understand, I honestly don’t.”

“Of course you would not,” she said. He absently grabbed her hand and they walked up the stairs. “Where are we going next? And no, not the bedchamber just yet. I know what you have in mind.”

He let out a snort. “My workroom,” he provided.

They turned into the west wing and down the narrow corridor that led to an open space. Maxine had to admit that she was thoroughly impressed. The room was surrounded by bare windows, providing a much better lighting from the bright lamps outside. From where they stood in the middle of the room, she could see the Kenward plantation and the beam of light shining down from the hole above it.

It may not be as magical as Levi’s Standbury as she had heard from the twins, but it had a charm if its own. “It is like looking into a painting,” she said with awe.

Tearing her eyes away from the marvelous picture of the plantation, she looked about the room. There was naught but a large, long table with papers strewn all over the place and an old winged chair. A few books were stacked in one corner and they could very well serve as a table should they grow in number. The only walls in the room were not covered by paintings. Instead, drawings of different jewelries were randomly pasted on them.

“The best of the jewels mined are delivered in Nicholas’ estate and sent here for me to assemble into designs,” her husband explained, dragging her across the room where she discovered hidden drawers clandestinely designed to fool one’s eyes. He pulled one out and she saw dozens of glinting emeralds within. “Dare not take one, they are not for you,” Maxwell teasingly said as he closed the drawer again.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned. She walked over to the chair and sat down. Planting her hands on the table, she imagined Maxwell bent over it with a frown of concentration on his face and his hair a curtain around his head. Yes, she could definitely see him working here.

“That is my chair,” he said beside her, pulling her out of the chair in a flash. She gasped as he settled there with a triumphant look on his face. “Now, I shall not be banning you from this room. In fact, I shall have a chaise be placed here for you, but you cannot have this chair. Everything else you can touch, but not this one.”

She hitched her hips on the table, facing him. “Why?”

“This belonged to my father,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward him to sit on his lap. “But you can indirectly sit on it this way,” he said, cupping her face and kissing her on the mouth before she could even protest or offer a rejoinder.

Soon enough Maxine forgot about the other rooms as she swiveled over his lap, straddling him as his hands worked on her stays, baring her back with every tug. His teeth grazed across her jaw, his breath suddenly hot with desire which he voiced by whispering words into her ear, of what he planned to do with her and how to do it, sending a delightful shiver down Maxine’s spine.

As her hands tightened in his hair and as his hands found her breasts, a tiny bit of rational thought flashed in her mind and she groaned.

She did not wish to spend their first day in Kenward with a secret.

“Max,” she rasped and gulped as his mouth traveled down her throat, leaving a hot trail. Her gown was being dragged lower inch by inch and her hips squirmed against him. “Max,” she tried once more. His merely growled, his other hand pulling at her skirts, finding her bare legs and slid higher. “Max!” she harshly whispered and his hand stilled on her thigh. He looked up, eyes dark with passion. “I have to tell you something,” she managed with a gulp.

He groaned. “Later, Maxie,” he said, bending down to feast on her breast, the hand under her skirts deliberately moving higher.

“I received a letter from Amelia Trilby,” she uttered with regret for he went completely still, his hands almost stone against her skin. His head leaned away from where it was bent and he looked up at her with a scowl.

“Why, of all moment, Maxie,” he gritted through his teeth, “would you spill such news?”

She gawked at him. “You are cross because I chose to tell you about it now?”

His dark emerald eyes, still hazy with lust, flickered with annoyance. “I am making love to you in a chair, love,” he groaned, his hand tightening around her thigh.

She let out an awkward smile. “We could continue now,” she said, pressing against his crotch. “I simply wanted to tell you about the letter before the courage to do so disappears.”

He buried his face into the crook of her neck as he groaned in frustration. “What do I do to us both?” he asked.

“What do you wish to do now? Make love or talk about the letter?” she asked, moistening her lips. In her mind, she was free of the guilt and she would very much love to continue where they left off. “Or both? At the same time?”

His head snapped back and he glowered at her. “That would be bloody strange, love.” His hand left her breast and went behind her nape, pulling her head to crush his mouth against hers for a hungry, punishing kiss. “We talk first,” he said in a voice that almost sounded pained. He gave her another shattering kiss before he righted her skirts and pulled her off his lap. He turned her around to haphazardly fix her stays while Maxine silently whined. Mayhap she ought to have told him later. She found that delaying gratification was not her forte at all.

---

Very much later, after Maxwell had ordered for the footman to bring a chaise into his workroom, Maxine was sitting down, facing a husband trying his best not to scowl as he asked, “What does she want?”

“She invited me for dinner,” she honestly uttered, meeting Maxwell’s gaze.

His eyebrow twitched. “And you wish to go.”

His statement was bare of judgment but she could sense the controlled, brewing anger. “She could provide me with answers.” She uttered her statement in so low a voice for she was not certain she wanted Maxwell to hear it. But he did and he sighed.

And he did not say a word. No comment, simply a sigh. He was trying to be considerate and Maxine was grateful for it.

“But I am not inclined to the idea of going as you may believe,” she added. “I know that the Trilbys have an impression upon the Everards and they have proven to be untrustworthy. But we can pick up something from what they might not share with us, see?”

Maxwell simply stared at her and that was one of the very rare moments she wished that he voice his thoughts.

Averting her eyes, Maxine belatedly added, “And you also want to know of their plans—the one you believe they are concocting with Osegod.”

This time Maxwell did not bother to hide his anger. His hands balled into fists. “You are suggesting I use you to spy on them. Are you insane?”

Maxine shrugged. “You have to admit, Max, that you once thought of it.”

“Before when I thought you a spy and before I bloody married you, yes, I did!” he nearly snarled. Brushing his hair away from his face with his right hand, he shook his head. “No. You are not going to that dinner until we know more about your mother.”

“But we do not know where she is. We are not even certain if she is still alive.”

Her statement gave him pause. “Gustav is yet to provide us with a report from his friends in the west, Maxie. Make no conclusions for now.”

“And what of this matter with Osegod and your family?” she countered, standing up. “I am part of it now, Max, or have you forgotten? If he is planning something, I would want to know of it as well.”

“He shall be handled another way,” he said. “Or have you also forgotten that you are my wife? I will not allow you to be near that bastard.”

“But will you consider the dinner with Amelia Trilby?” she asked. “She will not do something like the one she did to my birth mother. We could simply pretend we are there for the food!”

Maxwell let out a dry chuckle. “Of course, the food.” He sighed and walked over to her. “All right, I will think of it.”

Maxine narrowed her eyes. “You did not only say that so we can be done with this talk and continue where we left off earlier in that chair, are you?”

“My body would say yes, love,” he said as he pulled her closer, “but no, I truly need time to think of the consequences of this dinner invitation.”

Maxine smiled. “Thank you.” She pulled him toward the chaise. “What say you to giving this chaise a good memory?”

Her husband was already pulling her down with a wicked smile on his face.

---

“Now, do not think I am pestering you, dear sister-in-law, “ Nicholas was saying as he shifted in his chair, “but when will you get around to writing that letter to Rock’oles?”

Maxine slowly gave her head a shake. “I have been writing drafts, dear brother-in-law , but the very task seems to be rather daunting. I cannot stomach a letter of apology after what I saw in that place.”

“You saw naught but beautiful women and disgusting men,” Nicholas cried. “Apart from your husband and his two brothers, of course,” he added.

“And after all the stories you shared about that place while I was under your employ,” she added with a smile.

Nicholas groaned and turned his head at Maxwell. “The biggest regret of my life is hiring this valet!” he said, pointing at his brother’s wife.

Maxwell shrugged. “I say I do not regret that you did,” he commented, sending his wife a meaningful look from where he was standing by the window. “

Nicholas nearly barfed.

“And why are you in Kenward?” Maxwell asked him. “Whiston is merely a mile away.”

“I do not like Whiston and you know it. And at the moment, I do not like my apartment in Wickhurst as well!”

“Whyever not?” Maxine asked with a frown.

“The servants constantly fight for all you know and they do not even bother to hide it from me!”

“Who?” Maxine asked.

“I do not bloody know! Albin and Oscar seem to not like each other more than ever and it is the chambermaid’s fault. Fanny, the cook and housekeeper, ought to find a real cook soon for I can no longer stomach her food. I would go to the Everard estate for every meal if only Mother would stop talking about your bloody grand wedding , one that you both ought to decide on very soon before all of us go insane! I cannot imagine how Emma is feeling as she lives with the woman and has to suffer her incessant babbles about how her one son cannot force his wife to walk into a bloody church but was able to drag her to Tiny Town!” Nicholas was breathless when his litany was over and Maxwell and Maxine merely looked on with amusement. “And Osegod sent a missive.”

Maxwell stiffened. “What did he want?”

“Another dinner with the family.”

“The last one was to be the last,” Maxwell snapped. “Have you told Ben?”

“Waiting for his reply,” Nicholas said.

Maxwell was thoughtful and quiet until his brother left to go back to Whiston where he planned to stay for a week before returning to Wickhurst.

“Why do you think that Osegod means to cause trouble?” Maxine asked later that night as they were getting ready for bed.

“I do not think it, I believe it,” he replied, slipping under the covers to join her. He turned and they faced each other in the middle of the bed. “There was an accident in the mines months ago, but it was no accident. We never had one since our father died due to one. The explosives were planted this time and we are certain of it.”

He watched his wife’s eyes widen. “And you believe he caused it?”

“He can cause anything for his own cause,” he said. “The accident happened close to when he started to take notice of the family.”

She frowned. “Why? A business proposal?”

“Perhaps that and something else,” Maxwell said. “He wants something—or rather, someone.”

“Who?”

He reached up to tuck a stray of hair away from her face. “A year ago, before Ysabella and Wakefield married, there was one woman who was a constant presence in the family. Her name is Aurora Randolph.”

“I believe I have seen her,” Maxine said. “She was with your family at the Theobald weekend party.”

“Yes.”

“You mean to say that Osegod wants this woman?”

He looked at Maxine for a while before he said, “Before I tell you, promise never to repeat it to anyone.”

“Of course.”

“Margaret is a Leaguer.”

Maxine shrugged. “I am not surprised.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “Of course, you are not.” He pulled her closer toward him. “Mother and the twins are not aware of the fact so you have to be very careful. I, along with the brothers and Tori are aware but it does not mean that we do not fret for her. I can barely imagine how her husband must be feeling every single day.”

“What of Margaret?” she asked, drawing him back to their topic.

“She learned of Aurora’s secret—that she was Osegod’s former mistress and that he has been hunting her down for years. And she used that knowledge to bring Aurora into the hands of a fellow Leaguer who is tasked to investigate Osegod.”

“The Leaguer has been investigating Osegod?”

He nodded. “They are quite certain of his crimes but they do not have the evidence. Power and money can erase those.”

Maxine tilted her head up to gaze into Maxwell’s eyes. “And they decided to use Aurora as a pawn to catch him? How?”

Maxwell shrugged. “If I know, love, I would already be a Leaguer. Whatever the specifics of their plans, I do not know, nor does Margaret as she chose to not be a part of the assignment to protect the Everards from Osegod. She did help the League take Aurora to help them, but she also did so with the intention to rid the family of the woman.” When Maxine did not comment, he added, “Margaret knew that we do not have Osegod’s power should we have protected Aurora.”

“But why does Osegod want Aurora so badly? Surely he can manage to find another mistress?”

His jaw tightened. “He fathered a child,” he said.

“A bastard?”

“A bastard would not be enough to damage his reputation,” he said, squeezing her shoulder with one hand as he looked down and said, “He fathered a cretin.”

Maxine paled and her eyes widened in horror.

“You see, love,” he said, “society considers bastards as mistakes, but a cretin and all others of their kind are naught but bad blood.”

“Oh God,” Maxine uttered.

“Should the entire population of the Town learn of Osegod’s bastard, his days as the head of the Town Leaders shall be numbered. He will never be voted once more because as society would most likely put it, how could a damaged man rule them all?”

“God, Maxwell, what is the League planning to do to this woman and her child?”

His expression tightened for he felt the same horror he saw in her face. “Only they know, love.”

She fell silent for a very long time. “Yet he is trying his best to get close to the Everards. Why?”

“Margaret and I suspect that he might have learned of the Everard’s close relation to Aurora Randolph, a name she used when she came to Wickhurst. He has people who are very well capable of finding her despite her using an alias after all.”

“And he believes you might point him to her?” she asked.

“We Everards, as you must have heard, do have a penchant for protecting those dear to us.”

“Of course, Agatha is one example.”

“But we also do have our limitation,” he said. “Not most of us may agree, but some of us knows when to close a door when need be.”

Maxine scoffed. “Well, Osegod is rather daft, isn’t he?”

He looked down at her with amusement. “Why so?”

“He could simply knock on your doors and ask that you show this woman!”

Maxwell chuckled as he pulled her even closer. “That is not how this game is played, Maxie. In this game, we all try our best to bluff.”

After a moment of silence, his wife’s serious voice murmured against his chest, “It will be disastrous should he know of Margaret’s involvement.”

“Very much so, yes,” he murmured. “He will not like the fact that he is being investigated by the League if he is not already aware of it.”

A few more moment of silence before she asked, “Aurora is the woman who betrayed Ysabella’s trust, yes?”

“Who told you?” Maxwell asked.

“Emma, of course.”

He sighed. “Whatever she did, she probably did out of desperation. She was a woman with a child for a cretin and without means. Perhaps her years being a mistress to Osegod and others had taught her lessons that merely the unfortunates learn about.”

“Would you have helped her should she have asked for your help?”

“No,” Maxwell replied without hesitation. “She had proven to us that she would do anything irrational, even betray a friend, to save herself and her child. I cannot risk the family’s safety for a woman who cannot be trusted. I am quite certain she is aware of that.”

“And if she did not betray Ysabella?”

“That is a rather difficult question. Mother and the twins would be inclined to keep and protect her, but Margaret and I—and perhaps even Ben—would find a way to offer a different sort of help. Agatha was a different case. Aurora, on the other hand, is far beyond our power.”

“But—”

“There are things the Everards can condone, Maxie, but we are no fools. If she is not being hunted by Osegod who can conjure the help of the most powerful families in the Town, we would take her in and her child and the entire Town can bloody go to hell. But that was not the case. She is being hunted by a man being investigated by the League of Founders and the League does not merely take simple missions. If someone is a person of interest to the League, that someone could be more than what any of us could imagine.”

He frowned when he heard Maxine choke in tears.

“What is the matter?”

She shook her head and pathetically laughed at herself. “It is rather difficult to be a woman, is it not? We are all but mere pawns to the games of men.”

“Then perhaps you must pray that Cole ascend to power,” he said. “You must hear of the laws he wishes to pass to provide women with more freedom and protection.”

Maxine wrapped her arms around her husband and yawned. “I have you.”

Maxwell did not say a word. He hated the thought of losing her and for the first time he finally truly understood why Aurora had gone to such extent to protect her child. He would have done the same, even worse, to keep this woman.

---

They spent their first week in Kenward without any hardship. In fact, Maxwell thought that he was settling into this marriage rather well.

He kept to himself while he worked, designing jewelries, and when he was not working he would find his wife and drop an emerald in her hand, each time with a different shape.

“What is this?” she asked, frowning at the stone, when he first gave her one.

He shrugged. “If you can be patient, you will soon find out,” was his only mysterious reply.

But as days went he could not help but notice that Maxine was acting rather odd. He would often find her staring into space if she thought he was not looking and it bothered him.

Was she thinking about Osegod and Aurora Randolph?

Was she thinking about the dinner invitation from Amelia Trilby?

Her mother?

The Theobalds?

Him and their marriage?

Surely she was not starting to regret marrying him, was she? She could not be when she was a passionate lover in the evening and a joy to be with during the day.

He did not ask her for he knew that she would tell him once she was ready, but it did not mean he was not bothered at all.

One night he even woke up with a start, fearing that she was thinking of leaving him but sighed with relief when he found her lying naked beside him after hours of making love.

But it seemed that his fears were not altogether false for one day Maxwell awoke and found, to his horror, that his wife had ordered for the carriage be drawn out and rode away from Kenward.

Without him.

And bloody alone!

XXXIX. The Bastard

Maxine hurried down the familiar street, head bowed. She stopped outside the estate and ran up the stairs to knock on the doors. She rapped some more when it did not immediately open.

Finally, it did.

“My lady? My lady!” the aging butler cried in both confusion and surprise, blinking three times at the sight of her.

“Hello,” Maxine simply said as she ran past him, the handkerchief still covering half of her face. “Would you be so kind as to send a very hasty note to Kenward and inform his lordship that I have arrived safely?”

“B-but—”

“Now!”

“Yes, my lady!” the butler said, jumping on his feet.

Maxine rushed up the stairs and halted when she reached the second landing. She made a sudden turn and started to go down, stopped and turned to climb back up only to stop again and hesitate.

Perhaps she ought to order for the horse be saddled and rush back to Kenward alone. She would reach home faster that way and mayhap then she might survive her husband’s wrath.

But it must be done for he would not have allowed her to go alone.

Night time had come to the Town and the lights had become dimmer. She may be able to survive a safe journey back to Kenward now but not Maxwell. She would dare not add another crime to the previous one.

Maxine sighed and turned to find her their bedchamber in his Vinge estate. She must prepare for the worst for if the butler in Kenward relayed the message she had left for her husband, Maxwell would be here in no time.

---

Maxwell jumped out of the carriage before it even stopped and nearly caused the butler to fly across the hallway when he harshly pushed the door open.

“Where is she!” he demanded from the startled and scared butler.

“Here!” Maxine’s panting voice said and he looked up to find her running down the staircase. It seemed to him that she had been waiting for his arrival. Well, of course she must, for he would hate to chase her around the bloody town to hear what he had to say!

“Stop right there, Maxie!” he said with warning. She abruptly halted in her steps. “That’s it. And turn around and go back to the bedchamber!” He stalked after her when she did as he ordered, looking surprisingly scared. Good , he thought, for she had caused him to almost go insane with worry. “You must have forgotten you have a husband, woman,” he raged on behind her.

She hastened her steps, almost running toward the bedchamber door which was already open.

He entered after her and slammed the door behind him. The banging sound echoed around the room and his wife flinched at the sound from where she stood near the bed, clasping the wooden post. He took a good look at her and silently let out a sigh of relief. She was all right. She did not look harmed. But she did look tired with dark circles under her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Maxine blurted as he stood there with rage, eyes alight with fury, concern and frustration. “I did not go to my aunt if that is what concerns you,” she carefully added, her voice weakening with each word until the last was barely a whisper.

“Of course you could not have,” he roared through his teeth. He breathed through his nostrils. “Why did you have to come here alone, Maxine?”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. Her hand was almost white as she gripped the post tighter. “To deliver a letter.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. He took one step forward. She took one back. “A letter. You could not have done it in Kenward?”

She winced. “I did not wish for the letter to be traced to home, Max.”

And it finally dawned on him. His nostrils flared with contained fury. “And you thought it best to leave me in the dark? What could be so important you have to tell her but you cannot tell me!”

“I refused the dinner invitation, that is all!” she snapped, her own eyes flickering with annoyance. “I merely refused it saying I do not have any desire to be acquainted with their family, that is all! But I am not daft as to send it from Kenward and have her know that I reside there! I will not allow the Trilbys to know!”

“There are other means!” he cried. “It was a foolish act, Maxie, you have to admit it. Do you realize what I felt when I woke up and found you gone!”

She flinched once again. “It told the butler to relay where I am going. It was not as though I left without telling you,” she murmured under her breath.

“How bloody responsible of you! I am utterly grateful!” he snapped with derision. “Would you care to leave a note next time? I would appreciate one!”

It was the last straw and he knew it by the way her shoulders stiffened and she lifted her chin to haughtily say, “You are welcome, my lord, and yes, of course, I shall consider a note,” and walked to the door.

He whirled around when she brushed past him. “Where are you going? We are not done talking.”

“For tonight, I believe we are!” she snapped over her shoulder. “And we were not talking, Maxwell, you were yelling!”

“Maxine, where are you going?” he asked, voice laced with warning as he followed her into the corridor.

“To my former employer!” she snapped. “Fetch me by the morrow but dare not follow me tonight!”

Maxwell stood gaping in the middle of the corridor as his wife descended the stairs. She was the one who disappeared and traveled to Wickhurst alone to deliver a bloody letter and now she had the audacity to leave the estate!

“Very well!” he shouted after her. “See you on the morrow then!”

“Have a good night!” she shouted back in response.

When he heard the sound of the front doors closing, he yelled for the footman. “Follow her and make certain she enters my brother’s estate in the same haughty manner as she left! And unscathed as she is!”

“Yes, m-milord!” the footman stammered, rushing after his wife.

---

“You must realize this is quite awkward,” said Molly the following day as they ate their breakfast. “You can dine with your brother-in-law later, my lady. Or we can have a meal delivered to your chamber if you wish.”

“He is not to wake up until very much later,” she said through a mouthful of bread. “And it is a bore to dine alone.”

“You said last night that you and Lord Max fought,” Lottie said with a frown. “Why?”

“Because he became very furious when I left Kenward without him.”

“And you are angry toward him because he was worried?” Fanny asked.

Maxine blinked and shrugged. “Well, he refuses see the logic behind my action.” Silence reigned inside the kitchen. Maxine dropped her bread and groaned. “I hate that I have to apologize again.” She looked at Fanny. “I have to, don’t I?”

Molly, Lottie and Fanny all nodded their heads.

“You are now with husband, my dear,” Fanny said. “You can no longer be as impetuous as you were before.”

“I am afraid it did not pass my mind, yes,” she admitted gravely. “By the by,” she added, looking around, “where is Albin and Oscar?”

The three women looked at each other. “Oscar is somewhere in the estate doing Albin’s tasks,” Molly provided.

Maxine frowned. “Why?”

“He left, see?” said Lottie, her shoulder sagging. “He found a butler post in Shiells.”

“Poor Oscar, really,” Fanny added with a shake of her head. “He is getting thinner by the day. His lordship ought to find a replacement very soon.”

Maxine smiled. “Perhaps if my husband will not come for me this morning or today, I could resume my work here.”

The three women did not laugh or smile.

“That was merely a jest,” she said.

They all forced a laugh and as it died down, Oscar finally showed himself in the kitchen. His sighed when he spotted her around the kitchen table and he said, “Lord Maxwell is outside waiting for you, my lady.”

Maxine looked around the table and smiled. “Very well, I have to go,” she said, standing up. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, my lady,” they all murmured as Maxine followed Oscar out of the kitchen.

“Why did Albin leave, Oscar?” she asked as they crossed the dining hall.

“He found a post—”

“No, I meant the real reason,” she interjected.

The butler turned his head and Maxine was surprised to find a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh!” she ecstatically said. “Oh, goodness! Truly? Molly and you? Is it real?”

Oscar did not offer a reply, simply shrugged and smiled. “Off you go, my lady,” he said with a bow when they reached the front doors, closing it after she stepped out.

Maxine’s heart started to hammer when she saw Maxwell waiting in the driveway, looking utterly calm and well-rested. Well, she could not say she did not also have a good night’s sleep!

She forced a smile on her lips which later turned into a genuine one when he offered his arm for her before they started walking away from Nicholas’ estate to turn into Vinge Road toward his own estate.

“How was your evening?” he quietly asked.

Maxine’s hand tightened around his arm. “I slept well. And you?”

“I did, too.”

A comfortable quiet fell between them as they strolled down the side of the street. There were but a few people who glanced their way, but none took real notice.

“I apologize for my recent actions,” she sincerely said, looking up at his face. He turned to stare back at her, raising his brows expectantly. Maxine sighed. “And my behavior last night.”

His face softened. He grabbed her hand from the crook of his arm and clasped it with his.

“I know I must now start to understand that I am with husband—”

“—whom you love,” he interposed.

Maxine nodded before she continued, “—and with it comes specific responsibilities.”

Maxwell sighed. “Dare not do it again, Maxie,” he said, letting out a breath. “I nearly killed my own butler.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she asked with a laugh.

---

Ralph was already waiting for them when they arrived and it seemed he had been pacing around the drawing room for quite some time.

“Good, you’ve arrived,” he said. “Where have you been in such an early hour?”

Maxwell shrugged. “I had to fetch a runaway vixen,” he said as he let Maxine’s hand go. “What is the matter?”

Ralph looked serious.

“Please, let it not be about Rock’oles,” Maxwell said with warning.

“No, that is not that,” Ralph snapped. “But now that you mentioned it,” he turned to Maxine, “when will you get around to writing that letter to Rock’oles, Maxine? I need to regain my membership now more than ever.”

“My wife has wasted enough energy writing letters for now,” Maxwell said with meaning, garnering a scowl from Maxine. “What is it?” he asked Ralph again.

“We must travel to Devonshire very soon,” Ralph said. “We have to warn Ben. We cannot engage into any sort of relationship with Osegod. The man’s name is all over our slavery investigation.”

“You mean you found proof?”

Ralph nodded. “But not enough to bring it to the Men of Courts. Not yet. Which is why I need to go back to Rock’oles,” he added over his shoulder.

“Fret not, Ralph, I shall write that letter when we return to Kenward,” Maxine with a sigh. She turned to Maxwell. “What do you plan to do now?”

Maxwell was deep in thought. When he looked up, he said to Ralph, “We cannot make a hasty move to go to Devonshire simply because of what you have learned. This might alarm Osegod.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“He shall make contact again soon. For now, we have to wait.”

---

One of Maxine’s horrible nightmares came to life two days after she sent her letter to Amelia Trilby, just as when she and Maxwell were getting ready to go home to Kenward.

When she thought that things could not grow greater to cause them more devastation, she saw her name on the front pages of the Herald.

MAXINE: THE SECRET THEOBALD BASTARD!

XL. Silent No More

She did not have to read the entire article to learn of its contents for the heading provided a clear picture.

Maxwell threw the paper across the room when he saw it and he said, “We go home to Kenward at once!”

Maxine could barely offer a reply for she felt utterly numb.

Everything was crumbling to pieces. What had she done! Her family—the Theobalds was now facing a scandal. And it would be soon that the Everards would be dragged along as well.

“No, we cannot act as cowards and escape,” her husband continued to rant before her, pacing the room. “In fact, we must follow my mother’s example. Should we go out and allow them to gawk? That is if you can do it, Maxie,” he kept muttering to himself.

Maxine merely blinked. She had to concentrate on breathing because it seemed that she had forgotten how to.

Almost an hour later, her husband was seated across from her in the same drawing room and he brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“We must replace this scandal,” he said.

For the first time since she saw the article, Maxine blinked and frowned in reaction. “Whatever do you mean, Maxwell?”

He picked up the almost tattered papers from the floor and waved it in front of him to emphasize his point. “It is not mentioned that you are married.”

Maxine stiffened. “No, no, I cannot—I cannot—”

“Bloody hell, Maxie, two uncles of us died as bastards and they have all fathered other bastards who are not living in Sheills with their own family. We are the last you have to be worried for,” he snapped, standing to his feet.

The door burst open and Maxine gasped when she saw Lady Alice and Emma rush in with their brows furrowed and nose flaring, ready to fight a battle—whatever it was.

“Well?” Lady Alice asked, looking at Maxine and Maxwell. “What are you two doing here? Should you not be in the park flaunting yourselves?”

Maxwell groaned. “I told you,” he said to his wife.

“Do not mind Mother, Maxine,” Emma said, coming toward her and holding her hand, her face softening as she added, “You have to be strong, see? That is all that she means. Strong, Maxine, and dare not be ashamed.”

“Horrible! Just horrible!” another voice shrilled. Maxine looked up and saw Ysabella storming into the room with her husband in tow. “They did not even manage to acquire a sketch or a photo of you!”

“Exactly what I said!” Lady Alice said. “Just Maxine— no face whatsoever! It can be anyone, dear!” She whirled to face Maxwell and asked, “You must visit their offices. Have them correct her name!”

When Maxine turned to her husband in confusion, her mind completely muddled by many serious matters about her birth mother, the Trilbys, Osegod and her bastardry, he simply rolled his eyes and explained, “What Mother wishes to do is that we demand that the Herald include the Everard name in yours.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “I did suggest something of the same earlier,” he pointed out.

“N-no,” she stammered, standing up. “I-I am sorry,” she said to everyone. “I have to think. I believe I cannot do so at this time.”

To her utter relief, no one said a word.

“Behave,” she faintly heard Maxwell say to his family, adding to Wakefield, “Take them home,” before he followed her to their chambers.

---

Two days since the first article, Maxine still refused to discuss anything.

“You know I do not care, Maxie,” Maxwell said to her as he entered their bedchamber and settled beside her in the bed. “But I do care that you care,” he said. “For all we know, love, this can merely be a part of Osegod’s plan to force us to agree to his demands. It is quite odd that the article came out merely days after you sent Amelia Trilby that letter.”

“Whatever do you mean, Max? That they figured they cannot use me and so they resort to this?” she asked in disbelief. “That is rather too shallow of them.”

“You cannot stay locked in this estate forever,” he said. “I am itching to go back to Kenward, if you must know.”

“Could you sneak me into the carriage so we can go home?” she hopefully asked.

“I am afraid I cannot even if that is possible.”

“Why?”

“Because gossipmongers are causing unwanted traffic outside this estate,” her husband wryly stated. “They look like lost kittens going to and fro.”

She groaned. Yesterday the article of her being married to Maxwell Everard was on the Herald and Maxine was afraid to ask who was responsible for it. This time she did not even get past to reading the entire heading after she saw Maxwell’s name attached to hers.

“And your parents are downstairs,” Maxwell belatedly provided, causing Maxine to sit up in bed in alarm.

“What!”

Maxwell shrugged. “They came as fast as they could.”

“You ought to have told me!” she said, scrambling to get out of bed.

“Not in your nightgown, love,” he said, throwing her a robe, amusement on his lips.

Maxine ran out of the room and found that Maxwell was not indeed lying. Eustace and Rachel Theobald were in the parlor and both came to their feet when she rushed in, Maxwell following closely.

“Oh, darling,” Rachel said, catching her in an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against her stepmother’s dress.

“Stop crying, Maxine,” her father ordered. “Why the bloody hell are you crying?”

“My lord,” Rachel said in a warning voice.

“This has always been what we wanted, that is all I am trying to say. But we do not like that you are presented to society in such a way!”

“I have caused you a scandal,” she said, a tear escaping one eye. “How could you talk about properly presenting me to society when they do not—”

“You are not a bastard, Maxine, not in our eyes,” her father strongly said. When Maxine simply sobbed, he looked at his wife and said, “Would you leave us for a moment? No, darling, I do not plan to berate her.”

“Allow me to escort you, my lady,” Maxwell said to Rachel who nodded and reluctantly let go of Maxine, kissing the top of her head before heading out the door with Maxwell.

“Sit down, Maxine, for God’s sake, you are a lady,” Eustace said but when his daughter sobbed harder he sighed and he went toward her to guide her to the chaise. “Look at me, child.” Her father’s voice was gentle and soft. “Maxine Theobald-Everard, look at me,” he said when she refused to do so.

Finally she did and she saw the same pale grey eyes staring at her with utter love and tenderness. “You are no bastard in our eyes. Your birthmother gave you to me to offer you a better chance.”

It was then that she realized what he was doing. He was telling her about her mother.

“Your mother knew what could have happened to you should she have not done so.” Eustace Theobald paused and swallowed before he continued, “She was the only good in that family, Maxine, and I would not have allowed her to give you her name if she was not. I committed a great sin against Rachel and your brothers when I refused to go home to Theobald and dally with an innocent woman. I can also say the same for Maxine Trilby, but you, my dear, are not a mistake—you never were.” Maxine whimpered and her shoulders started to shake. “You are the miracle that brought me back to Rachel and my family. You have kept us all together in more ways than you can ever imagine. So believe me when I say that we care not of the scandal. We can live with it, but I trust that we cannot forever accept should you continue to be ashamed for that equates to being ashamed of being a Theobald. You are not a bastard, my dear—you are a Theobald and will always be. Do you understand me, Maxine?”

Maxine could not speak for there was a heavy lump in her throat. Tears simply flowed as she nodded and her father pulled her into an embrace.

“Now, how about we plan your grand wedding?” her father asked in a very hopeful tone.

“Do not push it, Papa,” she said, chuckling through her tears.

“Ah, then perhaps two months from now?”

She laughed this time, tears running freely. “Perhaps, yes.”

Maxine stared at an open space, thinking of the woman who gave her life. Was this all that she would ever know of her?

---

Three days later, when her parents had departed for Theobald, Maxwell handed Maxine a copy of the Herald.

“Your dear brother is late to the party, but I believe you ought to see this.” He sat beside her and pointed at the article he meant for her to read.

Dear Ms. Mulligan,

I never had to experience ire from any of my equals, and most especially from those below my station. Not until I heard my sister’s governess telling her that she was not who she thought she was. My sister was barely five at that time and she stared wide-eyed at Ms. Mulligan, confusion in her eyes. “You are not your Mama’s child, dear,” I heard the governess reiterate. “You cannot play with the other children. We stay in this very room.”

My sister, in her little voice, asked, “Why I cannot?”

“Because the children and their parents will know of your family’s secret!”

“Secret?” she asked again.

“Yes! You are the secret, dear. We must keep you a secret. I will be torn away from you if you are to be discovered. Do you want Ms. Mulligan away? You will have no one to play with then. Your brothers have their own friends, see?”

My sister shook her head. No, of course she did not want her governess gone!

“Now, there is a good girl. What do you tell your Mama when she comes for you?”

Dear little sister simply frowned.

“Tired! How many times must I repeat, child? You are tired! You do not wish to go out.”

“But Mama said I can—”

“She is simply trying to be nice. Now, always keep in mind that you are a bastard, dear. Your place is only with me and this room, see?”

I had to leave after hearing those words, my young mind greatly appalled.

And that was my greatest sin.

I kept my silence.

I never told my parents of what I heard. I kept my silence for I thought it trivial. I did not wish for Ms. Mulligan be dismissed for it would take more months for another to arrive to replace her post. Maxine would bother me again when she was bored and I did not want that. I had other manly games I wanted to play and she would only prove to be a nuisance as most little children are.

But that conversation I heard in that playroom never left my mind. I wondered of many things. I wondered if Ms. Mulligan said the correct things.

But it couldn’t be!

My sister came to our doors crooning and crying all night long many years ago before there was even a Ms. Mulligan. My brother and I wondered who this little creature was. But we were told by our mother that the Lord had granted her wish and gave her a daughter. She was a miracle!

No, mother could not have lied to us, I thought. I grew older and realized that Mother’s affections were genuine and Maxine had started to withdraw—not completely, but slowly and quietly.

Must I have done something when I first heard Ms. Mulligan? Ought I have come running toward my parents and repeated every word the governess spoke?

When I concluded that the answer was yes, I kept my silence once more for I knew it was too late. My sister never emerged again. Her shrilling laughter faded along the years. Even her cries were muffled until they completely ceased. Until there was naught but a young lady whom we could talk with but could not truly enjoy life with. No, not entirely! For how could we when she refused to go out beyond the Theobald walls? How could we when she was hiding amongst the guests during our brother’s wedding? How could we when she dressed up as a servant every Theobald weekend party?

Yet now another Ms. Mulligan threatens to destroy my sister when she had finally braved an adventure beyond the walls she built around herself, thanks to such fateful governess! And this Ms. Mulligan is not merely one, but an entire population who had set such high standards that they even cannot reach. These Ms. Mulligans dare hide their own misdeeds for the opportunity to bring forth someone to condemn and judge, happy and willing to do so because it allows them to sleep tight at night, believing someone out there was living a more horrible life than theirs.

But I am no longer a boy, nor am I a muddle-headed young man and I shall not be silenced. I dare blame society for shaming an innocent woman who was never given a chance to choose who she shall be, but cannot even dare say a word to their own husbands, wives, daughters and even friends who had countless choices but still opted for their own shameless misdeeds, all the while wearing facades of greatness and immense self-righteousness.

Would I dare blame my father for having fathered a bastard? Perhaps, yes, but then I would not have my feisty sister and he would not have had the chance to pay for his sins which he did in such great a manner. Would I dare blame the woman who gave birth to this bastard? Perhaps, yes, but then she atoned for her sins by giving us our miracle.

But I dare blame myself for if I simply said something against the first of hundreds Ms. Mulligans in my sister’s life, our family would have had this preposterous scandal over and done with years ago, because I am certain that my parents and my brother would have braved society as they do now—as we do now.

For all of you, high and mighty Ms. Mulligans who feed on innocent lives, I would like to present to you my one and only sister—Lady Maxine Theobald-Everard, a lady surrounded by people who are as loud and silly as all of you are, but more powerful once scorned.

Silent no more,

Lord Samuel Theobald

Maxine’s face was filled with tears as she finished her brother’s letter. Soon after, she was bawling in her husband’s arms.

“I have to admit, love, that I could not have done better,” he said, kissing her temple.

Maxine laughed through her tears.

She did not need another family. She had the ones she wanted.

---

“Your brother may not stand a chance against us in the middle of a killing field with swords and pistols,” Maxwell said later that afternoon, “but I do believe we should all perish should the weapon be a pen.”

Maxine scoffed. She looked out the window and there was a remarkably big difference. The constant passersby seemed to have finally found their way home.

“Osegod has sent another letter,” Maxwell said behind her.

“Are we going to Devonshire?”

“I am,” he said stepping closer behind her. “You stay here where it is safe.”

“I wish to go to home to Kenward,” she said.

“Not for now. You are safer here. You can stay with Mother if you wish. But if you wish to spare your ears of her great praises for your dear brother Samuel, Wakefield’s estate is also very near.”

“So is Nicholas’,” she said in a teasing voice.

“So long as you do not go out of Wickhurst,” Maxwell said and Maxine frowned when she felt something cold around her neck. She looked down and her eyes widened when she saw the ruby necklace.

“You gave me this as payment for my silence,” he said, locking the cord behind her neck. “But as your brother has well stipulated, we are silent no more.”

Maxine smiled “You Everards never were,” she jeered. She turned to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said. “What of the emeralds?”

He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. “I shall give the rest when we return to Kenward.”

She cupped his face. “I want to go with you, Maxwell.”

“No, love. We shall be riding by horseback. You will merely slow us down.”

She chuckled. “Always the honest one, are you not?”

He shrugged before he bent down to give her another kiss.

---

“Tell me why, again, did we not bring Nick?” Maxwell asked Ralph. They stopped at a tavern halfway through their journey to rest for a short while.

Ralph stretched his legs and grunted at the pain. “It is well to have a dandy when you travel for leisure, brother, but not on matters like this.”

Maxwell merely scoffed for his younger brother was correct.

Nicholas would be worse than Maxine should they have brought him along.

“What do you guess would Ben say?”

“He does not have to say anything,” he said. “We merely have to convince him to reject Osegod’s proposition.” His attention was drawn by the sounds of galloping hooves from a far distance and he frowned as he slowly saw the rider coming nearer. “Bloody tarnation.”

Ralph followed his gaze and his brother jumped away from the rock he was sitting on. “Bloody tarnation indeed.”

Maxwell joined Ralph and they both waited with their hands on their hips as Nicholas approached.

“What the bloody hell, Nick—” Ralph started but Nicholas seemed irrevocably different. His face was serious and panicked.

“Max!” he said to Maxwell as he pulled at his horse’s reins. The animal’s whine echoed down lone road.

Maxwell could not understand why his heart started to hammer against his chest. “What?” he demanded.

Nicholas swallowed. “You have to go back to Wickhurst. It is Maxine. She’s—”

Before Nicholas could even finish his sentence, Maxwell was already running for his horse.

“What happened?” Ralph asked as Maxwell jumped on his horse and turned it around to face the road back to Wickhurst.

“Carriage…accident!” was all he managed to hear before he kicked his horse and galloped back to Wickhurst.

XLI. Of Life and Preservation

Wakefield and Cole were the first to block Maxwell’s path when he burst into his Vinge estate. Emma, Ysabella and Margaret were in one corner, comforting their crying mother. Should he look at the four ladies longer, Maxwell was certain that he would have gone insane.

And so he chose to glare at his two brothers-in-law. “Step aside,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Max, she is—” Nicholas breathlessly said behind him but Maxwell started pushing through Wakefield and Cole. “Step aside!” he roared.

“Maxwell, you ought to calm down,” Cole said, pushing him back. “Doctor Johannes is—”

“I said step aside!” he roared, causing his mother and his sisters to whimper in their corner. “Step aside, Devitt, before I make another push,” he growled at the man.

“Let him pass, gentlemen,” Margaret said in a shaking voice.

Her husband and Wakefield did as were told and Maxwell ran past through them and up the stairs. “Where!” he shouted.

“Your bedchamber,” he heard Emma answer.

Maxwell’s legs took him down the corridor with great speed. His heart was hammering against his chest and when he reached the door, he stopped. Fear struck him again, rendering him immobile. His throat seemed to have closed up on him that his intake of breath was a wheeze. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees to breathe as a whimper escaped his tight throat. He started to heavily rasp, his eyes staring wide at the floor. A tear escaped and he watched it soak he carpet, his vision getting blurry by the second.

He rubbed his hands over his face and raked it through his hair, drawing a shaky breath as he straightened to full height. Looking to the left, he realized his family had decided to leave him alone. And he did feel alone.

No.

No, he could never be alone.

He rubbed his hands over his face again to wipe the tears and pushed the door open.

His entrance caught the attention of the doctor bending over his wife and the servants who were rushing to and fro with towels, washbasins, bandages—all of them covered with blood.

“My lord, if you can please stay—” the doctor started but Maxwell was already on his way across the room, running to the other side of the bed.

“Continue with your work, doctor,” he ordered coldly. “Do not mind me.”

His eyes settled on his wife. She looked utterly pale, unmoving on the bed. Her dress was dirty, torn in some places and covered with patches of blood and mud.

He slowly climbed the bed and took her hand. It was cold. He bent down to whisper beside her ear. “Maxie,” he said. “Maxie,” he choked. His other hand brushed her hair away from her forehead. It was a great struggle not to gather her in his arms and whimper in defeat.

He straightened and looked her over, finally seeing the damage.

Her upper body looked utterly fine but the sight of her right leg caused a sound that was both pain and horror to escape his throat. He saw the young doctor’s jaw tighten over his reaction but the man merely continued with what he was doing.

Suddenly Maxwell felt utterly vulnerable as he watched the doctor work for he did not know what the doctor was doing. He could not tell him how to do his work better or see if he was doing it wrong now.

Another tear rolled out of Maxwell’s eye, his hand tightening around his wife’s hand. He blinked and roared at the servants, “Open the bloody curtains!”

They all jumped to their feet.

“How can he work if there is barely any light!” he screamed again.

“My lord,” the young doctor said as he bent over Maxine’s broken leg, “please, your voice.”

But Maxwell was not listening as his eyes were glued on the ghastly long wound that ran from Maxine’s inner thigh, over her knee and down to the middle of her shin.

“I assume no one was able to explain to you how it happened?” asked the doctor.

Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “I will soon find out, but what I want to know is if she will be all right,” he said, voice cold and filled with fear. “Bloody answer me, doctor.”

Doctor Johannes threw him a quick glance before he continued with his work. “The man who rescued her tied the upper part of her thigh to minimize the bleeding. As of now, I just finished washing the wound of any debris from the broken carriage and I shall do so again before I stich—”

“I did not ask for specifics, doctor. I want to know if my wife shall live,” he said in a controlled, shaky voice.

The doctor swallowed and sighed. “If we can prevent an infection and if her body can compensate for the loss of blood, your wife shall live, my lord,” the man replied as he frowned down Maxine’s leg and ordered for a maid to wipe off the fresh blood. As the woman did so, the doctor looked up at Maxwell and gravely added, “but I cannot say the same for her leg. If it gets infected and we cannot save it, we will have to amputate. If it survives an infection, then we must pray for the best. It is not just flesh that that accident has broken, my lord, but a bone as well. I have called for another doctor who is an expert on bone healing and he is being rushed here as we speak.”

Maxwell’s breath became heavy again. “Call everyone you think is best,” he snapped. “Do you mean to say she may never be able to walk again?”

Doctor Johannes carefully answered, “We cannot say for certain, my lord. We shall do our best and hope that our best will suffice.”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened. It was not enough reassurance, but he would have to settle for it.

Maxwell turned to cup Maxine’s face with one hand. She was not waking up. She looked as if she was in a deep slumber. But her temple was soaked with sweat. Was she suffering in her sleep? Could she feel the pain?

“I gave her a high dose of laudanum,” Doctor Johannes informed him.

Ignoring the doctor, Maxwell bent lower. “I’m here, love,” he harshly whispered as he buried his tear-streaked face in her neck. Her faint pulse gave him comfort as he began to shake in tears. “I’m here, love,” he repeated in a broken whisper.

---

He did not bother to ask how his wife’s carriage got into an accident while on her way to the Everard estate. Everyone was aware that such details were not important to Maxwell now.

Almost the entire Everard family was residing in his estate now, including Doctor Johannes and his friend who tended on Maxine’s bone after the bleeding was stopped. It had been three days since the accident yet Maxwell had not said a word to anyone.

Margaret had ordered for Benedict and Levi to come to Wickhurst at once. And upon hearing of Maxine’s accident, both brothers arrived the same day as the Theobalds.

Maxwell was inconsolable and he refused to talk to anyone although he was in the same room as them. And everyone kept their distance as they knew him too well. There was merely one person who could get up and come near him now and that was the very same woman lying in bed upstairs.

Margaret gathered her brothers inside Maxwell’s study. Everyone else but her husband was kept out, giving the Theobalds and each other comfort somewhere in the parlor.

“Maxwell has advised me to tell you all about Osegod, but I withheld it until I have enough reason why we cannot be involved with the man.”

“Nearly caused my wife’s life, thank you,” Maxwell cynically snapped from one corner. He looked like hell and smelled worse, but cared not. “Hurry, Maggie, for I do not wish to stay in this room one minute longer. My wife—”

“I am sorry if you feel that having not made an early decision against Osegod is the reason for Maxine’s accident, Max, but I must remind you that I am a Leaguer and I have already done so much against my duty to protect this family.”

Maxwell did not comment but his jaw tightened. He did not want to blame his sister for she did not know—as no one else did—that this accident could have happened, the same way they did not see the mine accident months before.

Margaret sighed and looked at Benedict. “The League has come to believe that Osegod is not merely the head of the Town Leaders, but also that he is gaining control over Tiny Town.”

“But Tiny Town is a separate state,” Levi pointed out.

“Then he must be a very good player,” said Margaret. “The Trilbys own almost half of Tiny Town—its land, the businesses and the people there rely upon their graces whether they know it or not.”

“Ah, of course, the bloody Trilbys,” Maxwell said with scoff. “Who would have bloody thought?”

Margaret ignored his derision and kept talking. “As what Ralph has also been able to discover through his investigation, Osegod is involved with the slave trade. Cole and I have been closely watching the Trilbys since we discovered their connection to the trade years ago. Osegod’s name never came up until Ralph found traces of his name in his investigation.”

“Although we are yet to find concrete evidence of his direct connection to the trade,” Ralph supplied.

Margaret looked around the room at her brothers from where she was standing in the middle of the room. “They have never made any efforts to hide the fact that they are chummy with each other—Osegod and the Trilbys.”

“You have more to say, Maggie,” Benedict seriously said, giving their sister an assessing look.

“The League has gained leverage, but it is very little. We have in our possession two people that Osegod desperately wants.” And she went on to tell everything that Maxwell already knew about Aurora Randolph and her child.

“Bloody hell, Maggie,” Ralph said in disbelief. “You did what?”

Margaret stiffened as she haughtily lifted her chin. “They are safe, do not worry. We are keeping them safe for they are more important to us than alive. They are not my mission, so is Osegod, but I have to keep track of the investigation because of the recent attention he has been giving the family.”

“You realize you’ve let them keep a mother and her child as pawns, do you not, Maggie?” Levi said, a frown on his face.

“And would you rather it be your wife and child? Mine? Yours?” she directed the last question at Benedict. “I did what I did to save us all from Osegod!”

“And he still managed to get to us, did he not!” Nicholas roared. “The mine accident and now Maxine.” He scoffed in disbelief. “Now, do not get me wrong, Maggie, I do not like the chit, especially after what she did to Ysabella. But what your precious League of Founders is planning to do to her is worse than anything she could have done to us. No wonder she did it, eh? She must be the only person in the Town to realize that no one can ever be trusted and that life is naught but a game of using everyone around you!”

“It could be worse should Osegod realize we kept Aurora and the child, Nicholas! Do you realize that the only people who want them now are the League of Founders? Because no matter how you look at it, gentlemen,” Margaret said, panting with fury as she looked at her brothers, “no one—and yes, that includes us—would want to have anything to do with the danger that comes with helping them. Do not be too righteous, brothers, for we all know that what I did was right. We are better off without such burden when we can barely manage to say no to a business proposal from Osegod! We have surpassed petty scandals, but this matter about Aurora and her child is not comparable to when we took a woman suspected of witchcraft or a bastard into our family. Aurora is not a scandal we can easily patch for her own enemy is the enemy of the entire Town itself. This is no longer about avoiding a scandal, my lords, but of preservation! Aurora is fully aware of that for she had lived her life that way and we shall do so too for once! I will not let any of my children, to wake up with no future because we took pity on one woman and her child! It was the hardest decision I have ever done and I will do the same again because I am a mother, a sister and a child!”

“This matter about Aurora Randolph and her child will simply be an endless debate of right and wrong,” Benedict interjected. “It is best we move forward,” he added, a signal for Margaret to continue.

Ralph, Levi and Nicholas shook their heads in disbelief.

“As I have said, the fight against Osegod is weak, but we are gaining momentum.”

Cole stepped closer to his wife and said, “We cannot present a case against him for he is far too powerful at the moment.”

“One wrong move and we could start a civil war,” Margaret said. “He holds majority of the high ranking officials of the Town Guards in his hands. His power could have infiltrated the League of Founders as we know which is why every step we make must be with caution.” Margaret swallowed, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “We do not plan for a battle of blood, but one that will be legal and clean. We shall catch Osegod and his friends for their crimes and persecute them as our law dictates. A bloody civil war will not merely cause us lives but can very well be the end of our entire existence.”

“And when do you plan to make these moves?” Nicholas asked. “When do you plan to use your pawns ?”

Margaret’s eyes flickered with anger at her brother’s derision but she maintained her composure by shrugging and stating, “I do not know as I am not part of the core group that handles the case. And we may not have to use the pawns as you would call them, Nick.”

“How very reassuring,” Nicholas mockingly replied.

Margaret looked at her husband but did not say another word.

“You have something you are not telling us, Maggie,” Maxwell observed from one corner, his eyes looking tired by keen. “What is it?”

Margaret let out a shaky breath. “I believe I know why Osegod wants to be close to us.”

“They suspect we are keeping Aurora and the child?” Ralph guessed.

Margaret shrugged. “Perhaps, but as I have said, he is not merely playing a hunting game. He is planning something bigger.” When her brothers simply stared, she uttered, “He wishes to expand his power over all gentries.”

“Even a fool can come up with the same conclusion, sister,” Nicholas uttered.

“As my wife has been trying to tell you, gentlemen, Osegod is planning something far bigger than anyone here can ever imagine,” Cole calmly said.

Benedict was watching Margaret, eyes serious and unblinking. Ralph and Nicholas restlessly shifted in their seats while Maxwell remained unmoving.

Margaret drew a deep breath and carefully said, “Osegod is in contact with aboveground and from what I have gathered, whatever he is planning might cause the ruin of the entire Town.”

---

Maxwell barely had chance to be as surprised by Margaret’s blasted revelation as his brothers were, nor did he bother to stay longer while Benedict talked with the others about completely refusing Osegod’s offers and other ways they could do so without causing future accidents .

His uttermost priority was to keep his full attention on his wife and make it certain that she showed no signs of infection. He went straight to her chamber and urged Rachel to rest or join Gabriel and Samuel downstairs with the others for tea.

Maxine’s stepmother gave him a faint smile, her face tired as she said, “Thank you. My husband may not say it, but we both are grateful. For accepting her. For loving her.”

He merely nodded and waited until the woman walked out of the room. He took the seat she vacated beside the bed and held his wife’s hand. She had not woken up since last night when she did with so much pain that Doctor Johannes had to give her another dose of laudanum to subside it.

He planted the back of his palm over her forehead and sighed with relief. No fever. Her breathing was slow but visible.

Ysabella came through the door, face solemn and slightly wary as she approached. “Gustav sent a missive,” she said in a soft, low voice.

Maxwell nodded and took the letter from his sister. Ysabella looked at Maxine’s sleeping form before she brushed away a tear and turned to leave.

“Ysa,” Maxwell croaked, “Thank you.”

His sister nodded and left.

After staring blankly at his wife’s bandaged leg, Maxwell tore his eyes away from it and the gut-wrenching fear it stirred inside him, opening the letter.

Ei Guv!

Forgive the letter. I try my best, see?

My friends from the west confirmed a woman from Wickhurst had joined ‘em many years ago. They took her in after findin’ her in an abandoned carriage in the middle of the road. She was bleendin’, see? Said she looked like a woman who had been bleedin’ from childbirth. They cared for her until she was well. She lived with them then but was killed when their village was attacked two decades ago.

My friend cannot say for certain, but she could’ve been the same woman you are lookin’ for. She never spoke about her past, see? She was the first and last gentry their village welcomed. Those men came for her, not them.

Do be careful with those Trilbys, guv!

Your bandit acquaintance,

G

P.S. How is my writing? Better than my speech, eh?

Maxwell folded the letter and his head fell back against the winged chair. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Now, how could he tell his wife that her mother might possibly be dead, left to die by her own family in a lone road and later killed when they found out she survived?

Tears appeared behind his closed lids as another question came to his mind. And how could he tell her that she might never be able to walk again?

XLII. Puppets and Friends

When Maxine opened her eyes again, the pain was there, but so was her husband as he was when she first regained consciousness. But this time she knew that to prevent another high dose of laudanum was to bear the agony.

She swallowed and her voice croaked when she tried to catch Maxwell’s attention. “Max.”

His head was bent, his eyes blankly staring at her hand in his.

“Max,” she called again and quietly groaned when he did not move. “Are you sleeping with your eyes open again?” she managed to jest through a heavy breath.

At that moment, he did snap from his reverie and his eyes rounded with relief when their eyes met.

She would have thought he meant to pounce on her, but he did not. He moved closer to the side of the bed and hovered over her, searching her face with frantic eyes, gauging the pain. Maxine managed a faint smile as he said, “Maxie.”

“Dare not ask for forgiveness,” she croaked with warning. “There is none to give. But I would ask for some water, please.”

He immediately jumped to get her a glass of water which he very carefully guided to her lips. She took a few sips before she shook her head and settled it back into the pillow.

Maxwell hovered over her again and his eyes were glimmering with tears.

His nose flared and for the first time Maxine witnessed Maxwell crying. Something clenched in her heart. She lifted her hand and he held it to his face as he continued to sob, his forehead against hers.

“You might not be able to walk again, love,” he brokenly whispered.

Maxine chuckled, not because of the horrible news, but by her husband’s utter honesty. “At the very least we are done with the bad news,” she lightly said, closing her eyes to ignore the pain.

Maxwell sniffed and leaned away from her. He wiped his eyes with the pad of his hand before he forced a smile on his lips. “I did tell them you would not mind.”

Maxine laughed this time, but the pain was starting to get irritatingly immense. “I am both hungry and in pain, Max.”

Maxwell cupped her face and gently wiped away the tears from her eyes and rested his cheek against hers. “Which would you wish to address first?” he whispered against her cheek.

“My growling stomach, of course, you fool,” she weakly snapped. “But do be quick as I am inclined to request for another dose of laudanum.”

He left her side and rang for the maid and returned to her side. The way he looked at her as he brushed her hair off her forehead made Maxine realize how close she must have come to death.

“How is the carriage?” she asked.

“It would take a year’s worth of your allowance to repair it,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes again. “And the horses?”

“Found in the woods.”

She swallowed through the pain. “The wheels broke off.”

“Yes.”

“Both of them.”

“I know, love.”

She opened her eyes and found him gazing at her in such tender a manner. He did not care how the accident happened.

“But I would have done something should you have not survived,” he added, reading her mind.

Maxine sighed. “Where is the food, Max?”

“On its way,” he said, standing up to go to the door to shout down the corridor. “A servant, please!”

Maxine sighed. “Did they cut my leg?” she asked.

He returned to her side just as a maid entered the door, heavily breathing. “A tray of food for my wife, please,” he snapped at the servant and the woman immediately left with a nod.

“No, your leg is still attached to you, love,” he said and then he started to frown.

“What is it?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. I cushioned it with my arms before the impact.” She winced. “Glad I did. The carriage sure did roll down the street many times.”

His face was serious, no sign that he was amused by her words. “You almost died, Maxie.”

Maxine smiled. “But I did not.”

He cupped her face and ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “You did not.”

“Except my leg.”

His jaw tightened.

“What is it you are not telling me?”

“Perhaps you did hit your head,” he said with a smile. “You can no longer guess what I am thinking.”

“It is the laudanum,” she reasoned. “Now, tell me.”

“When you are better, love.”

“Apart from the pain, Max, I am better.”

Her husband sighed. He looked over his shoulder at the door. “What is taking them so long? Are they preparing a feast?”

“Max,” Maxine uttered with warning.

He inclined his head toward her again. His emerald green eyes looked straight into hers. “Gustav sent a message.”

And he told her about what the western bandits relayed to Alex’s father.

He gave her the letter and she read it. Twice. And then once more. Finally, she set it aside. She swallowed and drew in a breath.

When she kept her silence, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

Her lips quirked. “Did you hit your head as well?”

Maxwell narrowed his eyes at her. “Maxie.”

She sighed. “Fret not, Max,” she assured. When confusion formed on his face, she added, “I never knew her and I am not certain how I must feel. Disappointed, yes, but other than that fact, I cannot say for certain if I could feel the same pain I would should it have happened to my stepmother.”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Maxine swallowed through the pain coming from her leg. “Perhaps knowing the woman who brought me into this world is the biggest deprivation of my life, but it is not comparable to how it might be should I have been deprived of my father, my stepmother and my brothers—and the Everards.”

He squeezed her hand once again. “And me.”

Maxine chuckled. “And you.”

---

“Are you certain you do not wish to go home to Theobald to recuperate?” Gabriel asked.

“Wickhurst may keep its silence as of now,” Samuel added, “and some may sympathize with your accident, but I cannot say the gossips shall cease. It will merely bring you strain, Maxine.”

“Stop it, the two of you,” Rachel scolded her sons as she smoothed Maxine’s bedcovers. “Your sister shall recuperate wherever she wishes.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Merely saying, mother, that that husband of hers did not do a very good job keeping her safe.”

“That husband of hers had not had enough proper sleep since your sister’s accident,” Rachel snapped. She turned to her husband who had been keeping his silence from the other side of the bed. “Tell your sons they have no say on this matter, Eustace.”

Eustace tilted his head toward his sons. “Your mother called me by my name, sons,” he said. “We all know what it entails.”

Maxine chuckled and closed her eyes. “However can I sleep with this clamor?”

“Get out, the two of you,” her father ordered. Gabriel and Samuel did as ordered, muttering under their breath.

Rachel bent over her and kissed her forehead. “Rest now, dear.”

“Thank you, Mother,” she whispered. Rachel straightened and looked at her husband. “Come, darling, let us leave her alone.”

“One moment,” her father said. Rachel nodded and followed her sons outside.

Maxine turned and gave her father an expectant look.

Eustace Theobald sighed and reached out to pat her cheek. “Your brothers are correct, my dear,” he said. “Your husband ought to have locked you safe in a room before he went to Devonshire.”

Maxine sighed. “You have learned of Osegod.”

His face tightened.

“Father, whoever I would have been married to, I might still have had that accident,” she said. “It was not merely because of Osegod’s relationship with the Everards, but it is also because I am a Trilby bastard.”

Her father shook his head.

“Fret not,” she reassured. “They could not harm me more than they did now, could they?”

“You can never be certain.”

“I am certain,” she said but she did not reveal her plan. She let the silence linger a little while before she added, “I have gained knowledge that she died.”

Her father immediately understood. “I am sorry,” he uttered.

“Her own family ordered for her be killed.”

Eustace’s face tightened.

“And I shall not let them do the same thing to me,” she promised.

He nodded and cupped her face. “We will always be here for you, Maxine.”

“I know.”

“I love you. You must know that.”

“I know, and I love you too.”

He cleared his throat and stood up. “Now, rest before your mother berates me.”

Maxine waited until her father exited the room before she reached for the writing articles beside her bed.

It was time to write Amelia Trilby another letter.

---

“How long will she wear that?” Maxwell asked the doctor.

The man started to speak but it was Doctor Johannes who supplied, “Until the bone has completely healed.”

“It will be very heavy,” he said, frowning at the leg brace surrounding Maxine’s leg.

The old bone doctor opened his mouth to answer but Maxine interrupted by saying, “I have carried your brother’s luggage too many times, Max. I am certain this is not as heavy.”

Ralph laughed from one corner with Ysabella and Emma. Nicholas scowled at them.

“You will make it in time for the Seymour Ball, Maxine,” Ysabella said, clapping her hands together.

Maxwell was still frowning at the brace, ignoring his family. “It had merely been a month since the accident,” he said. “Are you certain she is ready?”

“I am,” Maxine insisted before the bone doctor could utter a word. “Now, Max, do stop berating the doctors.” She turned to both doctors and smiled. “I thank you for everything. I owe you both my life.”

“And leg,” she heard Emma say from one corner.

“And leg,” she added.

“It was very good of you to have curled into a ball when the accident happened,” Doctor Johannes said. “It saved your life.” He examined Maxine’s leg. “You shall have to suffer this brace for quite some time. And you shall have to bear the limp, I am afraid,” he added.

Maxine nodded. “I do have a question, doctor.”

“Yes, of course, my lady.”

“Will I be able to bear a child?”

Ralph and Nicholas cleared their throats and quietly asked the other doctor if he would like tea. They were out the door with Ysabella and Emma before Doctor Johannes gave his answer.

“I believe, yes,” he said. “Your injury is only on one limb.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

When Doctor Johannes left her alone with Maxwell, her husband turned to her. “Were you afraid you will not bear a child?”

Maxine smiled. “Not truly, no.” She gave him a wink. “I was more afraid I might not be able to do the act that would bring forth a child. I merely phrased the more proper question.”

Her husband’s laughter rang around their bedchamber.

---

Months later, after endless days of therapy and exercises, Doctor Johannes was proven to be correct.

Maxine was relieved of the heavy brace, but her walk was never the same again. She limped for if she attempted to walk straight like a true lady, it triggered pain down her leg.

In the two months that she recuperated, Maxine was glad that they were in Kenward. The place offered the tranquility she needed to focus on her exercises. Her husband had never left her side and had been of great help, guiding her on walks, utterly patient with her pace.

But when she accepted the invitation to the Seymour Ball, he was surprised.

“Why?” she asked with a frown.

He shrugged. “I was afraid you would not wish to be seen in such occasions.”

She scoffed. “Why? Because I have a limp?”

He simply shrugged.

“Max, the only acceptance I desire now after everything that I went through is that of our families.” She shrugged. “They accepted a bastard. I am quite certain they will accept a limping one.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “I do not enjoy the Seymour Ball, Maxie, but I have never been to one with you. Why the bloody hell not?”

She limped toward him and was quite ready to give him a kiss but he turned and walked over to the drawer beside the bed.

“You must have this then,” he said, returning to her. In his hand was a plain silver bracelet and hanging around it were blank slots, all of them in different shapes.

“And I assume the emerald pieces match these?” she asked with a smile, examining one very closely.

He shrugged. “I was hoping you would want to learn how to do it.”

Her eyes widened. “Assemble jewelry?”

He nodded.

Maxine wound her arms around her husband’s neck. “Gladly.”

He bent down as he said, “Another pair of hands for extra help.”

She chuckled against his lips.

It would be very much later before they could start on her jewelry assembly training as her husband led her to the bed.

---

Maxine was apparently surprised that she was able to readily and easily grow accustomed to the staring.

All her life she had dreaded this moment and she must say she wasted years doing so.

It was not bad at all.

Or perhaps her family made it possible to bear.

Both women invited Maxine to the public park in Wickhurst before the Seymour ball the other day and Maxine was quite certain it was both to provoke and dare the gossipmongers. Both women openly laughed and talked with Maxine, all three of them very aware that the ladies and their friends were listening. Lady Gedge, the biggest gossipmonger in Wickhurst was the twin’s apparent target.

In fact, Ysabella and Emma did not leave her side even until the Seymour Ball and Maxwell had to push them away, saying, “My wife did not die in that carriage, but she sure shall with suffocation from you two.”

Wakefield saved his wife from her brother’s wrath by asking her to dance. Samuel, who was left alone by Ralph, turned to Emma, saying, “You owe me a dance.”

“No, I do not, Samuel.”

“Do you remember what I did for you the night Wakefield stopped Ysabella from going to Devonshire?”

Emma groaned.

Samuel gave Maxine a wink before he grandly offered his arm to Emma who sighed and said, “One ought to pay her dues after all. But just one dance, Samuel.”

Maxine smiled after her brother and Emma as they joined Wakefield and the other dancers. She turned and found Lady Alice with Margaret and her friends, chattering as though it was naught but an ordinary day.

But for Maxine it was no ordinary day.

No matter how scandalous it had been, this was her first real ball after she came out into society.

She had attended countless of them in the many Theobald weekend parties, but never as a part of it.

The Seymour Ball was amongst the grandest in Wickhurst. It was attended by the most affluent gentries around and she must regretfully admit that she quite liked it.

“Is your leg in pain?” Maxwell asked beside her, his hand going to the small of her back.

“No,” she replied, tilting her head up to him with a smile.

“Then we must dance,” he said, pulling her toward the center of the ballroom before she could protest.

The small crowd before them parted as they passed, most of them warily staring at Maxine’s limping pace. Were they counting the steps she took before her fall?

It was only when they stopped and Maxwell faced her and took her hand in his, pulling her closer by the other hand on her back, did Maxine realize he was showing everyone that he was with her. And that she was his wife. And that she limped. And that he did not care.

After some time, they escaped to the gardens to escape the crowd. As they walked, she looked up at him and asked, “What did you decide to do with Osegod?”

He nonchalantly looked around them, giving Maxine a chance to revel at his beauty. He was hers , she thought with pride.

“Benedict had formally sent the man the answer and it is a no,” he said. “The Everards will remain Everards. Osegod is not our business as Margaret has pointed out. But we have given him a subtle warning that should any of the Everards begin to meet unusual accidents in the future, we would call on the Town Guards to launch a very open investigation, one that shall be thoroughly published on the Herald every day.”

He took her hand in his and clasped them together as they walked. “Are you quite certain your letter to Amelia Trilby would be deemed effective?”

Maxine smiled. “Very much so.”

---

Dear Amelia,

I regret to say that I have you to blame for my accident. Should you find yourself innocent, please bother not to relay it to me for I shall have none of it.

I merely wish that you stay out of my life as you did from the moment I was born.

And I would appreciate it very much if my family and I, the Theobalds and the Everards, will no longer have any sort of accident of your orchestration, directly or not.

But should you opt to continue with whatever plans you may be concocting, know that an entire village of bandits is witness to the horrible act your family did to one of your own.

I never grew up into your family and do not wish for anything more. I have asked my brothers to do their best to make it certain that the townspeople do not discover the truth of my connection to your family. In return to this, I hope that you keep your silence and your hands off us all.

My silence will remain, but should anything happen, know that my husband’s attorneys shall be inclined to set into action with written testaments from everyone who knows you. That includes my father.

A woman who is your blood but never yours,

Maxine Theobald-Everard

Amelia delicately folded the letter and placed it on her desk just as Osegod strode into the room, face fuming with fury.

“They refused!”

Amelia calmly stared at the angry handsome man before her. He had aged well, but it seemed that only his features did. His brain remained at the state it was in decades ago.

“And I can no longer threaten them. It is too bloody dangerous.”

“I agree, Alan,” she said, nodding her head.

He let out a heavy breath. “I have always thought they would do the same as the others.”

“But they did not and you must accept it.”

He paced before her table. “We have to let them believe they are safe for now. We must find a way to get to them like the others.”

“I am afraid my ace has been injured and now refuses to help, thank you very much to your genius plan.”

But Osegod was not listening. He kept pacing and talking. “You must find someone else to be a part of them. That bloody bastard niece of yours was useless to start with.” He stopped and stared into her dark eyes. “I must know their secrets.” He planted his hands flat on Amelia’s table as he hovered over her. “One of them is on to me. One of them knows about that whore and the child. If the people and my peers learn that I have fathered a cretin, Amelia, my life is over. And so is yours.” He pushed away in fury, running his hands through his hair. “They will never vote for me again. And that brother of yours will lose his seat amongst the Leaders before he could even run for another term.” He pointed a finger at her. “I want to know what the Everards know.”

Amelia nodded. “I will do it.”

Osegod shook his head. “That niece of yours could have done us good if you merely played her correctly.”

Amelia sighed. “It is better to have someone who has always been a Trilby to be part of the Everards, not some bastard who shares our blood but never ours.” She smiled at Osegod. “Fret not, Alan, I have one in mind.”

Osegod nodded. “You ought to for I will not let one rich, spoiled family from Wickhurst ruin my life!” And without another word he left as fast as he came, leaving the door open.

Vega walked in and her niece sat on the chaise by the window. Amelia watched the beautiful woman look out to see Osegod leaving the estate and climbing into his carriage.

“I wonder if we are doing the right thing helping that horrid creature rise to power,” Vega said before she turned to meet Amelia’s eyes from across the room. Her niece stood up, her golden dress sashaying along with her. “This can lead the Trilbys into so much trouble should Osegod be found out and the League learns of our secrets.”

Amelia offered her niece a smile. “Fret not, Vega, dear,” she said as she clasped her hands together. “Fret not about Osegod for I have him in the tips of my fingers like a humble, obedient dog. Like a wooden puppet that is not aware it is one and who believes the hands holding the strings are its friends. He simply is not aware of it just yet. And it shall be that way for now.” She stood up locked her arm around Vega’s, leading the young woman out of the study. “Once Noah takes over the Leaders, Osegod shall have his well-deserved respite , as your grandfather used to say. He does look tired with each passing day, does he not?”

“But he shall not have it should the moment come, Auntie. He will fight against you if he can,” Vega pointed out. “He is as hungry for power and success as everyone else.”

“But power and success merely comes to those who are no fools, my dear,” Amelia contradicted. “An arrogant fool never knows the extent of his success until he realizes the height of his fall.” They walked out of the study. “And believe me, my dear, Osegod shall fall. Someday. As to us,” she gave her niece an alarming smile, “we are not fools, are we?”

XLIII. A Lady Always Is

“Gramp, what do you think of what the Trilbys did to the Everards?” Valerie asked.

Eddie raised his brows as he continued to stare at the sky above him. Their grandfather had always loved watching the stars.

“They did many things, horrible ones in fact,” he slowly said, “that I feel I do not have the stomach to count them all.”

“But were they truly evil as pictured in Gram’s books?” Violet asked.

Their grandfather Eddie rolled his head to the side to look into his granddaughter’s eyes. “Some of them were, yes.”

“Amelia?”

They thought their saw their grandfather shiver. “The vilest, I tell you.”

“Will you tell us more about them? How their plans turned out?”

The old man sighed. “It shall take us a very long time to discuss my family,” he said. “But I am not the best person to do it, I tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was not there to witness it all.”

They all fell silent. The twins were not certain if they wanted to learn everything about the Trilbys at such a short period of time. Their grandfather was right.

“Tell us one thing though,” Valerie said. “Was Amelia lying when she said that Fiona—err, gram, I mean—is not Noah’s daughter?”

Eddie simply smiled. He grunted as he braced himself on the chair and stood up. “It is rather cold out here in the veranda,” he said. “Would love to have a cup of tea.”

“Gramp!” the girls cried.

Edmund Trilby paused and looked down at them. “Amelia Trilby may have been vile, but she rarely lied.”

---

“Felicitations to us both, brother,” Nicholas said to Ralph, raising his glass of brandy. “We are two of the few men who regained membership in this damned place after a scandalous banishment.”

Ralph rolled his eyes. “I would share the joy if you can convince your dear Tania and that Veronica chit to join us.”

Nicholas frowned. “You bloody know why they are staring at us like two vultures waiting for a meal! I could imagine them picking our brains first and flying it out of a hole to eat aboveground!”

Ralph sighed and shook his head. “I am starting to believe I have nothing to find here. And I do not think their hunger will be satiated with your brain. You barely have one.” He braced his head as Nicholas smacked his head.

Scowling, Nicholas added a kick under the table. “Brother dear, you simply have lost hope of the women here. You cannot urge one to take you to her chamber simply because you are a bloody guard. And you are correct. You cannot find anything here because your bloody profession is a hindrance. While I, your handsome and great brother, can very well do the job you cannot! Call me brainless all you want, but I am your only hope in this damned place.”

“Overly confident, are we not?” Ralph dryly uttered. He looked up and his brows rose in surprise. “Bloody hell, Samuel, what are you doing here!”

Nicholas snapped his head around and found Samuel Theobald walking toward them with a defeated look on his face. Beside him was another young man dressed as boring as him.

“Whyever are you here, Samuel?” Nicholas repeated Ralph’s question.

“Gentlemen,” Samuel greeted dryly. He motioned at his dark-haired friend, the other boring lad, and said, “Hastings, Everard brothers. Everard brothers, Hastings.”

The man let out an awkward smile before he offered his hand to Nicholas and Ralph. “Wynne Hastings.”

“Hastings,” Ralph said as he shook the man’s hand. “The one near Cromwell?”

“And Theobald,” Samuel added. “Wynne and I were tasked to make an article about Rock’oles. Apparently, more and more of the female species of the ton is in need of details of this place. And as someone who wish to divert their attention from my sister, I decided to take the assignment..”

Nicholas scoffed. “Speaking of your sister, why not ask her? She does know the details.”

“Maxine?”

Nicholas cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. “I might have told her a few things about Rock’oles while she was under my employ,” he said, excluding the details of how his sister-in-law strode into this place to fetch her husband.

“And how is it coming along?” Ralph conversationally asked Hastings.

The man was merely slightly bigger than Samuel and his features a stark contrast. While Samuel was blonde with light grey eyes, Wynne Hastings had dark hair and dark eyes. His jaw square and nose slightly crooked, like a man who had his fair share of fights at Adam’s. Nicholas would not be surprised if he got his injuries from the tyrants of the school for it was apparent he was not one who would readily engage into a physical bout. Like Samuel, Wynne Hastings was the kind of man who would rather fight with a pen than a sword.

“Not very well,” Hastings replied with a helpless shrug.

“It took us more than a month to be a member for this place yet no woman is willing to talk to us. We fear they do not take a liking to men who look as if they lived their lives surrounded by books,” Samuel complained as he grabbed Ralph’s drink and emptied it in one gulp. “Anyhow, I shall be seeing more of you gentlemen soon.”

Wynne Hastings nodded at them as farewell, but as he and Samuel were leaving, Ralph said, “I saw you dancing with Emma at the Seymour Ball, Samuel.”

Samuel stiffened and let out a chuckle. “That was months ago, Ralph.”

“No matter, it still does not deny the fact that you danced with her.”

“’Twas merely to provoke her, Ralph.”

Nicholas crossed his leg over his knee as he leaned back into his chair. “Then try very much to focus your provocations on someone else’s sister, Samuel.”

Samuel stiffly nodded and he turned to walk away. Wynne Hastings followed suit.

“Oddest pair to grace Rock’oles,” Ralph said with a shake of his head. “If he is not my friend, I would have laughed at him. He ought to know better than wear that bloody stiff suit!”

“And I must say we must pay close attention to that friend of yours, brother,” Nicholas said. “He fancies our sister.”

Ralph scoffed. “Emma is too busy with her books and conspiracy theories to bother with any man,” Ralph continued. “Add the fact that Mrs. Beagle has gone missing again and I feel utterly confident that she has no time for romance. As a matter of fact, I do pity Samuel. She will never have him even if we allow it.”

Nicholas merely shrugged. From everything he had thus far witnessed, he could no longer say the same thing.

He looked around the gaming hall and sighed. He would have to wait for the crowd to disperse before he could execute his plans.

“Brandy?” he asked Ralph who nodded.

Nicholas raised his arm to call the server.

This would be a bloody long night.

---

They had spent a long time talking about Mrs. Beagle and her mysterious adventures every month. But they ran out of theories of where the feline might be with each disappearance.

Thinking it was time to ask the question, Maxine turned to her side to stare at her husband as he lay on his back.

“Why have we spared your mother and the twins of the details about Osegod?” Maxine asked as she lay in bed with her husband.

“Perhaps because we wish to maintain their innocence,” he said, clasping her hand over his chest, rubbing her forefinger with a thumb.

“You mean they would not have approved of your actions, or of Margaret’s.”

“Perhaps, yes.”

Maxine swallowed as she battled against herself. It had always bothered her and she had spent countless hours wondering how it would have been if the Town was different and less cruel. “I have no idea, Max, but I do feel for her.”

“Who?”

“Aurora Randolph.”

“Because of her child?”

“No. I feel for her because she is a mother. But I also understand Margaret as she is also one.”

Maxwell let go of her hand and rolled to his side to meet her eyes.

Maxine read his silent question. “I can merely imagine what it would have been like for her, Aurora, I mean.” She smiled and tears started to fill her eyes. Emotions had been controlling her most days recently. “I am a bastard, Max, and I have lived all my life in fear for I know how cruel the Town is to people who are different. I was kept safe in a large estate. I had my family to protect me and I still do and it is growing in number. I wonder how it was for her. You may not like to hear this from me because I know that she did your family wrong, especially Ysabella, but the Town is a very difficult place for a woman to be alone. That is why I dared not disguise as a servant girl when I came to Wickhurst for the world is less cruel to your kind. And you are aware of that, are you not? You see the worst of things, cynic that you are.” He squeezed her shoulder in affirmation. “It is either we work for a decent post which we all must agree cannot sufficiently sustain a family, or we find a man to provide to protect us—whoring or otherwise. Even a governess or a simple housekeeper ought not to have a tainted reputation, leaving those who are to resort to whoring or tending crops or cleaning excrements. We do not have the full rights you gentlemen enjoy.” She sighed and wiped her tears. “Even now, as a Theobald, the law dictates that all of my inheritance be transferred to my husband upon my father’s death unless otherwise specified which is a very uncommon occurrence. I am simply amongst the lucky few to enjoy a monthly allowance from you. Yet strip me of these privileges and I am as poor as the service people who serve me.”

Maxwell sighed and wiped the tears from Maxine’s face.

“Forgive me if I sympathize with her, Maxwell,” she sniffed. “But we can only fathom what she had gone through as she escaped Osegod while trying to provide for her child. My birth mother was killed by her own family simply because she bore a bastard. I cannot imagine the extent of fear Aurora Randolph must feel in every waking hour simply because she bore a cretin. I feel for her for she chose to do what my birth mother dared not do. She chose her child, Max. She could have not. She could have left her somewhere and kept on with her life. But she did not. She chose her and although some would consider what she had done to your family as vile, I cannot see it as anything but sacrifice. She sacrificed her virtue and innocence all to preserve her child’s.” She sniffed and laughed. “Oh, bloody hell. I feel too silly mourning for a woman I do not even know!”

Maxwell pulled her closer against him. “There are many things in the Town that I despise, love, and the things you said are amongst them. Society creates who we are and it judges us for the same thing. I am not proud of what our family did to Aurora and the child, but we must all come to terms with how things are and pray for a change in this wicked world.”

“You have always been a cynic it is a wonder to hear the words from you.”

“I am not a cynic on rare occasions. There are also things that render me speechless and with wonder.”

Maxine chuckled despite her tears. “Me?”

He smoothed her hair. It had grown longer. “And your hair.”

His hand travelled down to her shoulder, at the side of her breast and at the curve of her waist. It slid flat over her abdomen where it stayed, warming her and the treasure behind it.

“If it is a boy, we ought to call him Max.”

“Please, not Maximilian or Maximus.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “No, plain Max shall suffice.”

Maxine sighed and wound her arm around him. “And if it is a she?”

He leaned away and stared into her eyes. “It is quite random, love, but the name has always been in my head before we even met.”

Her eyes narrowed with amusement. “Truly? Humor me then.”

He grinned. “Emerald.”

“Emerald Everard is oddly tricky to the tongue and ears.”

“Then she ought to find a suitable man to change it,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he buried his face in the pillow beside her head. “We can always call her Em like her aunt. Or Emmy.”

“Emerald Maxine Everard,” she sleepily whispered. “Do not complain, Maxwell, Maxine is a tradition.”

“I adore it,” he whispered beside her.

“I was thinking,” he murmured, “what do you wish to do on the morrow?”

“Hmm,” Maxine smiled, eyes closed in sleep. “I was planning to design a necklace for my mother.”

“Hmm..”

“Can I borrow your chair this time?” she teased, wrapping her hand around him to snuggle closer.

“No.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. Sleep, wife.”

“Very well.”

He scoffed. “Having the last word, are we not?”

“Yes,” she giggled, burying her face in his chest. “Yield, my lord.”

“Never.”

“Max, I am sleepy and this game shall have to end.”

“And I shall have the last word.”

Maxine sighed and unwound her arm from his waist and pushed away. “Not tonight,” she said with a laugh and before she could climb out of bed, she yelped as her husband silently reached for her, pulling her back against his chest and trapped her with his arm around her.

His eyes were still closed, his lips tight with a hint of a smile.

She let out a triumphant scoff and yawned.

---

Nicholas escaped the gaming halls of Rock’oles and slipped into the corridor that led to the maze of chambers.

In his years of frequenting the place, he had not seen anyone loitering in the corridors. The gentlemen would always want to be inside the chambers or in the gaming halls.

He walked down the narrow passageway, imagining how the men who carved them must have felt while doing their work. However they did it, they did a tremendous job for no one else anywhere in the Town had done the same.

He turned to the right and then left. It was a path he knew too well. He had spent months locating it and when he did, he barely scratched the surface of the mystery.

He looked over his shoulder. The corridor was empty. He stopped outside the wooden door, leaning against the wall beside it. He knocked once and then twice.

It was no great surprise that no answer came.

“You must be surprise to be hearing from me again,” he said in a chiding voice. “Forgive me if I have caused you to wonder or fret over why the handsome young man abruptly ceased being such a nuisance. See, it is my sister-in-law’s fault.” When the room behind the door remained quiet, as it always was, Nicholas smiled. “Ah, but you must have already heard it from one of the ladies. That is, if you speak to them at all. Or if you even bother to step out of your chamber. I was banned after my sister-in-law’s scandalous incident in the gaming halls, see? But I am back, fret not.”

He craned his neck to press his ear closer to the door. He heard a rustle and he jumped to slam his palms on the door, causing to rattle and the sound to echo down the corridor. A surprised gasp came from behind it and he grinned with triumph.

There was a woman behind this door after all! He could now expunge the possibility that he had been talking to no one for months like a bloody idiot. Because someone was truly there! And it was definitely a woman!

“Aha!” he said, keeping himself from crying out in victory. He backed away and pointed at the door as if he was facing the woman herself. “You are inside. I know it! Now, please, come out, I beg you!”

But the silence ensued. As it always did.

Nicholas could not keep the grin off his face as he sighed. “Very well, I shall have to be patient. I will give you peace—for now, of course. I will be back by the morrow, darling!” he added with an exaggerated bow.

Nicholas whistled a happy tune as he turned and walked away. If anyone knew the secrets of Rock’oles, that secret girl back there did. And she was his only chance, of course, in helping Ralph with his case, one that could potentially help them indict Osegod. Tania had refused his invites and she must have poisoned the minds of the other ladies as well for none of them would dare come near him now after Maxwell’s angry outburst months ago.

That woman behind the door was his only chance.

But no matter how he tried to request an audience with her, he was always refused as Rock’oles would claim that she was always indisposed.

No matter, he had heard her gasp. It meant one thing: she had been listening to him, even pressed against the door to hear his words.

She was as interested.

He simply had to be patient.

---

She stared through the tiny peephole of her door at the retreating form of the handsome lord.

Her heart was still hammering against her chest at his surprise attack, and so was the smile on her lips, one she could not seem to erase every time he came by for a visit.

That lord talked too much, she had always thought as she narrowed her eyes further until she gave up and sighed.

She looked around her large chamber, blinking her eyes twice, then twice some more.

“I wish I can see him more clearly. His shape suggests he is quite fetching,” she uttered to herself as she blindly reached out her hand to focus on the blurry vision of the room before her.

She blinked some more for a chance of a clearer vision, but lo and behold it was still the same. She scoffed at her silly habit and settled on the chaise. She looked down and found a white form move beside her leg and she bent down to pat its head.

The dog gently purred at her touch and she smiled. Another sound emerged and a smaller black form jumped unto her lap.

She chuckled as she petted the cat. “Where have you been to, you fat, sneaking cat?” she asked.

The cat simply meowed.

As the quiet of her chamber enveloped her once more, her thoughts went back on the lord who introduced himself as Nick many months ago and had been a nuisance outside her door since then.

Sophia leaned against her chaise and sighed. “Perhaps one day,” she whispered to herself.

Author’s Note

Another Everard story has come to an end and I would like to thank each and everyone of you for being part of it! I truly appreciate the enthusiasm and the patience you have all shown while I wrote this story. 

Anyway, I will not make this very long.

I want to clear a few things. 

Some of you asked in the comment sections who Sophia is or if she was ever mentioned before in the previous stories. The answer is NO. Sophia is a completely new character, one that I have always planned to appear later in the series. She has a very interesting past that will mold the next stories and the next series. 

And YES, there will be a Trilby series. Those who are members of my Facebook closed group The Green Herald are already aware of this as I have already put up teasers for the Trilby series. 

And YES, Emma and Ralph will also have their own story. We just all have to be very patient.

Furthermore, I had planned to start Nick’s story, Remember Then just a week or two after His Lady in Breeches, but unfortunately, I have things I need to finish up first. The Transient Wife will be published this year (YAY!) and I have a lot of things I need to polish and add on the manuscript before I send it to my publisher. 

I hope that you can all be patient while I prepare The Transient Wife manuscript and at the same time finalize the plot for Remember Then. 

Anyway, that’s all for now. 

You are all welcome to join our closed group on Facebook (THE GREEN HERALD). Should you encounter a question asking for a password, the password is: TOWN

The cover for Remember Then will be posted on the next chapter and that includes the teasers for the Trilby Series which will follow the Everards.

Your greatest gossipmonger,

Greenwriter

Teasers

Remember Then will start within this month or the next, depending on my schedule. 

![](https://img.wattpad.com/efba688cd7eecb226d6a2ddbef92ac550008d96a/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5132716338522d6349572d4157513d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861643232306562376538303238353333323538323332382e6a7067)

The number of stories for the Trilby Series is yet to be determined, but I have already made teasers for them.

![](https://img.wattpad.com/e6385858aa6ec4ebb076e4c54c63c5f929fc9ab1/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5776416348636a6158614a7152773d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861646136326638316239383639343031393530323934312e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/2bc18cb3178129eb4a403355eb37cbdd08492ca6/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5a354d4d694d737352597a416d673d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861646362623835346666353933353731383133333530302e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/f4fdf1fc201536b507d448443b4787b1e869ad77/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4c356179664f675f317464737a773d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861653664616332633236303736343839323433393332392e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/84fd76a1388b1b090944bcb9dee0163f3b2a660d/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f434f304b4d6d52414c4b544d75773d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861653566626234323434343637343139333838303734352e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/5195ae11aadf94a4324642afb27565605a5e8362/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f416348365630466c73527a5a61773d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861653961323833353433623331323238303134363830362e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/992ad46abb3d0b3e71176703e816d3af85c09322/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f566f7033436152414470726e56773d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861663031396631393337343637343037333731343331332e6a7067)

![](https://img.wattpad.com/4fabadca5b3ad24fb48b1900ff73238e4cc9a9d7/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4a67692d55463167466454665a673d3d2d3339343433373631302e313462323861663035643234353937303538303837373839313432382e6a7067)

Blurb: Remember Then

Remember Then will start in THREE days!

SHE IS DIFFERENT…

Sophia owes her life to none but one man: Marcus Durley. He accepts and respects her for who she is and he never flinches at the touch of her when everyone else will. After saving her from the hell she has been living in for more than half her life, he took her to Rock’oles, the most affluent and sophisticated brothel in the Town, where women are given freedom to select those they only wish to welcome in their beds, a far cry from the brothel slum Marcus rescued her from. 

But Sophia is not like the rest of the prostitutes. Her role is not to service men in bed, instead she serves them to serve Marcus’ plans. She does what Marcus wants for she knows of his secrets and she shares his pains. She may not approve of all of his ways, but he has always been the only true man in her life.

A PLAN…

Marcus is ambitious and he desires for more. He is part of the illegal slave trade in the Town and Sophia is helping him achieve his goals with loyalty and trust. The only thing that comes between Marcus and his goals are the very people who vowed to protect the Town at all cost: the Town Guards, particularly Ralph Everard. But Marcus has a plan and Sophia is a willing participant.

UNTIL HE CAME ALONG…

Nicholas has always been curious of the mysterious woman behind one of most wanted chambers inside Rock’oles and he is not the only one who tried to get an invite and failed. The woman only allows entry to selected gentlemen, men who make his Town Guard brother, Ralph, raise a brow in suspicion. Recruiting Nicholas’ skill on seduction and games, Ralph urges him to court an invite into the mysterious woman’s chamber as they now believe that she is the key to solving the slavery case. And as if by some miracle—and after months of incessant visits outside her door—she welcomes him into her dark, quiet world. 

He has led himself to believe that he is there to spy on her, but the more he learns of her secrets, the more he discovers things that put his playful, tender and seductive reputation to its greatest test thus far.

Still set in the fictional place of the Town, this sixth book in the Everard Family series follows two people determined to protect those they value most. And in their quest to help those they love to escape failure, they find themselves a victim of their own plans and of the undeniable passion and love that will never ebb even after the certain tragedy of which they are heading to.