I. The End

Once upon the wee hours of summer, silence lingered as two young adult women listened to a very bizarre story.

Not a soul was asleep in the Trilby household as Fiona Trilby told her granddaughters the final story of the Everard family.

They delved deeper—quite literally—talking about the lives of people living in a place way below ground where everything else was not as how they were aboveground. She talked about actual events from The Town, a place where living meant living in frozen time. Time when balls were the rave, gowns a necessity, carriages a symbol of status and society even harsher.

Violet and Valerie listened intently as their grandmother talked about such things as though she was reliving a life forgotten. Their minds flew from their grandparents’ living room and into the vast estates and cobbled streets of the Town, a peculiar place where the idea of sunshine was restricted to what the townspeople called holes .

But it was not the dire state of the Town—or the quite magical thought of it—that gave Violet and Valerie awe.

It was the amazing courage of the people in their grandmother’s stories—the Everards.

They had heard of their many adventures of love, friendship and conspiracies. They hated the enemies, adored the lovers, and loved the friends.

And now, telling the story of the last of them all, Fiona Trilby was quite aware that her granddaughters would want for more by the end, because Emma Grace Everard’s story was merely the beginning of the rest.

II. Getting-to-No

Once there was a man who knew naught but the world he was enclosed in. Reared to be rich and powerful, he only knew what his teachers taught him—what his parents provided him. But the limitations and ignorance soon ended the moment he learned about the League of Founders and the secrets they protect.

Lord Byron Glocheshire realized that the stories were not merely products of dreamers for they were real and were spoken in truth.

The more he discovered the secrets of the Town, the more he learned of the world above until the secrets themselves became common knowledge and eventually, a part of his daily life.

Until he found her.

Or mayhap the better term is… until she found him.

• Above and Below

---

It was not long ago when Emma felt the ground above came crumbling down on her.

She had woken up in bed with the most intense headache she had ever known. And merely minutes later she realized she was not alone in the bedchamber that ought to only be occupied by her. And seconds later after she realized she was in fact in bed with a man that was no stranger to her, she realized that they were both unreservedly naked under the thick covers.

The feeling was horrifying if not absurd, really, for Emma Grace Everard was not used to sharing her bed with anyone. No, not ever since she had the bedchamber to herself.

After her sister Ysabella married four years past, Emma was left to have the bedchamber all on her own. Sometimes her cat, Mrs. Brigid Beagle, would come by to spend a month with her before disappearing yet again to another mistress. Emma technically spent two years alone in the bedchamber and two more with Mrs. Brigid Beagle and no other.

Except, apparently, the night prior.

The worst part was that she spent the night naked in bed with the last man she ever imagined doing the deed with—Samuel Theobald.

It was not the realization of finding herself in bed with her friend and her brother’s best friend that made Emma feel as though the ground above came crumbling down on her. That, she could have handled quite well if things did not turn out the way they did. The feeling of being buried alive followed just moments after she demanded from Samuel what had happened and the doors to her bedchamber opened to reveal Samuel’s best friend, Ralph—her own bloody brother!

The feeling of the world finally coming to an end followed suit as another of her older brother, Maxwell, came into view.

By then, Emma knew that she would surely find herself burned to the stakes with naught but the bedcovers wrapped around her and Samuel before she could even find out what had transpired between them.

But that was two days ago. Two days of agony and constant bickering; two days of having to see that her brothers did not murder Samuel after they dragged the poor man from her bedchamber to the eastern part of the Everard mansion; two days of seeing the look of disappointment in her mother’s eyes.

Yet even after a somewhat formal discussion, the tension was still there and the great desire to beat the hell out of Samuel Theobald still simmered within her brothers’ blood. It was evident in their eyes. It was like watching blinking fireballs, really.

It was her sister, Ysabella, who fought alongside Emma. And it was their eldest brother, Benedict, who gave the final decision that she and Samuel shall marry.

The Everards had faced numerous scandals before, yet this was the first common scandal they had ever had to deal with. Emma had witnessed one of her brothers marry one of their governesses who also happened to be condemned of witchcraft. One married a bastard, another coveted another’s fiancée while another was now married to a woman of color who had spent most of her life inside a brothel. And just recently, Ralph himself married a bandit. Frustrating as it may be for Emma, she also understood why her brothers would react the way they did.

For one, she was their youngest and the only remaining unmarried one amongst the Everard children. And it was not merely because Samuel was Ralph’s friend that enraged them, but also the fact that he was a trusted entity in the household, thus it had never occurred to anyone that he could betray their trust in such manner.

Yet, for Emma, whatever she had done with Samuel ought to not be turned into such a bigger issue where she had to be forced to marry him. She admired that man and the cause he fought for as one of the Town Herald’s most influential writers, but she could not, at the moment, see herself married to him—or to any man for that matter.

She thought she was spared of the dramas wrought by marriage.

But no, she had to make a very difficult decision she never thought she would ever have to make.

So Emma Grace Everard said yes to a union between her and Samuel Theobald. Almost entirely everyone seemed to be content except for her.

Whatever may have pushed her to share a bed with Samuel that night, Emma was yet to find out, but she knew for certain that she was not in love with Samuel.

---

“Mother is quite disappointed,” murmured Ysabella. Referred to as twins by many for they were born within the same year (although months apart) the two of them had also treated each other as such. Rarely would Ysabella enforce her seven-month seniority over Emma as she was somewhat more childish and impetuous in comparison. “And so is Lady Theobald,” she added in a whisper.

Emma sighed, stealing her mother a glance as the woman cradled her one-year-old grandson, Gillian in her arms, her attention completely stolen by Ysabella’s babe. “She wanted a shorter engagement, I am aware.”

Ysabella leaned closer and her lips barely moved as she said, “I do understand your hesitation, Emma, but a long engagement does not sit well with the elders.”

Emma shrugged, honestly not bothered at all. “The brothers quite like it.”

“It is because they want Sam to suffer a tad longer, that’s why.”

“Sam is very much willing to wait. He is very patient.”

Ysabella scoffed. “He has been patient for quite a very long time. I’m certain you have an idea how long?”

“Quite,” Emma retorted.

“I do respect your decision for a long engagement, dear,” their mother’s calm voice spoke, surprising both Emma and Ysabella. She had lifted her gaze from her grandson to look at Emma with a look of understanding and tenderness in her eyes. “I have long accepted that my children are prone to making mistakes as Harry and I did many years ago.” And then she let out a dramatic sigh. “I simply wished that you would have already learned from us, Emma, dear.”

A grin twitched Emma’s lips. “I am an Everard after all, Mother.”

Lady Alice shook her head. “That, you are, dear. That you are.” The baby started to cry in her arms and Ysabella immediately went to get her son from their mother. “By the by,” said Lady Alice the moment she was free of her grandson, “Lady Rachel sent a letter of inquiry. She would like to know if we are to attend the weekend Theobald ball. We are, of course. We do not want to disappoint your soon-to-be-mother-in-law, Emma, dear.”

“We attend the Theobald ball every year, Mother,” Emma said with curiosity. Why would her mother remind her of the said ball?

Lady Alice’s blue eyes looked at Emma’s emerald green ones sternly. “It is but a few months away, Emma. Perhaps by then you will have a decision on when we can start the actual wedding plans?”

“Ah,” Ysabella and Emma chorused. Baby boy Gillian was becoming restless in his mother’s arms, urging Ysabella to excuse herself from the parlor. But before she disappeared, she gave Emma a wink for luck.

“You must understand I wish to know Samuel beyond friendship, Mother. I will not know for certain if I can be confident to have the engagement be announced in public at the Theobald ball.”

“I do understand, of course,” said Lady Alice. She walked over to Emma and stared down at her. “But, dear, the Theobalds are eager for a decision.”

“One I cannot give upon pressure,” Emma insisted.

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “You ought to be utterly grateful that your brothers are not demanding you to get a gown and march down an aisle this very moment. If it had been during my time, you would no longer be sitting here drinking tea.”

“You eloped to Tiny Town during your time, Mother,” Emma jested.

“Ah, that I did,” the woman said with a sigh. “Would it not have been far better if you did the same?”

Emma was already shaking her head even before her mother finished her statement.

“But you are not like all of us.”

“No,” Emma said, calmly replacing her teacup on the table. “For I would not be engaged if Ralph and Max did not catch me.”

Lady Alice’s eyes widened, but her surprise was quickly overcome by disbelief. “Why do I not find that statement horrifying as I should have?”

“Because you are very much aware it is true?”

Lady Alice shook her head and took the seat opposite Emma.

“And dare not try to convince Samuel to tie me with a rope and drag me to Tiny Town, Mother. You successfully did it with Alex and Ralph, yes, but know that there is a big difference between Ralph and I. He was already madly in love.”

She saw the question in her mother’s eyes. Had she no feelings toward Samuel at all?

It was a relief the woman did not voice the question for Emma had asked the same question countless times. Samuel was dear to her, but how deep could that feeling go? Never had she entertained a different kind of relationship with the man for it was hard to when you merely see him as a friend.

Surely she could learn to accept the idea of marriage with Samuel but when would it occur? And when it didn’t, would she be willing to marry him still?

Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother. “By the by, have you read the Herald today? Quite horrible, the gossip about that woman who…”

And that was how they continued their afternoon tea—with Lady Alice completely immersed in the latest gossips and with Emma silently wondering whether or not she had let herself be dragged down a path that she might find ultimately dreadful.

III. Friends

Ellie McPhee knew naught about anything else but herself. Even her mother was once caught saying she would die with her daughter not knowing about it until the fortnight after.

She was as selfish as anyone can be, taking more from those who were willing without expecting them to await for her to return the favor, an act she rarely did and one she would only force herself to do if it would be on her advantage.

But one ought to give her credit for she was good at what she did. Even men respected her. She made a name for herself and she had everything anyone wanted. Except that one thing—happiness.

“But what good would it do if one had to live in constant strain every single day?” she would reason.

She had the comforts of a princess. And she had just acquired herself a castle—a new estate.

Little did she know that the said estate in the middle of a forest aboveground had a secret.

Ellie would soon find out what.

-Above and Below

---

Emma was in the middle of reading when she heard a knock.

The sound did not come from her chamber door but rather from the window. The windowpanes rattled once more and Emma sighed.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped her robe over her nightgown before walking to the window.

Opening it, she narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here at this time of night?” she hissed.

Samuel flashed his wicked grin and pulled himself over the windowsill and into her chamber. Breathing quite heavily, he walked amiably over to the washstand to wash his hands. “You are supposed to be horrified over my mode of entry, Em, not why I chose the middle of the night for a tryst.”

“A tryst?” she asked with a scoff. She looked out the window before closing it and by the time she turned around, she found Samuel half-lying in her bed. “Get out of my bed, Sam.”

His pale grey eyes twinkled as he chuckled with mirth. “Are you scared?”

“That you might pounce on me?” she asked, walking to her door to check if it was locked. It was. Of course it would be. After her brothers caught her naked in bed with a man, it had become part of her nature to always leave doors locked. “Why are you here, really?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “You are in a foul mood tonight,” he murmured, fishing for something inside his coat pocket.

“No, I am not,” she retorted, “I simply do not want another reason for my brothers to murder you. And by the by, they will succeed this time.”

He lifted his hand and showed her a book. Emma suddenly remembered why she liked Samuel. He always knew what would keep her mind off other things. “And what is that?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant.

“A very rare one, of course,” he said, lifting his arm away when she attempted to take the book from him.

Emma placed her hands on her hips. “And what do you want in return?”

“A kiss would suffice.” When she rolled her eyes, Samuel pointed out, “Do remember that we are to be wed, Em.”

“And it gives me the obligation to kiss you whenever you ask for it?”

“What other reason should there be?” he asked with a frown.

“‘Because I want to’ will be one good reason,” she hissed incredulously.

“Well, do you not want to?” he asked in a low voice.

“I want the book, that is what I want at the moment,” she said, diverting the subject.

Samuel let out a dramatic sigh before he gave her the book. She snatched it away from him. Studying the cover, Emma frowned. “This is not old.” She turned it over. “And this is not rare.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. She allowed him, fixing him a curious glance. “Well, it is rare considering it is always out of stock. Today was my lucky day. And you have mentioned it in passing a week ago, have you not? Surely you are interested.”

She blinked. “Yes, but I was talking about the play, not the book.”

“I assumed you would want to read the book first before the play,” he said with a shrug.

“Sam,” she said, looking down at him with mock patience. “I would not have expressed my desire to see the play if I have not read the book.”

He stilled, his expression stunned and disappointed. “You already have a copy.”

“I have read it countless of times. As a matter-of-fact, you are sitting on it.”

He let go of her hand and pulled the book from under his weight. He groaned and stared at her wryly. “Ah, where else should I crawl to find one you have not laid eyes on?”

“Aboveground?” she asked in jest, answering his question.

“That, I might consider,” he jested back.

She chuckled and playfully patted his cheek. For a split moment she wondered why a part of her mind demanded that she ought to feel more other than amusement and the feeling of familiarity with the act. Surely for others, this level of intimacy ought to mean more?

How in the bloody hell did she end up in bed with him? Why? Did she feel different that night?

---

Samuel entered Grey’s and almost everyone in the room turned their head to acknowledge his presence or steal a quick glance.

“It was merely last night when the Everard brothers came in and not a single person bothered to lift their heads,” Wynne Hastings spoke when Samuel settled across from him.

“Because their appearance here is akin to going home seeing the same bloody butler for decades,” Samuel retorted with a scoff.

“They are not here tonight,” noted Wynne, looking around the room. Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ah, they still refuse to accept you back into their pact. Which is why I am here.”

“No, you are here because you also happen to be my friend.”

“You mean the only willing friend.” When Samuel ignored the statement, Wynne added, “The only one who does not wish to kill you.”

“Cease it,” Samuel snapped, looking about. “You do know there are ears hovering about.”

Wynne scoffed. “Because you are famous now.”

“No, simply known,” he said, snickering. “Now, what you say to a game of cards?”

“You know you only win with the Everards, yes?” Wynne asked, taking out some notes, accepting the challenge.

“Yes, which is why I am here with you. It is one of my life’s goals to beat you once, at the very least.”

Wynne leaned back against his chair and studied his friend. Samuel cocked his brows high, looking expectant.

When Wynne stayed quiet, he said, “Come on, my friend. Ask.”

Wynne signaled for a new deck of cards to start a game. While they waited, he returned his gaze to Samuel who was patiently waiting. “You have not shared what actually happened that night.”

Samuel frowned incredulously. “Why the bloody hell should I? And why in tarnation would I now?”

Wynne shrugged. “I am not asking for the actual act, Sam. I am no pervert. The image of you stripped of your clothes is quite ghastly.” The server came and served their cards. They both waited patiently until they were left alone with their glasses of brandy refilled, fresh cards at the ready.

Wynne laid down his first set before he said, “I am asking how you managed to seduce the woman. You have been chasing her for years with very little success if none.”

Samuel looked up from his cards. “Are you saying you do not believe I was able to sway her?”

Again, Wynne shrugged. His dark eyes looked at Samuel’s before he returned them to the remaining cards in his hands. “I am simply asking how, my friend.”

Samuel did not meet his eyes when he lifted them again for he was once more focused on the cards he was carefully picking out. “We have been meeting in secret even before it happened, if you must know. She would not have allowed it if she was not starting to see me in a different light. And that night we both had had quite more than a few brandies, is all. The next we knew, we were naked and her bloody brothers were standing in the doorway.”

Wynne’s lips curled into a smile. “And you nearly died if not for Lady Emma.”

“You laugh now, but you will soon learn how it feels. Just you wait, you bastard,” said Samuel, throwing his cards on the table.

Wynne looked at Samuel, shaking his head, a few of his dark hair falling off to hang before his forehead. He carefully brushed it over to where it belonged, his smile even wider. “I can barely get a lover. And I doubt I would ever find myself in the same situation you found yourself in.”

“You barely manage a lover because you do not take care of yourself. You can barely recognize the proper size for your clothing. Whoever your tailor is ought to be hanged,” Samuel retorted. “And why the confidence of not landing into the same fate as I?”

Wynne smiled, laying down the rest of his cards on the table. “Because I can calculate ten steps ahead of most men.” Samuel glared at Wynne’s cards and groaned in defeat, throwing the rest of his face-down on the table. Wynne chuckled, reaching for his drink. “And I am careful with my secrets.”

Samuel sighed. “Bloody bastard.”

---

“Your coat is baggier than it was yesterday, my lord,” Lawrence stated in a voice laced with one akin to disgust.

“You know how I feel about my coats, Lawrence,” was Wynne’s wry reply. As his bald, middle-aged butler grumbled under his breath with his large coat in one arm, Wynne went straight to his desk, fingers already unbuttoning his collar.

“If one would consider picking up cravats from the floor an art, my lord,” Lawrence further added as he bent down to pick up the cravat Wynne threw on the floor, “I would already be called a master at the act.”

That received a short chuckle from Wynne. With two upper buttons undone, he felt easier and lighter. He spared a few seconds to watch his butler carefully folding the cravat before he veered his eyes down.

“Letters from Hastings, my lord,” Lawrence answered his silent question without even throwing Wynne a glance.

Wynne immediately found the stacks. Opening the letter from his father’s solicitors, Wynne could not help but smile.

Lawrence paused in his task to study Wynne. “Good news, my lord?” Lawrence expectantly asked.

Wynne raised his brows, shrugged and let out a very long sigh. “Yes.”

“Does this mean I ought to start packing, my lord?” the butler asked, face now filled with excitement.

Wynne shook his head. “Not quite, Lawrence,” he said loudly, pushing his chair back and leaning back with ease. Crossing his legs, he tilted his head back to blankly stare at the intricate carvings of the ceiling. “But I hope it would be soon.”

Lawrence cleared his throat. “You said the same thing 2 months ago, my lord,”

“I know,” he murmured.

“Should I expect to hear the same thing four fortnights from now, my lord?”

“Your sarcasm is inspiring, Lawrence, but no. I believe this time it is truly going to be soon. I simply need to polish a few things.”

Lawrence nodded and made a sharp turn.

Frowning, Wynne turned his head and followed the butler’s stiff strides. “Where are you going?”

“I decided I ought to start packing anyway, my lord.”

“Why?”

“I will have to win dozens of fights against your humongous coats, my lord.”

“Not even quite funny, Lawrence!” he shouted with a chuckle as the butler walked out the door.

With Lawrence gone and his study filled with silence, Wynne looked through the rest of his letters.

He rolled his eyes after seeing the smallest one sealed with golden wax.

He stood up without opening it.

He knew what his aunt’s letter contained and now that his ultimate goals were starting to set nicely, he did not need any more urgings from Amelia Trilby.

But first, he would have to stir a few things. The Everards would not appreciate it. And Samuel would hate him for it.

IV. Above and Below

Her estate was made in heaven if it was not heaven in itself, Ellie believed.

She adored it as much as she adored everything else she had built for herself.

Although she wanted to correct one thing: the well.

It did not sit well with her. It was too small for her grand taste and it ruined the look of the entire back garden. It may be old enough to take a place in a museum, but not in Ellie garden.

No! It had to be rid of!

And while the woman pondered by the well, planning for its destruction, belowground was a man clad in black. He was on a small boat, looking up at the tiny hole above him, squinting at the bright hint of small light.

He was the Lord of Glocheshire and he was smiling. He had found himself a passage.

-Above and Below

---

“Good afternoon, Lady Alice,” Sam jovially greeted, kissing Lady Alice’s hand, and adding, “Mother sends her regards. She cannot wait to welcome you at the Theobald Ball.”

“Rachel is always sweet and of course, I shall not miss the Theobald Ball for the world! Come, my boy, join us for tea.” The dark-haired Everard matron gracefully gestured toward the settee opposite Emma. “Emma and I were just talking about—”

“The wedding—our wedding—” Emma interrupted wryly, “Arguing about it, as a matter of fact.”

Samuel’s brows rose in amusement for he knew whatever the two Everard women were to say next would entertain him.

“There was no such argument, dear,” snapped Lady Alice.

“You wanted to set the date, Mother.”

“Yes, but I did not insist upon it. No one is forcing you to set one soon, Emma, dear. I was merely stating that it would be very—”

“—Bad of us to make Sam wait for so long,” Emma interrupted again, this time with a small smile at the corner of her lips. Samuel could not help but chuckle as the servant served his tea. “Sam is quite patient,” Emma added with a wink toward her mother.

Lady Alice was clearly starting to lose her patience and it did not help when Emma laughed, stating thereafter, addressing Samuel, “I am certain she is considering talking you into taking me to Tiny Town gagged and bound.”

Samuel assumed a mocking conspiratorial look and leaned closer to Lady Alice, “I am very much interested discussing such heinous crime, my lady.”

Lady Alice shook her head, expression serious. “I did consider it. But will your mother ever forgive me for it?”

“I will not tell her. I will take full responsibility,” Samuel promised, making certain Emma heard every word.

“Oh, stop it, the two of you,” Emma said with a scoff. “You would not dare, Samuel Theobald,” she pointedly reprimanded. “Tiny Town would never hear me say yes.”

Samuel dramatically sighed in feign defeat. He sent his future mother-in-law a regretful smile. “Patience it is, my lady.”

Lady Alice shook her head at Emma and said nothing further. In her mind, Emma believed her mother was seriously concocting a plan on how to urge her to announce the engagement so she and Lady Rachel could start planning for a grand wedding they had always both dreamed of.

Of all her children, Emma’s wedding was the most promising for Lady Alice. Benedict did have a grand wedding, but it had been laced with scandal considering he married a governess and a woman accused of witchcraft. Levi, the second son, eloped to Tiny Town with someone betrothed to another. Margaret married her husband while most of the Town was still focused on a Town Leader’s death. Maxwell married a bastard. Ysabella’s was grand, yes, but her journey to the wedding was not very ideal for most of the ton. Nicholas married a woman of color. Ralph was dragged to Tiny Town by Alex.

All of these marriages were welcomed by their mother—even recommended—but they were not what she would have wanted them to be. They were not within the norm.

Emma was her only hope for a very normal grand wedding. Samuel had an astounding reputation amongst the ton and Emma had outgrown her childish little scandals. Most women in their station were fond of her and the men respected her well enough to listen to her conspiracy theories during the many balls she attended with her mother.

So why was she depriving Lady Alice of this wedding? The woman was not getting any younger. As days and months and years went by, Emma could see that their mother was not the same woman she once was five, ten years past. She knew she would regret ever having the woman wait should something untoward happen.

Yet it was also her mother who had always encouraged them to follow not just their heart, but also their mind. And at the moment, Emma was following both.

“By the by, I am planning to attend the play,” Emma told Samuel. “Will you accompany me?”

Samuel appeared to consider and she narrowed her eyes at him. She knew his opinion of the play even before he spoke it. “I do not believe I will enjoy a play about a romance between a woman aboveground and a Leaguer from the Town.”

“ Above and Below is actually more than just the romance,“ Emma readily countered.

“So I have heard,” said Samuel.

“You have not yet read the book. Provide your opinion after doing so,” she told him. Such conversation was not new to both of them. They had always bantered over books and theories and they seemed to enjoy it, however odd it may be for those who witnessed them doing so.

The door to the parlor opened and a little girl of six with dark blonde hair rushed in, looking quite gleeful. “Gramama! We’re taking a walk to the park! Come with us!” she excitedly said, grabbing Lady Alice by the hand. She stopped and blushed when she noticed Samuel in the room.

“Hello, Lady Lindsay,” Samuel greeted with a bow as the little girl managed a slow, unsteady curtsy.

“Are you with Uncle Ralph, Lord Sammy?” Lindsay asked, her blue-grey eyes glowing with more excitement.

“I am afraid not, my lady,” Samuel said. “I am here alone.”

Lindsay frowned. “Why?”

Levi Everard entered the room with a chuckle. “He is here to beg Aunt Emma.”

“Beg for what?”

“The date for his doom, what else?” Emma’s brother replied with a laugh.

“Levi,” Lady Alice warned.

“Lindsay! Oh there you are. Hello, everyone. We are going out for a walk to the park,” Levi’s wife, Victoria, said from the doorway.

“Why don’t we stay for a little while, darling?” asked Levi, grabbing Lindsay all of sudden, causing the child the squeal with glee, and dropping into the settee beside Samuel.

Victoria sighed and went to sit beside Emma.

“We were just talking about the play. Would you like to join me?” Emma asked her sister-in-law.

“ Above and Below ? Of course, I would love to. We shall, yes?“ she asked her husband.

Levi merely shrugged.

“Nicholas sent a letter, Mother,” Victoria said, changing the subject. “It is on your desk.”

“Ah yes, they must have reached Cromwell by now.” Lady Alice added to Levi, “That brother of yours ought to stop sending the letters if all he could write about is how he and Sophia are still alive!”

“Then you ought to write him about your request. Why should I?” Levi retorted.

“If so, he might cease sending me letters!”

“Which is why you bear the letters in the first place, Mother,” Levi said, letting go of Lindsay who immediately went to the window. “By the by, Sam, what does the Herald have on the Leaders?” Levi asked Samuel.

Samuel quickly swallowed his tea. “Nothing different from the last report, I believe.”

Levi frowned. “You mean to say that Noah Trilby is still leading?”

“Or he might not be. The reports are but mere gossips. The Leaders have been keeping mum.”

“Perhaps they ought to keep mum and open their ears all the while,” Levi commented. “Should they choose Trilby as the next Head of the Town Leaders, we shall have another Osegod. In fact, I would rather have another Osegod than that spineless man.”

“You would not want the Leaders to listen to the ton, brother,” Emma said.

“Why not?”

Emma shook her head and said to Victoria, “You lot have been keeping yourselves in Standbury too long—” and turned to her brother to continue, “The ton sympathizes with Noah Trilby, brother. Or have you forgotten what happened to him? He met a bad fate after his wife betrayed their name by attempting to murder her own sister who happens to be a friend of ours, Lady Belinda. Our governess before Agatha, remember?”

Levi shook his head. “No, not really. I was not here, I believe. But I do know Lady Belinda Haverston.”

“You were hiding in Standbury, son,” said Lady Alice. “But Emma is correct. What Julia Trilby did to Noah Trilby scarred him. Or as what most of the ton believe, of course.”

“Sympathy ought not to play a major part in politics!” Levi cried out.

“Oh, but it does,” Emma said. “Would you not agree, Sam?”

“Unfortunately, it does in the Town,” Samuel agreed.

“Then we are doomed,” Levi said, shaking his head. “A Trilby as a Head of the Town Leaders.”

“It is not good, yes,” agreed Samuel once more.

“It has always been their secret desire,” Emma added. “They do have the support of Tiny Town.”

“Tiny Town is an independent town,” said Victoria.

“It is not when it is being controlled by the Trilbys,” Samuel provided. “They own estates and businesses in Tiny Town, most of them not even under Trilby names but by Trilbys all the same.”

“Those are mere gossips.”

“Oh, but it is true,” Emma said, looking at Victoria. “Proper research would reveal that many estates around the Town are actually owned by the Trilbys. History would reveal they have assumed different names and titles and remain so to this day.”

“Your conspiracy theories are sometimes too far-fetched, Emma,” Levi said. “It is nearly impossible to hide anything in the Town, much more so a Trilby name.”

“Not if you have done so perfectly like the Trilbys,” Emma countered.

“This conversation will soon end in bloodshed, I am beginning to believe,” Lady Alice said, stopping the argument by rising to her feet. Samuel and Levi stood as well. “I shall go to the park with you after all,” she said, looking at Emma and Samuel. “And the two of you shall join. No talks on politics!”

Everyone resigned to her idea and stood to their feet.

Levi took Lindsay while Samuel escorted Lady Alice to the door. Victoria looped her arm around Emma’s as they followed the others outside.

“How are you feeling?” Victoria whispered nonchalantly.

“Confused and utterly calm at the same time,” Emma replied under her breath.

“Feeling no pressure?”

“None whatsoever.”

Victoria stole Emma a look.

“What is it, Tori?” Emma asked. “Say it.”

Her sister-in-law appeared to gather her thoughts for a while before asking, “Are you not fretful that he might grow impatient and give up?”

“No. We have an understanding.”

“That he shall wait?”

“Yes.”

“But until when, Emma?”

“Until I am certain.”

“That you are in love?”

“That and giving up my freedom is worth it.”

“To love is to be free, Emma. A true one is not restraining.”

“With the wrong man, it could be.”

Victoria merely laughed.

“You mock me.”

“No, dear. I was merely thinking that you might not be as different as your brother.”

“Who? Levi? Never! He was quite odd before you came into his life.”

“Some might consider you odd as well, Emma.”

“Yes, but Levi was different.”

Victoria’s smile turned to that of warmth and tenderness. “Yes. He built a prison for himself.”

Emma fell silent and then she stopped walking to look into Victoria’s blue-grey eyes. “You believe I have built a prison for myself?”

Victoria smiled and shook her head. “You are the only person who could provide an answer to that.”

Thoughtful, Emma shook her head. “No, I am certain of what I want and that is time. “

“And we all respect that.”

“And perhaps I am also waiting.”

“For love?”

Emma did not reply. Her eyes landed on Samuel walking beside her mother merely a few steps ahead.

Yes, she was waiting for love.

---

Lawrence rushed into Wynne’s study with a sealed note in hand.

The butler’s face seemed urgent. “A letter from your cousin, my lord.”

“Which one?” he asked with a frown.

Lawrence did not reply and simply handed him the note. He studied the wax seal and his jaw tightened. Reading the content, he sighed.

“Not good, my lord?” Lawrence asked with a grimace.

I heard. Please stop. Let them be.

“Another nuisance, that is all,” he murmured, crumpling the paper. “Dear Eddie seems to not enjoy the plan.”

Lawrence’s eyes widened. “But it might pose a problem, my lord. Should he warn—”

“I will have to talk to him,” he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the topic as unimportant. “For now, prepare my coat. I have work to do.”

“Right away, my lord!” Lawrence said, walking to the door before skidding to a stop. “Which coat, my lord? The huge one or the big one?”

Wynne narrowed his eyes at the man. “Witty, Lawrence, but not appreciated at the moment. Go get the bloody coat.”

Once the butler was gone, Wynne reached for his pen and started to write.

Get to the young one. He knows. Have him enjoy a little chat.

V. A New Head

The Lord of Glocheshire was not certain why the hole above the newly discovered passage was getting bigger. Strange sounds could be heard from above and he sent a request to his superiors to have the matter investigated himself.

Perhaps a few people aboveground discovered the hole. It was a potential disaster and it ought not to be taken lightly.

He prepared for travel the moment his request was approved.

He was going aboveground.

-Above and Below

---

Three days later, Noah Trilby officially became the Head of the Town Leaders and Samuel Theobald things to say.

He dropped everything else he had to write about the still-existing slavery case the Town Leaders had been trying to cover up ever since the scandal exploded, exposing the dark and horrible deeds done to many colored women, men and children.

For a moment, Samuel chose to set it aside to make the townspeople aware of what he thought of the new Leader.

Why him? What had he done for the Town? Why not Lord Calahan who has greatly improved the irrigation system in the west? And why should we stand idle and not demand for our rights to choose? Do we truly believe that the leaders have in their hands and hearts the survival of our race and future? Or do they have in their minds their own status and power to protect?

We stand in our own prisons and the keys are in the hands of the people who can barely choose the right person to make the vital decisions.

Until when should we be tolerant?

Samuel read a piece of his article to Emma, his heart pumping as he did so.

He was not afraid. No, he could die any moment for what he wrote, but it would be for a worthy cause. At the very least, most of the Town’s population had read his words. Many were starting to consider his words wherever they may be.

He was already thinking of the hundreds of writers he would be receiving soon. There would be some who would threaten his life, but they did not matter. He was getting used to them now. What was of great import was that most of them would be from avid readers, praising him for his courage to speak.

So long as there were people who believed in what he was doing, he knew that he could be the push for the beginning of the new Town.

He folded the copy of the Town Herald and expectantly smiled at Emma. What he greatly admired about her was her different view from that of the other women her age and station. She had always dreamed of a much less restraining Town where people could speak their minds and have more choices without societal judgment.

“You speak of democracy, Sam.”

“Yes, of course!” he cried with a wide grin. “I believe this is the perfect time to introduce the subject to the townspeople, Em. It is frustrating to not be able to choose our own Leader!”

Emma’s patient smile stopped Samuel. He knew she had more to say and for a short second he thought he did not want to hear it. It was great every time they agreed on things, but it could be frustrating whenever she insisted on her own point-of-view. She could be idealistic for most parts, which he could not judge considering she was a woman, but one he thought could be a waste of energy and time. No matter, he had to hear her for he respected her opinions as well.

He sighed. “Very well, what is it? Come on, Em, say it.”

She shook her head. “It is nothing. I agree on your views, Sam, and you ought to know that.”

“But?” he asked, trying not to snap. He was irritated, but he knew it was merely because she was not showing the same enthusiasm as she always did with his articles. What he was feeling was merely disappointment and should not be directed toward her.

“But you must take it slow, Sam,” Emma said in a soft voice. “The Town is not yet quite ready for such a change as democracy.”

Before their talk about politics could turn their afternoon tea time into a war, Samuel chose to be composed and calm. “Do keep an open mind, Em. The Town will soon see what I see,” he could not help but say before changing the subject, adding, “Should we go to the park?”

Emma smiled and said, “Of course!” She stood and started to reach for the bell. “I will ask Tori if we can bring along Lindsay—”

“Not today, Emma, I am sorry,” he said and chuckled when she stopped and turned to face him with a confused look. “I mean to ask if we should go to the park the day after the morrow.”

Emma blinked, her confusion gone. “Oh, I thought you meant now. How silly of me. Of course, two days from now would be fine.”

He checked the time. “I would love to spend more time with you, darling, but I have work waiting for me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean you have letters from avid readers to read.”

He grinned. “Jealous?”

Emma scoffed. “Never.”

Samuel chuckled, standing from his seat. He walked toward her to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I shall see you two days from now.”

“Very well.”

---

Wynne followed Samuel’s movements as the man rushed into his office and out again, carrying stacks of papers with him as he struggled putting on his coat.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked. He was also on his way out to go home. He had a note to expect that afternoon.

“I have too many articles to write and I am planning to take Emma to the play next week.”

“I am certain you can finish your articles by then,” he said.

“No, I believe I cannot. Something very important came to my attention,” Samuel said, finally winning the battle against his coat. He let out a sigh and looked at Wynne. “I also asked to take her to the park on the morrow.”

“And?”

“And I need you to deliver a note to her,” Samuel begged.

“You were with her yesterday.”

“Yes, but I made a promise I cannot keep.” Samuel said, taking a piece of folded paper on top of his stack. “Here.”

“Do you not have your own footman to deliver this?” Wynne asked, looking at the haphazardly folded paper.

Samuel shook his head. “Wynne, my friend, you lack knowledge on women. They like a personal touch to everything. You are a friend of mine. You delivering the note is a personal touch.”

“I do have other things to—”

“Thank you!” Samuel said, patting Wynne’s shoulder before rushing off. And as he did so, he whirled around to add, “I have a lead on our new Town Leader! A bloody promising lead! He would not know what will hit him until it hit him!” Samuel’s voice trailed away as the door closed behind him.

---

It was Jefferson who told Emma that Lord Hastings was in the parlor calling for her.

She frowned. “You mean Wynne?”

“Yes, my lady.” The old butler added, “He says he has something to deliver.”

“Did you offer tea?” Emma asked with a sigh. She did not wish to bother with Wynne Hastings. The man was a total opposite of the men she was used to, making her wonder sometimes why Samuel was fond of him. And being with him was beyond awkward.

“Yes, my lady.”

She sighed once again and nodded. “Very well.”

As Jefferson bowed to leave, Emma hastily added, “Jefferson, please do try to come up with a good reason to interrupt our time inside the parlor.”

A small smile curved Jefferson’s lips. “Will half an hour suffice, my lady?”

Emma blinked. “Can it not be fifteen minutes?”

“I believe that would be too impolite of us, my lady.”

“Very well, half an hour it is.”

“Very good, my lady,” said Jefferson with another bow. “I shall not be tardy.”

Emma smiled with contentment and prepared to see her caller.

---

“Lord Hastings,” Emma greeted with an apologetic smile as she sauntered into the parlor.

Wynne immediately jumped to his feet to offer Emma a small bow. With an awkward smile, he said, “Good day, Lady Emma. And please, just Wynne.”

Emma simply smiled and sat across from Wynne. She saw that he had not touched his tea. “Do you not like the tea? Would you like for something else?”

He vehemently shook his head, blinked a few times and started to stutter. “I-I—The t-tea is fine, my lady.”

She patiently nodded her head before raising her brows to ask, “Jefferson informed that you have something to deliver?”

He looked blank for a moment until Emma softly cleared her throat and he blinked, finally processing her question. “Ah, y-yes, yes, of course!” He fished inside his pocket for what appeared to be a small piece of folded paper. “Samuel asked me to deliver this.”

“He could have asked his footman.”

“I also suggested the same—I mean, I do not mind delivering this myself, of course, considering I do have many more important things to deal with at home, but—well,” he cleared his throat, composing himself while Emma’s lips twitched into a small smile at his blabber, “well, he said you would appreciate it if I did.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she reached for the paper. She knew what it contained before she even read the words.

Of course, he had things to do.

Ah, very well, she could go to the park with Lindsay and Victoria on the morrow without him.

She folded the crumpled note and placed it beside her on the settee. She looked at Wynne and found that he was studying her reaction. She forced a smile and said, “You did not have to bother, Lord—Wynne—but I do appreciate the effort.”

“It is nothing, my lady,” he said, clearing his throat and reaching for his tea.

Emma’s mind raced to many possible topics she could raise to keep up a conversation. He came all the way to deliver a note for Samuel, anyway, which the bastard would have to answer for. He placed her in such an awkward position with his friend! Samuel knew that Emma had never found a common ground with the man!

But she had to be nice at the very least. Surely there was something good in the man that Samuel and even some of her brothers found.

Yet, despite her great effort to come up with a subject, it was Wynne who commented, “I see that you like the gossip section, my lady.”

Emma did not find the statement at all offending when some ladies in her station would. Despite the utter fact that they find fondness in the gossip section, no respectable woman would admit to making it their religion . She saw the copy of the Town Herald open to the gossip section on the side table of the chair he was in. “I do not religiously read it, my lord, but it did interest me today.”

He smiled. “Everyone seems to gasp about the play. Even the gossip writer enjoyed it.”

Emma nodded. “She finally wrote something of significance.”

“You find her columns of lower value?”

“Well, compared with the ones Samuel and the others write, the gossip column can be quite a bore. I do not find it exciting to read about what a scandalous woman did the other day, really.”

Wynne simply nodded with a small smile.

Afraid that an awkward silence will return, Emma said, “But it seems I took to the gossip section today because of the play. I would love to see it soon as well. As a matter-of-fact, Sam and I will see it.”

This time it was his brows that rose in disbelief. “Samuel going to see Above and Below ?”

She chuckled. “He has no other choice. I want to see it.”

“You’ve read the book then?” Before she could utter a reply, he said, “Well, of course you did.”

Emma smiled. “Have you watched it, my lord?”

“You mean the play?”

“Yes.”

Wynne nodded. “Yes, I did. The very first day it opened, I was there.”

Her eyes rounded. “Truly!”

“Truly.”

“How was it?”

Wynne shrugged and for a moment Emma was afraid he would express disappointment but he said, “It was magical.”

He was the first person she knew who had seen the play. Not one of her brothers and their wives did, not even Ysabella! “Oh, please, do tell! How different is it from the others you have seen before?”

His eyes narrowed and he slowly shook his head. “If I tell you, I will be taking away the magic, my lady. You ought to see it for yourself. Experience it, truly.”

“Now I am even more desperate to see it!”

He chuckled, the first time she heard him do so and it made him almost seem… well, human. He reached for his cup again, swallowed and said, “I have seen it for quite a few times.”

Her eyes widened once more in disbelief. “You did?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But dare not tell Samuel. He would be greatly devastated if he learned that his good friend has been betraying him behind his back.”

Emma made a gesture with her hand, brushing off his words. “Oh, surely he cannot possibly expect us to agree with him!” She shifted her in her seat and asked him, “Pray tell what you love most about the book. You have read it, yes?”

“Yes, I did.” He thought for a moment, his eyes looking up at the ceiling, giving Emma enough time to study his features. He was not as lanky as she thought he was. He simply had a humongous coat! And he was rather good-looking. His dark hair and eyes were not too striking, but they complemented the sharp edges of his face. When he turned his head, their eyes met, she found that they were quite interesting. It was as if they were laughing at her, but at the same time, also taking in everything they saw seriously. For a split second, Emma wondered if Wynne Hastings was hiding something.

She was snapped back to the topic at hand as he said, “Well, I cannot say I am fond of the romance part, but I did love the intrigue and conspiracies. And the possibilities it offered.”

“I do agree about the intrigue and conspiracies. What possibilities do you have in mind that the story offered?”

His thick brows rose as he started to talk. “Well, there is a ton of—”

Wynne’s words were interrupted by a gentle knock on the parlor door and Emma found herself hoping it was not Jefferson. The butler sauntered into the room and bowed apologetically, announcing to Emma that she was needed in the playroom at once. It was her niece, Lindsay.

Emma did not realize she was thinking of an excuse to delay Wynne’s departure for a moment until the man himself stood and said, “Very well, I believe this is my cue to leave, my lady.” He turned to Emma who had also risen to her feet and bowed. “Thank you for your time. Good day.” He was back to her awkward self. “And I hope you enjoy the play immensely.”

Nodding with a smile, Emma followed him outside the parlor and into the hallway.

“Wynne,” she called and he stopped midway toward the door Jefferson was opening for him. He turned to face her. “I am sorry to ask, but I have been curious.”

“You can ask me anything, my lady,” he said. There was that look in his eyes again. What was it?

“How long have you been in Wickhurst? I mean, I do not recall ever having heard your name or you being friends with Samuel for a long time.”

He smiled. “I have merely been in Wickhurst not long ago, my lady. Hastings is my home—my father’s estate miles outside Wickhurst.”

Emma nodded. “Very well, then. Have a good day, my lord.”

He bowed and Emma watched as Wynne walked out the doors.

“Was I late, my lady?” Jefferson asked, breaking the silence.

Emma sighed. “No, you were perfectly on time, Jefferson,” she murmured.

As she walked off, Emma started to believe that Samuel’s friend was hiding many things. She did not know why or how she felt it. It was in his eyes and the way he looked at her. It was as if someone else entirely different was looking at her behind his gaze.

Who was Wynne Hastings, really? What was he truly like?

VI. Unguarded

Byron looked around the crowd of glittering jewels and he secretly smiled to himself.

The people aboveground were no different from those below. They cared about status and they gossiped about trivial things.

Of the many years he had been traveling back and forth above and belowground, Byron was convinced that society were all similar in nature. The only few things different here were the natural elements these people enjoyed. And the technology.

And perhaps better gowns, he noted to himself as his gaze fell upon one woman—the star of the night. The owner of the mansion he was currently standing in.

The famous actress Ellie McPhee.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” asked the stranger standing beside him. Byron did not know who he was, but he was a trusted individual who had worked with the League on a number of cases. “I believe she is one strong-willed woman.”

He looked at the striking beauty clad in a tight, full-length red dress that bared her back. As she turned her head toward friends, her shoulder-length brown hair curled to perfection teased her skin.

Byron smiled. “She will be easy.”

-Above and Below

---

“What is this?” asked Wynne, glaring at the book that landed on his desk.

Samuel managed a mocking begging look. “Please, do deliver it with care. My footman struggled the entire day finding that last copy.”

Wynne sighed. “This ought to be the last time, Samuel. I do have other plans other than delivering gifts and letters to your fiancée.”

“I do hope this will be the last,” Samuel said, suddenly excited. “Because I might just be on to something that will completely ruin Noah Trilby. Everything will be over soon!”

Wynne frowned. “And what might that be?”

“You know me. I do not give away any leads during a work on progress. All you have to know, my friend, is that I’ve met a man who can give me many secrets.” Samuel blinked, walked away and without looking over his shoulder shouted, “Do tell Emma I will see her at the play! I will suffer through the entire bloody show, but I will be there!”

Wynne stared at the book and frowned. Had Samuel not given Emma the same copy a year ago? He remembered clearly for he was with the man when he procured it.

“Bloody bastard,” he murmured as he threw the book aside to continue his article.

---

Emma did not think much of the situation when Jefferson announced Wynne’s arrival that afternoon. Samuel must still feel a tad guilty for having missed their walk to the park a few days ago and he had once more sent his friend to deliver a gift.

This time, she did not give Jefferson instructions to interrupt her and Wynne because anytime soon, her sister Maggie and her children shall be arriving for dinner. She could almost see Lord Hastings flying out the front doors at her family’s arrival.

She silently entered the parlor and found him standing before the portrait of her father. He was too focused studying the painting that he did not notice her take a few steps nearer.

Emma saw that his expression was unreadable and that his shoulder did not stoop as they always did. In fact, Wynne looked comfortable, standing tall and proud with his hands behind him.

She cleared her throat and was surprised when he jumped, startled at her presence. Yet he did not react in a way she thought he would as well. She saw him jump and clearly heard the words, “Bloody tarnation, woman!”

Emma’s brows rose but as Wynne resumed his awkward mien and stoop posture, she realized he was acting.

What the bloody hell was wrong with this man?

Suspicion clouded her mind and a series of explanation and possibilities raced through her.

This man could not be trusted.

Dismissing her thoughts for a while for later, Emma collected herself and proceeded to the settee as though she did not hear him curse, as though she did not suspect he was here to cause her and her family harm like many other people had attempted to do before.

If he thought she was too naïve and stupid, then she would not give him any more reason to believe otherwise.

“I believe Samuel has sent you again?” she asked, assuming an amused tone.

“Yes,” Wynne replied, giving her an apologetic look. “I am sorry, my lady. I was simply startled.”

“Never mind, Wynne,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You have not heard me curse,” she added with a wink.

He chuckled and slid the book on the table toward her. “Again, my apologies. I believe you already have a copy.”

“Yes, I do.” She frowned. “How did you know?”

“I was with him when he procured the first one a year ago.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” she wryly said, picking up the book. “I have not finished reading that one.”

“Truly?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It is about insects.”

“Yes,” Wynne said, fighting a smile.

“He must think that I am curious about all things. I am merely curious about many things. Insects were never amongst them.” She paused and gave him a warning look. “Dare not tell him. He would merely want to find something else to compensate.”

“I will not.”

The sound of the carriage outside made them both turn their heads to the direction of the large window. The driveway was not in view, but Emma knew who had arrived.

Wynne, as expected, stood up with an awkward smile. “I believe this is my cue to leave—again.”

Emma chuckled. “You could stay if you wish. It is my sister, Margaret, and her children.”

He shook his head. “I have better things to do—” he cut himself before offering an apologetic smile. “I mean I have matters of import to attend to.”

“Of course, my lord,” Emma said, rising to her feet. “Please, do forgive the inconveniences Samuel throws your way. I will have a word with him about these requests of his—”

“No, please, it is of no consequence,” he interjected, awkwardly fixing his large coat. She would not be surprised if the man was hiding a boar inside that coat for it was too large for him, Emma thought as she led the way to the door and into the hallway.

---

Wynne tried his best to keep up his character. He had been slipping in and out of it inside the parlor earlier for reasons unknown to him. Perhaps it was Emma’s way of looking at him as if she was reading him like she did many of her books. Or mayhap it was the many unnecessary thoughts that would come by every now and then as he would watch her speak.

She could be the Leaguer , he thought. But something also told him she could not be a Leaguer. She merely had the qualities of one.

She was dangerous, he reminded himself. As Samuel had always expressed, the woman was not like many others.

Not even like her sister, Lady Margaret, who was striding toward them with four children running about in different directions. The two little children, one boy and one girl, were already making their way above the butler who seemed to think he was looking down at the cause of his early demise.

Two grown girls were running toward Emma to give their aunt a kiss each. One was slightly older than the other, probably fifteen. Like Margaret and Emma, she had dark hair, but her eyes were not emerald green. They were a lighter shade of blue, almost grey. She was not Lady Margaret’s daughter, he assumed, not just because of the eyes, but the entire features of her face.

The other one he was certain was thirteen years of age. She had black hair and deep blue eyes. There was no question who the younger girl was in Wynne’s mind.

“…my sister, Lady Margaret Devitt…” Emma was saying, introducing him to her sister. “Maggie, this is Samuel’s dear friend, Lord Wynne Hastings.”

Wynne snapped his eyes away from the girls who were also staring back at him with interest, both with laughter in their eyes. He turned to Margaret and offered a bow. “It is my pleasure to finally be properly introduced, my lady. I greatly admire your husband.”

Margaret smiled. “Well, it is good to hear a writer from the Herald sing praises for Cole,” she said to Emma with a laugh. She looked around and said, “These are my children. The two there are Harold and Katie—children, leave Jefferson alone, please—and these two well-behaved ones are Faye and Fiona.”

The two girls giggled at their mother’s term for them and curtsied.

“Girls, escort our two gofers to the playroom, please,” Margaret said to Faye and Fiona who immediately obliged, pulling Emma along with them.

“I shall follow suit,” Emma promised, letting go of their hands.

“It was very nice meeting you, my lord,” Margaret said with an apologetic look, “but I am quite in a rush.”

“Tori is in their chamber,” Emma provided her sister. “She has been awaiting your arrival.”

Margaret offered Wynne a small curtsy before sauntering away.

Now left alone, Emma started to lead Wynne to the front doors Jefferson held open.

“You must be curious,” she said, looking at him.

“Of?” he asked.

“About Faye and Fiona. They do not look like any of the Everards.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“They were taken in by Maggie and Cole seven years past.”

Wynne simply nodded. He knew the story too well. He was told that his uncle nearly killed one of his footmen for having lost Fiona to the Everards.

“Well, the bigger the family, the better,” was all he could say as he put on his bowler hat.

Emma nodded. “Yes. We love the girls as much as our own.”

“As you ought to,” was the only comment he could come up with. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Very well, farewell, my lady. Until the next gift, I assume?”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. Wynne allowed a chuckle as he bounded down the stairs.

His smile immediately died as he reached his horse.

Perhaps his aunt and uncle were not merely interested in finding the Leaguer amongst the Everards. Perhaps they had more things planned than they let on, he thought, as the image of young Fiona came back to him.

---

It was not truly a theatre for it was a circus tent erected right in the middle of the open rock field of Ulric, a famous site for duels and other games. Located between Wickhurst and Willowfair, the Ulric rock field was the best place for the tent.

Many men and women enjoyed the other events happening around the tent, ones offered by traveling showmen.

It was a feast, really, and Emma could have never been more amazed.

This was the first in the Town as far as she was aware. And it was marvelous! It was beautiful!

“Where is he, Emma?” asked Margaret as they were led down the line of people who were also there to see the play. A flash of the camera from the right got Emma’s attention and she chuckled with amazement as two women posed in front of a large painting of the play’s handsome actor, Jordan Smith.

She was reminded of her sister’s question as she remembered how Smith’s participation in the play was amongst the many reasons Samuel hated it without having seen it. Obviously, reputation preceded the man in Samuel’s taste of art. “He must be here,” she absently replied to Margaret who was serving as her companion tonight.

She would have wanted to roam around the open field and see more of the different shows going on, but they had been told that their seats might be stolen by someone else if they did not proceed to claim them immediately.

As they waited their turn and with their tickets at the ready, Emma thought of something else and leaned closer to her sister. “Maggie, who do you ken own the Hastings estate?”

“I do not know, Emma. There are quite a lot of estates in the Town, a lot of them—big and small—are named Hastings. Which Hastings are we talking about?”

“Oh, Wynne. The man coming toward us as a matter of fact,” she whispered hastily before straightening her back.

Margaret followed her gaze. “Samuel’s friend?”

“Yes.”

“And why can you not ask him instead?” asked Margaret. “Are his coats always that huge?”

She was not able to reply as Wynne had by now reached them. Clad still in his large coat and his bowler hat, he bowed at Emma and Margaret. “Wynne, please, do not tell me Samuel sent you. Again.”

Wynne shook his head. “No, of course not. I was hoping he would be with you, as a matter-of-fact.”

“Well, he must still be on his way.”

He looked about and said, “I am here with another acquaintance. And I have lost him.” He bowed once more and said, “I should be going. I hope you enjoy the play, my ladies. Perhaps I will come and find Samuel later as I have matters to discuss with him for the morrow.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma said with a small curtsy. “And we shall enjoy the play.”

Wynne awkwardly gave them another bow and left in a hurry, disappearing into the crowd of people that surrounded a tall juggler.

“He is rather odd,” said Margaret, losing interest at Wynne almost immediately. Emma wanted to ask her sister if she was curious with Wynne, but she chose not to. For all she knew, it was merely her overly imaginative mind working.

---

Wynne chose a spot near the entrance of the tent, one that was dark and underneath the bleachers.

What he liked about the play was its perfect atmosphere. Everyone was too preoccupied with the many things that were going on around them.

“She gave instructions,” said the man beside Wynne.

“She always does,” he murmured, his eyes on one target—the dark-haired woman standing in line outside the tent. “Did she ask you to remind me to play my best? And that I ought to give her a name soon, uncle ?” He smiled and faced his uncle, David Trilby, the Lord of Thorne. Although the man was merely a few years older than him, Wynne still liked the sound of the word uncle where Thorne was concerned. For one, the man despised it. “We cannot have dear Noah be dethroned as we are just beginning our rule, can we?” he asked under his breath.

Thorne ignored him, his dark eyes somewhere else.

“Are you also tasked to watch over someone, uncle ?” Wynne asked with a mocking jolly tone.

“Yes.”

That took Wynne by surprise. The Lord of Thorne taking orders from Amelia Trilby? This must be the end of the entire bloody Town! “Who gave the orders?”

“You,” Thorne wryly replied.

“Me?”

“You asked me to have a talk with the boy.”

“You mean Eddie.”

“Yes.”

Wynne was confused for a while before he sighed in frustration. “He is here.”

Thorne finally moved his head to look at Wynne. His lips twitched ever so slightly into a very minute smile. “Yes.”

“Bloody hell! The Everards are—”

“I thought it best you talk to him yourself. I do not deal with unnecessary tasks,” Thorne said, turning away.

“You can’t—”

“Good night,” was his uncle’s farewell.

And as though he was merely waiting for Thorne to disappear, Edmund Trilby appeared from behind Wynne.

“Peter,” his young cousin murmured.

And all the while he had thought his night was going to be perfect, Wynne thought as he faced his cousin.

VII. Secret Magic

Ellie’s manager whispered something to her and she immediately went to the newly furnished study. Since her manager said that a powerful man was waiting for her, she was expecting a good offer for film.

But that thought was soon flying out the windows when she saw the old man sitting behind the desk—her desk.

“Good evening, Miss McPhee. Please, sit down.”

She was about ready to throw this horrid, obnoxious human out of her home when he added, “I have matters of import to discuss with you, my dear. Please. Sit.”

Ellie, of course, did not comply. She simply stood there.

The old man sighed. “Someone not welcome is in your home at the moment, Miss McPhee.”

“If you provide me your name, I’m sure I will know who he is,” she said with a mocking smile.

The man merely smiled. “You are funny. But let us get to the point.” The old man stood and looked straight into Ellie’s eyes. “The man came into your home, Miss McPhee, because he wants to take everything away from you.”

-Above and Below

---

“What are you doing here, Eddie?” Wynne asked through clenched teeth, eyes darting around as he pulled the boy deeper into the darkness allowed by the bleachers above them. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“You know the last I saw Adam’s was three years ago, Peter—”

“And you know I do not like that name.”

“Wynne,” his cousin said, looking into his eyes. It was then that Wynne realized Edmund was no longer the orphaned young boy he remembered. Of course, it had been seven years since Osmund Trilby was murdered, leaving Edmund with naught but his riches and a whole bloody family of crazy. “What are you planning with Aunt Amelia?”

Wynne looked over his shoulder. “Let us not discuss this tonight, Eddie.”

“Wynne, please, leave them alone. Fiona is living a life she deserves. She has security and family. Please do not create a doorway to ruin that. If uncle—”

“Go back to Willowfair, Eddie. You know what will happen if you keep showing up like an irresponsible child. “

“What are you planning?”

“You are not aware of any planning because it is planned that you remain clueless. Do you understand, Eddie?”

“Wynne—”

“Bloody hell, Edmund, do you not trust me?” Wynne hissed.

Edmund’s face tightened and his dark eyes met Wynne’s. “I once did, but now I am no longer certain I ought to. Good thing I did not bring Fiona to you. It was the first thought that came to mind and it would have been the worst considering what you are doing now!”

Emma and her sister were talking, oblivious. Wynne looked back at Edmund and said, “Good. Do not trust anyone.”

“But Fiona—”

Wynne grabbed his cousin’s arm none too gently. “Listen, Edmund,” he leaned closer, “if there is still a little trust for me left in you, you will stay away from me. And you will keep quiet. Not one word to anyone. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

Edmund pushed away. “Why should I trust you when you are doing this? You are one of the only few people I trust yet you prove to be just like them.”

Wynne pushed Edmund’s shoulder with one swift movement of his hand. “Then go and bloody hell tell the Everards! The Haverstons as well if you must!” he hissed, pointing a finger at Edmund. “But if it leads to disaster, Eddie—and it will—you have yourself to blame. And when that happens, dare not look for me because I would no longer be here to lend a hand!”

Roughly brushing his shoulder against his cousin, Wynne walked away to find his seat.

Collecting himself, he dared not look back. He knew Edmund too well.

If his cousin did not go back to Willowfair, then the boy was not as wise as he thought he was.

---

Emma was seated near the front row seats, the seat to her right vacant still. Margaret was sitting to her left and was getting more disappointed by the minute.

“He ought to be here by now,” said Margaret, eyes on the empty stage. “The play is about to start.”

“He is not looking forward to this play, Maggie. I am certain he is deliberately delaying.”

“You know him to well. You should just marry the man then.” Despite what she said, there was a strange pitch of irritation in Margaret’s voice. “I am just saying, Emma, that he should not have forced himself to promise to take you here if he does not like it.”

“You know Samuel, Maggie,” Emma said with a sigh. “He does everything he can to impress me.”

“As I have said, you know him to well, darling,” Margaret murmured under her breath. And then her sister turned her head to look at Emma. “But I wonder if he truly knows you enough.”

Emma smiled. “I believe he thinks he does.”

“Precisely why you cannot marry him yet.”

Emma chose not to say anything. Instead, she focused her eyes on Wynne who was sitting at the very front, five rows away from them. The lucky bastard! And he had watched this countless of times!

Her attention was stolen when the music started and the crowd became instantly quiet. The lights dimmed and string instruments flowed around the large circular tent. A bright, white light blinded Emma and the others, and suddenly the stage filled with shadows.

The silhouettes danced gracefully across the stage and three more descended down from above, flying in midair as the singing began.

More lights focused on the stage until it was almost white and nearly painful and then she came out—the most magnificent entrance Emma had ever witnessed.

Clad in glittering red dress, Stella Marie parted the lights as she walked to the center of the stage, her golden hair waving freely, her fair skin almost translucent against the lights.

The gasps of the spectators joined the music which had changed its tempo, racing along with the silhouetted dancers that danced around the actress.

And when she began to sing, Emma realized that the music had stopped. So did her breathing. She stole Margaret a glance and her sister’s gaze was transfixed at the woman clad in glittering red singing a tune that was graceful yet unnerving. And then, just as she seemed to take one more step forward, Stella Marie disappeared and Emma gasped with everyone else.

Before she could even think of how it was possibly done, Jordan Smith appeared, singing at the top of his lungs and the white lights turned blue, angling lower and lower and then they moved. The lights were moving like water!

Amazed, Emma reached for her sister’s hand, no longer interested on how the magic tricks were done for the scene was changing fast, taking everyone to a world not familiar—aboveground.

As the stage was transformed with each and every act, Emma was beginning to believe that this was no ordinary play. This was a magic show with the best actors and actresses. Somehow she imagined what everyone else was doing behind the stage. Emma was beyond curious.

This was far beyond how she imagined the book was for it offered her a glimpse of the world above from someone else’s point-of-view and she must say it was better than hers.

Like everyone else, she was disappointed when the interlude began. But it was a must. Margaret asked that she accompanied her to the ladies room outside the tent. Emma waited, listening to the awed conversations of the other guests outside.

“Do call me when it resumes, please,” she heard one woman say.

As Emma waited for Margaret, she wondered where the bloody hell Samuel was. And then she began to worry. Perhaps he met an accident on his way here. The thought bothered her that she left her post and looked for their carriage and the footman.

She found him standing with the carriage driver where the other carriages were parked. He immediately went to her and she said, “Can you take one of the horses and look for Lord Samuel? I worry that he might have had some trouble on the road. He ought to be here by now.”

The footman nodded. “Of course, milady.”

Emma turned and hurried back to find Margaret.

“So? How did you find it?” asked the now-familiar voice beside her.

Emma turned her head and found Wynne with a small smile on his lips walking beside her. She smiled back although at the back of her mind, she warned herself that she ought to be careful with the man. “It is marvelous!”

“As I have said, it is magical, yes.”

“It is apparent that the director of the play has read The World Above .”

“The forbidden book, of course,” Wynne recalled. “I believe I’ve read it when I was a young boy.”

“How did you come upon your copy?” she asked, surprised that he was able to get a hold of one. There were very little surviving copies of the book since the Town Leaders ordered for all of its copies to be destroyed long ago.

“I do not tell my secrets, my lady,” said Wynne, “As I am certain you will never betray the person who provided you with your copy.”

Emma scoffed. “Fair enough.”

“Did you realize it sooner or later?” Wynne asked.

Emma was confused by his question at first, but when she got a look at the expectant look on his face, she realized his question and smiled. “I believe I realized it somewhere in the middle.” When he did not comment further, she urged, “And you? Did you realize it immediately when you first saw it?”

“Of course. The very moment she fell down .”

“I am not certain everyone realized what we did, really. Not everyone had the privilege to read The World Above. “ She smiled. “Although they do know who Mr. Jones is so they must have the inkling, yes?”

“If they are smart enough, they ought to have realized by now that Mr. Jones is portrayed as a woman.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And you are wiser than the rest, of course, having realized it at the beginning.”

“I did not say that, my lady, you did,” he said, smiling like she had never seen him before.

And there it was again—the ‘glimpse’ as she referred to it now. It was there for a brief second before he covered it by clearing his throat and looking away from her. “Where is your sister?”

“The ladies room. Or mayhap she is back in her seat.”

“And Samuel?” he asked, looking about. “He must be here by now.”

“I have sent our footman to look for him,” she simply said, stopping just outside the tent. “The second act is happening soon.”

“Yes.” He sighed and looked about. “By the by, I must go ahead first. May I escort you back to your seat?”

Emma shook her head. She had been with him too long. “I do not believe Margaret has returned. I will wait for her here.”

“Very well, enjoy the rest of the play, my lady.”

Emma watched him walk away, her thoughts drifting along with his silhouette. She no longer knew what she ought to think of Wynne Hastings.

---

Samuel did arrive just in time to see the closing of the curtains.

“Do not even pretend you are disappointed,” Emma told him as they left their seats.

Samuel laughed, shaking his head. “Was it truly that magical?”

“Yes, it was, and I do not wish to hear you say anything that will spoil that opinion.” They walked down the aisle, flowing with the crowd that was leaving the tent.

“Truly, I am surprised you like this sort of story.”

“Why?”

“You never liked romance. It was never your thing.”

“However did you conclude I am not a romantic?”

“Women are romantic, Emma, but you are not like most women.”

Emma frowned and looked over her shoulder at Margaret who was wearing a very astonished expression. Emma shook her head with a contained smile. Opting to change the subject, Emma said, “I was worried about you. Where have you been?”

“I lost track of time, really,” he said with a grimace. “I am sorry.”

Emma heard Margaret sigh behind her and she cleared her throat to cover her sister’s apparent disinterest in Samuel’s excuse.

“Bloody hell, Wynne is here!” Samuel said in surprise, calling out his friend who waited for them outside the tent. “What the bloody hell are you doing here? Were you tasked to write a review of the play?”

Wynne let out an awkward chuckle. “No, I came to see the play.”

“With who?”

“Myself,” Wynne replied and Emma knew he was lying. Did he not say he was looking for an acquaintance earlier? She stored that detail aside and waited with Margaret as Wynne and Samuel talked in lower, inaudible tones.

“He ought to be begging for your forgiveness by now,” her sister whispered in her ear.

“Maggie,” Emma warned with a smile.

Margaret chuckled. “I am merely saying.”

In the middle of a sentence, Samuel was interrupted by another older gentleman who recognized him. “Samuel, my boy! That piece you wrote yesterday was marvelous! Just marvelous!”

“Mr. Bishop, good evening…”

“Ah, bloody hell, Emma, can we not just go home?” Margaret asked.

Emma was absently watching Wynne as she murmured to her sister, “Maggie, behave yourself—”

Her statement was cut when her eyes met Wynne’s who was standing awkwardly between Mr. Bishop and Samuel.

“What is your opinion of Jordan Smith’s performance, Wynne?” she asked to cover for the awkward shame of having been caught watching him.

His thick brows lifted. “He is a fairly good Leaguer, I must say. He did his best, wouldn’t you agree?”

She narrowed her eyes. “But was he not acting too nonchalant for a Leaguer?”

Wynne shrugged. “They do lurk amongst us, do they not? Perhaps there are a few who watched tonight.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Margaret piped in, looking quite excited. “I believe I saw Lady James. I must go and say hello.”

Her sister dashed off, leaving Emma with Wynne, their conversation having been placed in yet another awkward pause with them standing close to Samuel and Mr. Bishop who were now forming a group with three more gentlemen singing praises to the previous article Samuel wrote.

Emma took a step back and so did Wynne.

“This is rather awkward, I must say,” Wynne murmured beside her.

Emma stifled a throaty laugh and took another step back until they were standing against a wall. “Wallflowers,” she whispered to Wynne who chuckled. “And we are not even in a proper ball. We are outside a tent.”

But Wynne was no longer listening. He was looking over his shoulder at something and Emma curiously craned her neck to see. She frowned when she saw Lady Gedge, Wickhurst’s notorious gossipmonger, whispering with a woman.

Emma saw Lady Gedge smile contentedly before she secretly handed a small pouch to the woman who immediately turned and left.

“That is rather discrete,” Emma commented as she and Wynne watched Lady Gedge saunter to the opposite direction. “She is taking her gossip mongering to the next level, I tell you.”

Wynne nodded. “I wonder how she titles the amount in her accounting. Lord Gedge surely is a man who watches where every townsend goes.”

Emma snorted. “Twenty townsend—entertainment expenses.”

Wynne scoffed. “Would you call it that?”

“Well, that is how she entertains her friends—with the freshest of gossips.” Emma sighed. “I wonder whose servant that was. He would be one unlucky lord.”

“Or lady.”

“Ah, true.”

---

As someone who had been in Samuel’s estate countless of times, Wynne knew who the servant was.

The moment he could leave Emma alone with Samuel, he went straight to Wickhurst and to Samuel’s estate.

He did not go straight to the main entrance but instead circled around to the side door. He leaned against the wall as he waited, confident with the darkness.

She probably rode with a hackney which was very much slower than his horse. He would have loved to gloat when he saw the woman climb out of one across the street. He was getting good at this, he thought, but he was alone and he had more important things in mind.

He saw the woman stop and hesitate when she saw him and Wynne could have a screaming servant wake up the entire street so he leaned away from the wall and spoke, “Please, I mean no harm.”

The woman took a step back, not recognizing him.

Good, Wynne thought as he said, “I know what you did tonight. Your master will not be pleased the moment he learns his servant has been selling his secrets to the greatest gossipmonger in Wickhurst.”

“Who are you—”

“No one, but I need you to do something for me.”

“I do not have money if you—”

“I do not want your money.”

“I am not afraid that he finds out. I can find another employment.”

“I have no interest of telling your master,” Wynne said, pulling out some notes from his coat. “But I am interested on the same services you provide Lady Gedge.” The woman’s eyes landed on the money. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. Simply that I think he is to marry soon.”

Wynne held out his hand and the woman immediately reached for it. But he held his hand back at the same time making certain he was covered by the darkness. “Would you like some more of this?”

“I do not think I can provide you with more information. The master is good with his secrets.”

“Ah, but he can be distracted,” Wynne said, finally handing the money to the young woman. “I can give you more if you can do something for me.”

The woman’s eyes brightened. “More?”

Wynne smiled. “For a few little secrets.”

---

It seems that we all ought to be careful with our secrets.

Our dear Lady Gedge does not merely enjoy the company of her fellow gossipmonger friends, but she also spends Lord Gedge’s townsends for a different sort of luxury: GOSSIP!

We wonder what rumors she is yet to circulate amongst us after last night. After all, her words are worth a few precious townsends.

The very moment Emma read the gossip article shoved to her by Lady Alice over breakfast and tea, she realized something quite unbelievable.

While it may be true that there were also others who could have seen Lady Gedge pay for gossip the night prior, it was no mistake that Wynne Hastings was the only person who witnessed the incident and then put it in writing to be published on the Town Herald.

But Wynne Hastings as the gossip writer?

How was that even possible? Samuel said he wrote politics. There was no mention of him writing anything else. She could imagine him writing for the obituary, but never on two things: fashion and gossip!

So this must be his secret, Emma quietly thought to herself as her mother shared the news of Lady Gedge’s scandal to Tori and Levi.

But was that all? Could it be that he was merely acting unimportant and unassuming simply to remain unseen—so he could observe and write his gossips?

This could answer why he suddenly came into Samuel’s life and the Everards’. They had lately been involved in quite a few scandals and perhaps Wynne Hastings had thought they were the best sources of juicy gossips.

But why the double life? Why the anonymity?

Emma retreated to her bedchamber and allowed her mind to run wild, staring blankly at the opposite wall with a frown of confusion.

Wynne Hastings could not be just a mere gossip writer.

She paced around her room. “But it is plausible. He is boring and truly uninteresting on the surface,” Emma murmured, “yet he is also secretive and mysterious if you can catch the act he is trying to pull.” She whirled around, frustrated. “Or perhaps it is just me and my crazy ideas.” She groaned.

Where was Mrs. Beagle when she needed her? The bloody cat had gone missing again a few days ago and was not scheduled to return until she was done with her little secret adventures. Mrs. Beagle had the gift of calming Emma’s mind whenever she was distressed. And at the moment, Emma believed she was quite distressed.

Her instinct was telling her to investigate Wynne Hastings, but she was certain the people around her would not even turn one curious eye should she ever discuss her suspicions.

“I need proof,” she finally said to herself. “Proof of whether or not he is a friend or foe.”

She went and locked her door. Next, she came to her window. Her mother was busy in the garden with Tori.

“I will not be needed until luncheon,” Emma said as she dressed for a little adventure.

---

“You seem quiet, Lawrence,” Wynne noted as his butler read the gossip article.

The man looked up and frowned. “Do you truly believe this will suffice, my lord?”

“No,” he said, lifting his arm and placing it behind his head. “She is one wise woman, but this might put her on a different track. She has been quite curious of late.”

“Leading her to a different truth might merely open the doors to the others, my lord.”

“But it might also satisfy her curiosity,” Wynne countered. “She may start to believe it is the only secret I keep. Whatever questionable actions she may have noticed me slip would be justified by it.” When Lawrence stayed silent, Wynne narrowed his eyes. “You do not seem convinced I did the right thing.”

“One of us ought to contradict the other, my lord.”

Wynne rolled his eyes. “As we always did?”

Lawrence smiled. “As we always do.”

Wynne picked up his glass of brandy. “What would I do without you, Lawrence?”

“Oh, nothing, my lord,” said the butler. “You would no longer be in this world now if it were not for me.”

Wynne drank to that for it was true.

VIII. Patience and Politics

She was walking toward him now.

He nearly cursed himself when his heart hammered against his chest.

Her eyes met him and he felt himself undone.

Warning signs blared in him internally.

Bloody hell, this was going to be difficult.

-Above and Below

---

Her little so-called adventure for the past two days had been naught but fruitless.

If Wynne Hastings was hiding something, he was hiding it very well. Emma had not seen him anywhere other than en route to the offices of the Herald.

But it had merely been two days, of course. And her time shadowing him was limited by the fact that she could not allow more than five hours outside the Everard manor on her own.

Yesterday, in fact, she considered asking Ralph’s wife and her dear ex-bandit friend, Alex, to accompany her. But Lady Alice would smell trouble if that were so. Alex was the last on the list for a good and decent companion for the woman was trouble awake or not. Ralph would begin to suspect as he always did where his wife and his sisters were concerned.

And it was not as though she could tell Samuel now. The man could readily engage in a fanatic conspiracy theory with Emma and it would be devastating if Wynne Hastings was all the while innocent.

Samuel’s obsession with the Trilbys, most especially the new Head of the Town Leaders, Noah Trilby, was enough as it was.

Like at that moment, an hour before the dinner with the Everards, Emma had to entertain all of the secrets he was willing to share, including the a few details his source shared with him. She was even quite surprised he showed up, but then of course he would. Some of her brothers would be in attendance and he was still in the process of winning their trust and respect.

“He told me they are planning something,” he whispered to the small group they created comprised of himself, Emma, Ralph and Alex.

“And what are they planning?” Ralph asked with a frown. As a Town Guard, Ralph had the obligation to protect the citizens of the Town and whenever there was a threat—or talks of one—he would want to be the first to know.

“Precisely the question,” Samuel said, raising both hands. “Why would the Town allow Osegod’s friend be the Head of the Leaders?”

“Because not everyone is aware of what that bastard Osegod did before he died, that is what,” Ralph said with an almost angry tone.

“Many families are related to the Trilbys, Sam,” Emma pointed out. “Of course, he will have quite a number of supporters.”

“Or it could be all of them,” Samuel said. “It is known that they change their names to hide their true identity. But for what purpose?”

Ralph sighed and focused his attention on his friend. “You are obsessed with the Trilbys, that is what I can say.”

“He has the right to be,” Alex said. “I’ve seen ’em, been with ‘em and they’re bleedin’ crazy!”

“You have merely been around two, love,” said Ralph to his wife.

“Vega Trilby and that man Thorne, yes. And they embody ’em all Trilbys!” Alex hissed. “They’re crazy, that’s what they are, aye?”

Samuel shook his head and drained his glass of spirit. “My recent article against Noah Trilby was not published.”

“Why?” It was Ralph who asked.

“I made speculations that the family is part of the slave trade.”

“Bloody tarnation, Samuel! Are you trying to get killed?” Ralph erupted.

Alex and Emma shared a look. Ralph was easily provoked nowadays whenever Samuel was around. Once, he said he could no longer recognize Samuel. Emma had to disagree. Samuel had always been that way and she respected that about him. Merely a few recognized that he had always had a voice that wanted to be heard.

“I am being careful, Ralph,” Samuel said. “It is not over, I am telling you. They are just starting.”

“Your passion is admirable, Sam,” Emma said, “but you are getting bolder. You ought to be careful.”

“They will not dare touch me. The moment they do, the entire Town will know it is them. What they did to Maxine was unforgivable.”

For a moment, the group was silent. What started as a personal vendetta for Samuel was now something more. Maxine, his half-sister, was a Trilby. A few years back, she almost died from an accident that the Everards and Samuel thought was caused by the Trilbys and the now-deceased Osegod who was by then the Head of the Leaders.

“Whatever you believe the Trilbys are planning is for the League and the Guards to fret about, not you,” calmly Ralph pointed out.

“I represent the rest of the townspeople,” countered Samuel. “And we all know—you know—the Guards could be corrupted. And if the Guards are dirty, I am yet to be convinced the League is otherwise.”

Emma and Ralph exchanged looks. Margaret would not like that statement at all.

Standing up, Emma said to Samuel, “Come and escort me to the garden, Sam. I would like to stretch my legs before the notoriously long dinner.”

“Go with them, Lex,” Ralph said to his wife.

“Why?” Emma and Alex asked in unison.

“Because she needs a companion,” Ralph wryly said.

“What could happen between me and Samuel in a garden?” Emma incredulously asked.

“Quite a lot, actually,” Alex replied, leaning back against her chair. “But nae, I’m not goin’ te play chaperonin’.”

Ralph rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he gave Samuel a look of warning.

“I am a good lad, Ralph,” he said with a chuckle as he led Emma out of the study.

In the garden, Emma allowed Samuel to hold her hand as they walked around. Her mother and Tori had recently been trying to cultivate more flowers and it seemed that it would prove to be quite challenging despite them claiming they planted only the sort that did not need a lot of sunlight.

“Do you wonder why I fell in love with you?” Samuel asked.

Emma was quite grateful he had dropped their previous topic and relaxed, although she did feel uncomfortable with the question. “Sometimes, yes,” she asked anyway.

“You are beautiful like many, but you are rare because your mind is always filled with curiosity.”

“Which you find interesting, I assume,” she said with a smile.

“You care not for standard or grace. You care for equality and freedom. And that is the future of our race, is it not? Love ought to be expressed and chosen freely.”

“But what would you say if I say I am similar to many women my age? That I am a romantic and that I dream and fancy trivial things? And that I might want a man to put a leash on me yet not find the need to pull it.”

Samuel’s eyes rounded in surprise at her last statement. He chuckled and turned to look at her. “You have always been adamant about not wanting to marry, Emma.”

“I do not like the thought of marriage, Sam, but I did not say I hate romance,” she explained.

He considered her words and shrugged. “Fair point. I do remember you and Ysabella playing matchmaking.”

“We were not playing , we were on missions!” Emma iterated with laughter, remembering the days when she and Ysabella had nothing in mind but planning about getting two people in love together. “I can say we are successful on most of occasions.”

Samuel shook his head. “I must say I am pleased you outgrew your childish ways, Em, for I would not have liked you and Ysa pairing me with someone else other than Emma Everard.”

Emma’s smile waned a little. “We were childish, yes, but we brought happiness and love to many people.”

“Yes, you did,” was all he said. Yet Emma knew he had more in mind that he did not say. She knew him too well. She knew when he was controlling himself from saying something that would lead to a conflict.

Then she began to wonder again. Why could not she remember a thing from the night they were caught in bed naked?

What had she missed?

---

Dinner was as expected. The children were allowed to join them around the table and even Lady Alice had to agree that it was a very bad idea.

Margaret and Cole had to leave earlier than planned when Katie bumped her head under the table while playing with Harold. Lindsay erupted in outburst when her cousins departed and had to be brought upstairs.

“I would like a bottle of brandy,” Wakefield, Ysabella’s husband announced. “It might help me deal with the fact that my son would soon cause me the same headache in the future.”

“My wife needs help with Lindsay, but I will join you right after,” Levi told his best friend.

“May I join?” Lady Alice asked, hooking her arms around both Ralph and Samuel, not giving any of the men time to utter an excuse. “Fret not, I will only enjoy a glass of sherry before I retire for the night.” As she sauntered away with the two men, she could be heard saying, “Now, you two must realize what I had to put up with while all of my children were growing up!”

“I’mma get us a bottle for us te enjoy,” whispered Alex, “The men can’t have it all, aye?”

Emma and Ysabella nodded enthusiastically.

“The parlor?” their sister-in-law asked.

“Aye!” they both chimed.

“Aye then!” Alex said with a wink before she followed the group that was on their way to the drawing room.

Emma hooked her arm around Ysabella, their direction to the parlor. Ever since Ysabella gave birth to Gillian, the two of them barely had time to bond. Sometimes, Emma hoped that time had stopped when they were just at an age where they plotted the love affair of others.

It had been good, those years. She missed how they would demand for a respite with their then governess, Agatha, who was now their eldest brother’s wife. And she longed for the days when Margaret was still around, quietly reading in one corner, no plans of marriage or children. She even wanted to return to the times when Ralph would play his tricks on them until they had their revenge. Those days when their brothers would come home from a hunting trip were long gone. They still went, but they all had homes to go back to every time. Never to the Everard mansion.

“So, I heard from Maggie that Samuel has been but a disappointment of late,” said her sister as they settled and waited for Alex.

“He is being Samuel, Ysa.”

Her sister frowned. “But he has always been in love with you! He ought to be showering you with gifts and attention!”

“He does try, but his work requires most of his time,” she defended. “And that work is far more important than making me swoon.”

Ysabella sighed. “Well, if you put it that way…” Her words trailed away and silence fell between them for a moment. “Do you remember anything?”

Emma knew what her sister was referring to. “No, not really.”

“Do you believe you were too foxed to remember anything at all?”

“Perhaps, yes,” she said. “I do remember the night prior—us drinking and discussing politics.” She frowned. “And I believe I started crying but I cannot remember why.”

“Crying? Why would you be crying, Em?”

She shrugged.

“Were you melancholic?”

“No, I—” she paused and gave up. “I do not know.”

Ysabella shook her head. “You ought to remember something. A moment like that would have to be unforgettable, Em. The second time William kissed me, I was foxed. I drank so much spirit in Meriwether that I barely remembered how we got back to the inn.” Her sister’s emerald globes locked with hers. “But I do remember the kiss from the moment his lips landed on mine to the next thing that happened—”

“Spare me of the details, Ysa, please,” Emma begged with a scoff.

Ysabella chuckled. “Anyhow, do give Samuel a chance. He has been in love with you for so long and I can attest to that. He is your match, Em.”

Emma nodded. “We do have the same interests.”

“Yes.”

“But should that be enough?”

“No, but I believe that you simply do not recognize what you feel for him is love. He has been your friend for long that the feeling confuses you.”

“I have been thinking the same thing. Perhaps I do need more time.”

“No one is rushing you.”

The door opened and Alex slipped inside the room accompanied by Samuel.

“We have company,” their sister-in-law said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ralph’s been watchin’ me and I can’t take the precious bottle out without ‘im seein’.”

“He is depriving you of spirit?” asked Emma in horror.

“Nae,” said Alex, shaking her head. “He’s hopin’ I’m with babe.”

“Are you?” Emma and Ysabella chorused.

“Nae,” said Alex. “Samuel, do us the honor, please.”

Samuel bowed with a wide grin and when he straightened, he pulled out a bottle of brandy from his coat.

The women chortled as he poured them their drinks.

Emma stole Samuel a glance. Whenever he was like this, she seemed to believe she could love him. Why could the feeling not linger longer?

He was adorable and kind. He had strong ideals.

What else was she looking for?

Was she like every other woman after all?

Or was she simply indifferent to love?

---

“I will check on Gillian for a split second,” said Ysabella said moments later, standing to her feet.

Samuel joined her and said, “I will escort you, my lady.” He grinned at his future sister-in-law. “Before I return to the drawing room.”

“Yes, please do,” said Emma. “And then escort our mother out of that room before she passes out.”

“I will, love, fret not.”

The very moment they were out the door, Ysabella said, “You must be patient, Sam.”

“I am,” he said with confidence. “I will not be where I am if I am not.” As he led Ysabella up the grand staircase, he added, “But I do hope she will soon make up her mind.”

“She will.”

“And your brothers are not making this easier.”

“Why? Because they agreed that Emma should take her time?”

“That and many others,” he said with a gesture of his hand. “Ralph for one is easily irked of late and I am certain it is because of me.”

“Oh,” Ysabella brushed his last statement with a wave of her hand. “Ralph will get over it soon enough. But Sam, they do support Emma’s wish for more time because she does deserve it. You would not want her simply because she was forced to marry you, do you?”

Samuel shook his head. “No, of course not!” He forced a smile at Ysabella. “As a matter-of-fact, it is with great relief to know that she is almost mine.”

He could not imagine losing her now. She was everything he wanted in a woman and he would not want her be wasted to someone else.

No, he could not lose her. Not when everything in his life was starting to have form. His career was rising, people in Wickhurst were recognizing his work, and he would soon have the perfect wife. What more could he wish for?

He would be patient if he had to.

Emma would come to her senses soon, he thought. She was not one to dally once she made up her mind.

---

“Were you certain she did not see your face?”

“No. I stayed inside the carriage, my lord. All she saw was my hand reaching out of the window. I am even convinced she did not look at my hand for her eyes were on the townsends.”

“Good. There will be more of this in the future.”

“Every Saturday, my lord?”

“Every bloody Saturday afternoon.”

Wynne opened the note.

In his study the entire morning.

Luncheon for twenty minutes and back to his study.

Wrote a page about Trilby.

Stayed out of the estate the entire afternoon. Dinner with the Everards.

He took a lungful of breath. Now he had ears and eyes on Samuel.

IX. The Theatre

If Ellie were to seduce someone, she would rather do it on someone like him.

He would be easy.

She would have fun while doing so.

He could never take away what she had for he would lose himself in her and he would not even recognize it until it was too late.

As she approached him, she smiled.

She could read the lust in his eyes.

He would be easy.

-Above and Below

---

“How are you handling her, Wynne, dear?” asked Amelia Trilby. She brushed her fingers over his desk as she passed, pacing slowly around his study.

“I am taking it slow,” Wynne replied nonchalantly. “Samuel is making it quite easy for me, as a matter of fact. He is too involved in his current propaganda that he barely has time for the woman.”

His aunt sharply whirled around and dramatically rolled her eyes. “I am very close to giving him a taste of excruciating pain.”

“It would be a foul move. Uncle Noah’s reputation will suffer.”

“Which is why you must find the Leaguer, my dear, and infiltrate,” the woman said, walking toward the window. “And while you are at it, threaten Samuel Theobald. Take his woman so he can get his mind off your uncle.”

Wynne nodded. “Whatever you wish.”

“Could she be the Leaguer amongst the Everards?”

“No, I believe she is not.”

“It could be Benedict, the Lord of Devonshire.”

“I will have to learn more. It is not easy to get into their circle as Wynne Hastings. I already have a reputation to be awkward and boring. I cannot simply change and be likable .”

“If it is the eldest brother, it would be easy to manipulate him. He does have a wife and a little girl, yes?”

“Yes.”

“But it could also be the others. The husband of your cousin, Maxine, seems to fit the profile as well.”

“You mean the woman you tried to kill.”

“It was Osegod, dear. I would dare not hurt my own blood.”

Wynne smiled in amusement. “Truly?”

“Of course! It is sad, really, that she chose the Theobalds and the Everards over us, but she chose her own way and I have chosen to forget about her.”

“I heard your pride was hurt, dear Aunt, when you asked her to join us.”

Amelia Trilby simply stared at him and Wynne chuckled.

“Nothing good comes out when a Trilby’s pride is trampled on.”

Amelia sighed. “We do not deserve it, but we must bear it.”

“And what of the child?”

“Who?”

“The child who is in the care of Margaret Devitt.”

His aunt’s face darkened. “Oh, that child.” Wynne saw the raw hatred flash before his aunt’s face before it disappeared. “She is not one of us.”

He doubted she believed that. Noah Trilby may not claim the child as his, but she looked very much like him. And if she was one, that child could be in danger for Noah Trilby never liked it when something was taken from him.

Although he would love to know the story behind the child, Wynne thought it best not to dig deeper. Whatever his aunt and uncle were planning, he would not want to know. His goal here was to please them as long as he could before he disappeared and be on his way. To hell with everything by then. He would dare not look back when that time came.

“By the by, do give me more time. It is hard enough to deal with one Everard, much more so all of them,” he said, changing the topic.

“Is she gullible enough to be seduced?”

“No, for she can be smart. And she had always been determined never to marry.”

Amelia’s lips curled into a smile. “But that does not mean she is not willing to enjoy flirtations.”

Wynne nodded. “Perhaps.”

“And how will you do it?”

The corner of his lips curled. “I have my ways.”

---

Merely an hour after his aunt left, Wynne had another caller.

“Why do I get so many visitors today?” Wynne wryly asked, putting on his over-sized coat. “Hurry, Durley, for I do have somewhere to be.”

The owner of the Town Herald made certain his mocking smile showed. “I can take all the time that I want.”

“Then do feel at home. I hope you are patient enough to wait until my return.”

The man sighed and dryly said, “I am here to warn you. Be careful. Samuel is a smart sort.”

He returned the sarcastic smile. “Your kind warning is not required, Durley. I know everything my dear friend is doing so fret not.”

Durley stared as he buttoned his coat. “You are truly in a rush.”

“I am.”

“Very well, I might as well go. You, as always, prove to be a bad company.” But Durley stopped at the door to add, “I intercepted another article from Samuel, but I am afraid he will soon start to suspect me as well. For all they know, I am on their side.”

“My uncle will not appreciate more nasty articles.”

“He is planning a different way to reach his growing audience other than the Herald.”

Wynne stopped. “He is?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“God, do I want to know,” Durley said, tipping his hat at Wynne and left.

Wynne rode his horse moments later, his thoughts on Durley. The man was hazy. As a matter-of-fact, he simply came out of nowhere and now was friends with the Trilbys. Although he did kill Osegod for Amelia, Wynne could not trust him enough to know he was not playing them all. He had the habit of dropping by without warning with no sensible motive other than a few reminders. If he was trying to check on what every Trilby was doing, he was doing it quite poorly.

Perhaps there was a rational reason why the Trilbys had always kept to themselves all these years after all. Nobody could be trusted.

He rode all the way to the Everard mansion, feeling both excited and irritated. The reason for the former was that he would once more see the disappointment in Emma Everard’s face. As to the former, he truly would rather be somewhere else.

He had more important things to do than deliver gifts for Samuel. Yet he ought to play his parts. His aunt was expecting him to be wooing the youngest of the Everards and his friend was using him as a delivery man for his tasteless gifts.

People were waiting for him somewhere, but he had to do what he was expected of for now. Soon, they would have his undivided attention.

---

My love,

I am certain you are disappointed, but may we move the picnic on the morrow?

I do not wish to be late and spend lesser time with you. I would rather enjoy the entire activity with my attention undivided. The Herald gave me articles to write (and they are not even worth my time) and I must do them, otherwise I will lose the platform of my voice.

As disappointed as I am, I must deal with the responsibilities.

Do forgive me.

I shall be waiting for your reply while I suffer the horrid assignment about the upcoming Light Festival. Perhaps I can add a few interesting historical details?

Always yours,

Sam

Emma sighed as she watched Tori read the letter.

Her sister-in-law was frowning when she was done. “Lindsay would be utterly disappointed.”

“We can always go now,” said Emma.

“Ah, but we should go on the morrow. Samuel says—”

“Tori, Samuel always promise he will be there and then he will not be. He had always been that way.”

“I never noticed.”

“Well, of course you have not,” Emma chuckled. “As far as I do remember, the only moments he rarely missed were drinking and playing cards with my brothers at Grey’s. Do you remember when we told you we asked for his help when Ysabella gave up on Wakefield?”

“Yes, of course. He came by to delay Ralph.”

“Well, I was truly and honestly surprised he arrived on time. Barely, that is.”

“Oh.” Disappointment was plastered all over Victoria’s face.

“Oh, you will get used to him,” said Emma.

“Are you not bothered?”

“By his constant absence?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if I put that into consideration when I finally decide to marry him, I believe it would be convenient.”

“How could it be convenient, Emma!” Victoria cried in horror. “He will barely be there!”

“And I will have all the time for myself!” Emma retorted with a laugh. “But then, of course, marriage is no jesting matter and I do have to find more things to consider other than that tempting fact.”

“Emma, please seriously consider matters,” Victoria seriously said. “When you commit yourself to someone, be certain he is one you would want to spend most of your time with.”

“But I do love my time alone, Tori.”

“That will change when you are in love, Emma,” Victoria said with a knowing smile. “I am telling you, it will.”

“Samuel is one of the best men that I may ever encounter in my life.”

“He is ideal, is he not?” The smile on her sister-in-law’s face widened. “He is rich and has title but cares less about it. His articles make women swoon in a different sort of way because his passion to fight for his cause shows a different side of masculinity. His reputation is growing and influences other powerful individuals. I can see him sitting as a Head of the Leaders in the very near future, as a matter-of-fact.” Her smile faded and Victoria looked at Emma squarely in the eyes. “But do you see yourself with him? Do you see yourself standing side by side the hero of the Town? If you do, then he is for you. But if you still see yourself in a completely different life, Emma, perhaps you should spare Samuel the wait. I believe Levi would not be bothered and so will your other brothers. They will not like it, but they will still support you.”

“You and Ysabella have different opinions of Samuel. She believes he is the one for me. He has been in love with me for a long time, Tori. She stands by Samuel’s side for she knew what it felt to be in love with someone who does not recognize it.”

“He was indeed in love with you—perhaps he still is,” said Victoria, “But that does not seal your future happiness if you cannot reciprocate it.”

“Ysabella managed to make Wakefield fall in love with her.”

Victoria’s face lit up with understanding. “Ah, so you are waiting for the day that Samuel can manage to do the same.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Victoria shook her head. “Ysabella waited two years for Wakefield. I do hope Samuel can be as patient.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, I believe I will grow impatient with myself should it last as long. I will make up my mind before the year ends.”

“And when you do, know that we will support you,” Victoria said, gently cupping Emma’s face. “You deserve happiness, Emma, with whoever it may be with.”

“And we ought to finish our tea,” Emma said, suddenly alight with energy. “We cannot allow Samuel to dampen our afternoon. He will have to pay dearly on the morrow. Lindsay would have to tire him until he cannot use his feet.”

“Yes, of course!” Victoria said, sitting upright and reaching for her teacup. “And oh, I must tell her the disappointing news—and the good news that she can have Uncle Samuel all to herself tomorrow.”

The door to the parlor opened and Jefferson announced the arrival of Wynne Hastings.

“Another delivery, I assume,” said Victoria, standing to her feet. “I will go and leave you two alone. Perhaps Samuel has a good surprise for you. Margaret told me he gave you a book on insects!”

“Go and wrap up a plan with Lindsay for tomorrow,” Emma said as she stood ready to welcome Wynne.

The very moment Jefferson closed the door to leave them alone, Wynne reached inside his coat to hand Emma a box.

She was still processing the fact that she was standing in front of the Herald’s gossip writer when he said, “No letter today, I am afraid, Emma,” he said. He rarely addressed her by her name and Emma just realized it sounded different coming from him. Had her name always been that good?

Shaking the thought away, she composed herself and smiled. Would he write about Samuel’s horrid gifts in one of his future articles? Would she be a mystery woman in one of them?

Bloody tarnation, she was being anxious the more she spent time with the man now that she knew his secret! Should she tell him she was aware? Surely he knew she knew? She was there with him when they witnessed Lady Gedge pay that woman. And Wynne must surely be aware that Emma was not stupid to not realize the truth.

Ah, but she could always say she had not read the article! She once claimed she was not fond of the gossip section, had she not?

“Thank you, Wynne,” she said, taking the box and settling back into the settee. He patiently waited as she pulled at the ribbons and opened the top lid. Inside was a handkerchief. Emma blinked. “It is pink.”

“It is pink,” Wynne seconded, his voice etched with amusement.

She looked up at him as he stood there, his hand behind his back. He looked very much lanky with the oversized coat. His hair was a mess, perhaps he rode on horseback.

He was not sitting so he must be in a hurry.

Suddenly, Emma was alert. Was he in a hurry to go somewhere?

“Did you pick this one?” she asked, raising the box in her hand.

He shook his head almost immediately and said, “I would never have touched the thing.”

Emma snorted. “It could have been white, but…”

“It is too pink for you, yes,” Wynne said with a forced smile.

He seemed quite restless than ever, Emma noted.

“By the by, should I offer you some tea?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I would love to have some, but I have somewhere I ought to go to.”

“Oh. The Herald?”

“Yes,” he replied and Emma noted the lie in his voice.

“Ah, very well then. Please, should you bump into Samuel, do tell him I mentioned I love white.”

“Yes, of course. And I shall deliver it in a way that he would not realize you asked me to say it but enough to make him sense the subtle reminder that you hate pink.”

Emma smiled up at Wynne and for a while they simply stared at each other.

Until she blinked.

And he blinked.

And then he was rushing out the doors, saying he could see himself out.

Emma slipped out of the side door, escaping the servants, and into the stables. She was still in the dress she intended to wear for the cancelled picnic, but she had not time to change into her breeches.

She might lose track of him and she could not have that if she wanted to know why he rode his horse to the opposite direction of the Herald.

---

Emma feared that she lost Wynne, but when she saw a figure of a horse running down the paved road leading out of Wickhurst, she only had to assume it was Wynne.

And it was the only horse down the road.

When she was about to exit Wickhurst, Emma hesitated. He might go far away.

And it might not be even him.

But she had nothing to do and she had already wasted enough energy trying to figure out what he was really up to. She could not stop now, could she?

The Town was naturally dark with merely lampposts to light the roads, making it easy for anyone to stalk someone without their knowledge. Emma could not help but smile in excitement. It had been years since she felt this kind of elation—this sense of adventure. Ysabella passed her mind, remembering their secret trips to the woods. And then she shook her head. Her sister was better off spared of this adventure. This one was all her own for now.

Placing a good distance between her and the horseman ahead, Emma decided on when to stop. Perhaps in an hour or so? If he meant to travel far, Emma would have to eventually give up.

A carriage was approaching from the other side of the road. She bent her head, hoping whoever was inside would not glance out and recognize her.

Almost an hour later, Emma was getting disappointed. She would soon have to go back to Wickhurst if he kept on.

But he did not.

She slowed down as the horseman suddenly turned to the right towards Ulric.

Even more curious now, Emma willed her horse to slow down as the rider entered the rocky field.

The gigantic tent stood lonely in the middle of many other smaller ones. With no show at that hour, there were no people in sight. It was eerily quiet with merely a few lampposts turned on. From somewhere in the distance she could see other tents set up and voices could be heard from there. They must be the living quarters of the workers and entertainers. The distant laughter and chatter echoed and died around the vast open ground.

Emma could not help but note that the presence of the play in Ulric had changed the place’s reputation for the time being. It was no longer the feared place for duels. It did not even enter her mind that this was the same venue where her brother, Benedict, almost lost his life in Cole Devitt’s hands.

Emma pulled at her horse’s reins until it stopped. She jumped off to the ground and led the mare behind a small, empty tent that would later house an entertainer.

Her heart began to race in her chest when she finally recognized Wynne as he climbed off his horse and tethered it to the side, just near the entrance of the big red-and-white tent.

Could it be that the woman paid by Lady Gedge be working for him? Could it be that he was playing Lady Gedge so he could write gossips about her?

But it did not seem as though Wynne Hastings would go low as that.

Emma waited until Wynne entered the tent. Noises could be heard from the inside. As she moved closer and cautiously, Emma realized there was a rehearsal going on.

Perhaps he was simply recognized as a big admirer of the play that he was given the honor to observe the rehearsals.

As she started to think of herself stupid for having even suspected the man, and even going to such length to know his secrets, Emma heard his voice shout from inside the tent and the place went quiet.

Hmm…

Perhaps he was more than a fanatic.

Squaring her shoulders, Emma slipped inside the tent and hid underneath the bleachers. Peeking through the longitudinal gaps, she saw Wynne standing in the center of the stage, pointing Jordan Smith to the left side of the stage and Stella Marie to the opposite end. Both actors followed his command.

The dancers made a small circle at the center of the stage.

Emma recognized the scene. It was when Ellie walked up to Lord Byron to seduce him.

“From the beginning!” she heard Wynne’s authoritative voice. “I did not write this bloody thing for you to play with! I expected you would have at least perfected the changes by now…” He turned and jumped off the stage and settled at the lone chair to watch. He had thrown his over-sized coat to one side, revealing a lean, lithe form. He was fit enough to even come to par with Ralph’s physique yet he hid it underneath those horrid, huge coats.

“Act your part, Jordan, for heaven’s sake! A luscious woman is coming toward you and your mind and flesh are in conflict! Most may not see your face, but should be able to feel what you project! I did not see that last night.”

Emma covered her mouth with her hand in disbelief.

He was simply not the secret gossip writer.

Bloody tarnation, he was the writer and director of Above and Below!

X. An Invitation

The old man said Byron Glocheshire came from somewhere not quite far.

He told Ellie that the man was ambitious and that he was after her estate to utilize it for his illegal activities.

“He is the enemy of our nation,” he had told her.

What could a man want from an old mansion? There were others more suitable for what he intended to do, for sure.

Byron Glocheshire accepted her invitation to remain with some other guests for a long weekend. They would have games the entire day and parties every night.

She gave him one of her best rooms.

This would be a fun weekend.

---

The Town Herald published another article written by one of its renowned writers, praising Above and Below . Apart from claiming that both and the play were written in perfection, it also praised the play’s main actors, Stella Marie and Jordan Smith. It discussed the history of both actors.

Stella had been playing small roles in previous plays, but Above and Below was her first major one and it showcased her great talent. As the writer claimed it, Stella Marie brought out the best of the play and the play bore the Town an amazing, promising actress.

As to Jordan Smith, his name was as famous as many lords around the Town. Once an actor who was at the top of his career, Jordan fell as fast as he rose merely a few years past. He began to disobey orders from directors, often changing lines and scenes on the spot—and most often ruin them—until eventually no one would want to take him in. He was amongst the Town’s greatest disappointments, but now he was back and the townspeople were gladly giving him a chance. He had not merely been acting his best, he was also delivering his lines in such ways that made men frown with envy and women swoon with dreamy sighs.

Apart from the play, the writer also gave credit to the amazing magical effects of lights and mirrors. As much as he was astonished, he was also disappointed that the play’s director had remained anonymous. None of the crew or actors would dare slip the identity. Jordan Smith even once claimed that he would rather have his fame be taken away from him again than betray P. Wallace, the only name the writer-director was known for.

The play did not merely give the townspeople a glimpse of what might be above, but it also brought to life the stage itself with the genius tricks that only an equally genius mind and talent could pull off.

Yet, despite the article, Samuel remained indignant that the play was naught but an impossible love story being sold to dreamers and that he had seen other far more superior romantic plays.

In fact, it was during their picnic that he promised Emma to take her to one.

As Lindsay ran around the grassy ground in the woods, Samuel told her, “Below the Stairs has a more realistic story line, Em. You ought to see it. It shows the contrast of our realities—of a servant and her master. It stirs questions of how things would be so different if social status is nonexistent.”

Victoria excused herself from the picnic to run after her daughter.

“The love story between the two main characters is much more relatable as well. No fancy lights and dramatic words. They are real.”

“I heard they did not end up together, Sam,” Emma said with a chuckle. “We women want our love stories to end happily.”

“ Above and Below did not offer such happy ending.“

“But it did provide a promising one—a hopeful one. And we all hope for something, do we not? You do, too,” countered Emma. She veered her eyes to Victoria and Lindsay who were now tugging at each other to go to two different directions. “Oh, look at them,” she said, chuckling.

Samuel looked over his shoulder at Lindsay and smiled. “Who would have thought she would be an unstoppable force?”

“Oh! I ought to have brought Levi!” her sister-in-law complained as she dragged Lindsay back to their table.

Samuel chuckled and looked at Lindsay’s dejected state. He offered his hand and asked, “I may not be your father, darling, but I am good at any game.”

Lindsay’s blue-grey eyes sparkled and she turned to her mother for approval. Victoria could not help but smile and nod. Samuel stood and grabbed Lindsay by the hand and the two of them took off to play whatever game Lindsay had in mind.

Emma and Victoria looked on, absently smiling.

But merely less than a minute later, her thoughts drifted from Samuel to Wynne Hastings. And she wondered if Samuel knew of Wynne’s involvement with Above and Below . Yet she could not ask the question because he would want to know how she knew.

No, he cannot surely know , Emma thought to herself. If he did, he would not openly show his distaste of the book and the play knowing it was a friend’s masterpiece.

“He will be a good father,” commented Victoria. Emma turned to her sister-in-law with a small smile. “That is, if he ever finds the time.”

“I am certain he will,” Emma said. “He finds time for Emerald.”

“Oh, speaking of Emerald—will Maxine and Max be coming to Wickhurst anytime soon?”

“They might,” Emma said. “They do try to come by as often as they could. Samuel visits his sister and niece whenever he can. Would you like to pass on a message?”

“Oh, bother not,” Victoria said with a wave of her hand. “Margaret mentioned we can find time to visit Kenward. I was just wondering if you would like to come along?”

“Oh. I would not want to leave mother alone. And I do have—” Well, what did she have? She had no schedule of anything whatsoever. She could surely come along. But she did not want to. Emma found that she wanted to be alone for a while. “Well, I do have matters to attend to in the manor. Mother is giving me more responsibilities in the household. She claims that she is training me for marriage life.”

“I never had any training and I managed.”

“Well, you know mother.”

Victoria chuckled. “Of course. Don’t we all?”

They fell silent and Lindsay’s laughter filled the air. Samuel fell on his back and was pretending to be hurt. Lindsay immediately stopped and went to him, worried. And then he jumped to his feet and ran all the way to the nearest tree, winning the race.

“Oh, what a cheat!” Emma and Victoria screamed as Lindsay jumped on Samuel, hitting him with a fist. “That’s my girl!” both ladies shouted with laughter.

---

She did not expect Samuel to fulfill his promise to take her to see Below the Stairs , but he did as soon as he had the chance. Merely three days after their picnic with Victoria and Lindsay, Samuel informed her of the reservations he made for the said play.

“They are far superior,” he whispered beside her as the actors’ singing echoed around the opera. Emma scanned the place with her eyes, noting the difference between this play and Above and Below. This place exuded elegance. The seats were far more comfortable and the crowd was too quiet, paying respect to the play.

Above and Below on the other hand was the total opposite. It was being played in a tent, the seats without cushions and the crowd uncontrollable with their reactions.

Yes, it was different, but it was the kind of different that she had expected Samuel to also embrace. Was he not fighting for change? Above and Below might not offer the change Samuel had in mind, but it was a change and it was being accepted.

It did not bother her that she now knew the identity of P. Wallace, or that Wynne was a sketchy character, because despite that Above and Below was perfect in itself and the play was even better. Wynne—or P. Wallace or whoever he truly was—gave justice to his vast imagination. To everyone’s imagination, in fact.

She stole Samuel a glance. It took a lot of effort for him to take her here in such short notice.

Emma then realized that he wanted this so badly. Not the play, but the chance to prove to her that something was better than Above and Below .

In the darkness of the opera, Samuel reached for her gloved hand. Emma allowed him as she was used to this affectionate act. Even before what happened to them, she had always allowed an extra bit of physical exchange with Samuel for it was comfortable. She knew he would not take advantage. She knew he meant well.

She had seen her siblings being comfortable around their wives and husbands. They told them everything on their minds down to the grimiest things without second thoughts. Emma felt she could do that as well with Samuel.

He accepted her flaws and she could ignore his as well. She spoke her mind with confidence without expecting him to agree. He often did the same. They would debate about it, but they enjoyed it.

It was because they were comfortable with each other. She could not recall how it started, but it probably simply developed throughout the years.

But should comfortable be enough?

---

Emma, Alex and Ysabella came to see Above and Below together merely a few days after Emma and Samuel watched Below the Stairs.

She chose to not invite him as he was preoccupied with countless articles that were suddenly assigned to him by the Herald. In fact, she quite agreed that such articles entirely not related to Noah Trilby were being pushed toward him so he would not have enough time to write his own pieces. She could see that Samuel was starting to become frustrated and she felt that he was being indirectly controlled by whoever was behind this, probably Noah Trilby himself.

Taking her mind off Samuel and the challenges in his career, Emma decided to keep Alex and Ysabella company when they invited her to Ulric. But this time, her attention was divided between the play and Wynne Hastings.

Her eyes would often wander to the man who was seated to the far right of the stage, still in front of the audience. She was confident he did not see them but when the interlude began and Alex and Ysabella stood to stretch their legs, so did Wynne.

He turned and his eyes landed on Alex and Ysabella.

“Lord Hastings!” Ysabella said, calling out to him with a wave of her hand. “Emma, Ysa, look! It’s Wynne.”

Emma sighed and slowly stood. “Of course, it is Wynne,” she grumbled under her breath.

Wynne came over and bowed slightly before them.

“I dinna expect te see ye ’ere, milord,” said Alex, giving the man a smile and a pat on the shoulder. Quite uncommon for a lady to do, but Alex was no ordinary woman. She was an ex-bandit married to a lord.

“Well, I am here,” Wynne said, his eyes meeting Emma. “You must have enjoyed the first time you came to watch, Emma, that you are here once more.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, turning to Alex and Ysabella. “Are we not going outside?”

Taking that as a sign to leave, Wynne stepped back and awkwardly said, “Please enjoy the rest of the show.”

“We already do!” chimed Ysabella. “But by the by, do you often come here, Wynne? I heard Samuel is not fond of this play. Am I right, Em?” When Emma nodded, Ysabella continued, saying, “I also assumed you mirror his opinion.”

“We are friends and we do offer our services to the same institution,” said Wynne, “but we have separate minds and tastes, my lady.”

“Well, ’cors ye do, guv,” Alex said, looking at Wynne up and down. “Yer coats fer one, aye?”

Wynne merely chuckled.

“Ah, ‘fore I forget, milord,” said Alex while Ysabella and Emma began to move along the aisle along with other guests, “Ralph and I are plannin’ a dinner fer family and friends. Consider yerself invited.”

“Oh, but I do not think—”

“Yer goin’,” were Alex’s authoritative words. “Ye saved me life once and I owe it te ye.”

Wynne hesitated and Emma refused to even support Alex’s invitation. As much as she was curious about the man, she was not certain she could handle herself well if they were surrounded by family and friends.

“Samuel will also be there,” said Ysabella, unknowingly betraying Emma. “Please, come along and support him.” Leaning close to Wynne, she whispered, “As of late, Ralph seems to see him as naught but a practice shooting target. Your presence could lighten the mood.”

Wynne’s eyes widened. “I am the least person you should expect to lighten the mood , my lady.”

“Ysabella, please, Wynne. Just Ysabella. And yes, of course, you can help lighten the mood. Simply bring along some funny stories.”

“It’s settled then,” Alex said, patting Wynne on the shoulder once again. “Yer goin’ te our dinner. Ye’ll like me cousins. Me ’Pa as well!”

“They are interesting individuals, Wynne,” Ysabella whispered conspiratorially. “You will love to meet them as a writer!”

Wynne sighed with resignation. “Very well,” he said with a slight bow. “I shall be there.”

“Good, guv!”

“See you, then!” said Ysabella, tugging Emma by the hand to proceed to the exit.

Emma belatedly gave Wynne a curtsy and hurried along with her sisters.

Bloody hell!

---

The family dinner Alex and Ralph prepared was not like any others.

It was filled with laughter and foolishness—perhaps it might also have included a few illegal activities by Ned and Barto, Alex’s cousins, who may have stolen a few silverwares. But the two bandits were not apprehended as they did their other task well which was to look after the children inside the drawing room.

Gustav, Alex’s father, and Lady Alice had been fast friends since the marriage and were talking about Gustav’s many adventures in the past when everyone crowded in the parlor, children-free.

Samuel was in one corner with Cole Devitt, Margaret’s husband, talking about the slavery case Cole was still struggling to fight with. Wynne chose to sit with Ralph and the other men. He did not wish to be with Samuel as he knew too well the topic he was discussing with Cole Devitt. As a matter-of-fact, he was more comfortable sitting with the other Everards as they talked about Wakefield’s crop problems and the recent hunting season.

He did not have to say a word for if asked, he would simply say he did not deal with crops and he did not hunt. They knew him well enough now to even bother. They must have eventually accepted his role as a bloody mute occupying a spare chair.

The ladies were huddled together in one corner, quietly talking and laughing.

Emma had not addressed him during a conversation all throughout dinner. In fact, she had not spared him a glance since she had to greet him earlier upon his arrival. She was always with Ysabella or Samuel.

She must now be confused on how to deal with him. She knew he was the gossip writer. He wondered what she could be thinking.

As Wakefield reopened the topic of the men going to Kenward next week to visit Maxwell, the third brother, Wynne excused himself. It would be such a great inconvenience to be invited. His aunt would be greatly disappointed if she found out he had been passing chances to be with the Everards, but he had other priorities.

So long as Amelia knew he was doing something , that ought to be enough. And so long as he could monitor Samuel’s movements and report any suspicious ones to the family, Wynne was planning to do his own thing. As to the matter concerning Emma, he had to take it slow.

Wynne walked to refill his glass by the liquor cabinet, his thoughts drifted back to the play. Jordan Smith was showing signs of haughtiness again. Something ought to be done about it before the bastard could ruin his reputation again—and ruin the play with it.

“I am glad you are no longer delivering gifts.” Emma’s voice startled him.

She was standing too close and her words were merely said in whisper. She reached for the bottle of sherry and poured herself a drink without looking at him.

“No one can be as glad as I am,” he murmured back. “Sam seems to be keeping his promises of late, I see?”

She nodded, finally looking at him.

Good God, it was true. The Everards had the most amazing green eyes.

“That is good then,” he said. “He must have realized other people do have more important matters to attend to other than delivering gifts,” he said in jest.

Her lips curled into a smile.

Samuel found himself a good woman, Wynne thought. Too good for him, in fact, added another part of him. Emma Everard would never shine if she were with Samuel. She would merely be a shadow of the man who fought for the Town. She may enjoy Samuel, but Wynne doubted Emma would want the attention. Her every step would be watched by the townspeople for they would look at her as the prime example of Samuel’s ideals. Her husband would fight for the people’s freedom of expression and choice, but her life would never have that for people would judge her with her husband as their standard.

Samuel may not realize the consequences Emma—or even his family—would pay for his reputation, but Wynne knew that Emma was not stupid enough to realize them soon. Could it be the reason why she requested for their engagement be private for a while? Was she weighing things?

“I would hate to take you away from your precious activities ,” she said, giving much emphasis on the last word.

Wynne frowned. Did she mean his activities as the gossip writer? “Of course,” he replied, “As a writer for the Herald, I do have my priorities.” As he said the words, he was silently willing her to tell him what she knew.

There was a silent game going on between them. They knew they were playing it, but neither seemed too keen to let the other know they were winning.

“No, Wynne,” she said, looking into his eyes, “I meant your other activities.”

Wynne’s brows rose. He narrowed her eyes at her, pretending to struggle with what she was trying to imply.

She blinked and her smile widened. “I do not mean about you being the gossip writer, of course,” she said under her breath. “I already know that you know.”

“And I am aware that you know I am aware of that fact,” he responded instantly. “You must be talking about the other, other activity.”

Her green globes widened in mock surprise. “I am amazed. How did you know I found out?”

Wynne rolled his eyes, scoffed and shook his head with a smile. He slowly sipped his drink, swallowed and allowed a few more seconds before saying, “You ought not to have worn yellow. It makes one glow even on horseback.”

He nearly jumped in triumph when he saw her stunned look.

Ha! She did not expect to be discovered.

Both of them turned to look when laughter erupted behind them. Samuel and Cole Devitt had now joined the other men who were now listening to Gustav tell them about how Ralph almost fainted during the bandit wedding ceremony.

“Nae, he didn’t!” cried Alex from across the room. “He almost did when we arrived in Meriwether after elopin’ te Tiny Town!”

That caused another round of laughter.

Wynne stole Emma a glance and pondered on his next words. Perhaps it was time to take a bolder step.

“Would you like to see the rehearsal some other time?” Wynne murmured to Emma. “We only offer it to our loyal fanatics, of course. And those who can keep P. Wallace’s identity secret.”

Interest glimmered in Emma’s eyes along with excitement Wynne was certain she was trying to suppress. “You lot seems you belong to a dangerous society I am not comfortable with. I am not certain I ought to accept the invitation.”

“Hmm,” said Wynne after drinking from his glass. “We do magic tricks. Yes, I assume we are indeed dangerous.”

She was quiet for a while and he was afraid they would soon have to part. They had been in the same spot too long. But her next question almost made him burst out in laughter. “Will I have the opportunity to have my copy of the book signed by you?”

Wynne suppressed the laughter by clearing his throat. “I will have to practice my signature.”

“And of the entire cast as well,” she added, trying to sound nonchalant, drinking her sherry.

“That can also be arranged.”

“When will your next session be?”

“We practice daily.”

She bit her lower lip. She was itching for this. She was itching for adventure.

That surprised Wynne. She was craving for a thrill!

“No one has to know, yes?”

“Of course,” he replied. “So long as you also keep my secret.” He looked around the room as he added under his breath, “And you if you can keep away from anything yellow.”

He saw her lips flinch before she dramatically sighed. “Very well. For the signatures. What time on the morrow?”

Wynne smiled. “Come by after luncheon.”

With that, Emma nodded and turned to go back to her seat beside Ysabella. Wynne lingered longer in his spot, a great sense of triumph bursting inside him.

He now had something with Emma, a secret they both shared.

His eyes drifted to Samuel. The fool was too unaware. He was too confident he already had Emma Everard in his clutches that he forgot to keep the keys.

Samuel’s obsession with the Trilbys could very well cost him the woman of his dreams because as much as he did not want to, Wynne was starting to enjoy the game his aunt laid out for him.

XI. The Actor

Byron spent the night wondering why he allowed himself be invited in this party.

Ellie said that tomorrow would be spent playing games, yet he could not see the guests dressing down their pretty clothes to get dirty.

All he could imagine were more drinking, gossiping and perhaps a few more trysts with their lovers as he earlier learned. In fact, most of these people were married and having affairs as he was told.

They were not much different from where he came from.

One difference was that they are ignorant of the living world they were standing on.

With a sigh, he forced himself to sleep.

He would have to find a way to make Ellie McPhee give this place up.

-Above and Below

---

Emma Everard must be playing him.

Frustration was not the perfect term to how he felt as two days came by and she had not yet appeared in Ulric. Paranoia soon followed as he began to recount everything he had done.

Had she caught up on him this soon?

Perhaps Lawrence was correct. He ought not to have exposed himself as the gossip writer to the woman. It merely increased her curiosity which led her to discover P. Wallace.

Pacing in his study, he fought with himself.

No, surely she would be stuck. P. Wallace was not a suspicious character. She would not find the Trilby connection.

She could be simply uninterested , a part of him suggested. Now that she knew the man behind Above and Below , her curiosity was satisfied. She could have moved on by now, having tea with her family.

But the look of excitement in her eyes was still very much clear in Wynne’s mind. She was itching to be in Ulric and see the rehearsal. She loved the secrecy.

Sighing with frustration, Wynne rubbed his hands over his face and raked his fingers through his dark hair, brushing it over his forehead.

“Stop it, Lawrence.”

“I am not doing a thing but breathe, my lord,” said the butler with brows cocked high, looking offended and innocent.

Lawrence was indeed but a silent presence in one corner of the room, but despite that, Wynne felt irritated. He knew the man too well. The butler was singing in his head, “I did tell you so!”

“She could simply be trapped in that manor,” offered the butler.

“She is not one who would let herself be trapped intentionally, Lawrence.”

“Hmm…”

Wynne snapped his head at Lawrence. “What does that mean?”

Lawrence shrugged. “You know her too well now, my lord?”

“She is the subject of my aunt’s current obsession. Of course, it is my task to know her well.”

Lawrence nodded. “Whatever you say, my lord.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

Again, the man shrugged. “Perhaps you are taking a fancy on the woman, my lord. And—” he added, lifting one finger to stop Wynne’s outburst, “might I remind you that it is not to happen? You and she cannot be. Not in this lifetime. Never, my lord.”

“It was you who has the idea planted in your head, you bastard.”

“And it is you who has the idea growing in your mind,” he heard the butler murmur.

Wynne grabbed the nearest book he could and threw it across the room, deliberately missing the man. “You bastard.”

“The bastard whose job is to keep you walking the same right path, my lord, yes.”

“I am!”

“You are currently displaying a very different demeanor, my lord. It is not you to feel frustrated over a chit.”

“It is not the woman I am frustrated with—”

“Ah, her absence then. You are frustrated she has not shown herself.”

He grabbed another book and this time it landed on Lawrence’s feet. The man did not even flinch. “You have not finished this one, my lord,” Lawrence said, bending down to pick up the book.

“Take it and read it.”

Lawrence studied the book with a frown. “The Essentials of Acting.”

“Yes. Study it word per word, Lawrence. It is about time you learn how to act as though you are actually a bloody butler.”

“Hmm…” Lawrence uttered, walking to the door with eyes still on the book. “Does it have a chapter on learning how to act as though you are taming a man rather than a child?” Before the third book could hit him this time, the butler was already out the door.

---

On the fifth day since the dinner held by Alex and Ralph, Wynne had calmed down.

Emma had not shown herself yet and he did not expect to see her again then.

Whatever she may have in mind, he was no longer interested. He could always find a way to get to her. If not now, perhaps soon. Or mayhap his aunt would find no need for him to do so. That would also be marvelous.

He spent the entire morning at the offices of the Herald and proceeded to Ulric after luncheon for the rehearsal. There, he noticed a horse tethered outside the tent, one he had not seen before.

He immediately became alert and nearly ran all the way into the tent but he tried to calm himself.

With composure, and with very little hope, he walked inside and found her amidst the crew and the actors. She was being surrounded.

For a moment he paused at the aisle he was standing on and simply watched.

Instead of the crew bombarding Emma Everard with questions, she was doing the questioning herself.

“Would you care to show me?” she asked the two men he placed in charge of the mirrors.

Jordan Smith was standing close by, observing Emma with interested eyes. Stella, on the other hand, was sitting in a chair looking quite bored. Knowing the woman, Wynne guessed that Stella was not in favor of Emma’s presence.

Wynne cleared his throat and everyone turned to his direction. “Emma,” he said nonchalantly, walking closer. “I see you have made yourself comfortable? You are welcome,” he said in mock sarcasm.

“Yes, since you are tardy,” she countered back with a smile.

“By an hour,” he said, “which is incomparable to five days.”

She chuckled. “I did not realize you have been expecting my presence—and counting the days.”

He had no words to counter that one for it was quite true that he had been counting the bloody days.

“I apologize, of course. I had to spend a few extra days to convince my mother that she can leave me alone in the manor.”

Wynne raised his brows. “She has left town?”

“To Kenward. Merely a few miles away.”

“Ah, I heard Ysabella mention they are planning to visit Max.”

“Yes. For a week, I believe, but—”

“Can we start now, Wynne?” Stella Marie’s cold voice asked. “We are delayed by an hour.”

“You could have started without me,” he said.

Stella cocked an eyebrow and threw Emma a look before she returned her gaze to Wynne. “Yes, we ought to have started an hour ago.”

“Oh, please forgive my intrusion!” Emma cried, jumping away from the group and to Wynne’s side. “I did not mean to cause such delay…”

But Stella already had her back turned away from her.

“Do not bother to make introductions,” Emma whispered beside Wynne. “I already did the shameless act myself.”

Wynne nodded, taking off his coat. He stopped when he caught Emma studying the act. “What is the matter?” he asked.

She blinked and shook her head. “I still cannot fathom why you wear such large coats.”

“They are comfortable,” was his only reply. “Please, take any seat you want.”

She nodded. “Do not fret about me. I have already made myself feel at home, my lord.”

Wynne’s gaze lingered on her longer than necessary. Then he slowly turned and climbed up the stage all the while wondering if she had been telling the truth. Was she late because she really had to deal with her mother?

It could be. She did not seem suspicious.

And she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself.

He looked over his shoulder at her one last time to steal a glance. She was beaming like a child, looking at the stage.

He faced the actors once more and realized Jordan was still standing where he was, gazing at Emma.

“Jordan,” Wynne coldly said. “On the stage, please.”

Jordan grinned at Emma and jumped on the stage.

“Position!” Wynne ordered, mind fully on the task at hand.

---

Emma did not have the chance to see how the magic tricks were done as Wynne focused more on changing some of the dance steps and even the lines. She finally figured why people claimed one ought to see Above and Below repeatedly. It kept evolving yet never strayed from the main story.

When everyone was finally let go by Wynne, Emma stood to meet Stella Marie as the actress descended the stairs.

The woman seemed to have no intent to stop until she was forced to by Emma standing right in her way.

“Would you be so kind as to sign on one of the pages of my copy of Above and Below, Miss Marie?”

Stella Marie’s blue eyes looked Emma up and down. Emma’s smile did not waver. The woman did not like her, but it was fine. She did not like Stella Marie equally, although she had to agree the woman had great talent. And she was remarkably—and undoubtedly—on of the most beautiful creatures in the Town.

“You are an Everard,” was the comment she did not expect.

Emma frowned ever so slightly. “And that is a bad thing?”

Stella merely shrugged and murmured, “Send the book to my tent. I’ll sign it when I get the time.” And without another word spoken, the woman stepped to the side and continued walking past Emma.

“I would gladly sign now, my lady,” a voice spoke behind Emma. She turned and found Jordan Smith looking at her with his hands deep inside his trouser pockets. “If you want it, of course.”

The man was more handsome up close, she realized, as he walked closer to her. His hair was not black, but a darker shade of brown. They were wavy but he managed to make himself look very appealing by tying them behind his nape, revealing his perfect, sharp jaws.

“Unlike Stella, my lady, I do like your presence here,” Jordan said, tone low. He stopped in front of her, not quite too close, but enough to make her feel the heat emanating from him. The man had been dancing earlier. He also flew with the help of two ropes attached to his belt. “Having someone of your status during rehearsals is one I truly appreciate.”

“Is that so?” was all Emma could say for she could not think of any other.

“It is admirable,” he said, looking at her face. And then his eyes traveled down even further, as if he was stripping her of her clothes.

Emma clenched her jaw and blinked. She would let that pass, but if this man were to ever touch her, he might find himself on the ground. It would not be as painful as how he fell from stardom for it would be fatal. “How so?” she asked through clenched teeth as she forced a smile.

“It means you are not one to judge us by our professions and you are not one who sets yourself so high that we will find it hard to… reach you,” he said, taking another step closer, his eyes locking with hers.

“Take two steps back, Jordan, and spare Lady Emma with your stench,” Wynne’s imposing yet nonchalant voice said from behind Jordan.

Emma was the one who took the steps back, surprising and hating herself at the same time. Never had she ever thought that Wynne Hastings could ever make her do such a thing. The worst was that his words were not even addressed to her.

Jordan had turned around to face Wynne who was putting his large coat back on. “I did not reckon you for someone who would bother with a woman,” the actor said, now completely ignorant of Emma’s presence, adding, “Is she yours?”

Wynne’s eyes travelled to Emma at the question, his dark eyes taking hers prisoner. Her heart may either have skipped out of her chest or completely stopped beating for at that single moment she could not feel it. And she was not certain if it was at all bad—which was bad.

And then, as if on a snap, Wynne snapped his eyes back toward Jordan. “What does my silence mean, Jordan?”

Jordan shrugged and haughtily replied, “That she is yours and that I cannot woo her?”

Wynne sighed and fixed the collar of his coat before he stepped forward to roughly pat his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, causing the man to take a half step back. Any image of the timid and shy Wynne Hastings Emma thought she knew evaporated out of thin when Wynne said the next words with lips barely moving, “It means, Jordan, that you get the bloody hell away from her or you will be facing one of my pistols.”

Emma swallowed. Did he say pistol ? A bloody gun? One that he had to actually shoot? Could he even hold one?

Jordan scoffed and shook his head before he turned to Emma to give her a bow. He retreated without another word and disappeared from the tent.

Emma turned to Wynne who started to escort her out of the tent. “You can hold a pistol?”

“Of course,” he murmured, frowning at something ahead of them, but nothing in particular.

“How good are you with a pistol?”

He paused to steal a glance at her direction. “Too good.” He continued walking and Emma quickened her steps.

“But I believe Sam once told me you cannot shoot.”

“I opt to correct,” he said, putting on his gloves. “I choose to not shoot.”

“Why?”

Finally, he showed her how he found her questions by replying to her last. “Tedious.”

“Hmm…” Emma said, nodding. Wynne had already walked out of the tent and she half-ran outside where she found him near her horse. “Stella Marie does not like me.”

“She does not have to.” Wynne said with a shrug. “Ignore her as she does you, my lady. She is a dear friend of mine and can get quite jealous.”

Emma scoffed. “But we are barely chummy!”

Wynne’s face was straight and bare of jest when he said, “Lovers do not always have to be chummy and women like Stella are too aware of that.”

Emma gasped in disbelief. “Oh goodness, I cannot believe I heard that from you.”

He smiled. “I am capable of saying and doing many things, Emma.”

Emma nodded. “Yes, as I am discovering!”

He gave her a mocking bow and murmured, “At your service.”

“But which is the real Wynne Hastings? The Herald writer, the gossip writer, or P. Wallace?”

“I cannot be all?”

“You typically act as though you are timid, shy and boring. But here…” she waved her arm around and dropped them to her sides. “Here, you are… different.” Dropping her head to the side, she studied him. “You are as much of an actor as everyone else you direct. Although I do not find it bad, I find it curious.”

“I do my best to keep my anonymity, that is all,” he said. “Should I show everyone what I truly am, people will flock around my very presence.”

She scoffed. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“No, I merely know who I am.” He reached for her horse’s reins. “Now, off you go, my lady. You ought to be home at this hour.”

Emma walked closer to her horse. “Does Sam know? Of any of this?”

“No, and I would appreciate if you keep it that way.”

“Why?”

“He is only to know about Wynne Hastings the Herald writer.”

“Why?”

“No one is allowed to know more than one facet of me.” He helped her climb up her horse and when she was settled, he looked up at her. “You simply are lucky and nosy to know more.”

Emma fought the urge to smile broadly. “And what do you do to those who dare to discover more of Wynne Hastings?”

He looked at her long and hard that she found herself holding her breath once again. Even though he was looking serious, his eyes seemed unsure. “I am yet to find out.”

XII. Secret Rehearsals

“Do you agree that this place is marvelous, Byron?” Ellie asked the man, startling him with her presence.

She found him in the garden, beside the well.

He looked around and she nearly caught her breath. The man was beyond handsome. Perhaps the mysterious air around him was an added factor, she thought as she approached.

“This well in particular is quite a mystery,” she told him. “I am not even sure if it has water. Some men will take a look at it.”

His brows cocked in question. “And what do you plan to do with it?”

“If it proves to be useful, I might consider renovating. But if it nothing but a hole down a garbage space, it will be gone.”

Byron looked at the well quite longer than necessary before he turned to her with a smile.

“What if I tell you there is more to this well than you might know?”

-Above and Below

---

“How much of the details from The World Above did you borrow?” Emma could not help but ask.

She was once more present in the rehearsal. As a matter of fact, it was her fifth visit and by now she could name each actor, dancer and even some of the workers behind the stage without help from anyone.

Wynne turned at her question. The two of them were sitting side by side as the people on stage danced, counting as they did so.

“Again!” he shouted, urging everyone on stage to return to their original spots to start all over. Stella was looking more impatient by each re-take although her performance was not wavering. “Merely a few,” Wynne said to Emma, addressing her question.

“Understandable,” she said, nodding her head. “Considering you have not been aboveground.” Then she paused and narrowed her eyes at him. “Or have you?”

Wynne scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Well, you must understand I had to ask.”

He frowned yet his lips had twitched into a small smile. His eyes did not leave the dancers as he asked, “Do you believe me to be that capable?”

“To go aboveground? Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “Do you not think Jordan is situated too far to the right?”

“Yes, he is—Jordan! To the right, not to the bloody side!”

The effects of the mirrors came, surprising Emma. She stood up and craned her neck to see where they were coming from, but failed. She had to be behind the stage to see them. She looked down at Wynne and found that he was studying her. When their eyes met, he shook his head and returned his focus on the stage.

Emma sat resumed her seat. “How do they do it? The mirrors. How do they manage to—”

“Magic.”

“You and I both know there is no such thing.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me,” she nearly begged.

He stole a glance at her direction and again, shook his head. Without answering her question, he shouted at the dancers to repeat the dance one last time, making Emma frustrated.

---

Emma was still in attendance for the rehearsal the next day.

Since she had no companion, Samuel could not ask her to go for a stroll in the park. Although they had done this before in the past without a need for one, Emma found no reason to expect Samuel to invite her. He was being bombarded by useless articles as assignments and could barely go and write in his own home for the things that truly mattered as what he would claim.

She had no qualms as she thought it best to be away from him for a while to see if she would miss the man. She did, from time to time, of course. Yet most of the moments she missed were their discussions on current events. She had no other memories to hang on to for there were very few trivial moments with Samuel. They always made certain that their time together were spent in fruitful discussions, filling each other with new the new things they discovered through books or literature.

She missed those times, honestly. She missed it when he would come by the manor carrying books for her to devour.

When she entered the tent in Ulric, Emma found the crew checking the lights. Some dancers were already practicing their parts, but there was no sign of Jordan or Stella.

Wynne was not around as well.

She walked through the uneven ground, down the line of chairs and up to the center to be near the crew. She ought to feel shame for being a nuisance, but there were so many things here that she loved exploring. For the days she spent here, she had already ventured to the smaller tents outside to observe what everyone else was doing.

“Good day, my lady!” said one of the crewmen. He was the electrician. And if she remembered correctly, he was called Paul.

“Good day, Paul,” Emma said, looking about. “There seems to be less work going on.”

“Aye! His lordship has not made many changes of late.”

“Truly? That is quite surprising…”

The crew chuckled at her remark.

Emma watched the men test the lights. “This is truly genius,” she said, watching the amazing effect of lights imitating the flow of water on the stage.

“Aye,” said Paul with a proud smile. “His lordship developed everythin’ himself.”

Emma’s brows rose in surprise. “He did?” She would not have imagined Wynne as an inventor.

“He likes the challenge. His vision of the aboveground is unparalleled.”

Emma smiled. “I would have to agree.”

And then Paul continued to point out the different machineries Wynne invented and developed that Emma could not quite catch up. If Wynne showed this part of himself to the Everards, he would be Levi’s instant best friend. Her brother’s love for invention and innovation was at par with Wynne’s.

“How is it going, Paul?” Wynne’s voice asked from behind. Emma turned and found him walking toward her and Paul, his eyes on her as Paul answered his question.

Her gaze faltered and flew to a far corner. She felt quite uncomfortable with the way he looked at her. It was rather different and unnerving from what she was used to.

“I did not expect you here today, Emma,” he said

“Why?” she asked as he approached, returning her gaze toward him while fighting the urge to find a safer place to look at.

“Your perfect attendance for five days straight ought to have been enough,” he said, nodding at Paul to dismiss the man. “And… there is no rehearsal today.”

Emma looked behind her at the dancers. “But—”

“They are merely preparing for tonight, nothing else,” he said.

Her shoulders fell.

He held out his arm to guide her away from the stage. She obliged, not quite sure where he was taking her.

“Your family is not bothered you leave Wickhurst alone?” But before she could reply, he said, “Ah, yes, of course. They do not know.”

“They believe I am enjoying my time inside the manor as I usually do.” She found no reason to lie. She turned her head to look at him. “And you, my lord? What does your family think of all this?”

“What makes you believe my family is not as ignorant of this part of my life as many others?”

“They do not know?” She found it astounding. She would not have been able to hide anything from her family for too long, most particularly something so vast a scale as running a bloody theatre!

“My parents are both dead,” he said.

“Oh, I am sorry.”

He simply shrugged. “The rest of my family is naught but nuisance.”

“You are telling me that the theatre—all these—is your escape?”

He threw her a sideway glance. “Or a way to an escape,” he said before smiling widely. And simply like that, he changed the topic. “Now, what do you plan to do? You must be disappointed there is no rehearsal this afternoon. Everyone is taking their well-deserved rest before tonight’s show.”

She thought about his question. She could go home, but there was nothing to be done at home. She made certain any household concerns were taken care of before she left.

“You may stay for a while and look around the grounds again,” Wynne offered. “But I cannot be your companion as I have quite a few things to do in the office.”

Emma looked about. She could go in one of the tents and find the group of jugglers she was quite fond of the other day. They were ex-bandits, after all. And they knew Alex from a long time ago.

“Yes, perhaps I should visit one of the tents outside,” she said with a nod.

“And if you need anything, you know where my office is?”

Emma nodded. Although she knew it was somewhere outside the back stage, she had never set foot inside it.

“But then, of course, if you wish to leave, you can always do so.”

Emma scoffed. “You cannot get rid of me that easily, my lord.”

“Not for long,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not going to be a lord for long,” he said rather mysteriously.

“Whyever so?”

He shrugged. “Different plans,” he said before he gently pushed her toward the exit. “Do not wander far, Emma.”

She watched him walk back to the stage and around it before he disappeared. How could he so effectively leave her wondering about the most trivial aspects of his life? He was not at all that interesting, was he?

Oh, but he was. And Emma knew he was intentionally making her even more curious.

---

“Lady Emma!” Jordan Smith’s voice called out to her as she was making her way toward the jugglers’ tent.

Emma stopped and turned around. She waited for what more was there to do? Even if she would rather not, she could not simply ignore the man, could she?

“Mr. Jordan,” she greeted as he approached.

He was wearing a long white shirt with the buttons halfway done and he had on a long, wine red coat. His trousers were paired with black riding boots. On top of his head was a bowler hat. Overall, anyone would have looked quite horrendous, but not Jordan Smith. The half-open shirt and the haphazard way it was tucked in his trousers—and that red coat—seemed almost a credit to a perfect fashion sense. Not everyone could have pulled off such look, but he did. And he knew he looked handsome. And perhaps he thought she liked what she was seeing for she saw it in his eyes.

He was practically ready to devour her right there and then and Emma found it incredible that a man like Jordan Smith would even bother to see her that way.

“We do not have rehearsal today,” he said. “I thought you knew.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, adding under her breath, “I did not know.” She looked about and found there was no one else to call out. “I knew, of course. I simply—”

“You did not come by to get my signature. I have been waiting,” he said, completely uninterested with her statement. He stopped merely a foot away from her.

Emma stood her ground, undeterred. This man ought to know that she was not to be intimidated by his presence.

“Oh, I forgot.” And he ought to realize she was not easily swayed.

But he was not like other men. He was great at acting, yes, but not quite on reading between the lines, she thought as he smiled and inched a little closer.

This time, Emma did take a step back. “I am on my way to see the jugglers,” she said, already turning away. “It was nice to see you, Mr. Jordan. I hope you—”

“Not quite fast, my lady,” he said, grabbing her upper arm.

Emma stiffened but did not react in a way that would have landed her in prison. She calmly smiled at Jordan and said, “Please, let go, Mr. Jordan.”

His hand slipped down to hers, letting her know of his intentions.

Emma had heard many women talk in secrets about how they liked their men aggressive. Once, Ysabella even slipped that it could be quite romantic. But Emma could not agree at the moment for she was ready to throw this bastard on the ground if she had the chance.

“Stop pretending, my lady,” Jordan whispered to her as he pulled her against his chest, “for I am getting impatient. We both know why you come here.”

Emma tried to pull away from him but he held on, letting out a low chuckle. Emma felt her entire being shake, not with fear but with rage. “Let go, Mr. Jordan. Now.”

“Come now, Lady Emma, you must know that if you shout, people would come running out. You would not want our little tryst to—”

His words were left hanging in the air as a different sound echoed around Ulric. And along with that was the sight of Jordan’s bowler hat lying from his head to the ground.

He immediately let her go, stepping to the side, revealing Wynne with a gun in his hand from a distance. Paul was behind Wynne, looking fretful.

“What the bloody hell, Wynne!” cried Jordan. Emma stared at Jordan’s bowler hat on the ground, stupefied.

“I did not miss, Jordan,” Wynne said, lowering his pistol to the level of Jordan’s chest. “And I am quite certain I will not miss again.”

“Bloody tarnation!” Jordan shouted, grabbing his hat from the ground and dashing off from the scene. “Crazy bloody bastard!”

Wynne lowered his weapon and looked at Emma, eyes dark and serious. “Now, my lady, after you are done thanking Paul for alerting me, you may follow me into the tent,” he said, turning around to stiffly go back inside the large tent.

Emma swallowed and rushed toward Paul. “Thank you, Paul,” she said to the man who merely bowed, and rushed into the tent. She bumped against Wynne who had waited for her.

He took her hand and dragged her down the aisle of chairs, toward the stage and around it until they reached the dark corridor. As they walked, his hold on her hand never loosened.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

Emma swallowed again. She nearly tripped on wires but she managed to keep up with his pace. “You did not.”

He paused in his track so suddenly that Emma bumped into him again. She looked up and found that he was quite angry. “What?”

“You did not warn me. You warned him,” she corrected.

“Then consider yourself warned this time. It was a good thing Paul saw him following you. Jordan is a good actor, but he can be dangerous.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “And you are not?”

His brow cocked.

“You are not dangerous?” she asked. “You are acting completely different from what you lead many people to believe. You were naught but a stutter, shy friend of Samuel not too long ago. Yet now you are the Herald gossip writer and P. Wallace. You direct a theatre and perhaps even everyone else in your life. You can be as dangerous as Jordan Smith so how can I be certain you are not like him?”

In the darkness of the corridor back stage, Wynne looked into her eyes. “Emma, I like acting. I act like a fool whenever I want to and I can very well act like the devil if need be. If you cannot prepare yourself for either, then I suggest you go back to the safety of your manor. Otherwise, take me as what I offer myself—a friend, a foe… a stranger.”

He let go of her hand and Emma could not understand why a part of her almost instinctively wanted to reach for his hold again. She clenched her fists to stop herself. He was making her head spin with confusion and suspicion that she could barely get a grip of reality. It was as though she was living in another novel he wrote.

“Are you acting now?” she asked, voice nearly shaking. She had to ask.

It took him quite a while before he replied, his eyes looking into hers, down her lips and back to her eyes again. “Right this moment, I believe I am not.”

XIII. Almost a Kiss

Byron stared blankly at the ceiling, a corner of his lips curling into a smile.

He knew it was bound to happen for he intended it, planned it.

And she had let it for she somehow knew what he was up to.

He turned on his side and wrapped an arm around Ellie McPhee’s naked body. She snuggled closer, still in deep slumber.

Byron let out a contented sigh.

This shall be a battle of wits.

-Above and Below

---

Emma had never known sexual passion before and on the very first sign of it, she began to doubt herself.

She had always thought that being close to someone, of their breath mingling with hers, would not be enough to entice her to want for more.

Yet she was quite proven wrong one afternoon.

After the incident with Jordan at Ulric, Emma decided to let two days pass before she returned. By then, rehearsals resumed and Jordan, although he would still throw her one or two of his seductive smiles, did not approach her again.

Emma did not know why she kept coming back after what happened. And after the scolding she got from Wynne two days ago, surely she must be crazy to go back. The man himself clearly told her, albeit not in clear words, that he was not like Samuel.

He is not safe , a part of her repeatedly reminded her. He kept too many secrets and his private life was equally mysterious.

But she was here again, quietly sitting in her chair, watching the actors practice their lines and songs. She could see the same things again if she would come back for the actual shows, yet there were things that she would not appreciate if she did so.

The evening shows would not show her how everything else was repaired and maintained. She would not have the honor to see Wynne pace below the stage, shouting and giving orders to everyone.

Emma was lost in her own thoughts for a while that she did not realize Wynne had jumped to the stage, waving his arms, giving orders to everyone. “Everyone to your position,” he ordered the dancers who obliged, surrounding both Jordan and Stella who were in the middle of stage.

“We have been doing this for months, Wynne,” Stella said wryly. “We embrace in a dance and—”

“Exactly my point,” Wynne cut off, “you are not dancing. You are seducing each other. You must allow the viewers to forget the bloody dance.”

“Then we simply stop dancing and bloody kiss,” said Jordan.

Wynne glared at him. The actor shook his head. “What do you want us to do then, Wynne? What more should we express?”

“We can kiss,” suggested Stella.

“No, not this early in the story, you are not,” contradicted Wynne. “Dance as though you want to kiss—bloody hell, let me show you—” he turned and found Emma sitting in her chair. “Emma, please, come up the stage.”

She was already shaking her head. “No, I would rather not.”

He looked at her and his eyes dared her. Emma was not one who would walk away from a dare so she stood and walked up the stage. He motioned for her to come closer.

His attention was on his work that he might not have noticed anything when his hand grabbed Emma’s and pulled her toward him, assuming a stance for a waltz. “Follow,” he ordered Jordan and Stella. The actors did as asked and Wynne motioned for the other dancers who began to dance around the stage. “Closer, Jordan and bloody tarnation, do not look as though you want to eat her!”

Jordan sighed and his entire expression transformed, now assuming Byron Glocheshire’s persona. Stella did not have to be told what to do as her face morphed into a fragile look of a woman, yet her movements were strong.

Emma, on the other hand, was growing uncomfortable and she feared that if Wynne pulled her closer, he would feel her heart hammering against her chest.

“Now look up, Stella,” he ordered. Emma did the same and found that Wynne was already looking straight down at her. “Jordan, are you watching?” he asked.

“Yes,” was Jordan’s faint reply.

“You move your head closer but not close enough to touch,” he said and did just that, lowering his head down at Emma who found herself transfixed, anticipating a moment she knew would never come. “You feel her breath,” he murmured, eyes on Emma’s lips.

Emma felt something unfamiliar, a tingling at the tip of her fingers.

“Come close enough to make her feel the wanting, but not too close to make her see how you want her more. Make her feel confused and curious that it turns to desire. Look into her eyes as though this is the last chance you have to say a prayer,” Wynne added, his dark eyes traveling back to Emma’s emerald green globes. “You cannot utter a sound, but you let everyone hear the frustrated plea.”

Never had Emma ever thought a dance could be more. And never had she felt she wanted to do two opposite things at once—escape and meet.

She felt Wynne’s breath against her skin. His warmth was like a force that made them move—or were they floating? She could not tell.

Her mind had always been clear, always active and effortless in making deductions. Yet it seemed that recently, Wynne was the curiosity that clouded her thoughts. It was like waking up after a large dose of laudanum—confusing and alarming, yet somehow peaceful.

And then, slowly—very slowly—she felt him slip away.

And Emma found herself back to the present, standing quite motionless as Wynne turned his back on her and watched Jordan and Stella dance.

Then she realized how easy it was for him to pull her close one moment and let go the next.

Was he aware? Was it intentional? If it were so, he was successful.

The very thought caused a bitter taste in her tongue.

She pursed her lips, swallowed, and stiffly turned to go back down to where she ought to be.

Where she ought to be…

It was not here.

She ought not to be here.

---

The very next day, Emma slipped out of bed after a sleepless night of tossing under the sheets, and dressed. She paced around her room, agitated and angry.

A small part of the anger was directed at Samuel who had not shown himself while another smaller part a little bigger than Samuel’s was for Wynne for even daring to pull her close to him like that. Mostly, the anger was directed at herself for having allowed it.

Why had she let this go this far?

Samuel was working hard, oblivious of the true nature of his friend. And most of all, unaware of what his fiancée was doing.

She ought to be spending her time thinking of a decision, not dally with people who could very well ruin it. What could she have been thinking? Wynne Hastings was mysterious, yes, but there was not one single clue she found that indicated he might be planning something evil. He was the gossip writer, he was P. Wallace. He was simply very private, nothing more.

There was no more for her to discover. She had witnessed enough.

Raking her fingers through her messy black hair, Emma proceeded to break her fast. She intended to do what was expected of her—chores and perhaps reading. And then, after luncheon, she would wait and ride to Ulric.

For the last time.

---

Wynne was surprised when he was informed that Emma Everard was in Ulric despite the fact that there were no rehearsals that day, and was requesting his presence, immediately, of course.

He ordered for her to be sent to his office and while he waited, he composed himself. How must he act today? After that embarrassing display on stage one day past, he was not certain how he must deal with her.

Was she shaken as well? Or was it merely him? If that were so, he was doomed.

But as Emma entered his office looking as though she had not had a good sleep, Wynne could not help but feel relieved. She was as much affected then.

He would consider it a success.

Yet her next words put a halt to his silent celebration. “I merely came to formally say that you can expect my absence during rehearsals from this day forward.”

Wynne was too dumbfounded to even muster a reaction.

Emma must have thought he was waiting for an explanation because she blinked rapidly for a few more times, a habit she often displayed if she was impatiently waiting to speak whatever was left on her mind. And she did just that from where she was stiffly standing, explaining her decision by saying, “My mother is expected to arrive back in Wickhurst very soon. Levi and his family as well. And my sisters. I will have my hands full from then on. And Samuel will soon be free to spend more time with me, which I am also very looking forward to. Then there is the Theobald weekend party I must prepare for. His family will be expecting my presence and there might be quite a few wedding preparations considering Lady Theobald and my mother will be conniving on it the moment we arrive in Theobald and—” she stopped, looking at him with confusion when he started to chuckle. “What is funny?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Wynne liked it when she did that for it was challenging to think of an escape whenever Emma Everard was suspicious. “There is something . And you believe it to be funny enough to laugh. What is it?”

Wynne lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I just cannot believe you are feeling guilty.”

Her beautiful green eyes rounded in horror. “I am not feeling any guilt! I have done no wrong.”

“You have been coming to Ulric without anyone’s knowledge. Of course, you are guilty.”

She scoffed. “You think too highly of yourself, my lord. How is observing play rehearsals any different from taking a walk to the park or spending an afternoon tea party with friends?” She shook her head. “That is how I see my excursions here, nothing else. I merely do not say a word to anyone for I respect your privacy. Do not think I am guilty at all!”

“Then why the strange reaction, Emma?”

She scoffed once again. “Oh, I am finding you more unlikable the more I see of the true Wynne Hastings.”

Wynne smiled. “I cannot say the same,” he said. “You are not like how Samuel would usually say you are. It is quite interesting to discover Emma Everard from my own eyes.”

Her face flushed, but she still straightened her back and lifted her chin. “That is all, my lord,” she haughtily said, ignoring his remark. “I hope that your play meets great success for you and everyone else you work with deserves it. You will always have my full support and awe, but I am afraid I have wasted enough of both our time by intruding in your rehearsals. I have had my fill and I feel quite honored to be one of the very few to personally know P. Wallace.”

Wynne could not very well beg her to change her mind. He had enough pride left to do so. But he could not let her leave without saying anything. “This is not goodbye, Emma.”

She looked stunned.

He sighed and motioned with his hand, breaking the growing tension with movement. “We will still see each other from time to time, me being Samuel’s friend and you as his future wife.”

Her eyes blinked a few times before she nodded. “Y-yes, of course. You are correct. I truly hope you will tell him your secrets one of these days so the three of us can freely discuss your works over tea.” Wynne found the picture unlikely and ugly. Her eyes roamed around his office, looking quite lost, before she looked at him again. The tension was back as their gaze collided. “Very well, then, I must go,” she murmured.

Wynne shrugged, his gaze still holding hers prisoner. “Have a safe trip back to Wickhurst, my lady.”

She broke the spell with a single blink.

He watched her curtsy in haste and turn around.

His mind willed her to stop and stay, but she did not. She pulled open the door and disappeared.

With his thoughts no longer on the paper he had been reading before she arrived, Wynne began to plan. But nothing was coming to him, not when his mind was in total mess.

Bloody hell, how else could he seduce the woman back into his world?

---

While Emma was making her way out, intent to ride straight home to Wickhurst where everyone was expecting her to be at the moment, she saw a handsome man walking down the aisle of empty chairs with his long black coat floating behind him. His dark gaze met hers for a moment before he looked away as though what he saw was uninteresting.

He seemed to be in a rush as he walked past her without even a small nod or a bow. He could be a new actor who thought she was one of the dancers, Emma presumed. And she hoped the man would be replacing Jordan Smith soon for that bastard was bound to cause trouble for Above and Below.

Emma exited the tent, proud of herself, and climbed on her horse.

Riding back to Wickhurst, his words rang in her ears.

I just cannot believe you are feeling guilty.

Emma began to wonder why Wynne would think she was feeling guilty.

And then she pulled at the reins and her horse stopped in the middle of the road back to Wickhurst.

She scoffed and let out a laugh.

The bloody bastard thought she favored him over Samuel! He must believe she fancied him!

“Oh, no, no, no…” she said, determined to prove him wrong. She willed her horse to turn around back to the direction of Ulric.

How she could subtly tell him she was not interested in him romantically, she did not know, but she shall try.

It was not long before she was back to tether her horse beside a stark black one and then proceeding to Wynne’s office. She was about to knock when she realized he was talking with someone inside. Emma hesitated and looked around. Perhaps she can find one of the crewmen like she did earlier to announce her presence—again.

“I am being discreet, uncle,” she heard Wynne say.

“We are almost the same age so stop calling me that every time you wish to be left alone,” a wry voice answered. “I am merely saying that if the family learns of your connection to this theatre, they might use it against you.”

“And if you keep it our secret, they will never have to know until too late.”

“Still, you must move on. If you truly wish to continue, you will stay away from Wickhurst. There are other towns.”

“You must have forgotten that the only thing that keeps me here is the tedious task thrown at me.”

A long silence followed before the other man said, “Then I suggest you give the proper results she wants. I merely came here to warn you about our presence at the ball.”

“My full gratitude to you for keeping away, then. You can expect me to stay away, of course,” Wynne retorted with sarcasm. “Now, please, I have matters of import to deal with…”

Emma immediately stepped back, realizing the conversation inside the room was coming to an end. She nearly ran back to her horse to keep it from sight, hiding behind an empty smaller tent to wait.

Moments later, she saw the same man she encountered earlier climb up the black horse. When he was out of sight, Emma emerged from her hiding place. She looked back at the entrance of the tent and reconsidered her earlier intention.

Changing her mind, she climbed her horse and rode back to Wickhurst.

She was more curious now that she incidentally met one of the members of his purported nuisance of a family, but she was not going to entertain it this time. It might prove to be another shameful feat.

---

When her family returned to Wickhurst, Emma’s life began to fall back into its normal pace and routine. For most days she could not even believe she had spent days in Ulric with the crew and actors of Above and Below . She had not gone back to watch more of the plays, nor had she entertained the thoughts of Wynne Hastings himself as her mother and Tori occupied her days going back and forth to the modiste for gown fittings for the Theobald weekend party.

Wynne had not also been coming by to deliver gifts from Samuel for her fiancé had recently been present whenever he could.

The first time he came calling since her mother arrived, he asked for her forgiveness for barely having time for her with another promise that he would provide her with more attention like before after they wed. He did not ask her if she was willing to discuss a date for a wedding, but Emma still felt the same pressure to make a decision.

He must have sensed it for he had not brought out the topic again and instead talked more about his obsession.

“There are many things in the Town that ought to be addressed to,” Samuel said on his second visit that week. “I am starting my own paper, Em.”

Emma was honestly surprised. She blinked a few times, but deep inside she knew the news should not be a surprise. Knowing Samuel, she should have seen this coming.

“The Herald refuses to publish most of my articles,” he said with frustration. Emma saw the signs of strain in the dark circles under his eyes. “Whoever controls the damn Herald does not want me to reveal more of Tribly’s true colors.”

She slowly nodded, accepting the fact that Samuel would never change his mind. “And what would you call this paper of yours, Sam?”

He grinned. “The Blower.”

“The Blower?”

“I have heard a rumor about a certain someone from Willowfair who serves as a blower for the League of Founders. This person, apparently, has access to many information regarding the secrets of many gentlemen—even women—in the Town. He had helped the League stop many dangerous plans, including the fatal bombing many years ago.” He shrugged. “I simply thought the moniker resonates with my will to inform and alert the townspeople of matters that concern them. My paper will be the blower for the people, Em. My writers will be anonymous so as to protect them.”

Emma fell quiet. She liked the name. As a matter-of-fact, she loved it. But this was a big, risky step for him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked without hesitation.

She considered not telling him, but it would be unfair. With Samuel, Emma was always honest when it came to her opinions. “You have always been fine being a writer before, Sam. Why do you have to risk so much, even your life, fighting such cause?” Before he could reply, Emma added, “There are people working on these things. There is the League. They will not allow tragedies to happen to the Town.”

The anger that flashed in his eyes did not surprise Emma, but she considered it a sign to keep quiet and add no further.

“You do not support me.”

“Well, I would love to, but if it means putting yourself in danger, you cannot expect me not to have reservations.”

“Then I suggest you mellow down on your opinions,” he snapped.

His words surprised them both, but it was too late. Nothing he could have said after that would have kept Emma from feeling frustrated.

But she tried to understand. This was his passion. She would feel the same if someone else kept her from doing what she loved.

His passion to truly make a change in the Town was admirable. He was willing to put himself in danger for it, but it also meant he was dragging his family along with him. His enemies would use the people he cared about against him. If they were powerful enough, they could make Samuel do things against his will.

Placing herself in Samuel’s position, Emma could understand him as well. If he would be willing to take all the risks, then who would?

This placed her opinions in conflict with each other.

With a long sigh, Emma said, “I apologize for my careless thoughts, Samuel. I am merely concerned.”

He picked up his hat and gathered his coat. “Need not, Em,” he murmured under his breath. “I can manage on my own.” He stood and she followed. “I am sorry for snapping. I will call on you next week.”

Emma watched him leave all the while convincing herself that Samuel was the best choice. He was a family friend and he knew her very well. They were comfortable enough with each other to express disappointment, anger and even fear. And they have had many good times together.

Most of all, he respected her need for space and she could very willingly do the same for him.

He stood by his ideals and he kept no secrets.

Lindsay ran into the parlor and started to talk about her morning with her father in the park while Emma returned to her seat. As Lindsay jumped beside her in the settee, Emma reached for the card sitting on the table beside her.

Her niece snuggled to her side and Emma wrapped her free arm around Lindsay, chattering about how Levi allowed her to sip from his cup of coffee as Emma re-read the words on the card.

Everyone—apart from P. Wallace and I—wishes to invite you to our picnic. If you would be shameless enough, see details below.

Acting upon the deadly forces of the jugglers,

Stella

XIV. Picnic in the Rain

Being lovers was not the problem.

It was the secrets they both knew the other kept.

It was the fear.

It was the many things they discovered about each other, and the others they knew could never be revealed.

Two weeks ought to have been enough for Ellie to know Byron’s secrets, but despite that, she still had more to find out.

As she watched him leave her estate for the third time since they met, she knew he would be back. What she was unaware of was where he came home to.

-Above and Below

---

“How was your time alone in Wikchurst?” asked Ysabella when Emma came for tea one afternoon.

“It has been exciting,” she replied, trying to sound dry and sarcastic.

“You ought to have come with us. The children have been asking for you.” Ysabella settled beside her and leaned closer. “Has Sam dropped by for a visit?”

Emma shook her head. “Not while everyone was away, no.”

“And since our return?”

“He has for a couple of afternoons,” Emma supplied, carefully taking her teacup to her lips. Ysabella watched until she returned the cup on the table. Without her sister voicing her question, Emma sighed and admitted, “I believe he is becoming overly obsessed, Ysa. I fear not only for his safety but that of us around him. I have to be realistic and think that we can all be in danger should he ever become more aggressive in this fight.”

Ysabella did not speak for a while, appearing to think about Emma’s sentiments. “I have actually been thinking of the same thing, Em. I was merely keeping silent for I fear that it might change your decision to marry him because I would love that you and he be wed. But yes, I do fear that his family and even we, the Everards, might be affected because of what he is doing.”

“Yet we cannot force him to stop.”

Ysabella nodded. “No, we cannot.” Her sister leaned away and sighed. “Who would have thought that the Samuel we once knew would turn into a man like this? Has it not merely been a few years when he did naught but live in Grey’s with our brothers?”

“Yes.”

“He has formed his own ideals and is now fighting for it.”

Emma turned her head to look at her sister. “Do you believe that if it were not for what happened to Maxine, if it were not for that letter Samuel published, he would be what he is today?”

Ysabella shrugged. “That was brave of him. Truly admirable, really, and I think that it was the turning of the knob for him. The door has always been left open for him, Em. He merely took the courage to open it. I guess he has always been the same man merely hiding behind that same door.”

She nodded in agreement.

Her sister narrowed her eyes at her. “There is more you are not telling.”

Emma blinked and looked away.

“What keeps you from setting the date for the wedding, Emma? Please, tell me the real reason. I truly wish to know what you think and feel.” Ysabella reached for her hand and squeezed it. “And know that I will support you.”

Emma shook her head. “I hate myself for thinking it, Ysa, that is why I cannot tell you.”

“Tell me, please.”

Biting her lower lip, Emma hesitated. Then she began to think of the many times Ysabella and she shared many secrets. Perhaps her sister could keep this one as well. “I simply think Sam is becoming too full of himself-” when her sister merely remained quiet, she added, “I know it is bad of me and you must think I am simply looking for reasons to not marry him, but he no longer listens to reasons. He tries and he does his best to show me he respects my opinions, but I know for a fact that he does not consider them at all. He marvels too much on the attention his readers throw at him and I fear that I cannot see myself living the kind of limelight he is enjoying.”

Ysabella stared at her for a long time without uttering a sound.

“Perhaps you must say something. Tell me I am wrong and that I am simply being selfish.”

Her sister shook her head. “What I find interesting, Em, is why you think that anyone would ever suspect you are simply looking for reasons to not marry him.”

She sighed. “Because perhaps I truly am, I am no longer sure.”

“And if you are, then you do not wish to marry him, Em.” Ysabella squeezed her hand again. “I want Samuel for you, but I do not want you for him if your intentions are half-hearted. You deserve to marry someone you can see your future without reservations. He deserves one as well.”

Emma bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from showing. “There are too many who will be disappointed.”

“And even more so if they witness you in a loveless marriage.”

“I do love him, Ysa.”

“As a friend, of course, you do,” Ysabella replied, rolling her eyes. “But friendship and companionship are mere fractions of marriage. There ought to be more. Should you consider friendship as basis for marriage, then Samuel would have married Ralph.”

Emma scoffed at her sister’s lousy jest.

Ysabella’s smile faded. “Tori and Levi were friends, Em, but they had something more. You and Sam are friends, but do you have what Tori and Levi have?”

“What?”

Ysabella shook her head. “You are clueless when it comes to love, sister. To think that we both matched many couples in the past!” Chuckling, her sister added, “Jealousy, hate-the things you do not like about him woven in one giant ball. That is what I am meant, Em.”

“That is not love.”

Her sister smiled as though she knew something Emma did not. “Love is when you feel those things and you still desperately want to be with him.”

“It is bloody confusing!” Emma cried in frustration.

“Love is, Em,” Ysabella said with a smile. “And I do hope you get there.”

---

Samuel stopped by Wynne’s small office in the Town Herald, saying at the doorway, “You are invited to join me and the Everards at Grey’s tonight.”

Wynne frowned. “I was expecting you to be spending more time in the Everard manor, actually, now that your articles are over and you are not working on one.”

Samuel did not want to address his friend’s statement. He wanted to see Emma, but not tonight. He wanted to place a bit of distance between them before they clashed and cause a rip between them.

And perhaps he was still a bit disappointed-even angry-that she could not support his decisions fully. She respected them, yes, but not to a point where he was reassured that she would be there with him until the end.

“I want to be with the company of my male friends tonight, so come and join us. It has been a while since we gathered.”

Wynne simply nodded.

Samuel sighed and looked at his friend with mock pity. “You truly are clueless. Emma and I had a small argument, which is why I want to stay away. Do you get it now?”

His ignorant friend continued to frown. “Then is it not the perfect time to see her?”

“I will when we have both have time to think. As of now, I simply wish to discuss matters of import with my friends.”

“She is also your friend.”

Samuel fell silent. And then he sighed. “Emma is a woman. She is wise, yes, but her mind is filled with too many conspiracies and theories, most of them too farfetched. Matters about the Town ought to be discussed amongst men. And she has been against my actions of late, which can be quite disheartening.”

“But you admire her for her mind.”

“Yes, of course. I admire her for at least having the capability to think differently.”

His friend made no further comment and said he would be at Grey’s later.

Samuel went home and dressed, all the while wondering what Emma was currently thinking. She must be afraid for her family and his. He understood that. He was not stupid not to have considered the repercussions.

But he had reached this far. Everyone would eventually understand that someone ought to make the dangerous move for change.

She would come to her senses , he thought, and that was the last he let himself be bothered by it. Emma was wise and she would eventually support him at any cause for she understood what he was fighting for.

Later that night, Samuel was at Grey’s with Levi and Ralph.

“The bloody bastard is suggesting the idea of bringing back monarchy to place the people under one ruler,” he shared to his future brothers-in-law.

Ralph scoffed. “That will cause a revolution. Surely he is not that big of a bloody idiot.”

“They are ambitious,” Levi commented, “them Trilbys.”

“And we do not know how many of them are in existence,” Samuel said in frustration. “I have started research on the family tree. I have not gone far, I tell you.”

“Why would you bloody want to know every Trilby there is?” Ralph demanded.

“Because he is obsessed,” Wynne said behind them as he took his seat beside Samuel. “Hello, my lords. Good evening.”

“I am not. I have plans,” said Samuel, ignoring Wynne.

“Your paper, of course,” retorted Ralph. “What does Emma think of it?”

“She supports it,” he lied.

“Then she will be the first person on your paper’s obituary section, you idiot,” snapped Ralph. “What you are about to do is dangerous, Samuel.”

Wynne cleared his throat, probably regretting having come.

“I will not let any harm come upon her, Ralph,” Samuel said. “The paper will be her protection. I will be everyone’s protection. Do you not see? Should anything happen to any of those I care about, the townspeople will know who has done it. The Trilbys know that, hence they will not do anything that would cause their reputation. They are currently controlling me through the Town Herald, but the moment I establish my own paper, no one is stopping me.”

Levi looked at Samuel for a long time. For a moment, he felt a tinge of fear. What would her brothers do to him should Emma ever be in danger?

“Think more about it,” Ralph ordered.

To keep them from saying anything more, Samuel nodded. Averting his eyes from his friend, he looked around Grey’s, wondering if there was anyone he could later join for a game of cards. But something red and glittering caught his attention. It was a dress and the one wearing it was laughing with two gentlemen. He could see three more attempting to join the woman’s growing circle.

Just as his eyes landed on her, so did his companions’.

Ralph was fast to lean over his drink and whisper to everyone, “That is Stella Marie, the actress!”

“Hush, brother, do not get too excited,” said Levi, also craning his neck to look. “Yes, that is her.”

Wynne was doing the same, asking under his breath, “What is she doing here?”

Ralph stole the beautiful actress another glance before he dismissively said in a dry tone, “Selling her useless play, of course.”

His friends ignored him.

And as though the actress heard him, she turned her head and her eyes landed on them longer than necessary. She met Samuel’s gaze for a fraction of a second before she looked away, looking uninterested.

“Bloody hell, she looked this way!” Ralph whispered.

Samuel lost interest. Stella Marie was not a woman of gentry so she could very well grace Grey’s whenever she wanted to. But this was the first Samuel heard of her being here and she was already causing a ruckus. He would not be surprised if she turned Grey’s into a bloody brothel.

Ralph was already calling for a server for some writing articles. “Alex will not berate me for drinking tonight without her if I bring home Stella Marie’s signature.”

“Have her sign twice,” ordered Levi. “For Tori.”

Samuel rolled his eyes and whispered to Wynne, “Bloody idiots.”

---

Emma was determined to join the cast and crew of Above and Below for their picnic at the woods near Wickhurst. She took the woman’s invitation as a challenge and she was not one to back out from one.

But when she arrived, Emma started to hesitate.

She lied to her mother before she came here, saying she was going to take the horse for a short trip to Ysabella and Wakefield’s estate. Samuel had no idea at all. Her siblings were as much ignorant. She must feel guilty.

But she was not.

This was naught but a harmless picnic with her newfound friends.

And they were the friends who jumped and ran to her when they saw her. As a friend of a former bandit, she was welcome into the tight circle of the jugglers.

Emma almost pulled back when the leader of the group, Veron, pulled her to where Wynne, Stella and Jordan were sitting.

Stella did not spare her a glance but said, “Ah, here she is.”

While Jordan could not keep his eyes off Emma, Wynne frowned at her. If tension was supposed to be present at that moment as Emma had expected, she could not sense it. By how she had told him the last time they saw each other that she was no longer coming for the rehearsals, he was supposed to act differently. As a matter-of-fact, she did expect him to be cold.

But that was not the case. He was merely surprised she was there. “Whyever are you here, Emma?” he asked.

“Stella invited me,” she nonchalantly said. When Stella threw her a look, Emma corrected, “The jugglers invited me, not her. She simply wrote the invitation.”

“Because they cannot,” Stella snapped with a grim look. “I was too afraid for my life for one of them showed me his favorite knife.”

Veron laughed and said, “Nae, Miss Stella, nae one did.”

Stella threw Veron a sharp look. “Yes, he did. He was your little boy.”

“Ah, well, he did, didn’t he?” Veron said with a laugh. “Come, milady, have food!”

Emma let herself be led away from Wynne and the two actors. She joined the jugglers around their table where she recognized many of their foods as she had eaten the same at Meriwether where Alex and her bandit family lived.

An hour after her arrival, Emma realized Wynne was indeed ignoring her as she had expected. Although he did not act cold, he had done naught but sit in his chair to talk with Jordan and the others.

She was ready to excuse herself and leave, regretting her impetuous decision to come, when Stella rose from her seat to join her by the refreshment table set up by the crew.

“You accepted my invitation,” said the actress nonchalantly, pouring herself a glass of ale punch.

“Oh, so now it was your invitation after all,” Emma said, keeping her smile at bay.

Stella looked at the jugglers as they merrily laughed under a giant tree. “It is quite surprising that you became friends with them.”

“They are good people. Very welcoming. Funny as well.”

“They are ex-bandits, are you aware?”

“Of course. They know some of the bandits I am also friends with,” Emma shared, leaning closer to Stella, whispering, “although I am not certain if they will embrace or kill each other should they ever meet again.”

Stella was looking at Emma with her mouth agape. “You are friends with bandits!”

“Hush,” Emma said with a wink. “I ought not to have shared the secret because it can be dangerous.” When Stella’s eyes rounded in shock, Emma added, “Now, you ought to be careful with your life because of it. I am sorry.” The actress gasped in fear and Emma chuckled. “I am merely jesting, Stella. My bandit friends would dare not harm a friend of mine. Should you ever encounter one along a lone road, simply tell them we are friends. They will spare your purse.”

“You cannot be serious!”

Emma whispered, “I am.”

It took Stella a few moments before she blinked and considered that Emma might be telling the truth. “No wonder you are different.”

“Different?”

“From other women of your station.”

“Oh,” Emma said, “those women.”

She gave Emma a sideway glance and scoffed. Stella gulped down half of her ale punch, grimacing at the strong flavor and then smiling with satisfaction. “I was born in a small village where some bandits also often came by.”

“Were they friendly?”

“Some of them were. They did pay for their shopping.”

“Our eldest brother, Benedict, often sent Ysabella and I to Devonshire when we were quite young. He considered it punishment whenever we ran into trouble, but we liked Devonshire for it has a village where many of our friends lived. They often talked about bandits and somehow I had always been interested in them. Although I do agree they can be quite scary.”

“You admit they scare you? Yet you are friends with some.”

“Some of them are not like these jugglers and my friends. So, yes, perhaps some of them are dangerous and ought to be feared.”

Stella shook her head. “You are one eccentric woman, Lady Emma,” she said as she started to walk away without as much of a goodbye.

“Beware of them bandits, Miss Stella!” Emma whispered after her.

Stella’s head sharply turned over her shoulder to glare at her and she laughed.

As her laughter died, Emma watched Stella return to where Wynne and Jordan were. The woman was not bad after all, but she must be a friend Emma might never have. She no longer had plans to be at the rehearsals and this picnic was her final goodbye to the friends she had made in Ulric.

She turned and saw the lake. Two children were playing in the waters while Veron sat nearby, watching over them. Her feet started to lead her there, intent to join them.

Stealing Wynne and his group another glance, Emma Wynne drink from Stella’s glass of ale punch and she looked away.

---

From the corner of his eye, Wynne saw Emma walking over to the lake to join the head of the jugglers and his two children.

He was intent on ignoring her for she deserved it, coming to see him to tell him she would no longer be present at rehearsals and then appearing suddenly in their picnic. He would allow her another hour alone before he would approach her. Or perhaps he could approach her some other day in Wickhurst, quite coincidentally , of course.

But when Jordan came to his feet, eyes on Emma, Wynne became alert. The actor excused himself and started to follow Emma’s footsteps toward the lake.

“The bastard is on her again. I told you to bring your bloody pistol,” Stella murmured under her breath.

Wynne sighed and stood up. He caught up with Jordan, saying, “Stella said she has something to tell you,” he told Jordan as he walked past the man who had stopped to look over his shoulder at Stella.

Wynne turned, walking backward to see Stella glaring at him as Jordan approached her. He gave his friend a wink before he turned, closing the distance between him and Emma.

“Your dress will be drenched if you come close to the children,” he said beside her, surprising her.

---

“You surprised me,” she snapped at him.

“My apologies,” he murmured, taking her by the elbow to guide her farther away from Veron and the children. He looked up at the giant hole above them. “It seems it is about to rain,” he said.

Emma squinted at the sky above. “No, it is not.”

“It might,” he said, leading her to a large tree that blocked the view of the picnic.

“Then we must return-”

“They do not have cover when the rain falls,” he reasoned, urging her to walk deeper down the path and farther away from the others.

As they walked, Wynne asked, “Will you be attending the Seymour ball?”

“With Samuel and a few others, yes,” she answered. “And you?”

“Yes.”

Then it must be the play his uncle warned him about that afternoon, Emma thought to herself. She was not about to ask him about his family attending the ball. He had clearly stated how his family was an inconvenience.

Just as he said, it began to pour just in time that they reached a large tree that offered them some shade.

“I hate being a bloody gentleman, but I believe you need this,” he said, taking off his coat. “Otherwise, your family will wonder why you are dripping wet.”

Emma watched as Veron grabbed his children and ran to the nearest tree to keep dry. The others had done the same, finding their own tree for protection while the other jugglers started to enjoy the pouring water from aboveground, dancing around arm in arm with liquors in hand like they would in their bandit villages.

The rain began to pour heavier and Emma was forced to accept Wynne’s coat, allowing him to put it over her head.

The tree offered some protection, but there were still some rain showers that escaped, dropping on Wynne’s wide back as he squatted down to pick up a stick.

“You know that your coat is large enough for both of us, yes?” Emma said, holding the open edge of the coat and spreading it above him with her right arm.

He looked up and saw what she was doing and he scoffed. “You are one very gentleman, my lady.”

Emma simply rolled her eyes, frowning at the hole above them. The rain may not stop anytime soon, she thought. She considered running toward her horse, but it would mean she had to ride home wet. There would be no way she could explain why rain poured in the Wakefield residence.

Deciding to wait out the rain, she looked down at what Wynne was doing. He was digging a path to redirect the flow of water away from them.

She faintly smiled. “You remind me of Levi. He loves to innovate.”

“Hmm.” He kept digging and Emma waited for his next words. “I grew up alone. And a solitary life for a child brings forth many kinds of imagination.”

Emma made no comment. She could she think of a question either so she fell quiet.

“I was with your brothers last night.”

“You were at Grey’s?”

He nodded. “Samuel was also there.”

“I know,” she haughtily lied. “He told me. Although he did not mention you.”

“He did not mention you either,” was his taunting reply.

Emma gritted her teeth until the irritation disappeared. And then she almost scoffed at the childish spat.

Wynne continued to dig and Emma watched as rainwater flowed away from them. “Why did you come?” he asked all so suddenly without looking up. He stood up while Emma thought of an answer. He took the edge of the coat she was holding out for him and adjusted it over his own head. “Hmm. This is indeed large enough for both of us.”

Emma moistened her lips.

She felt him turn his head to look at her. She could not dare look back. “Well? Why did you come here? I thought you are no longer interested in the theatre.”

“This is not the theatre,” she said, “and I was invited by Stella.”

“If you say so,” he said, leaning against the tree trunk.

She struggled internally to gather the courage to tell him what she was not able to when she came back to Ulric during her last visit. “And I want to prove that you have no effect on me as you might think. You are Sam’s friend and I am keeping your secrets. That is all. Dare not think of anything else.”

He was too quiet that Emma was forced to turn her head and look. A bad move, of course, for her face almost collided with his. He had been staring down at her the entire time.

She was back on that stage, dancing with him, his face drawing nearer. Emma swallowed. Was he going to do what she suspected him to do? To also prove her wrong?

But he stopped. His lips were merely an inch away from her. And he leaned away and like before, Emma realized she had been holding her breath.

Bloody tarnation!

“Samuel will be devastated if you kissed his friend, Emma.”

Emma’s emerald green eyes rounded in incredulity when his words finally sank in.

Laughter rumbled in his chest and his shoulders shook with it. “Jesting, Emma. Jesting.”

Emma elbowed his side, gritting her teeth. “Not a bloody good one.”

He stopped laughing. His eyes went down to her lips and back to her eyes. “I was planning for something more serious but feared we would both regret it.”

“You must be jesting,” she said under her breath, eyes on his lips and back to his dark eyes.

He nonchalantly shrugged. Tearing his eyes from hers, he looked up and Emma thought she heard him murmur, “I’m afraid not.”

XV. Honored Guests

“Entice him to take you with him,” said the man.

Ellie frowned. “Take me where?”

The smile he gave her was both mysterious and cold. “A place stuck in time, my dear.”

“I fear I don’t follow.”

The man chuckled. “Then perhaps it is about time you learn about The Town.”

“The Town?”

-Above and Below

---

The Everards often went to the yearly Seymour Ball and this year was no exemption. Apart from Maxwell and Benedict and their wives, the others were present.

Samuel, of course, was there to be with Emma. It was their first meeting since their little argument, and like all others, they acted as though it was nothing.

He claimed her first dance, of course, which did not cause a stir to any guests as many saw Samuel as part of the Everards. As they waltzed, Samuel looked at Emma and smiled. “Do you recall how I almost begged you for a dance before?”

She nodded, smiling as she remembered. “I only did so as payment for something.”

“It was shameless of me, but it was worth it.”

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You are trying to be romantic, Sam. It does not suit you.”

“It pays to be charming in some cases,” he said, turning her around. “He looked over her shoulder, his face suddenly serious.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Lord Seymour.”

“You do not like him.”

“No, not really. He is one of Noah Trilby’s supporters.”

“Yet you accepted his invitation.”

“Most of my supporters are also here,” he said to her with a wink. “Now, why don’t we forget about politics for now? You and I ought to learn from the last spat.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Very well, then.” They completed the dance, talking about the stories from Kenward her sisters and mother shared with her. He asked after his sister, Maxine.

“I believe she is doing rather great. You know Maxwell can be quite irritating, but she is surviving.”

“Your brother makes her happy,” he said. “I am planning to visit soon to urge her to attend the Theobald Party. I heard she wishes to pass this year.”

“Our niece is proving to be quite a challenge and I heard Maxine wants to wait until she can tame the young chit.”

“Our niece is the sweetest, Emma. She will charm Theobald.”

Emma scoffed. “Not when she will be with her cousins.”

“She is too young to be dragged anywhere.”

“And they are old enough to carry anyone who cannot be dragged,” she countered and he laughed.

The music died, but not Samuel’s laughter. Emma let him lead her back to her mother and sisters and as he did, she saw Wynne from afar. He was standing by with a few men she recognized as writers from the Town Herald as well. Their eyes locked but it was her who blinked and looked away.

The picnic was her last goodbye to the theatre and P. Wallace. He would be no other than Wynne Hastings for her from now on.

---

Samuel was escorting Ysabella from their dance where they talked about none other than Emma when he heard her gasp. He immediately saw the subject of her fascination in the form of Stella Marie and Jordan Smith who were amongst a crowd of admirers.

“Please, do not tell me you wish to join them,” he wryly said.

“Oh, Sam, I would love to,” said Ysabella.

“Not with me,” he said, already walking away, but Ysabella stopped him.

“Emma and I are fond of Above and Below , Sam.” She started to pull him to the direction of the actors but stopped midway with hesitation.

“What is wrong?” Samuel asked.

Ysabella’s face flushed. “I am embarrassed.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You? Ysabella Everard Hayward? Embarrassed?” He pretended to look around the ballroom. “Where is your husband when he needs to disapprove of your words?”

Ysabella slapped his arm. “Oh, stop it!” And then she pushed him to the side and turned to the opposite direction when Stella Marie started to make her way together with Lady Seymour toward them. “They are to pass this way. Hush.”

“If you want, I can ask for her company for you,” he offered.

“You would dare not!” Ysabella hissed. “Simply pretend we do not see her.”

“Well, I can very well do so,” he said, turning away from the actress who was near to passing by them, listening to whatever Lady Seymour was saying. “She has more to prove to us, after all,” he added to Ysabella. “And Jordan Smith seems to be bound to fall again,” he added under his breath, noting Jordan’s haughty demeanor from afar.

“Of course, my lady,” he heard a sweet voice say behind him and Ysabella. He made a slight turn and found that the voice belonged to Stella Marie herself. And her eyes were on him as she added, “Sometimes I do wonder if those who claim to be giving mere opinions are aware that they are instead making rushed judgments.” Samuel thought he saw a small, condescending smile flicker across the actress’ lips before she blinked, tearing her gaze from his. “Their ignorance of the difference is quite gnawing.”

Samuel’s jaw tightened as his gaze followed the actress and their host. “What did you say, dear?” he heard Lady Seymour ask in confusion.

“Oh, that your ball is magnificent, my lady…”

He felt Ysabella slap his arm again. “Oh, you bloody idiot! She heard you!” Ysabella hissed beside him.

Samuel scoffed. “If she did, why would I even care—” his statement was cut off at the sudden quiet that filled the entire ballroom.

Both he and Ysabella turned to see what had caused it and Samuel’s jaw tightened for the second time that night.

---

Emma was watching Ysabella and Samuel with fascination when it happened. The first she notice was that the music had stopped and then the dancing slowed until it came to a halt as well. People began to turn and Emma followed everyone’s gaze.

She heard her mother whisper something to Margaret but Emma did not bother to listen.

Her attention was completely drawn to the crowd of three walking into the ballroom. From one corner of her eye she saw Lady Seymour leave Stella to rush forward. And from the opposite side of the ballroom was the woman’s husband almost tripping on his own feet as he followed the direction his wife was taking.

What Emma did not expect was what happened next. She saw Noah Trilby’s group stop and the man turned his head to look straight at their direction, the woman beside him whispering something in his ear. Emma looked behind her and saw that nearly her entire family was with her.

His cold, empty eyes did not waver as he listened to the woman beside him.

It was no accident. She felt it deep in the pit of her stomach that the man intentionally paid the Everards a silent attention. And as though he lost interest, he blinked and looked away.

“Maggie?” she heard Alex ask and Emma turned to find her sister’s face turning white.

“Maggie,” she started, but Margaret stiffly shook her head. Her sister suddenly and quietly left their side, murmuring, “I have to find Cole.”

Levi left his wife in the company of his family, quietly following Margaret, face dark and serious.

“Who’s that?” Alex whispered beside Emma.

“You have to start reading the paper, darling,” Ralph murmured to his wife. “That’s the Head of the Town Leaders.”

Emma’s eyes studied the dark-haired group, her eyes staying long on Noah Trilby himself. He looked younger than the previous Head of Town Leaders. His dark eyes were almost empty despite the forced smile on his face.

Yet his presence did not emit as much power as the woman beside him.

“Amelia Trilby,” she heard her mother whisper to Alex.

“Oh, yes, I know ’er,” her sister-in-law replied.

Lord and Lady Seymour met the group and as they exchanged curtsies, the spell was broken and everyone attempted to resume what they had been doing prior to the short interruption. The music began and the dancing couples continued, although their attention were still on the group that had just arrived. At the other end of the ballroom, Emma saw Samuel quietly follow the group from the sides.

“They did not even bother to be announced,” Lady Alice said beside Emma. “They must know everyone knows them.”

“Well, I only know that man,” Alex retorted, motioning her head toward the third person in the group which Emma barely noticed before. At her sister-in-law’s words, she craned her neck to have a look. “That’s the Lord of Thorne,” Alex said.

“Thorne?” their mother asked, suddenly interested. “Are you certain?”

“Well… oh, well, aye, I am.”

“How did you know of him?”

“Uh…” Alex sounded as though she was regretting having said anything. Ralph cleared his throat, saying, “Alex.” A warning from Ralph? Emma wondered. “A previous victim, Mother,” Alex replied with a hesitant chuckle.

Emma heard the lie in Alex’s voice but she did not bother to ask. Not at the presence of their mother. Instead, she focused her attention on the man beside Amelia Trilby. She could barely see him and was about to give up trying when suddenly he turned as though he was looking for someone.

And at that moment, Emma caught her breath.

He was the man she saw at the theatre.

Suddenly, her mind started to reel. And it started working like it had not been for the past couple of weeks.

Her heart began to hammer against her chest as her eyes scanned the busy glittering ballroom to find one man.

And when she did, she saw him standing in one corner alone with a drink in his hand.

Wynne was staring straight at the Lord of Thorne and Emma felt herself go cold. She almost stumbled as she felt her knees go weak.

She saw how Wynne looked away from the man Emma heard him call uncle in the theatre and walked away to join the group of writers he was with earlier.

But it was too late for Emma saw it all and everything suddenly made sense.

---

Wynne did not know what his aunt was planning, but he believed coming to the Seymour ball was the dumbest thing she had so far thought.

She may be well-regarded in Willowfair, but not in Wickhurst. Although Noah Trilby had a fairly good reputation, not all Trilbys were yet to be regarded equally. Everyone respected them for being amongst the oldest families in the Town, but there were still rumors about them.

The presence of his young uncle, David the Lord of Thorne, was even more stupid.

They should have brought Vega with them, he thought with derision. The woman would be, at the very least, cause a pleasant surprise.

He knew where Emma was standing with her family and he dared not look.

If he was to be found out, it would not be tonight.

---

Emma barely had time to talk for Levi suddenly reappeared and ushered her and Ysabella to a private room outside the ballroom where they found Margaret looking rather deathly pale.

“Maggie!” Ysabella and Emma exclaimed, running to their sister.

“Keep her company while I go and find Cole,” Levi ordered at the door, closing it firmly as he left.

“What is happening, Maggie? What is it?” Ysabella asked fretfully.

Emma noted the fear in their eldest sister’s face as she attempted to stand from the settee but failed.

“Stay seated, Maggie,” Emma gently said, taking the spot beside their sister.

“What is it, Maggie? What has upset you so?” Ysabella asked again, kneeling before Margaret.

Margaret closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God, this cannot be happening.”

Emma’s jaw tightened.

“What is it?” Ysabella urged. “Please, what can we do? Where is Cole? Maggie, should we tell someone? You might need a doctor—”

“No!” Margaret and Emma cried in unison, startling Ysabella.

“I am fine,” Margaret added.

“You do not look fine. And I will not be unless you tell me what is going on.”

“Ysa, where is Samuel?” Emma asked, trying to change the subject.

Her sister looked confused at first at the sudden change of topic, but she answered Emma. “Oh, he ordered me to find William while he stayed close to Noah Trilby’s circle. You know Samuel. I am certain he is hoping to hear something to write about.”

Emma did not hear Ysabella’s words for her attention was on Margaret who began to shake. “Maggie, they are just but mere people. Do not let their presence affect you so.”

“I am utterly confused,” Ysabella said.

“I would rather you stay confused than know everything,” Maggie murmured, her hands still covering her face.

“Know that you are a Leaguer?” asked Emma.

Margaret was as much surprised as Ysabella who gasped. Margaret’s head snapped from her hands to look at Emma. “How did you know?”

“I have not been living under the same roof as you in the past not to notice.” Ysabella gaped at Emma. “It’s a sensitive matter, Ysa. And all I had was but mere suspicion.”

Ysabella was still very much in shock as she faced Margaret. “Maggie, is it true?” When Margaret merely stayed mum, Ysabella gasped again. “Oh, it is true! Does mother know?”

“No!” Emma and Margaret said in unison.

“And she does not have to,” Margaret added.

“The brothers?”

“Since the beginning,” Margaret admitted.

Ysabella’s eyes narrowed. “Even Ralph?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, he must be gloating—” Ysabella started, but stopped herself, turning even more serious now. “Then what does it have to do with your condition now, Maggie?”

“Nothing,” their eldest sister tried to say.

“Surely you must realize that Emma and I are no longer the little girls you helped mother rear,” Ysabella pointed out.

“Precisely why I never planned to tell you of my involvement with the League. I know you too well, the two of you.”

“We can keep secrets, Maggie, so please, tell us.”

Emma did not bother to ask for she knew precisely why Margaret was shaken.

Instead of addressing Ysabella’s question, Margaret looked them in the eyes and carefully said, “I want the two of you to be careful who you tell your secrets to, do you understand? The Trilbys cannot be trusted and now that they have gone to Wickhurst is a bold move even for them. Everything that Samuel has been saying is true. We cannot trust anyone but ourselves. Am I clear?” The fear and desperation in Margaret’s voice was almost palpable.

“This is about Fiona, isn’t it?” asked Emma.

“Fiona?” Ysabella asked, looking clueless for a moment before it suddenly dawned on her. “Oh, God, yes! I always forget she is from that bloody family—Oh, sweet Mr. Jones, how could I have not realized earlier?”

“Noah Trilby does not claim her to be his,” Emma insisted. “Surely there is no reason for him to—”

“Men like Noah Trilby would do anything to make anything—or anyone—that may taint their reputation to disappear. Osegod tried to do it in the past with Aurora Randolph and Gwyneth. I cannot take the same risks.”

“Maggie, if you fear that we might have told anyone where Fiona came from, you need not worry. We have always seen her as one of us,” Ysabella reassured.

Margaret nodded. She looked at Ysabella and Emma in the eyes. “That will have to remain as such until we all perish.”

“She is ours , Maggie,” Emma strongly said. “You need not fret.”

Their sister nodded, drawing in a long breath.

“Their presence must have caused you such strain. Perhaps you have to ask Cole to take you home now,” Emma suggested.

Margaret was not looking her typical calm and collected self. It was quite rare to see her act like this.

Emma reached wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders.

“I will help Levi find Cole,” said Ysabella, rushing to the door. “And call for your carriage.”

Margaret looked into Emma’s eyes as they waited together. “Mother cannot know.”

“She does not have to worry about this, Maggie. Nothing is going to happen to anyone. Not Fiona, not any of the children. Cole will not let that happen and will the brothers. We will not let that happen.”

Margaret reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

“I am your sister.”

Her sister let out a nervous laugh. “I had feared you would follow my footsteps. I had long seen myself in you while you were growing up. You cannot imagine my relief when you never attempted to be a part of the League.”

“I did actually consider it,” admitted Emma, but she shrugged. “And then I realized one for each family is enough.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Margaret said with a sigh. “Promise me you will never entertain it.”

“I never will again.”

Margaret closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, just as when I thought Osegod was a done deal. And now this…”

While Emma watched her sister collect herself, she decided not to tell what she had found out tonight.

Perhaps later when Margaret was not like this, she will.

---

The very next day, Emma called for Samuel for there was none she could think of at the moment. Her brothers might act upon impulse and would not consider the consequences.

Although she and Samuel had been having a clash of opinions regarding his career of late, she knew that he was the next person to know what to do next. Despite him being friends with Wynne Hastings, she trusted that he would think before acting on anything as he always did.

He was not one who fought battles like her brothers. He was one who would stop and think.

She paced inside the study she inherited from Margaret while she waited.

Her night had been sleepless and she had to suffer the entire morning trying to act nonchalant in the presence of her mother. She agreed with Margaret that Lady Alice ought to be spared of Margaret’s dilemma.

“What is the matter?” Samuel’s voice said from behind her.

Emma jumped in her feet, startled by his sudden presence. “Close the door,” she ordered, her nerves even more jittery now.

He must sense the seriousness and apprehension in her voice and he immediately obliged.

“Are you going to announce that you have decided to break off the engagement?” he tried to jest.

Emma glared at him. “Tempting, but no.”

“Good,” he said. His face became serious as he studied her. “What is the matter?”

Emma blinked and took a deep breath. “I discovered something last night.”

Samuel slowly nodded. “I am tempted to make another joke, but I am sensing this is something very serious.”

“It is,” she strongly said.

Samuel’s brows rose, waiting for her next words.

“You must promise me one thing first.”

“Anything, Em.”

“Promise that you will not rush from here with intent to use one of your weapons.”

He scoffed. “Unless someone harassed you, Emma, you know that my weapons are solely meant for animals in the woods. Apart from two precious ones, of course, which are my pen and inkwell.”

Emma nodded. “Good, because what you are about to hear would truly challenge that. And I am hoping you will be very rational.”

“Of course,” he said, waiting for her to next words.

Emma squared her shoulders. “Wynne Hastings is a bloody Trilby.”

XVI. The Game Plan

“You never told me where you live,” Ellie spoke one night.

Byron looked at her, mind reeling with questions. What was she planning now?

“It is not far,” was all he could say.

“Would you ever take me there?”

He smiled. “Would you dare?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “With you, I would.”

-Above and Below

---

“You are serious,” Samuel slowly said, looking Emma in the eyes.

“I am,” she replied, breathless and anxious.

Samuel was looking quite stupefied and then, slowly, Emma saw the disbelief and doubt begin to appear. And suddenly, the realization.

He blinked and asked, “How—how did you find out?”

Emma swallowed and cleared her throat. She had thought this through the entire night and she knew he would ask this question if he were to believe her.

“He has always been acting odd.”

“He is always odd.”

“And during the times you have been asking him to send me gifts, I have caught him unguarded on several occasions.”

Samuel nodded. “And curious that you are, you began to observe him more closely.”

“I even followed him.”

His eyes rounded in surprises. “You did what?”

“A few times, actually,” she admitted further.

“Emma, if he is who you say he is, then it would have been—”

“I was being careful, Sam.”

Samuel sighed. “What else did you find out? Surely you know that there ought to be more.”

Emma moistened her lips. “We have gotten quite close, if I must say.”

She saw something flash in his eyes but he closed them and collected himself before he asked, “How close?”

“We formed a bond of… friendship?”

He stared at her. “You are not certain about the friendship?”

“No, because it also involved quite a lot of banters.”

“Bloody hell…” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “The bastard took advantage of my incompetence and neglect and if he is up to something—”

“It is quite true that you were quite neglectful for a time, Sam, but I do not hold that against you. You have been preoccupied of late.”

“Still, the bastard—” he stopped himself and looked at Emma. “Very well, go on. Tell me how you found out.”

Emma shifted her weight on her other foot. “Well, as I have said, I followed him a few times.” When Samuel merely waited with patience, she continued, “I learned that he is the secret writer of the gossip section.”

His brow shot high. “Of the Herald.”

“Of the Town Herald, yes,” she said. “He confirmed it.”

His jaw tightened. “Bloody tarnation.”

“I became even more curious and followed him one day outside of Wickhurst.” When she saw his violent reaction, she held up her hand to stop his words. “And I found out that he—” she stopped for a moment, considering Wynne’s desire for privacy. But this was Samuel she was facing. He would not repeat her words. “He is the writer and director of Above and Below. “

The very moment the words rolled out of her tongue, she regretted it. But her mind told her she was doing the right thing.

He is a Trilby. He kept it from you. Why? Because he and his family are planning something.

The look on Samuel’s face was as she had expected. It was one of shock and betrayal.

“And I attended a few of their rehearsals while the family was away in Kenward because I admit that I was fascinated by it. I still am, as a matter-of-fact. I know you hate it, Sam, but you are also aware that I have a different opinion,” she continued. “And then, one day, I decided I ought to stop as I knew it was not right of me to be sneaking out of Wickhurst. And just as I was leaving, I came across a man I have not seen before in the theatre. I later found out that the man was Wynne’s uncle.” She noted the look of interest grow on Samuel’s face now. “And at the Seymour ball, I learned that the man was none other but the Lord of Thorne.”

The silence around her study was almost deafening.

Emma held her breath as she waited for Samuel to speak.

Yet he did not.

He simply jumped to his feet and turned around to walk to the door.

“You are not going out to gather your pistol, are you?”

He opened the door and looked at her. “No, I have a better place to go to. And if you are quite ready, you might wish to come.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, already walking toward him.

“Research, love,” he said with a small smile. “We are going to do proper research.”

---

Emma was surprised that Samuel had access to the Town Registry.

“That man adores my articles,” he whispered to her as they walked down the long aisle of records.

“You have been coming her often?”

“Yes,” he replied. “With fruitless results, of course,” he added, smiling at her. “But now, with what you shared, I now know where to start.”

Emma followed Samuel down the hall, now more curious and excited.

“Wynne Hastings,” Samuel uttered, thinking deeply. “I do not precisely know where, but the Hastings estate is near Cromwell.”

“You truly do not know where he came from?”

“No, not precisely. He does not talk very much.”

“And you have never been curious?”

Samuel stopped suddenly and studied the registry books before him. Emma realized they were in the estate section. “Of course, but I simply thought he did not wish to talk about his family. I assumed he was not in speaking terms with his parents as he never mentioned them.” He carefully inched to the right as he read each spine. Finally, he pulled out one and fished through the pages. “We must hurry before the superior arrives.”

Emma joined him. “What are we looking for?”

“This is the list of all estates starting with the letter H.” He ran his finger down each estate name until he reached the long list of Hastings. “And now, we look for the one near Cromwell.”

“The village near Easton?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his attention mainly on the task at hand.

Suddenly a smile broke Samuel’s lips. His finger stopped at a name. He looked up at Emma. “Now we have a name.”

Emma bent closer and read, Reuben Hastings followed by a word ‘deceased’ and another name, Peter Wynne Hastings .

Samuel snapped the book closed and took Emma’s hand. He guided her down the aisle of books once again and turned to the right in haste. “Now we look into Reuben Hastings and where he bloody came from.

---

Now that they had a name, Samuel found out that it was not hard to track down the roots of the Hastings.

Being led down a correct direction now, he and Emma easily found the proper books to peruse and what they found was indeed very satisfactory.

George Trilby was the patriarch of the entire Trilby family as far as their search went. He was the lord of both Egerton and Wyndam estates as well as Caddington. He later passed the titles to his three sons, Robert, Francis and George II, leaving him with Whiteford. When Francis passed away, Wyndam was passed on to his eldest son, Leopold. His other two estates, Hastings and Thorne, were given to his other sons Reuben and David respectively. Reuben’s name was changed into Hastings from the moment he was born. The name was carried by his only son, Peter. When Reuben Hastings died, his sole heir took over the estate.

“He truly is a Trilby,” Samuel uttered with amazement as he looked down at the chart he and Emma came up with.

“Are we looking at the entire Trilby family tree?” she asked with equal amazement.

“You were correct, Em,” he said, looking at her with a big smile. “The bastard is nephew to the Lord of Thorne.”

“And the Thorne is cousin to Amelia Trilby, the sister of Maxine’s mother.”

“Maxine only has one mother and that is our mother,” he snapped, suddenly irked by the reminder of what Amelia Trilby tried to do to his sister.

“I apologize,” Emma said and Samuel felt a sudden rush of guilt.

“No, I apologize.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You seem to be the frequent receiver of my ire. It is not fair.”

Emma looked at him and he realized she was in agreement. “You are under a lot of strain of late,” was her comment. “Although I do not appreciate the constant change in the mood, I try to understand.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I will make up, I promise.”

“Oh, Sam,” she said with a snort and a shake of her head. “Please do refrain from making promises.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Because I constantly break them?”

She smiled. “You know yourself too well then, eh?”

He scoffed. “And you are the only person I know brave enough to say it so mockingly right to my face.”

Her face broke into a proud smile. “Of course.”

The smile on his face slowly died down as he studied the chart once again. He did not know exactly how he felt, only that he knew the dominant one was betrayal.

He had invited Wynne to many of their family dinners. The bastard had even once carried his niece in his arms! He became friends with his friends!

Emma, noting his grim look, asked, “Should we tell someone else?”

He shook his head. “If we tell your brothers, they will not think and simply grab the bastard and tie him to a chair.”

“Yes, that is precisely what they will do.”

“We cannot have that,” he told her. “He wants to infiltrate the Everards, I am certain of it. They tried to convince Maxine to do the same in the past.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

Samuel shrugged. “We do the same,” he said. “We play his game.”

Emma nodded, blinking her eyes rapidly now. She was thinking. “We have to know what he knows.”

“And we eventually can expose what the Trilbys truly are.” He leaned back into his chair with a satisfied sigh. “The Town can be free of them. The power they hold in the Town Leaders will disappear. And we will be the people to thank for it, Em. Simply imagine that!”

Emma was looking at him blankly and he found it hard to read whether she agreed or not.

She will not be here if she doesn’t, his mind whispered.

“I agree that we play his game, Sam, but I have boundaries.”

“What are they?”

“We do it in a way that we do not turn out worse than them.”

“You are saying we cannot play the dirty game.”

“The foul game,” she nodded. “We have to be rational.”

“Of course.”

“And if things seem to be getting out of hand, we have to tell Margaret and Ralph.”

Samuel was surprised. “You know about Margaret.”

“As you do, obviously.”

He shrugged. “She has asked for my help on several occasions in the past.”

Without more questions, Emma accepted his explanation. He addressed her first statement by saying, “We tell Margaret the moment we feel we have to.”

Satisfied, she nodded. “And how do you suppose we do this? Where do we start?”

Samuel clasped his hands together. “Good question.”

---

Emma took a deep breath before she climbed off her horse.

Once done tethering the mammal to the side, she entered the tent and was welcomed by the sound of dancing and music which she did not realize she missed until she heard them.

A dancer she had grown fond of saw her and waved at her before disappearing to the side of the stage to give way for the next act.

Wynne saw the act and whirled around to find Emma walking toward him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded as she approached.

Emma shrugged. “I changed my mind… and I am on a mission.”

He looked her up and down. And then his eyes locked with hers. “What mission?”

“I am considering writing my own play,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I am here to learn from the best.”

XVII. Know Thy Enemy

Byron would call the entire incident a lucky strike.

Who would have thought that a simple plan to claim a passage would lead him to her?

She became the pawn of the same man the League was trying to destroy.

The challenge now was obvious.

How could one use the pawn against its own king?

-Above and Below

---

The one thing we all ought to question about this horrible form of storytelling is the inconsistency. How could a man-a Leaguer-fancy being in love when the Town is filled with too many important matters to attend to? The mystery and thrill are merely distractions to what the story is truly all about: cheap love.

Surely there are far more sophisticated, well-thought stories out there, stories that do not stray too far away from the truth which is what Above and Below is all about.

It feeds our minds with fantasies. It makes women think that they can do naught but strip their clothes to win the game. What more should men think as well?

And should I say more, the ending is horrible.

Samuel knew that Emma did not like his article, but it had to be done.

“You dislike it,” he commented.

“Of course, I do,” she muttered, folding the paper in half, turning her attention to him. “But Sam, regardless of who wrote Above and Below , it is still a very good story.” Before he could disagree, she added, “For me and many others.”

Samuel shrugged. “But you know why I wrote the article.”

Emma shook her head. “To provoke Wynne, of course.”

“Precisely,” he said with a contented smile. “Now I wonder how he would react.”

Emma gave him a knowing smile. “Sam, Wynne would not even bat an eye.”

“How could you say so?”

She shrugged. “He does not truly care what people think of his work. He is more about delivering his craft for his own satisfaction.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “It seems that you know him better than I do.”

“He is your friend. You ought to know him well.”

“For one, he is no longer a friend, Em. He is a bloody Trilby,” he corrected strongly. “And second, the bastard is too secretive.”

Emma sighed and stared at the clock behind Samuel. She began to stand. “I must go. Mother must be looking for me now.”

He jumped to his feet and went for his coat. “I will escort you back to the manor.”

“Very well,” she said, staring at a book on his study table. “I gave you that book.”

“Yes, and I am thoroughly enjoying it,” he said with a big smile. “See? We still have more in common, Em. Above and Below is merely an exemption.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You may be correct.”

He hoped it was true as well, but he knew there were more things the two of them were discovering about each other. What he feared was that she may not like what she was slowly uncovering.

And worse, that he may feel the same.

For now, he believed that to be unlikely for she was still the Emma Everard he fell in love with.

---

When Emma arrived back in the manor and Samuel left, she found her mother in the playroom with Lindsay and Victoria.

“Aunt Emma!” Lindsay screeched, running toward her. “Come play!”

She let the child drag her to the center of the room where she had made a big circle with her dolls.

“What are we playing?”

“She is telling her friends a story,” Lady Alice said with a smile.

Victoria winked at Emma. “I have heard it countless of times but it is still entertaining.”

Emma chuckled and sat on the floor, making herself comfortable. “Well, go on then.” Lindsay cleared her throat and Emma looked at Victoria. “Where is Levi?”

“Out on a hunting trip with Ralph and Alex.”

“The last time they did, Alex brought home a deer.”

“I pray they can catch something bigger than a hare this time because it might completely ruin their reputation if Alex returned with another deer,” Victoria said with a laugh.

“The two of you should not be entertain Alex’s choice of hobbies,” Lady Alice reprimanded, although she sounded unconvinced herself. “She ought to be sewing.”

“Mother, you are the only woman in this family who sews,” said Emma.

“Agatha sews.”

“Books, mother,” corrected Emma. “She sews old books.”

“Alex sews,” Victoria said. “She patches her riding trousers herself!” She and Emma laughed out loud while Lady Alice covered her face with her hand, moaning, “Oh, goodness gracious!”

“Ehem!” Lindsay uttered, looking displeased that some of her audience were not listening to her tale.

“Apologies, Lady Lindsay,” Emma said with a small bow.

Her niece squared her shoulders and looked around at her dolls with a smile. “And so the prince realized that he is in love with the princess! But the princess has already left with his sisters, crying because she thought he did not love her.”

Emma frowned. “This story sounds quite familiar.”

Victoria snorted. “It is.”

“Hush!” Lady Alice said, full attention on Lindsay.

“So the prince went to get help from his sister-”

“Sisters,” Emma corrected, looking proud.

Lindsay looked confused.

“The other sisters helped as well,” Victoria said to her daughter.

“And he bargained a promise to the two youngest which they can collect in the future,” added Emma.

Lindsay nodded and corrected herself. “So the prince asked for his sisters’ help for a price. They told her the princess is attending a ball. He went, but it was too late.” Lindsay stopped for a short dramatic moment. “The princess was taken by her evil stepmother and trapped her in the castle!”

“Oh, I did not know about this bit,” said Lady Alice clapping her hands once with eagerness.

“And with the help of the other sister, the prince came to the castle where the princess was being held and he drew out his sword!” Lindsay said, putting her fist in the air, drawing out an imaginary sword.

“There was no sword, was there?” asked Lady Alice.

“No,” said Emma and Victoria in unison, shaking their heads.

“The prince climbed up the wall! He rescued the princess from the castle and they jumped off the window!”

“Ah,” Lady Alice said, nodding her head. “This is the part where they forgot about the ladder.”

“And they went away and got married in secret!”

“Oh, God,” Lady Alice groaned, covering her mouth with one hand. “Who told her this story?”

Lindsay got up and went to her grandmother. “Uncle Nick and Uncle Ralph!”

---

Samuel was making his way down the street from the Everard manor, thinking deeply as he passed by the shops.

“My lord!” a voice called out behind him. “Lord Buford!”

Samuel had to stop for not many called him that, and those who did were neither friends nor acquaintances. He turned around and found the least person in the Town to be walking toward him.

No, she was not walking. She was gliding toward him, Samuel thought as he assumed a forced smile.

“How may I be of service to you, Miss Stella?” he asked.

Her blue eyes sparkled as she offered him a smile; one Samuel was beginning to think was only meant for him. Was she being condescending because of his outspoken dislike of the play?

The recent one he wrote must have made her furious. Her golden brown hair seemed to be turning red with it.

But he ought to give her credit for being courageous enough to face him after his harsh article.

“I read your recent article, my lord,” she said in a very soft, controlled voice. She was indeed an actress!

“You did,” he said, studying her face as he added, “I am afraid I cannot apologize for it.”

“Oh, no,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I am not begging for apologies, most particularly from someone so adamant on his opinions.”

“Then should I repeat my question? How may I be of service?”

“Oh, I was thinking I would accompany you on your walk,” she said, and before he could say a word, continued walking. When it seemed he was not following, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

She waited until Samuel forced himself to walk. He looked around and found that a few people were following them with curious gazes.

“Do not mind them, my lord,” Stella Marie whispered. “They are merely curious as to why Stella Marie would be walking alongside the very man who may cause her reputation to come into shambles.”

“I do not mean for that to happen. I never questioned your ability.”

“My talent,” she corrected. “Stripping off my clothes is not one of them, of course,” she said, eloquently phrasing Samuel’s own written words. Before he could correct her, she said, “And yes, of course, how could you judge my performance when you barely saw it.”

Samuel frowned and turned to look at her. She was still smiling, no sign at all of the bitterness laced in her sentence. “Excuse me?”

Stella Marie turned to look into his eyes. “Perhaps you must see the play to its entirety. I noticed you merely went once and at that time you were even late.” She tore her gaze away from his and looked on as they kept to their pace.

He scoffed. “Are you trying to tell me that I am not in the position to give opinions on the play because I merely saw it once and that I was even late?”

“Oh, then you must have read the book for you to say how horrible it is!”

“Of course.”

“Ah, then I do apologize for judging you,” she said. “Although I dislike your recent articles, I am still honored to be walking with someone I once admired.”

“Once?” he could not help but ask.

She nodded. “The article you wrote about your sister was truly remarkable. I must say I even shed a tear! And your battle against the slave trade was quite revolutionary, I must say.”

They continued walking without another word. It was Samuel who could no longer wait so he said, “But? There are more, yes?”

“But,” she said with a nod. Turning her head to look at him again, she said, “But they changed. Your articles, I mean.”

“You are not the first person to have told me that.”

Instead of saying more, Stella Marie stopped outside a shop. “This is my stop, my lord,” she said, giving him a short curtsy. “It was quite nice walking with you.”

“I would have said otherwise, Miss Stella, for it was obvious you were keeping yourself from wringing my neck.”

Her eyes wandered from his eyes down to his throat and she chuckled as she looked back into his eyes. “I was actually enjoying the image of you in the middle of a pyre.” Samuel was stupefied and as though it was not enough, she added, “And I was holding the torch.” Giving him a wink, she said, “Good day, my lord.”

Samuel found himself still standing outside the shop door after she was gone, feeling quite confused. Had he just lost a bloody combat? Because, bloody tarnation, that was what he felt.

Clenching his teeth, he walked away.

If he ever found out that Stella Marie was working for Wynne, Samuel could only imagine what he would do. And if she loved her career, she ought to be smart enough to keep to her acting!

---

Wynne was holding a book, but he was not reading. His mind was elsewhere as he frowned at the pages.

Emma Everard wanted to start writing a play? It was not unimaginable, but at the moment he was inclined to believe it to be illogical. It was a rational reason if she had ulterior motives, but illogical. Why would she want to learn from him ?

A soft knock came and Lawrence entered with a small note.

He reached for it as the butler approached and calmly opened it.

Before reading, he looked at Lawrence. “What are you waiting for?”

“I am waiting for you to share the content of the note, my lord.”

“Remove yourself from the study, Lawrence. I am not in the mood.”

The butler sighed and left.

Wynne looked down at the note and silently read.

Lady Emma came to visit. They stayed inside the master’s study and discussed about Lord Wynne. They believe he is a Trilby. They also discussed the master’s recent article and that he wrote it to provoke Lord Wynne.

Wynne took a long breath and closed his eyes. “Lawrence!” he shouted without opening them. The butler immediately opened the door. Wynne opened his eyes and clenched the note into a ball and threw it across the room.

“What is it, my lord?”

“Send a note of invitation for Lady Emma Everard. Tell her that her first lesson starts today in my study.”

Lawrence blinked his eyes a few times. “Are you certain, my lord?”

“Yes,” Wynne said with a grin. “The game has changed.”

XVIII. Crafting Fiction

She was a great actress, after all, Ellie thought to herself as she packed her bags that night.

When Byron told her of his origins and the place he came from, there was no one best to perform the disbelieving—and eventually the surprised—woman but she.

He bought her act and offered her a trip ‘down’ there.

And she was ready, with the urgings of the old man who seemed to have more to gain than Ellie.

But if she played this right, she would have more.

And Ellie had always wanted more.

-Above and Below

---

“Lady Emma, my lord,” Lawrence announced as he entered the room with Emma behind him. The butler gave him a look of warning and something else that told Wynne he did not like the woman’s presence.

When the man started for the door without even another word, Wynne dryly said, “Are you not going to offer Lady Emma anything, Lawrence?”

“Ah, yes,” the butler said with a forced smile on his lips. “Would you like some water, my lady?”

Emma smiled at the butler. “Water with tea, yes, please.”

Wynne almost laughed at Lawrence’ appalled look. “Very well.”

“And biscuits if you have them as well, thank you, Lawrence.”

“Very good,” Lawrence said through his teeth.

When he finally left, Wynne could see the triumphant smile that curved Emma’s lips.

For some time, he simply observed Emma as she studied the room with her curious eyes.

She was here knowing he was a Trilby. And there was no question that she was playing him. Knowing Emma Everard, she must be thinking his ultimate goal was to cause havoc in her perfect life.

“Did you come here to know my secrets?” he asked.

She stopped her roaming eyes and focused it on his, as though she could see him for who he truly was. Which was apparently quite true , Wynne thought.

“Yes,” she said, walking forward and taking the chair he did not even offer.

With the desk between them, Wynne had the urge to reach out and grab her.

But to do what? Throttle her for making everything complicated? Or kiss her for being so wise and brave?

“Writing a play requires a vast imagination,” he said, straying back to the topic they both knew they had to discuss. “And discipline, of course.”

“I know,” she said with a small smile. “One ought to know what is expected to deliver the best result.”

Wynne shook his head. “You do not merely meet their expectation, Emma,” he said, “You have to surpass it.”

“How?”

He allowed a small smile to slowly curl the corner of his lips. “You attack them with surprises.”

She slowly nodded.

Wynne blinked and looked away with a sigh. “I do not even understand why you would come to me for this,” he wryly said. “You can ask Samuel to teach you these things.”

“He does not write fiction.”

“Are you certain?” he asked, voice challenging.

Emma frowned. “Whatever do you mean? You know what he writes about.”

“Yes, you are correct. I am sorry.”

“You were trying to imply that Samuel’s writings might actually—”

“His writings are naught but opinions, Emma. And opinions tend to play fire with fiction.”

Her beautiful green eyes narrowed. “Are you saying this now because of his articles against Above and Below ?”

Wynne scoffed. “Are you here now because you know he despises the idea of you starting to write your own fiction?” Emma shook her head. “Then are you here for something else?”

She did not provide an answer right away. Her eyes simply stared at him, studying his eyes, his face—his entire expression. She thought she could read him now that she knew his secrets.

But she was wrong.

Wynne was on to her and was willingly playing the game.

“I am here because I know that you would not be too selfish to share your tricks.” Her brow arched. “Are you not?”

“I have too many tricks up my sleeve, Emma,” he said, slowly standing up with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. “Which one would you want to explore first?”

He saw something flash before her eyes but it quickly disappeared.

He smiled and turned around to face his wall of books. “Let us see,” he said, looking up and down. Finally, he reached for a particular book. “Why don’t we start with this?”

He dropped the book before her. She picked it up and frowned. “How to Craft Romance and Make it Real?” She turned the book around. “Is there truly a book like this?”

He shrugged. “Of course. There is also one for mystery—even character development.”

“I think I would appreciate character development more.”

“That is for later.”

She looked up at him. “Why?”

“A character is comprised of too many facets, Emma. Creating one can be quite complicated. There are factors that need to be thoroughly discussed and I am afraid we do not have enough to spare for the time being.”

“What are those?”

He shrugged, looking into her eyes. In a serious voice, he answered her question. “Character history, emotions such as joy, happiness, sadness, grief—and many others that morph a person’s future decisions, ultimately crafting his future,” he said slowly, never letting her go of her gaze. “And then there are others.”

“Which are?”

“Lies, deception,” he said, slowly closing the distance toward them. “You are not ready for them yet.”

She blinked but never looked away. “What if I am?”

Wynne chuckled. “Emma, I’ll know when you are.”

---

Someone was brave enough to write an article against Samuel’s stand on Above and Below. The writer was amongst the famous writers for the Town Herald.

Mr. Gonan did not hide his own opinions about Samuel’s writings, and even wrote, “He is all talk. Why don’t he make his own play rather than just hide behind his inkwells attacking a piece of art?”

Samuel, of course, was furious, for it was the first time someone had publicly went against him.

Although he appeared calm and collected, Emma could sense he was bothered. After all, there were quite a number who were in agreement with Mr. Gonan.

“Be reminded, Sam, that your fight is not with the Town.”

He shook his head. “You do not understand, Em. If the people lose trust in me, how will they ever listen to the words I say in the future?”

“Then I suggest you stop attacking the play, Samuel,”

He scoffed. “Why should I? It is created by a Trilby! They are using the play to manipulate the people. Do you not see, Emma? They think the play is based on true events! They would rather enjoy watching a play than fret over the leadership of the Town! No one dares to discuss the topic of a possible revival of the monarchy!”

“Which is why I am suggesting you stop attacking the play. You are leading the people to a different path rather than point them to the one you wish them to take.”

He scoffed again but said nothing.

“And his family is not aware of his involvement with the play.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Something he has led you to believe, yes?”

Her jaw tightened. Well, Samuel could be correct. Wynne could have led her to believe it, but then she heard his conversation with his uncle. The rest of their family was not aware about Above and Below.

Samuel took a lungful of air and let out a long sigh. “Anyhow, let us stop this argument. We always find ourselves in such dire situations every time we discuss the play.”

“I agree,” Emma murmured under her breath.

“And I am sorry that I easily get angry over it. I just never liked it.”

“You hate it.”

“Yes,” he admitted. A short silence lingered between them. “How has your secret assignment been?”

Emma shrugged. “I came to his home for a writing lesson.”

He showed his surprise by raising his brows. “Did you find something interesting?”

“I did not have the chance to look around. But perhaps in the future, I steal one.”

Samuel was suddenly serious. “You ought to be careful Emma. Send me a note if you decide to return so I will know where to find you if things go awry.”

“Of course. I will not be that stupid to allow such thing to happen.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I will not let the bastard suspect a thing. I try my best to act like his usual friend.” With a small smile, Samuel added, “The bastard will never know I am on to him.”

“I hope it stays the same until we collect enough information. And when that time comes, Sam, we are going to tell Margaret.” When he did not reply, she strongly said, “We are, Same. We are going to tell Maggie.”

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Emma let out a sigh. She could not let this go on for too long as it was getting too burdensome.

---

“And where is Wynne?” asked Ralph.

Samuel looked around the gaming room of Grey’s. He had seen a few familiar faces, but no one else to cause him alarm.

Recently, he had developed a habit of watching everything around him before settling down. He could not trust just anyone after what he and Emma discovered.

“He said he has articles to finish,” he murmured, reaching for his drink. “Are we not going to play?” he asked.

“Not until Levi gets here,” his friend answered.

Samuel watched Ralph as his friend checked his watch. “How is married life?”

With a frown, Ralph turned his attention on Samuel. “Why the sudden question?”

“Because I do not wish to discuss the recent article against me.”

“I was not even aware one was written,” said Ralph with a scoff. “And married life is wonderful. I went on a hunting trip with Alex and Levi. You ought to have been there. She was fearless.”

He chuckled. “I hope she did not destroy your manliness.”

“It is being threatened every single day. But apart from that, I adore being married.” With a meaningful stare, he added, “And I do expect the same thing to happen to my sister.”

Samuel scoffed and shook his head as though Ralph said something outrageous. The man did not have to threaten him for he vowed to make Emma happy.

“You barely have time for Emma. I do not like it,” Ralph said as he reached for his brandy.

“I will try my best.”

Ralph was about to say something again when he stopped, staring at something. Samuel turned his head over his shoulder and found Stella Marie being escorted into Grey’s by a young lord.

He slowly turned to face Ralph. “I am truly amazed that she feels utterly comfortable to be coming to Grey’s as though it is naught but a tea parlor.”

“She is on her way here,” Ralph said, eyes round. “Careful with your words.”

“She will not mind anyway,” Samuel murmured as he sipped his drink.

“My lords,” Stella Marie’s voice greeted. Samuel looked up and found her standing beside his chair. Her hand was deliberately resting on the back of his seat. Was she intimidating him?

“Miss Stella!” Ralph cried, acting surprised and very well pleased. The bastard’s eyes could be seen sparkling with admiration.

“Lord Beechworth,” said Stella, greeting Ralph with a slight curtsy. “I am here with Lord Barne, a dear admirer and friend of mine. Would you like to join us for a game?”

“We are expecting company, Miss Stella,” Samuel said, voice flat.

“Ah, is that so?”

Ralph scoffed, noting Samuel’s ire. And his friend was obviously pleased to be given the chance to irk him further.

“Say, Miss Stella,” started Ralph, “I know you are a very level-headed lady and you respect opinions, but I am utterly curious how you find Samuel’s horrid articles against your play?”

Samuel shot Ralph a murderous look, but not daring to look at Stella Marie.

“I do love honest opinions, my lord, that is true indeed.” Her voice was sweet and too bloody nonchalant that it made Samuel even more uncomfortably angry. “At the very least, Lord Buford does not find my acting horrible.”

Ralph was looking at Samuel’s reaction the entire time with fascination. “Is that so?” He looked up at Stella Marie and added, “But you must know, Miss Stella, that Sam’s opinion does not reflect everyone else’s. My wife is fond of the play as well as his sisters.”

“The story is very refreshing, yes,” said Stella. “The play, after all, was written by a dear friend of mine.”

“Truly! I did not know that.”

“Yes. But before you can dig the information about the writer and director out of me, I must demand that you do not. My friend loves the privacy and anonymity.”

“Which makes it even more interesting! My wife and sisters are quite intrigued with the writer’s identity.”

“An honor I will forever treasure,” Stella Marie said, her voice filled with pride.

“Very well, I shall keep you at peace with the secret,” Ralph said with a slight bow.

“Thank you,” said Stella. “Very well, my lords, I have taken enough of your time. May you enjoy the evening.”

Samuel murmured something close to a goodbye while Ralph stood to respectfully watch the woman leave.

“You disrespectful bastard,” Ralph said with a laugh. “She obviously came to irk you. Have you had a previous squabble before tonight?”

“You can say that,” Samuel admitted nonchalantly.

“I can see my wife in her,” said Ralph. “Alex would be fast friends with her after a few words.”

“Do not pray for that,” said Samuel, his mind already wandering to something else.

The play, after all, was written by a dear friend of mine….

Stella Marie was not merely an actress for Wynne’s play. She was also a friend.

Now, Samuel could not help but wonder how the actress can be useful to him.

XIX. Puzzles

Ellie had to admit that a part of her did not believe in the Town.

But the very moment she took the journey belowground and found that she could breathe, she started to realize her own naivety. And when he took her to the nearest affluent town, she was certain she had stepped into a different world.

“Are you feeling fine so far?” Byron asked her.

She could not find the correct words to say for her tongue seemed to have been left behind aboveground.

All she could do was stare at everything around her.

“Welcome to Wickhurst,” Byron said as the carriage continued down the cobbled road.

Ellie believed she was in one of her childhood fairytales.

-Above and Below

---

Samuel barged into Wynne’s office in the Town Herald carrying flowers.

He stared at the flowers. “Considering they are fresh, they must be expensive.” He lifted his eyes from the flowers to look at Samuel. The man was smiling like he typically would. Wynne knew better now, of course. “I am hoping they are not for me?”

“Emma,” Samuel said, walking closer. “We had a bit of a squabble and I am hoping you can deliver these for me. And please, do try to be friendly, Wynne.”

“Why can you not deliver them yourself to extend your apologies in person?”

“I know her. She would not want to see me today.”

That was a lie.

Wynne sighed. “Very well,” he said, pointing at his table. “Place them over there. I will take them to the Everard manor in an hour.”

Samuel’s smile grew wider. “You are the best friend I can rely on.”

Wynne smiled. “You have always relied on me, so yes, of course I am the best.”

“No doubt, eh?”

Wynne’s gaze did not waver as he offered Samuel a smile. “No doubt.”

Samuel placed the flowers on top of a stack of papers and started to turn away.

“But you are leaving the Herald soon. Which makes you a lousy friend for leaving me behind,” Wynne could not help but add to taunt the man.

Samuel let out a mocking exasperated breath before he asked, “Would you like to join my paper?”

“And be a target for murder?” Wynne asked. “No, thank you.”

“Just as I have thought, you coward.” The statement was delivered in jest, but Wynne read the truth meaning behind it.

“A coward with a brain, my friend,” he said before Samuel disappeared from the door.

---

Wynne rushed home to read the latest note from the Buford servant.

His lordship is currently busy writing letters to associates.

His paper shall be called The Blower.

He crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire before he reached for his coat.

As he was leaving, his eye caught a glimpse of an old box. For a moment, he reconsidered his thoughts.

“Ah, bloody tarnation,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for the box.

“That is a puzzle game you created when you were but seven, my lord,” Lawrence spoke. “I do not think we will both enjoy playing it again. I know it by heart by now.”

“I would rather you play mute, Lawrence,” he told the butler tucked the old box under his arm. “I will return after an hour.”

“Yes, of course, my lord. You have letters from the theatre, by the by.”

“I will look into them in the evening,” he said over his shoulder.

“My lord, the flowers!” Lawrence called after him in the hall.

“Throw them!”

---

Emma frowned at the contents of the box. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“It is,” seconded Wynne.

“Where did you say Samuel found it again?”

“An antique shop, I believe,” he retorted, his eyes never leaving her face.

Emma picked up a wooden piece. “I wonder what this is for.”

“There are instruction cards inside, I believe.” He stood up and said, “I am certain you will find it very simple, but you will have to find someone to play it with.”

She nodded with a smile. “Of course. Will you play with me?”

He shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot. I have somewhere of import to be.”

Her brows rose. “The theatre?”

“No. Home.”

As he started to leave, Emma began to panic. “But when will our next lesson be—”

“Have you finished the book?” he asked.

“Yes. Twice.” She stood, walking to the center of the parlor. “And I have taken notes.”

His eyes went to hers and stayed there for some time. Emma started to fear that he knew something she did not. He ought to be the one to feel it, but why did it seem as if she was the one being trapped? And in her own home!

“I will call for you soon, Emma, fret not.”

Her heart started to race against her chest when he said he would call for her.

She swallowed and nodded. “Very well…” She offered a small curtsy. “Soon, then.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

---

“This game puzzle’s very interesting, I tell ye!” Alex said, moving a piece over the wooden board. In her other hand she was holding five cards. “Now, I’ll throw a card, aye?” When Emma did not respond, Alex snapped her fingers. “Oi, Emma!”

She blinked and her mind returned to the game at hand. “Sorry,” she murmured. “My mind was drifting.”

“Quite often nowadays,” her sister-in-law noted, stealing her a glance before studying the cards in her hand. “I’ll throw a card, aye?”

“Did you move your piece?’

“Aye.”

“Well, then, yes, throw a card.”

Alex threw one and Emma reached out to read it. She bit her lower lip. “This is somewhat tricky.”

“Which is why I threw it. Can’t figure out how te use it.”

Emma snorted and picked another card from the side. “Move two slots to the left if you have the wizard card. Five to the right if you have none.” Emma moved her wooden piece five slots to the right and threw a card which Alex picked up with a groan.

“We are moving in circles, Emma.”

“Which is why we have to solve these puzzles,” she said, pointing at another board. “I need to know which card to pick to get out of the circle.”

“We’ve only answered one,” Alex pointed. “We’re trapped.”

Emma shook her head. “Not until we have gone through the entire deck,” she said.

Alex shook her head. “Yer the only one enjoyin’ this.”

Emma laughed and leaned against her chair. “Ah, I wish Benedict is here.”

“Aye. That brother of yers will surely enjoy this,” Alex said. “I’m ’bout te give up ’ere. Where’s Mother ’n tea? I’ll need brandy instead.”

“Give up on what?”

Emma and Alex looked up to find Samuel walking toward them.

“Very good! Yer ’ere!” Alex exclaimed, pushing herself from her chair. “Ye play with ’er, milord. I’ll go find Mother,” she added, dashing toward the open door.

“Your favorite brandy is in the study,” Emma said after her sister-in-law and chuckled when she saw Alex turn to the direction of the study. She was about to thank Samuel for the puzzle, but stopped short when he heard his question.

“What is this?” asked Samuel, taking the chair Alex vacated.

Emma frowned. “A puzzle game.”

“It looks interesting. How do you play it?” he asked, picking up Alex’s wooden piece.

Emma blinked.

Samuel looked at her. “Did you get my flowers? I asked Wynne to deliver them two days earlier.”

“No, I did not get the flowers,” she honestly replied.

“The bastard,” he said with a scoff. “He is playing us. But fret not. We shall make our move during the Theobald party.”

Emma chose to not comment for she had heard of Samuel’s plans for the Theobald weekend party. What she was wondering at the moment was why Wynne would replace the flowers with the game. And why did he not tell her it was from him?

---

When five days had passed and not a single note arrived from Wynne, Emma decided to take matters in her own hand and rode all the way to Ulric.

When she arrived, it was strangely quiet. When there ought to be the usual sounds of dancing and counting, there was just quiet.

She entered the tent and found three dancers talking to each other.

“Milady!” they exclaimed, both surprised and pleased to see her there. “No practice today, but he’s in his office.”

Emma talked with them for quite some time, asking how things were, and realized they were hiding something. She could feel from the way they were hesitant to share something.

She left them to find Wynne in his study.

“Come in,” his voice said from inside the room after she knocked twice.

“Emma,” he said, looking at her with a frown. “Whyever are you here?”

“You said you would call for me,” was her nonchalant reply, taking the seat opposite him. “You must have forgotten.”

“I did not forget,” he said, dark eyes boring into hers.

For some reason, her heart began to race from those simple words. “Then you must have been busy.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “As you can see, we have no practice today.”

“Because?”

“Jordan quit.”

The news took her by surprise. “But why?”

He shrugged. “He does not like the articles Samuel has recently been writing. He is afraid they might ruin his reputation.”

“The play saved it!”

“We cannot blame him, really. He cannot afford to fall once more.”

“Then how are you going to solve this? Do you not have a play this Saturday?” She stopped and glared at him when he simply chuckled. “What seems to be amusing? Your play is within a few days and you have no main actor!”

“Emma, fret not,” he said with a smile. “We can always find a replacement.”

“Not in a few days, you will not!”

“Trust me,” was his only reply.

Emma pursed her lips and forced herself to stop. Why was she even reacting this way? She was supposed to be glad that he would have his hands full. She ought to be satisfied that his theatre was falling apart because for what he and his family could be planning against the Everards, he surely deserved it.

Her jaw tightened.

“Whyever are you here, Emma?”

His tone was serious and the smile on his lips disappeared. “You know why,” she snapped. “I am expecting to learn from you.”

“I mean, why do you keep showing up in the theatre?”

“Why? Do you consider my presence a nuisance?”

“More of a distraction,” he retorted as soon as she finished asking her question.

Emma caught her breath. She blinked a few times. She felt a tingling run down to her fingertips and she closed her hands into fists to numb them.

“You appear angry,” she noted.

“No, simply irritated.”

“Why?”

Wynne shrugged. “You know why.”

She shook her head. “No, I honestly do not know why.”

His eyes held hers for a few more seconds. “Your very presence here irritates me.”

“We have already established that. So why?”

He scratched his head, looking uncomfortable. “Because you ought not be here.”

“Well, you know why I am here, Wynne.”

“Yes, but you ought not to be here alone.”

“Whatever do you mean—”

“I mean that your bloody fiancé ought to shackle you to his side, Emma. He should not let you come anywhere near any other man.”

“That is extreme even for you, Wynne. You know I like my freedom.”

He stared at her without saying a word.

“You have more to say.”

“Yes.”

“What is it? Tell me. I would not take offense.”

“I simply wish you are more careful,” he said, surprising her. “It irritates me to see that you are getting quite comfortable around me and everyone else in this theatre.”

“Should I have reasons not to be?”

“Yes, most definitely.”

She scoffed. “Please. You are not capable of doing anything harmful.”

His smile was both dark and unnerving. “Is that a challenge I hear in your voice, my lady?”

“Is there something dark you are capable of then, my lord?”

Instead of answer her question, he asked, “Have you learned many things from the book I gave you?”

“I have from the puzzle you gave me.”

His brows cocked high and the corner of his lips lifted in a smile. “I made that puzzle.”

“I am impressed. By yourself?”

“Thank you. Yes, when I was bored and had to think of another way to entertain myself.”

“Why did you give it to me?”

He shrugged. “I just thought you would find it better than the flowers.”

“And where are the flowers?”

“You ought to ask my butler, Lawrence.”

Emma sighed and shook her head. “Samuel will not appreciate what you did.”

“Then, as I have said, he ought not to let you out of his sight.” He stood up and looked down at her. “I will call for you, Emma.”

She got the message and stood up. “At the very least, send another book for me to study.”

“Do you not have a wedding to plan for?”

Emma stiffened at the reminder.

Wynne saw it and sighed. “I will see what I can do.”

He guided her to the door and opened it. He did not step aside and Emma felt the same tingling sensation when her arm brushed against his coat.

She swallowed, forcing her feet to take the steps away from him.

As she left, she prayed for all of these to be over.

XX. Act II

Byron faced the highest in the rank of the League of Founders and they had none but one question: How is she of any use?

He smiled before replying.

“She does not know it yet, but she will lead us to the person she serves.”

“And how do you suppose she will do that?”

His smile merely widened. “A woman in love will do naïve things.”

-Above and Below

---

Emma came because she was curious.

The theatre was even more crowded tonight as it had merely been two days since the news that Jordan Smith walked out of the theatre, leaving his role vacant.

She knew that majority of the guests tonight were merely present out of curiosity.

Who would be the new actor?

She settled in her seat with Alex beside her. The woman decided to come along to escape Ralph’s overprotective tendencies because of her delicate state.

“He ought to be protective. You are almost showing, Alex. And you still drink,” Emma whispered to her sister-in-law.

“Nae, I don’t. I only make ’im think I do.”

She frowned. “But you do drink.”

“Nae, I don’t.”

“Truly?”

“Aye.”

“Then why do you make us think you are? What for?”

“Oh, te spice things up between with yer brother. He is rather adorable when irked.” Alex retorted with a chuckle. “Ye’ll understand when yer married.”

Shaking her head, Emma searched the audience for a sign of Wynne. He was not around and it was understandable. He must have his hands full. He had something to prove to the people tonight. The play would still be a success despite Jordan Smith’s absence.

The lights dimmed and the remaining guests who were still standing clamored to their seats. Emma went quiet in anticipation.

The first act was the same as the countless ones she saw, but a few things had changed that made it interesting to watch again, as though it was her first time.

Finally, when the act for Byron Glocheshire started, Emma swore she also felt the crowd’s bated breath as they waited to see if it was worth coming tonight.

She could not see who the new actor was for like Jordan and many other actors, his face was painted.

But she did not have to see the face for his very movement gave him away. And when he started to sing, Emma knew she need not hear him speak for she recognized the voice.

All of a sudden, she felt a terrible discomfort.

Why?

She ought to have known by now that Wynne could act and sing. She had seen him demonstrate acts to Jordan in the many times she observed their practice sessions.

But it was different.

Now, there were hundreds of eyes looking at him, judging his performance. Now, he was the center of attention.

She mentally poked herself for actually fretting over how people would find Wynne’s acting.

But it was apparent she need not be bothered at all for she could hear the sigh of approval and satisfaction around her. And as she did, she bit her lips to fight a smile.

“He ain’t bad,” whispered Alex beside her. “He brings a different feel,” she added.

Emma could only nod as her mind drifted to the next act. This would be where Byron and Ellie would seduce each other.

And just as she began to think of it, Stella Marie entered together with the other dancers. Wynne was in the middle of the stage and she started to sashay closer, singing a melody that still enticed the gentlemen in the crowd.

When they got closer and started to dance, looking into each other’s eyes, Emma felt the same uncomfortable feeling at the pit of her stomach. And when finally, the two started to slowly end their dance, the feeling of being wrapped in Wynne’s embrace and breathing the same air he was while trapped in his dark, strong gaze, returned to Emma.

The same thing was happening on the stage, just as Wynne wanted it—just as he taught everyone.

The next act would be even worse, Emma thought.

“’Tis the part they kiss, aye?” Alex whispered beside her.

Again, she merely nodded, her jaw tight as she internally fought. Why was she reacting this way?

Wynne reappeared dressed in a different costume. Stella turned to him and the two of them slowly met at the center of the stage, the lights behind them getting dimmer with little ones twinkling above like distant stars.

And just as the lights completely disappeared, Wynne claimed Stella’s lips in a kiss.

Just as he had instructed in the practice sessions.

Just as Emma saw Jordan do the same with Stella in the other nights she watched the play.

But it was not just as she expected herself to react.

The feeling almost made her stomach churn until her throat felt like it was about to close on her. She clenched her fists, fighting the unnamed emotion. And that was what she would rather it be—unnamed. She did not want to delve into it, even think about it.

What she wanted to do now was go home.

But she could not do so. Alex would wonder and Wynne… well, what would the bastard think then?

No, she would stay.

In fact, she would stay longer even after the play to congratulation him on his stage debut!

---

Emma did not have to argue with Alex when she asked her sister-in-law to go on home without her.

With a simple reminder that she ought to be home before everyone else was awake and that if she ever encountered any bandit on the road, she had to tell them Alex’s name. “If it doesn’t werk, then give ’em yer jewels and go peacefully,” Alex further added.

Emma waited until the crowd had dispersed before she went to find Wynne.

“Did you enjoy?” Stella asked when she passed by the back of the stage.

“Yes,” she lied.

“He is in his office,” Stella told her, already walking away. “And please, do tell him we need a real actor soon!”

She smiled before she knocked on Wynne’s office door. When no reply came from inside, she tried the knob and found that it was not locked. Turning it, she pushed the door open and entered the room.

“My apologies!” she cried when she found him shirtless in the middle of the room, wiping the paint off his face with a cloth.

He stopped what he was doing, clearly surprised. When he finally recovered and blinked, Emma cleared her throat and took another step forward, determined not to be distracted by his almost-naked state.

“Were you surprised?” he nonchalantly asked, continuing with his task, his eyes looking at hers.

“Yes, of course,” she admitted, trying to sound unaffected.

“Did you like my performance?” he asked with a grin.

She realized his hair was damp with sweat and had fallen over his forehead. He threw the cloth away and proceeded to the washstand at the corner of the room where he started to wash his face with water.

He stopped to look over his shoulder at her. “I was thinking you would be bothered by some acts,” he said before he continued to lather his face with soap.

Emma scoffed, her eyes seemingly interested on how the muscles of his back moved as his hands worked. “You mean the kisses.”

She saw his bare shoulders move as he silently laughed.

His arm reached back and he said, “Pass me the clean cloth, will you?” When Emma started to reach for the cloth he threw earlier, he added without looking, “And dare not give me the soiled one. I know what you are thinking.”

She rolled her eyes and found another cloth sitting on the chair across his table. She took it to him.

He straightened and turned around, wiping his face dry. As he did so, Emma’s eyes went to his abdominal area. They bunched as he moved.

She had to admit the man was physically attractive. Why he would choose to hide it behind his oversized coats was a question she no longer bothered to find an answer to.

“They made you uncomfortable then,” he said, showing her his clean face. “The kisses.”

Emma looked at him incredulously. “Why do you even believe I am bothered? Why should I?” She shook her head. “And may I tell you now before you even ask, that I came to see the play not because I am interested on who the actor would be. I came to see it because I like it.”

“You like it,” he stated, doubt in his words.

“Yes, of course. It dares to tackle the conspiracy in a subtle way—would you please put on a shirt for decency?” He laughed and obliged, grabbing a clean white shirt neatly laid out on the chair beside Emma. She did not miss his warmth when he walked by. She sighed. “The love story is merely a cover, but deep into it I know you are trying to convey what the League and many others are hiding.” Her eyes followed his hands as he buttoned his shirt. “And as I have said before, I want to know how you do your magic tricks. They are different every time.”

Wynne merely smiled and sighed as he finished dressing. He still looked rumpled, but at the very least he was decent. “Whatever you say, Emma.”

Emma forced a smile on her face. “Well then, I should get going. I merely came to tell you that you did well tonight.” She walked to the door, adding, “And Stella begs that you find a real actor very soon.” When she heard him laugh, she could not help but add, “She does not seem to like the kiss either.”

---

Samuel came by that afternoon for a quick tea with Emma.

When Lady Alice left them to oversee that day’s dinner, he quickly switched the topic from traveling to Sheills to what he intended to find out. “Well?” he whispered to Emma. “What is Wynne doing?”

“I do not know what he is doing today. I am not his butler, Sam,” she calmly replied.

“I meant to ask what he has been up to of late, Emma,” he said.

She frowned. “Have you had not enough time last night?” When he shook his head, she sighed dramatically in jest. “And I thought I bought you enough time.”

“Two of his footmen had been walking around the estate. The two men I hired did not have a chance to even find a bloody window.”

Emma sighed. “We do not talk about anything other than the play, Sam.”

He showed his frustration by muttering curses under his breath. “I am not cursing you,” he clarified to Emma who smiled in understanding.

“You must be cursing yourself then.”

“Yes, in part,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair.

She reached for his hand and looked into his eyes. “Sam, you know we have people to go to…”

“Yes, of course, but we have to tread this carefully, Em. We cannot have any of the Trilbys running back to safety the moment they realize the League is on to them. Margaret would most definitely go to her superiors and they would take actions. If they get caught, it would be too late. The Trilbys would once more find a way to hide in plain sight.”

“I understand. But you promised, Sam. The moment things get out of hand, we go straight to Maggie.”

“Yes.”

He checked the time.

“Are you going somewhere else?”

He nodded and stood up. Bending down to plant a kiss on her head, he said, “I will see you soon, love.”

Emma nodded with a smile. “I will tell Mother you had to go home early.”

“Please, do.” He paused when he remembered something. “By the by, are you already preparing for the Theobald party?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. Mother would not miss it for the world.”

He smiled. “Good.”

---

When he reached home, he immediately called for two of his footmen.

The men entered his study.

“Well?” Samuel impatiently asked.

“The actress frequents a café near Grey’s, milord,” said one. “They said she enjoys the tea there with some other actors from the play.”

“And after? Where did she go?”

“Oh, she returned to her accommodation at Ulric, milord.”

“She truly spends her days there?” he asked quite incredulously.

“She does, milord.”

“And when she is not in Ulric?”

“She is having tea, milord.”

“And when she is not having tea?” he asked, his jaw tight with impatience.

“Well, she goes to Grey’s, milord.”

“That is all you found out?”

“She grew up at a village near Hastings, milord. Apart from that, we know nothing else.”

Samuel sighed. He dismissed the footmen and leaned back against his chair.

The actress frequents a café near Grey’s…

Samuel checked the time. People would still be having tea by now.

He grabbed his coat, intending to chance upon an actress in a café.

XXI. Interviews

Ellie attended her first ball in the Town.

She had been to many parties aboveground, but nothing similar to this one.

People actually danced. Curtsies were actually done.

And lords and ladies actually did exist, all flirty with merely their eyes.

She realized how a brush of a hand could be more stimulating last night when she and Byron attended an opera. She genuinely enjoyed last night and the ball she was currently in.

But somehow, people were wary of her. Despite wearing a new gown and despite Byron’s cover story of her being his betrothed from a small village where her family owned a large estate, she knew she still did not pass the invisible standard of the elite.

Well, not that she did mind, really.

She was not going to stay here for long.

The old man who was standing merely a few paces away from her told her so himself.

If she could do what she came here to do, she would be back aboveground with more wealth and power than before she came down.

-Above and Below

---

“I believe he will soon make a move,” Samuel said, breaking the peaceful silence of the Everard parlor.

Emma looked up from the book she was reading. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I simply have a feeling.”

“And how do you suppose he will make a move? What move could it be?” She wanted to know the answer for she could not think of any way Wynne could stir anything within the Everards. The very reason why he—or his family—would want to is even vague.

“That is what we intend to find out, is it not?” Samuel’s eyes narrowed as he thought deeply. “He wants to worm into the Everards, thus he must find a way to be with the other members. He had been doing it for quite some time now. Your brothers may even consider him a friend if they are kind enough.” He then paused and looked at Emma.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Yet,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “it seems that you are the only one he is interested in.”

“Because I am your fiancée, that is why.”

“Which is why we must feed him more.”

“More what? More chance to execute their plans?”

Samuel nodded.

“I do not like that. It would be best if we stop him in time.”

“No, he must show his true colors because we know that the Trilbys would never be caught unless they are caught in action.”

“He is too complicated, Sam. For all we know, he would have too many facets that we’ll find ourselves unarmed. I still do suggest we allow Margaret to do the proper investigation.”

Samuel only shook his head. They had been through this argument before. It always ended with Emma wanting to involve Margaret and the League of Founders. He was fine with Margaret, but he was not certain he could trust the rest of the League.

He found Emma looking at him, a quizzical look on her face. “Are you not bothered that Wynne is getting too close to me?”

He scoffed, finding the question incredulous. “You know better, Em. He may get close to you, but he could never win your heart. No one would fall for that bastard. And you are mine now. Why would you be swayed?” When Emma remained silent, he sighed and added, “You are a smart woman who knows what she wants. I know you will soon come up with the answers. I am waiting for you to acknowledge that you love me more than you like me.”

“I do appreciate your patience,” she said, her lips forming a soft smile. But something in it did not settle well with Samuel. He ignored it, knowing Emma was simply bothered by too many issues at the moment.

“I am done being silent, Emma. I will tell you I love you whenever I get the chance. And I am confident you will soon do so as well.”

When she did not reply, he decided to change the topic. “I already invited Wynne to the Theobald weekend ball.”

Her brows rose. “And?”

“Of course, the bastard said yes,” he supplied with excitement. “He would be away from his estate for a few days and we will have more time to penetrate the place.”

Emma seemed not to have any comment and remained silent. The door to the parlor opened and Jefferson came in carrying a small note.

“This was sent for you, my lady,” the butler said, handing Emma the note.

“Is it from him?” Samuel asked when Jefferson left the parlor.

Emma unfolded the note and nodded.

Sam inched forward in anticipation. “What does it say?”

She looked at him. “He wants me to come to the theatre this afternoon.”

Samuel jumped to his feet. “Then you ought to go now. We want him to think you are eager to be in his presence. Feed his ego, Emma.”

He grabbed his coat and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Do be careful. I shall come by your room tonight to see if you have arrived safely.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“A café!” he replied. “To meet a dear friend.”

---

“Why are we hiding behind a curtain and in the dark?” Emma whispered to Wynne.

He leaned closer to whisper near her ear, “I cannot afford to be recognized.”

“By whom?”

“The applicants,” he replied, crossing one leg over the other, completely at ease in his position.

Emma, on the other hand, was very uncomfortable.

“Then who is doing the interview on your behalf?”

“Stella, of course,” he said. “She is currently in a foul mood. She has an important place to go to this afternoon but she is stuck doing my job.”

“Yet she is fine with that,” she commented before she could stop herself.

“Of course. My success is her success.”

They waited in silence for a few minutes before they heard footsteps from the other side of the curtain.

“Good afternoon,” Emma heard Stella say, followed by the man’s greeting. “I am sorry, sir, but I believe I have to decline your application. Thank you and good day.”

Emma and Wynne turned to look at each other before they both leaned forward and peeked through the curtain flap.

“What is the matter—” Wynne started but Stella stopped the rest of his words by interjecting, “He is too short for me to kiss.”

Emma and Wynne leaned back, contented with the reason.

“And why am I here?”

“You wanted to learn, did you not?” he replied.

“Yes, but not from behind a curtain.”

“Listen to Stella’s questions as the interview goes on. The best way to find another actor is to allow one of them to join the casting. They will be working together for a long time and it is necessary that they both have the same view of the story.”

Emma nodded.

Another actor came in and this time, he stayed much longer. When done with the introductions, Stella began her questioning. “What do you think about Ellie’s betrayal?”

The actor cleared his throat. Emma and Wynne listened intently. “She deserved what happened to her after what she did—”

“Thank you for your time,” Stella interrupted.

Emma frowned. “Why did—”

“She is asking the questions as Ellie McPhee. And she is looking for an answer from Byron himself.”

“Then what ought to be the correct answer?”

Wynne shrugged. “Ask Ellie McPhee,” was his simple reply. When she continued to stare at him with confusion, he smiled. “You have to let your characters think for themselves, Emma. You created them, yes, but they are their own person the very moment you introduced them to the story.”

They heard Stella let out a sigh before she loudly said, “This is an utter waste of my afternoon, Wynne. The next actor is late.”

“But he could be Byron,” Wynne replied.

Stella accepted the argument and excused herself to get a glass of water before the next actor arrived.

Emma turned to Wynne. “Are you attending the Theobald weekend ball?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. She already knew that.

“How are you friends with Stella?”

When he did not answer right away, Emma turned to him and found that he was looking at her. She moistened her lips and leaned away an inch, her heart starting to race against her chest. It must be the heat of the enclosed space.

“Her father was a prominent figure in the village near our estate. The man was friends with my father and he often brought Stella along with him. We played together as children.”

Emma nodded. If he was to be believed, then it was indeed true that Stella was loyal to him. She was a friend.

Emma reached for the curtain and peeked outside. Stella’s chair was still empty, but she could hear some voices outside. The actor must have already arrived.

“Do you have nothing to do at home?” Wynne asked behind her. She looked over her shoulder. He was still looking at her. Half of his face was shadowed. Just like his true self, Emma thought.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“You came to me immediately after I sent the note.” She blinked in disbelief. Came to me? No, she came to the theatre, not to him! Before she could start her argument, he dared add, “You do not seem to be interested in wedding Samuel at all, Emma, considering you do not appear to be someone who is planning a wedding.”

What was he trying to do now? Why was he doing this? How did he want her to react? The questions were endless, but the answers were lesser than none.

“You do not know a lot of things to offer judgment,” was all she could manage.

His brows cocked. “Oh, but I do.”

“You know a lot of things about me? How so?”

“No, I simply know a lot of things. I have been through enough to know the extent of people’s deviousness and kindness, for one.” He cocked his head toward the curtain. “Which is perhaps why my play is a success. I see through everyone’s lives.” Emma swallowed. She was seeing a different side of him again. And he was provoking her. But what for? Why? Why the sudden change of mood? Why did she see a tinge of anger in his eyes? “Have you?” he asked her. “Have you been through enough, Emma? Seen enough to write your own story?”

“Not to a point,” she murmured, eyes locked with his. “But I have witnessed how hope overflows in times of despair. It is a powerful thing and it naturally comes to people. I can start from there. Every story has a story of hope.”

“Just as you hope that your decision to wed Samuel is actually the proper thing to do, albeit not entirely the right one.”

Her jaw tightened. She was getting angry. “I know it is the right thing to do.”

“Because you’ve been found in bed with him?”

Her face flushed and just as when she was about to explode, he chuckled. “Samuel did not have to tell me the details for me to know, so do not be ashamed, Emma. Not when you barely remember anything from that night.”

She stiffened. “How did you—”

“A man who can manage to give a woman a memorable night can manage to make her say yes the very next morning.”

“What?” she cried incredulously. “I am not like those women!”

His gaze grew darker as his eyes traveled down her lips. “Perhaps you have never been truly loved, Emma.”

“Samuel—”

“Samuel loves the beauty of your mind. But has he ever told you how he loves you as a woman?” Emma could not even swallow for her throat had gone dry. And her heart seemed to have stopped. Wynne leaned closer and merely stopped when their nose were merely an inch apart. “Has he ever showed it?”

She lied, “Yes.” Lying was her best weapon at that point.

But it was clear that he did not believe her. “I can do it,” he shamelessly said. “With utter confidence.” When Emma flushed with irritation and something else, he laughed. “I am merely jesting, Emma.” His laughter died as he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You are sweating.”

She brushed his hand away. “Because it is hot in here,” she snapped, turning away from him. “And don’t you dare make advances on me, Wynne Hastings, because I know—” she stopped when they heard footsteps coming back into the room.

“You know what?” he whispered beside her.

Emma ignored him and listened as another set of footsteps followed the first one.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Stella.

“That is not the welcome I was expecting, Stella,” a man’s voice replied.

Both Emma and Wynne moved forward and peeked through the small gap of the curtains. A handsome young man was standing in the middle of the room.

“Do you truly think you will be welcome here?” Stella demanded.

“Well, you are the actress, not the director,” said the man, looking around. His blonde hair seemed to make him glow under the light above him.

“You are not an actor. Go away, Sandre.”

The man smiled as his eyes focused back on Stella. “It is nice to hear you call me by that name.”

“Please, go before I call for the footmen.”

“I was hoping to be interviewed.”

“I said, you are not an actor. Remove yourself from here!” was Stella’s angry outburst.

The man held up his hands. “I shall for today, but you cannot run away from me forever, Stella. And your dear protector cannot protect you forever.”

“Oh, believe me—I can run away from you forever because that is how desperate I am. Now, go.”

The man looked around the room. “The pay must be tremendous for you to stay here this long. You must be keeping him happy if he is this willing to keep you.”

Stella did not offer a word.

“Very well, I will see you some other time. Now that I know where you’ve been hiding…”

Stella turned and opened the curtain widely, surprising Emma. The sudden burst of light was not as blinding as the rage in Stella’s eyes. “I am done for today,” she announced to Wynne before sharply turning away to leave the room.

“What happened?” Emma found herself asking, still quite surprised by the sudden turn of events. “Who was that man?”

Wynne seemed unperturbed as he stood and guided Emma to do the same by holding her hand. “You mean that man?”

“Yes, who is he—”

“Ah, he is Stella’s fiancé.”

Emma’s eyes went wide. “Fiancé?”

Wynne nodded, the corner of his lips twitching. “You are not the only one who is set to marry the man she does not love.”

XXII. The Game Begins at Theobald

“Put this in his study.”

Ellie took the sealed paper handed to her and frowned. “What is this?”

The old man smiled. “Let us say it is your passage back to your world.” He tilted his head to the side, giving her a cryptic look. “You do want to go back, yes?”

“O-of course,” she replied.

“Then do make certain that letter finds its way into Lord Glocheshire’s study.”

---

Ysabella and her husband, Wakefield, were returning from their walk when they saw the entry of two more carriages. Samuel was with them as Emma and Lady Alice had not yet arrived from Wickhurst.

Since that morning, the Theobald estate had lost its peace and quiet as guests started arriving for the famous weekend party.

“Is that Stella Marie?” Ysabella asked.

Wakefield and Samuel stopped in their path and turned toward the grand entrance of the mansion.

There was no mistaking that the golden-haired woman clad in a striking green gown was the actress herself. Along with her were a footman and a maid.

“I wonder who invited her?”

Samuel kept the smile from his lips as he shrugged. “Surely my mother.”

Ysabella laughed, tauntingly adding, “Oh, this party is filling up with your enemies, Samuel.”

“She is no enemy.”

“Oh, but I am certain she treats you as hers after all the articles.”

“I will agree,” Wakefield said, taking his wife’s hand in his to continue their walk. “With the wife, of course.”

Samuel did not comment and followed the couple from behind. He took one last look of the actress and smiled.

Ah, this was going to be a wonderful party.

---

Wynne looked around the ballroom, not even bothered that he had to act as Wynne Hastings. Everyone had already created their own little worlds with their friends. The men were crowded in many places, talking about politics and controversies they pretended to have knowledge of. The women were whispering in each other’s ears or behind their fancy fans, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next wherever their current subject may be.

Others danced, flirting with their eyes and light touches.

There were others like the Everards as well who were as united as always, standing in one large crowd with the Theobalds, the host of this yearly weekend ball. Soon, each member would disperse. Some of the men would disappear into the gaming rooms, the ladies to wherever the best players of the pianoforte would be.

Other guests would be on a tryst with their lovers—mainly in the gardens or the plantation close by.

Marcus Durley was also in attendance. As a rising star amongst the gentry, he was becoming a constant presence in large parties such as this one. His eyes met Wynne’s for a second before he looked away to join a group of lords. One could never know with Durley, Wynne had always thought. The man was too shady and too cunning, even for the Trilbys.

Stella was also there and he was not even surprised. He suggested she come for they were both uncomfortable that she stayed in Ulric or Wickhurst alone for Sandre to bother.

His cousin, Edmund, was the only person who knew of his identity who dared approach him. The young man nonchalantly stood beside him and Wynne murmured under his breath, “What are you doing here, Eddie?” His eyes went to Emma and Samuel who were dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

“You know why I am here,” said Edmund. Wynne’s eyes traveled to where the Everards were gathered. He saw Lady Margaret and her husband, Lord Devitt, standing beside Lady Alice. There was no sign of their children.

“How is the girl?” he asked Edmund.

“Growing up very well,” Edmund said, motioning his head to the opposite side of the room. “The Haverstons are here, if you must know.”

“I do not intend to hurt your precious angel, Eddie, so bloody calm down. Do not threaten me with the Haverstons.”

“You know I cannot calm down when I do not know why you are here. Your presence is confusing. What do you expect me to do? Stay in the old estate and fear my father’s ghost instead of dealing with the actual ones?”

“Work,” was all he said. “I am here for work.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Edmund’s jaw tighten and merely nodded. Wynne refused to say more. The less the young man knew, the better.

“You know I do like you, Wynne, but should anything happen to Fiona, you will face me.” Wynne rolled his eyes. Ah, he did not wish to hear such drama tonight. “I may be far younger and inexperienced than the lot of you, but I will grow up. You would not want me to grow up vengeful of my own family, yes?”

Now quite irked, Wynne focused his eyes on Emma as she focused hers on Sam while saying to Edmund, “I knew it was you who rescued her and you know that I know. Have I ever told anyone?

“No, but you are here to watch the Everards. She is one of them now, Wynne.”

For a moment, Wynne wondered how much about the Everards did Edmund know. Did the boy know who the Leaguer was amongst them? But he brushed it aside. Surely, Edmund could not know. “And you are here for the girl,” he said instead. “You are here to see that your dear Fiona remains oblivious of her father’s secrets. Has she remembered anything?”

“No.”

“Then I hope it remains that way.” He started to turn away. “I am not here to bother the girl, Eddie. I am here because of someone else. So please, stop approaching me.”

“Wynne—”

“We both know opening our mouths will lead to disasters. You do not talk, I do not talk. You trust me and I will protect your secrets.” He checked his watch. “I also believe Ezra is here. A great wonder how the bastard acquired an invitation. Best you find that man and enjoy the party.” Before finally walking away, he reiterated, “Stop approaching me for your own bloody good.”

---

Emma was not surprised when Wynne stayed by her side when Samuel deliberately left them to talk to some friends. She knew most of them as they were also chummy with his brothers, but she had no desire to be in their midst as she believed they were talking about politics and how to bring down Noah Trilby.

Her mother was quite busy roaming around the ballroom with Lady Theobald. The two ladies invited her to stay with them but she refused, knowing full well they would try to convince her that it was time for her to set a date.

Her sisters were with their husbands somewhere in the vast estate. Alex, for one, was playing faro with Ralph in one of the gaming rooms.

And here she was, standing beside the man her fiancée wanted her to spy on. But what else could she be able to take from Wynne Hastings? Surely, Samuel’s men already found something in his estate by now.

Earlier she glanced upon him when she was dancing with Samuel and realized he was talking to a young man who she later realized was Edmund Trilby, the only one from that horrid family that was welcome amongst the Everards for he had already proven himself to be different. He had saved Fiona when no one else would.

Edmund did seem distressed after a short conversation with Wynne who had remained calm and unreadable.

Her silent thoughts were shattered by the heavy sigh he released beside her.

“Are you ever tired of this kind of life?” she asked him.

It took a while before he asked, “The pretending?”

Emma’s heart started to race against her chest. “Yes.”

“Of course. Going to these balls drains my energy. I hate pretending to be less of a man.”

She scoffed. “Yet you endure it.”

“I do also like acting, as you already know. And it does protect my true identity.”

“Ah, your true identity…” she said with a smile. “The great gossip writer and novelist. And play director.”

“Yes.”

“I would not be surprised if you turn out to be another person.”

“Of course you will not be,” he replied.

She looked up and their eyes met. He blinked and looked away, scanning the entire ballroom. “I will be going away soon and this kind of life is one I will never miss.”

Emma froze. “You are going away? To where?”

A mysterious smile curled one corner of his lips. “My father’s solicitors are arranging for the sale of the estate. And I am going to use the money to finance a traveling theatre.”

A sense of panic, of apprehension, came over her. “You mean to say that the theatre will not stay long in Ulric?”

He smiled and looked at her. His face was telling her she ought to have known. “It was never meant to stay there, Emma.”

As Emma struggled to keep her composure and her thoughts together, Wynne asked a question. “That is the Lord of Bertram, yes?”

She turned her head and found Thomas, Wakefield’s brother, joining her fiancée’s crowd. “Yes,” was her faint reply, her head still wrapped around the thought that the theatre would no longer be in Ulric soon.

“Is he the man who nearly got your sister?”

“Who?” she asked.

“The Lord of Bertram.”

“Thomas? Yes, I believe so. Wakefield refuses to admit it.”

“He rarely shows up in balls.”

“He likes the Theobald ball,” she said, still distracted. “But where will you go next?”

He looked at her. “What?”

“Where will you go next?”

His eyes were still on Samuel and Thomas as he murmured, “That is yet to be determined.”

“What? Do you mean to say that you do not know where to go next? How can you be certain it will be successful?”

Wynne sighed and looked her in the eye. Only then that she realized she was reacting more than she ought to the news. “Emma, I have always dreamed of taking my stories to many places. Wherever it may be will not matter.”

Emma was not certain she liked what he heard.

---

Emma eventually left his side to join Ysabella and other friends, amongst them the Haverstons.

Left alone, it did not pass Wynne’s notice when Thomas Hayward went to talk to Margaret and her husband.

If there was one person he was certain was a Leaguer, it would be that man.

The man had taken away Aurora Randolph some years past, making the then Town Leader Osegod frantic and almost uncontrollable with rage. And Thomas was also the same Leaguer who lost Aurora Randolph to Osegod’s men until the woman died trying to escape.

Once, the Trilbys had hoped that Wynne could get closer to Bertram after Wakefield married into the Everards, but the man was impenetrable. He rarely showed himself in social events and even Wakefield had little to say about him.

Yet now, it was interesting to see him interact with Margaret and her husband. The three of them talked as though they were familiar with each other in a different way.

“Wasting your time doing nothing?” a familiar voice asked beside him.

He turned and found Ezra grinning at him.

“Edmund,” was Ezra’s only explanation as to why he was here.

“I did not realize they invited a Trilby.”

“There are currently three Trilbys in this party,” said Ezra with a shrug. “Amongst hundreds other guests, I am certain I am invisible.”

Wynne did not comment. “The aunt wants you to answer her question.”

“Tell her I will give her a name soon,” Wynne said, giving Margaret and Thomas another look as he sipped his drink.

“She believes you are trying to kill time.”

“She does?”

“Yes. And she is wondering why the bloody hell did Buford’s articles get published?”

“I am not the owner of the Herald.”

“Still, you could have alerted Durley.”

“It is Durley’s job to see through every article. Ask the bastard himself.”

“Why are you doing this, Wynne?”

“Doing what?”

“Killing time,” Ezra asked. “Is it because of the chit?” The man motioned his head at Emma’s direction.

“No,” was his strong reply. “It is because you are all too impatient.” He gave Ezra a look and added, “Everything is under control.”

His nephew smiled. “It better be.” Giving Wynne a mocking bow, he repeated, “Good luck, dear nephew.”

---

Just as when Emma thought the night would end uneventful, she was surprised when a footman approached her to deliver a note.

You have been selected. Proceed to the second landing. Enter the second door to the right of the left wing. Tonight’s game has just begun!

-Game Master

A part of her was at first ecstatic. There was an existing rumor about secret games in the Theobald parties and that it was always only by invite.

She and Ysabella had always wanted to be a part of it, but failed to acquire invites every time that they assumed the rumors were not true.

Yet now she got one! Yet the excitement was fast to disappear because somehow, at the back of her mind, she knew Samuel had a part in this.

As she excused herself from Ysabella and their friends and realized that a few others were also walking in the same direction as she, her suspicion was proven right.

Stella Marie was exciting the ballroom alone. Wynne was walking parallel to her from across the room.

She looked over her shoulder and found Samuel coming toward her with a smile.

What was he up to now?

XXIII. A Secret Game

“What are you doing here?” Byron asked, startling Ellie.

She whirled around to find him in the doorway of his study. “Oh, you are home.”

“Yes, and you are in my study,” he uttered, walking into the room, eyes bare of emotions.

“I was looking for a book to kill time,” she nonchalantly replied, making certain her eyes focused on him and not on the table where she hid the letter. “And then I realized how very small your collection is.”

“That is because the books are in the library,” he said, taking her hand and gently guiding her out. “There are naught but boring books on agriculture in this room.”

“Yes, as I have figured.”

“Come, we have somewhere to be.”

“Where?”

“The woods.”

“I am not particularly fond of woods, Byron.”

“Oh, but this one has holes above it.”

---

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Samuel greeted the group before him. “Welcome to the Secret Theobald Game of this year.”

Emma looked around her and found ecstatic faces, all eager and proud to have been chosen.

“Now that you know this game is not merely a rumor, shall I present the game?”

There were about twenty or so people crowded inside the closed parlor room and each one nodded their heads in excitement.

“Last year, the chosen ones played the game for two straight days, doing secret tasks to gain entrance into secret rooms. The winners took home these specially-made golden brooches,” Samuel started, opening a large velvet box with two round brooches made in gold. “Ever since my brother started these secret games, he has acquired the kind services of none other than Maxwell Everard to design and create these. They are rare, of course, but ones you see someone wearing one, you and that person share a secret.”

Emma could not believe that her own brother knew about this and had kept it a secret. But then, what did she expect from Maxwell?

“This year, we are doing a treasure hunt game.”

Everyone started to chatter to each other.

A treasure hunt was not uncommon at all. One could even say it was too common. But this was a secret game and everyone was in on it. Whatever game it may be, the thought that they were chosen to be a part of this was enough.

“The pairs for tonight’s game were already randomly selected by me a day prior,” Samuel said, eyeing everyone in the room with a smile. “My brother designed the game and facilitated everything else necessary for all of us to play without his presence. Yes, ladies and gentlemen- I, too, received an invite for this game.” He waved a piece of paper at everyone.

As the crowd chuckled, Emma knew who she would end up being paired with. She confirmed it when Samuel nonchalantly announced all pairs one by one from a list. What she did not expect was his choice of partner for himself.

Even the other players could not suppress their surprise and awe when Stella’s name was announced as Samuel’s partner for the game. Everyone knew it would not be a smooth night for them both.

“I do not know where the treasure is for it was my brother, Gabriel, who designed the game for tonight despite his absence,” Samuel said after he ordered everyone to stand with their partners. Emma turned to Wynne who was already reading the paper handed to them by a footman. “In your hands is the first clue.” With a smile, he looked at everyone and said, “The game officially starts. And please, try not to kill your partners should disagreements arise!”

Everyone laughed before they filed out of the room.

“If there is someone who ends up dead tonight, it will be one of them,” Emma murmured to Wynne the moment they walked out of the room.

He was still reading the first riddle. “Who?” he absently asked.

“Mind not,” she said with a wave of her hand. She looked about and realized that everyone went to one direction which was outside. “Have you figured out the answer?”

“It might be the-”

“Garden,” said Emma, already leading the way.

“How did you-”

“Everyone’s is already on their way. Of course, it is the garden.”

“It must be the maze,” he said, walking past her.

“Because it will hide the fact that we are playing a secret game.”

“Yes.”

Emma sighed. As they moved along, she looked asked, “What does the riddle say?”

“Enter the box with its many walls but never be lost,” he said, slowing down. Emma realized he was counting candlesticks. “Your key is with the guard who goes short as he grows old. He is fifteen and easily seen.”

Emma frowned. “Do we not have the same riddles as the rest?”

“We can ask,” he said, lifting the fifteenth candlestick by its holder. A small note lay underneath and Emma immediately took it. “But I believe you might be correct. Surely, not everyone is that stupid to miss this.”

Emma was no longer listening as she read the next riddle. “The box is not the maze.”

“How so?” Wynne asked, stepping closer to read the note in her hand.

I have too many stories, but none I can tell.

Find my friend who comes up and down without leaving his stand,

He shall offer his left hand and wish you well.

Come, for my stories are free so long as you have hand.

They both turned to the same direction and found the grand staircase. Without a word, they climbed and turned to the left wing upon reaching the second landing. The noise from the grand ballroom was muffled now and it seemed that the other players were out playing their own game somewhere.

Wynne gave her a questioning look as they moved further down the empty corridor. “I have merely been here once.”

“For someone who loves libraries, that is quite surprising.”

“They have five libraries in this manor,” she supplied, stopping outside a door. “This is one of them.” She pushed open the door and they found themselves into a vast library. “Now, where is it?”

“Hand,” Wynne easily replied, walking over to the clock standing in one corner. With one arm, he reached behind the wooden case of the clock.

Emma smiled as she saw the triumphant smirk on his face.

Once he retrieved it, he waved the note in front of her. “This game is too bloody easy for the two of us.”

Emma shook her head with a smile.

I am where she once hid; where most her memories sleep.

Beware for not many can find, the treasures she left behind.

I lie beneath the one who loses its head in the daybreak and grows it back at night.

Careful steps and fun flight!

Wynne looked at Emma with a frown. “Please do tell me you know where this is.”

Emma scoffed. “Of course, I do.”

His raised his brows in question.

“Maxine’s old bedchamber.”

He finally blinked in understanding.

Emma smiled and turned around. “Now, if you please, my lord, I shall lead the way.”

---

Emma had to go and find Ysabella in the ballroom again to inquire about the location of Maxine’s old room. It was her sister who knew exactly where to find it, but the information came with too many questions.

“I am playing the Secret Theobald Game,” Emma whispered to her sister whose eyes went wide with excitement.

“You have been invited!” Ysabella cried out in disbelief.

“Shh!” Emma shushed. “Now, tell me where-”

“But why? How?”

“I do not know. The invitation simply came.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. Now, please, Ysa. You have to help us.”

“Us?”

“I-my partner and I.”

“Who?” Ysabella asked, looking around. Then her eyes landed on Wynne who was standing awkwardly a few paces away. “Wynne?”

“Yes.”

“And Samuel is fine with it?”

“He is currently also busy playing the game.”

“He is in the game as well? Who is he paired with?”

Emma bit her lips to keep herself from smiling. “Stella Marie.”

Her sister’s eyes rounded even further. “No!”

“Yes!” Emma snickered.

“They would kill one another!”

“Precisely our thought.”

Ysabella threw another glance toward Wynne’s direction. “It is rather odd Samuel did not find a way to be paired with you.”

“Oh, you know Sam. He wants to play the game fairly.”

Ysabella looked as though she could not believe that. But the look quickly disappeared as she tried to cover it by shaking her head. “But he cannot win against you. That man ought to get a taste of defeat to tame him down.”

“We would not win if you do not tell me where Maxine’s old chambers are.”

Ysabella looked about and leaned to whisper into Emma’s ear.

After she had a clear picture of the direction they were supposed to take, she grinned at Ysabella. “Thank you. And I promise I shall try to convince Gabriel to invite you to next year’s game.”

“I do not wish to paired with Wakefield!” her sister called after her as she rushed to Wynne’s side.

“Come,” Emma whispered to him as she walked past.

He nonchalantly followed her out of the ballroom, back to the grand staircase and to the winding corridors that eventually led to a secret door.

Emma pushed against the paneled wall and it opened, revealing a bedchamber.

A sudden feeling of pity and compassion came over her as she pictured how her sister-in-law lived her days hidden in this bedchamber.

Shaking her head, Emma reminded herself that Maxine was now happily married with a child. She was somehow accepted by society after Samuel’s public letter years past.

Wynne went directly to the large four-poster bed and looked under one of the pillows. There was nothing there.

Emma lifted the other one and found a piece of paper.

She was about to open the note when she realized that Wynne was curiously looking around the bedchamber.

“So this is where she hid.”

“I suppose,” was all she could say. “But you must not think that her days here were lonely. She dressed as a servant during the Theobald parties as a way to entertain herself. And she lived freely in this estate the rest of the year. The Theobalds dearly love her.”

“I did not say they do not.”

“But it was a risky battle, what they did-fighting for her, I mean.”

“She is family.”

“Yes. Almost anyone would do anything for family.” Their eyes met for a few seconds after she said those words.

When she blinked, pretending to be interested in the next riddle, Wynne cleared his throat. “You must be ready to do anything for your family.”

“Of course.”

She was reading the words of the riddle but her mind could not comprehend them as Wynne’s footsteps reverberated around the room. He was pacing. Emma sighed. “What is it?” she asked.

When he did not reply, she looked up and found that he was already studying her, face serious. He was truly handsome, a part of her admitted. Not in a way that Samuel was, but in his own way. The confidence he was trying to hide from everyone else could be easily detected now that she knew who he was-what he was.

“What is it?” she asked again, forcing him to ask the question.

“It is naught but a stupid curiosity.”

“One I am curious about now that you have mentioned it,” she countered. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “I was merely wondering, Emma,” he said, taking one step closer toward her before stopping, hands behind him. “Supposing you fall in love with someone you ought not to fall for. What would you do?”

“Someone like who?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Supposing a Trilby.”

She stared at him in surprise.

“The Everards and the Trilbys are not chummy, yes?”

“How have you come up with such information?”

One corner of his lips twitched. “I am the gossip writer, Emma. I know.”

Emma would not dare answer that question. “It is indeed a stupid curiosity.”

“But one I would like to know the answer to now that it is out in the open.”

“I do not wish to answer.”

“Why?”

Emma tore her eyes from him. “Just because.”

“Why?” he persisted.

Her jaws twitched. “Because if I do not like my answer.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Now I am even more curious.”

“Of course, you are.”

“Well?”

Emma straightened her back and squared her shoulders. Her eyes held Wynne’s. “ IF I do fall for a Trilby, I believe I would act like an Everard.“

“Which means?”

She hated her answer, but she knew it would be an honest one. He did not even deserve to hear it, yet she wanted him to. With her eyes still lost into the depths of his dark globes, Emma responded, “I will hunt him down and I will steal him away from his horrid family.” It was indeed satisfying to see the surprise in his eyes. She did not end there for she added, “Should he allow me to do so, I shall drag him to Tiny Town. But he will have to agree that I will never associate myself with his family. Not even to share a single drop of tea.”

It was him who blinked first. Emma forced a smile and said, “But that is not ever going to happen for my brothers might not allow it. We would both have to be cunning enough to reach Tiny Town.” She sighed, her smile even wider. “Does my answer satisfy you, my lord?”

Wynne blinked. “It stunned me, to be truly honest.”

Emma scoffed. “You, Wynne Hastings? Honest?”

“I am honest with you.”

“Only after I caught your act. And even now, I cannot be certain.”

He took another step toward her and frowned. “Why so?”

Emma shrugged despite her heart beginning to hammer against her chest again. “Because you might be deceiving me as you do everyone else. You could be playing a role like you do on stage.”

She saw his jaw clench as he took another step… and then another, closing the distance between them. Emma could not move back. The wall was behind her. She could not step aside either for the bed was a trap to her left. To the right was the only escape, but she did not want to take it.

She hated herself at that moment for she was anticipating something. A part of her was even considering more provocation for him to do… what? What did she want him to do?

“Do you think I am being dishonest, Emma?” he asked, his voice low… husky.

“I… I merely said I cannot be certain. You cannot blame me.”

“You do love formulating conspiracy theories, of course I cannot blame you,” he said, moving closer until their chest touched. “I might have been dishonest to you, yes, and I do not deny it,” he whispered as his head bent, the side of his cheek lightly touching hers, sending thousands of electrifying sensations to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Emma caught her breath as she heard his long intake of breath. He was not touching her anywhere else, yet she felt warm all over.

“After all, there is only one person I can never lie to,” Wynne whispered. He tilted his head, caressing her skin with his nose, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth.

Emma gulped, feeling a shiver down her spine as his breath stroked across her skin. “Who?” she asked, turning her head in search of his eyes. He stared back at her and she realized she was losing this game.

“Me,” was his quiet reply. Tearing his eyes from hers, they traveled down to her lips and then back to her emerald globes. “I cannot lie to myself for long,” was the last words he murmured before claiming her mouth.

The rush of overwhelming emotions she anticipated and hated and even denied almost caused her knees to give in. She expected to land on the floor but the fall never came for Wynne had her pinned against the wall in a gentle yet not-so-gentle fashion, opening his mouth over hers, the feel of his chest against hers as he moved even closer was both a pleasant assault and an invitation.

His sharp intake of breath reminded Emma she had to do the same and when she opened her mouth, Wynne dived once again, his tongue gaining entry, sending stronger sensations all over Emma’s body, giving her a sense of urgency she never felt before.

And then, just as she thought he was unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with, he slowed down. She feared he would stop, but he did not. His hips ever slowly ground against hers, his hands roaming freely at the small of her back. And his mouth was cherishing the taste of her.

The most wondrous part was when she realized her arms were locked around his neck, her hands clasping his hair, his collar, his shirt.

In ragged breaths, he whispered in her ear, “Perhaps it is time you try to be honest to yourself as well, Emma.” Her eyes opened wide but before she could push him away or utter a sound of disagreement, he harshly added, “No, stop lying,” claiming her mouth once more, stealing her breath, stealing her senses.

Emma closed her eyes as she felt the tears. She hated betraying herself. She hated losing to this man.

And if this was the passion Ysabella and Alex were talking about, then perhaps she would be the most broken loser of all for if she were to lose to this man, she would not merely lose everything she thought she knew about love and passion. She would also lose him.

---

Samuel was not aware that Gabriel had given every pair a different set of riddles. Although he knew Emma was safe in the Theobald estate, it was still quite vast. Anything could happen, he thought, but he brushed the worry aside.

Wynne would not be stupid enough to do anything untoward. That was not his game.

This was his game, Samuel thought. He went to quite lengths to assemble the pairs for tonight’s game without raising suspicion from his absent brother. Although Gabriel always loved to design the games, he was not one who liked playing with everyone else. Samuel rarely attended the Theobald weekend parties but whenever he could, his brother always made certain he had to be one of the players.

He had been through quite a few, but this was perhaps the first game he did not want to end too soon. Not when he had secrets he wanted to dig from his partner.

But Stella Marie was proving to be quite smart. The woman had solved the first three riddles without much help from Samuel and they were now on their way through the maze garden without a hitch.

“Are you certain this is the way back?” he asked, following behind her. They had just acquired another riddle and now had to escape the maze and return to the manor to find the kitchen.

“Yes,” she said over her shoulder. “I am quite surprised you do not.”

“I do not find pleasure walking through this crazy garden,” he explained, catching up to her to walk beside her. “You must know, Miss Stella, that I find your calm demeanor quite astounding.”

A brow rose as she flashed him a smile. “Well, thank you, but how do you say so?”

“You are always rather perfectly calm despite being in the presence of the man who wrote the harsh articles against Above and Below. “

“Ah,” she uttered in understanding. “You must mean your articles which happen to be your opinions.” She threw him a glance. “I care not for your opinions, my lord.” Samuel fell a step behind, taken by surprise. He blinked and caught up again to catch her say, “I live my life the way I want it, my lord. You live yours the way you wish it as well. Why would I bother myself with one person’s opinions when I have a crowd to please who can please me back?”

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his hands as though in surrender. They walked easily from that moment as she led the way out of the maze. “You know who P. Wallace is.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “We have known each other since childhood.” She gave him a sideway glance. “And no, I will not reveal my friend’s identity.”

Samuel raised his brows. “You are that loyal to this friend?”

“Yes.”

“Even if this friend does something that may displease you?”

“Never did, never will.”

“But what if your friend does? Say, something almost evil?”

She scoffed. “Then I believe whoever is the subject of my friend’s deviousness will deserve it. Let us cease talking about my friend. I know you merely want to know the identity of the writer and I am the wrong person to ask.”

“This friend of yours is a man, yes? P. Wallace has to be a man.”

She looked at him with a knowing smile. Bloody hell, he now understood why many men swooned at the sight of this woman; her beauty was quite enchanting. “You and I both know he is a man.”

“Ah, really? I was not even certain.”

She shook her head. “Why are you so against him, anyway? What could he have possibly done against you?”

“Oh, believe me… he never did. Not yet.”

Stella made a sudden stop, startling Samuel. She gasped in mock amazement. “You do surely think too highly of yourself to believe that a man such as P. Wallace would bother with you.”

“Whatever do you mean by that, Miss Stella?”

“Oh, please, my lord. Do not think me stupid. I am certain your fiancée does feel the same such as I. The frustration to be in constant presence of your overwhelming sense of pride is draining!”

Samuel scoffed. “Ha!” He forced a laugh and she continued to walk, now showing little signs that she was irked. “And how did you know I have a fiancée?”

“She told me. We have talked a few times. She is a great fan of our play. Fret not, I shall not tell on your secrets.”

He shrugged. “In time it will no longer be a secret.”

“Of course, it would not be,” she said, adding, “If the time ever comes.” Before Samuel could rebute, she added, “And why did you not find a way to be on this game with your fiancé? Surely you do not find my company more appealing, yes? Or perhaps you do not want her company?” And as he opened his mouth to answer, she waved her hand, brushing the topic off. “Oh, no matter. I care not. And let us cease talking about the play for it fouls the mood for us both.” Samuel realized that he was listening now more than ever as she continued talking. “I have admired your works before. In fact, I never missed a single article since you wrote about your sister. But now, I am starting to get bored.”

Samuel’s jaw tightened. He took offense on that. “And why do you say so, Miss Stella?”

She shrugged as she continued walking. “I know a work with soul and passion for it is no less different from any forms of art. As an actor, I can easily sense a work that is starting to lose the richness of its soul as it is being replaced by the blinding light of stardom.”

Samuel felt the first sign of anger rise up her throat. “You cannot possibly be suggesting that I am-”

Her laughter stopped the rest of his words. “I am not suggesting a thing, my lord. I am merely stating my own opinion as you often do yourself. If it does hurt, then I am as unaffected by your reaction as you are with the feelings of those you attack.” She continued to walk on. “Now, I believe the riddle does not point to the kitchen after all…”

---

Wynne was as surprised as Emma when the kiss finally came to an end.

They were both breathless and neither knew what to do next.

Surely, something less awkward could be said?

He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, cupping her face in his hands. “Do not expect me to beg for forgiveness for I do not regret kissing you. In fact, I would do so again if we stay here much longer.”

She blinked and he saw clarity and reality come back to her emerald eyes. He planted one last lingering kiss on her forehead before he forced himself to take one large step away from her.

He bent down to pick up the piece of paper from the floor and read the riddle. “The treasure is in the kitchen.”

He looked up at her. She was fixing her hair.

With a sigh, Wynne stepped forward to help her with her stays which he had managed to untie earlier. Silently cursing himself for losing control, he finished the task without a word. To his surprise, she let him.

Was she as shaken as he?

“There,” he said, turning away from her. “Let us leave this room before I do anything you will regret.”

“Wynne,” she said in almost a whisper behind him. He looked back at her and suddenly he wanted to pounce on her again, but no… no more tonight. He had showed enough of himself to her. Instead, he clenched his fists behind him and raised his brows.

“What is the true reason why you do not show people your true self?”

He read the true meaning behind her words. “I never hide, Emma. My true self is in plain sight.” He smiled softly. “They simply do not bother to see.” He started to walk backwards as he managed a grin. “So perhaps you can say I am hiding in plain sight.”

XXIV. Turning Point

He did not expect it to happen.

She was the least person to get attached to, but Byron found himself depending on Ellie in more ways than necessary. Not that he could not do things well on his own, but her very presence in almost everywhere he went had become a comfort.

Her funny comments would make him burst in laughter, her wit and charm could make him take pride that she was his woman. Even in her absence, she was constantly in his mind.

In rare occasions, he thought he saw her looking at him in a genuine manner. For the long time he knew her, he already mastered the craft of detecting her lies and drama. But the small signs of something real from Ellie McPhee was enough to make Bryon hope.

Yet he knew she was naught but a fraud as a whole. He was a fraud. Everything was a fraud.

Sooner or later, he knew they would both end up hurting each other.

-Above and Below

---

Emma and Wynne were already waiting in the parlor, a tense silence between them, when Samuel and Stella entered the room. The latter couple was surprised to find them both already inside and disappointment was fast to present itself when they saw the golden egg in the middle of the coffee table.

“I told you it was in the kitchen,” Samuel said to Stella who simply shrugged. “When did you find it?” he asked Emma afterwards, walking over to the egg.

Another couple entered the room, both disappointed and empty-handed.

Wynne was the one who looked at the clock and said, “An hour ago, I believe.”

Samuel sighed. “ I have to be broken before I can be of use— it is clearly an egg,“ he said to Stella.

“Well, I thought so as well at first but then, there are dozens of eggs in the kitchen. How could we have known which one to pick? I did not know the treasure would be painted gold!”

“It was better than what you thought it would be. A thread!”

“Well, you have to break the thread for it to be of use as well!”

“Does this make us the winner then?” Emma asked, standing up and breaking the argument.

“Well, of course,” said the gentleman behind Samuel. “Ah, what a shame. I knew it was an egg!”

Emma forced a smile. “Then can we have our prize?”

Samuel nodded at the footman who had entered the room. The man walked over to give Emma and Wynne their golden prizes.

Emma was, of course, satisfied that she had something to show to Ysabella, but she was also dying to get out of the room.

She had committed a terrible mistake and even Samuel’s presence was making her even guiltier. Perhaps this was a sign that she ought to come up with a decision soon. She could not be unfair to Samuel for long.

She had been selfish enough that she had been insisting that he waited.

But first, she had to clear her head.

She had to think.

---

Samuel stole Emma a look as he escorted her back to the ballroom to find her family. She looked distracted so he asked, “What had transpired between you and Wynne tonight, Emma?”

Emma shook her head. “I would rather not talk about it tonight, Sam.”

Suspicion was fast to rise within him. “Did the bastard do anything that you did not like?”

Her jaw tightened and she shook her head.

“Then what is it? Did he say anything? Does he know we are aware of his true identity?”

“No, I do not believe he does,” she said. She looked him in the eye. “But, please, Sam. I want to rest tonight.”

Samuel took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well.”

“And perhaps we can talk on the morrow,” Emma reassured.

“Of course, love,” he murmured.

Something happened tonight , he thought. Emma may not tell him now, but she would do so tomorrow.

He delivered Emma to be with Ysabella before he excused himself to spend the night at one of the gaming rooms where he might chance upon some of the writers he would want to invite to his paper.

He did not get much from Stella Marie tonight, but perhaps his men were much more successful back in Wickhurst.

---

He could not deny that he was angry at himself.

And at Emma Everard.

How dare she tell him that she would act as an Everard if she were to fall in love with a Trilby?

Did she say those words to play with him? She might have just won him over with those mere words if not for the fact that he was aware of her true intentions.

IF I do fall for a Trilby, I believe I would act like an Everard…

Her words ceased to quiet down in his mind. They kept coming again and again, distracting him from his task at hand.

No, she was playing him like he intended to play her.

As he discreetly followed Thomas Hayward away from the manor, Wynne forced himself to keep the thoughts of Emma Everard away. There was no chance between him and her.

He was almost certain she was not the Leaguer amongst her family and mayhap he would prove it to be true tonight.

She could go and marry Samuel if she wanted and Wynne would not even dare stop her. He would deliver what his aunt wanted once and for all and then he would be on his way. He would disappear from Wickhurst and everyone else who knew him. And then he would live his dream.

She is part of that dream…

No, of course not! He silenced the ridiculous thought. Emma Everard would dare not dream of having a Trilby whether or not she told the truth. The Everards might never know what they were up against.

Shaking his head, Wynne continued to quietly follow Thomas down a darker path along the corn plantation, far away from the manor, and toward a wooden worker’s cabin. The bright moonlight that streamed through the three holes over the Theobald plantation was the only light to guide them. As beautiful as the moonlight was, no other guests were around as everyone else was inside the manor, enjoying the ball and the countless entertainment provided by the hosts.

He had asked Stella to keep an eye on Samuel and distract the man if he ever showed interest of looking for Wynne. His friend did not question his intentions and simply followed his request like she always did in the past.

As Thomas neared the cabin, all other thoughts went to the background. His focus now was on Thomas Hayward and the person he was about to meet.

Fearing that the Leaguer would notice his presence, Wynne hid in between two lines of corns and waited a little longer. Thomas and whoever he was about to meet would have to be assured that they were alone.

When he thought it was about time, Wynne crossed the path toward the woods to hide in the shadows of the trees, circling to the back of the small cabin.

There were quiet voices from the inside and Wynne leaned his back against the wall, putting himself at ease. The voices were clear enough from where he was standing.

“Yes, they are enough,” was Thomas’ voice talking, “but not quite enough for the League to take action against them.”

“How certain are you that it was not Osegod who initiated communication?” a woman’s voice asked.

Wynne did not have to wonder for he was certain it belonged to Margaret Everard.

“One of our own was able to capture someone from their contacts aboveground,” said Thomas. “Osegod was naught but a messenger.”

“Then surely his testimony will be enough to put the Trilbys to trial.”

“If he is alive, yes.”

“He was killed?”

It took a long while before Thomas answered. “The League is no longer impenetrable as we may believe, my lady.”

“Absurd!”

“Everyone can be bought for a price. We are certain the Trilbys have connection from aboveground and God knows what these people are planning. We have to act fast.”

Wynne heard footsteps pacing inside the cabin. “What do you want from us then?” another voice asked, this time it was from another man. Wynne frowned. “My wife and I had agreed that she shall stay away from this case, Thomas. You know what happened the last time she was involved.”

“This is a matter between Leaguers, my lord, if I may respectfully remind you.”

“You are the one who needs our help, Thomas,” Margaret snapped. “You dare not speak to my husband in such manner.”

“My apologies.”

“You do not even mean them, you brute,” Margaret said with a sigh. “You want us to find a link between the Trilbys and the slavery case. Is that what you want?”

“Your honorable husband is still on the case, yes?” Thomas asked, voice etched with sarcasm.

“Again, it is my husband’s favor you are asking, Thomas. Should we remove ourselves from here and go back to the party?”

“I am at my wit’s end, Margaret. The Town’s future is at stake here. The Trilbys are planning for something big.”

“Then act as though you are capable of asking for help. You do not do so by insult. Your own pride was the very thing that made you lose Aurora Randolph.”

“You need not remind me of that, Margaret.”

“My wife can very well do so. She gave you Randolph and it resulted to her death as opposed to what you promised,” Cole coldly uttered. “Now, can we go on? As the seconds pass by, I am more inclined to have you beg for our help on your knees.”

“Yes,” Thomas said, voice stern. “I need your help building a link between the Trilbys and the slavery case. It will make our evidence stronger in court.”

“It will prove to be a challenge. The case has gone slow when Osegod died.”

A long silence followed before Thomas finally asked, “Is it possible that you can build more on Osegod’s connections?”

“His contacts are all gone. We know that they had been using Rock’oles for their transactions, but there are no traces there as they have been careful with their correspondence. Their identities are unknown to this day.”

“Then what if I bring you someone who can name a few?”

“Only Osegod can do that. And the bastard is dead.”

“Osegod is dead, yes,” Thomas retorted, “but his daughter is very much alive.”

“Her daughter?” Margaret asked incredulously. “You cannot be serious, Thomas.”

“I very much am,” said Thomas. “Please be alert, the two of you. I will be in touch.”

With that, Wynne heard the door of the cabin open and close.

“He cannot be serious,” Margaret said. “Osegod’s daughter might not—”

“I do not think we should talk about this tonight, Meg,” Cole said to his wife. “Your mother must now be looking for us.”

“But Cole,” said Margaret, “how can we be certain Thomas is not working for that family?”

“He is not, Meg. He may be a bloody obnoxious bastard, but he is not working for them.”

“How can you tell?”

“His eyes. They are dead, Meg. He lost Aurora Randolph and he knew it was his fault she is dead. He took a blow from that. He is doing this for her, I believe.”

“No, he is doing this to atone for his sins, to erase the guilt.” Margaret’s voice was starting to shake. “As I am for what I did to Aurora.”

“Meg, please, darling. You did nothing wrong.”

“Thomas would not have had Aurora if I did not give her to him. But I know what you are going to say. I did not have any intention of hurting her, but the fact still remains that because of my actions she is dead and her daughter is now without a mother.”

Cole had no answer to that.

Soon, Wynne heard the door swing open and shut.

He waited in silence for another half hour before he decided to move.

His task was done. It was time to go home to Wickhurst.

---

Emma was surprised when Ysabella slipped inside her bedchamber later that night.

“Whatever are you doing here, Ysa?”

“William insisted that he wants to put Gillian to sleep,” her sister whispered, slipping under the bedcovers.

“You are not sleeping her tonight, are you?” Emma asked, walking to the door to lock it. She went back to the dresser to finish combing her hair.

“No, but I am considering it,” her sister replied, resting her face on her hand as she watched Emma from the bed. “What bothers you, Em? You ought to be happy you won the Secret Game.”

Emma looked at her sister through the mirror. “Am I that obvious?”

“To me, yes. Mother does not seem to notice. But that may be because she and Lady Theobald are busy talking about your wedding.”

Emma sighed.

Ysabella narrowed her eyes. “There is no wedding going to happen, is there, Em?”

Emma replaced her brush on the dresser and swirled around on her seat to face her sister. “Ysa, I think I am in love with someone else.”

XXV. Broken

Byron did not care that people was starting to question Ellie’s true identity.

He would still appear in operas and balls with her by his side.

He did not know how long she would be his.

Soon, for certain, they would be enemies.

-Above and Below

---

Ysabella simply stared at Emma for quite a long time. All the while, Emma was holding her breath in fear that her sister would ask for a name. She could not lie to her sister.

“I will not ask for his name, Em, so fret not.” Ysabella slowly pushed herself from the bed to sit. “I am not going to force you to name him, but know that I will support your decision. I will stand by you, Emma Grace Everard—no matter what happens. No matter how everyone will judge you, I will stand by you.”

Emma’s tears came falling and as her shoulders began to shake, she saw her sister’s blurry form rush toward her and suddenly she was enveloped in an embrace.

“Hush now, darling,” Ysabella murmured at the crown of her head. “You will talk to Samuel, yes? He deserves to know once and for all.”

Emma nodded, not able to talk.

It would hurt her to hurt Samuel.

“Oh, Ysa, I am going to end up unwed all my life after all,” she said as she wiped her tears moments later.

“How can you say that?” Ysabella asked, tucking Emma’s hair behind her ears. “Is this man that impossible?”

Emma shook her head. “No, not impossible. I know for certain I can be with him, but he is unreachable. He makes certain of it.”

Ysabella narrowed her eyes. “Everyone else thought Wakefield was unreachable for me, Emma. And look where he is now—putting our baby to sleep! Nothing is unreachable if you claim it, dear.”

Emma sighed as she tenderly looked at her sister. “I adore your courage, Ysa. I wish I can have it.”

Ysabella winked. “Resolve is stronger, Em. And you have that more than I.”

Emma held her sister’s hand. “I love you, Ysa.”

“And I love you, too, Em. Now, I believe I will sleep here tonight after all.”

Emma chuckled, wiping the last of her tears. “Like old times?”

Ysabella’s emerald eyes were swimming in unshed tears as well. “Like old times.”

---

Samuel quietly walked out of the gaming room and aimlessly began to wander around the very place he grew up in.

If it had not been for his half-sister, Maxine, he would not have discovered the hidden passageways of the Theobald mansion. They spent their childhood hiding in the most unlikely places, eavesdropping and playing spy. They had always both assumed they were invisible to everyone and it was not impossible to be when it came to Theobald.

The place was too large, too complicated with its hidden corridors and doors. It was easy to get lost.

Even until now, he could very well find himself in an unfamiliar place.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Theobald had always seemed to be unfamiliar to him. Ever since he found his passion for writing, this place had become naught but a force that pulled him back from what he truly wanted. His parents did try their best to keep him engaged in the family business. They failed, of course.

Many might consider Maxine as the bastard and the living failure of their father, but in all honesty, it was him.

Samuel walked past the doors of the grand ballroom and down the corridor that led to a library which once belonged to his grandfather. Samuel hated and loved that room all the same.

His grandfather was not a very good man. The very memory of the man still sent shivers down his spine. But the place was filled with books that opened Samuel’s eyes to not fantasy, but reality. His grandfather never liked fiction and his collection was filled with everything but.

But before he reached the place, he saw someone in a very familiar red gown slip through the same doors he intended to enter.

Praising his luck, Samuel followed and surprised Stella Marie who was already in the middle of the room.

“Are you here to read books, or are you here to hide?” he asked.

“Why would you think that someone such as I would bother to read at a time like this?” she asked, looking around the dark room, her initial surprise completely gone.

“Then you are here to hide.”

Stella Marie stopped what she was doing and looked at Samuel from across the room. “Yes, of course.”

“I hope that it is not from me.”

“No, of course not,” she said, shaking her head. Walking to the settee, Stella added, “I am hiding from my fiancé. He just arrived to join the party.”

The statement totally took Samuel aback. He blinked his eyes in disbelief. “I was not aware you had one.”

“Why would you have to know?”

“Well, someone as famous as you…” he let his voice trail away as he walked to the liquor cabinet. “Would you like a drink?”

“Brandy, please.”

“We have sherry.”

“Brandy, my lord,” she reiterated.

Samuel shrugged and opened the brandy. “Why would you be hiding from your fiancé?”

Looking at him with unwavering eyes, Stella lifted one shoulder. “I do not wish to marry him.”

He scoffed and walked over to give her glass of brandy. “And what is the name of this fiancé? I might encounter him later this evening.”

“Alexander Adelard.”

“The Adelards from Willowfair are prominent figures. Why would you not want to marry into them?”

“Your reasons for marriage and mine vary, my lord,” was her fast reply before she took a sip from her glass.

“There you are again with your judgments.”

“And there you are again with your defensive tactics.”

“I am not being defensive as I do have good reasons to want to marry Emma.”

She scoffed. “Because you love her?”

“Yes, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. The surprise in her eyes was evident by the glass half-frozen to her lips. “I have been in love with her for years.”

“Truly?” she asked, tone filled with skepticism.

“Is it that impossible to believe?”

“Well, yes.”

He frowned. “And why is that?”

“Well, because you are not with her at the moment.”

“She has already retired.”

“And you were not with her after the game.”

“I had matters to attend to.”

“And during the game.”

“I—” Samuel stopped himself, almost biting his tongue. “The pairing was done in random.”

Stella Marie slapped her forehead in mocking fashion. “Ah, yes, of course, it was.”

Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes. “You can keep hiding here, Miss Stella. I shall excuse myself.” He walked toward the door.

“To be with Emma?” she taunted further.

“To be away from you, actually.”

He heard her laughter before he left the room.

---

By the morrow, Wynne was no longer in Theobald grounds.

Stella Marie might have gone with him, but no one was certain. She was hiding from someone, after all, and she could be in one of the cupboards in the manor.

Since Wynne was absent, Samuel looked for other means to dig deeper. There could be other Trilbys hiding somewhere in this party. He simply had to find them.

Stella provided him that opportunity. There was someone else who might be more willing to talk.

He immediately saw the man wandering around the breakfast room.

“Looking for someone, Mr. Adelard?”

The man stopped, looking almost irked. Samuel studied the person before him. He was not bad to the eyes. In fact, the man was handsome enough and he came from an affluent family.

“I do not have time, sorry,” the man murmured, walking around Samuel. Something in the way Adelard looked at him snapped something inside Samuel and suddenly, acting pleasant was out the window.

Samuel blocked Alexander’s path with a smile. “She is gone.” At first, the man was confused. And then understanding crossed his eyes, followed by anger. “And if I were you, I would not follow her,” Samuel added.

Alexander Adelard scoffed incredulously, placing his hands on his hips to glare at Samuel. “And who are you to intrude in private matters of others? Did that chit manage to beguile you enough to commit this embarrassing act for her protection? Is her friend’s unwavering help not enough?” And before Samuel could utter a sound, he added, “Or perhaps the men in Wickhurst simply hold whores precious. After all, they come in different forms, say… an actress.”

Samuel scoffed, staring the man in the eyes. “Then the men in Willowfair must be too incompetent that even your so-called whore runs away from you.”

Adelard’s jaw tightened, but the man’s self-control was astounding. “Step out of my way.”

“If you promise not to go after her or bother here within this estate, I will.”

“Why do you believe I would even take orders from you?”

“Because the moment that you do follow her wherever she may be, a dozen more men will be at your tail,” Samuel replied. “Be wary, sir, before you take any action. Be more wary if you do so on Theobald grounds.”

Adelard scoffed in disbelief. “And who are you to—”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Samuel said, giving the man a slight bow. “Lord Buford. Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Adelard blanched. “You are a Theobald.”

Samuel shrugged and looked around the breakfast room. “Yes, this is my family’s party.” His eyes returned to Adelard. “And contrary to what you implied, Miss Stella Marie is a dear friend of mine. I believe, as well, that she is no whore to anyone but the theatre.”

With nothing else to say, Samuel turned around and left.

Alexander Adelard was not a good lead after all. The man was naught but a bloody bastard.

He needed a drink. And he needed news from Wickhurst.

---

Emma squared her shoulders as she heard footsteps outside her room.

When the door opened and closed, she turned to find Samuel who said, “Did you call for me? I have bad news,” he said both sentences in one breath and only then did Emma realize he looked angry.

“What is the matter?” she asked. Whatever she had to say would have to wait for a while. He was not in a state to hear reason.

“Are you aware that the bastard has returned to Wickhurst?”

She nodded. “I believe it was to interview a new actor.”

“Well, we cannot certainly believe that.”

“Why?”

“Because he is a lying bastard.” Samuel was starting to pace around the room.

“Sam, what is it?”

“There was nothing there.”

“Nothing where?”

“His estate!” He whirled around to face her. “My men were not able to find one bloody thing.”

“Surely there are other ways, Sam. You need not be furious over—”

“There is no other way, Emma! Because the bastard and his family are good with what they do!” He brushed his fingers through his hair. “I have tried everything. Even Stella Marie is too bloody cunning to spill out anything.”

Emma frowned. “Stella Marie? How long have you been in contact with her?”

“Not long. She is as smart as Wynne. And she is too bloody loyal.”

“Well, of course, she is. And if she were not, she would not tell you anything, Sam. Your very articles try to ruin her career.”

“Even her fiancé is of no use, that good-for-nothing arse.”

“You know about Sandre?”

Samuel moistened his lips. “I have to go back to Wickhurst. Wynne is up to something.” He looked at Emma. “Em, we have to go back.”

Emma frowned, taking a step back. “No, Sam. We have to tell Maggie.”

He shook his head. “Now is not the time—”

“I believe it is. We have exhausted our resources as well as ourselves, Samuel—for nothing.”

“No, Em, you do not understand—”

“No, Sam, I do. You’re bloody obsessed!”

He froze. “What did you say?”

“This obsession with the Trilbys is undeniably eating you and you barely recognize it. And I will not allow you to go on further blindly. We have to tell Maggie.”

“Emma, this matter is too sensitive—”

“Sam, you cannot do everything. Words—your articles—cannot solve everything. We need people who will know what to do.” Emma’s voice was starting to shake. “Not every bloody townspeople ought to know everything, Samuel. Not all great tactics are fought in public.”

“I disagree. Everyone deserves to know—”

“We do not have proof at all that the Trilbys are planning something against anyone apart from their political ambitions because they do not allow us to know anything. Do you know why? Because they know that they are being watched. If anyone could find proof, it is the League, Sam. And the Guards. You are not both. So, please, let us tell Maggie before things get worse. If they are planning something, Sam, it is either they are too cunning for the two of us or that they are innocent after all.”

Her tears fell when she saw the determination on his face become even stronger. “We do not have to find proof, Em. We simply need to push them to make new ones for us to collect.”

Emma frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“We have something that will threaten Noah Trilby. And a threatened one always makes the first mistake.”

“What is it? What do you have against Noah Trilby?”

“Em! Surely you know. Not what,” he said, coming toward her. “ Who .“

Emma instantly froze. A shiver ran down her spine and she felt the blood drain from her head. She did not even realize that she lifted her fist in the air, striking Samuel with brutal force.

Samuel stumbled back, fury in his eyes as his hand went to his cheek where she punched him. Disbelief followed suit.

Emma stepped toward him, pushing him with one hand, and with shaking voice said, “You would not dare touch my niece. You do not go near her. You do not utter her name at all!”

“Em—”

“No!” Emma said, pointing a finger at Samuel’s face. “The moment you mention anything about Fiona in one of your articles—even hint of her existence—I will personally knock on your door and skin you alive.”

“That is not what I meant. I would never allow any harm to come upon Fiona. Or anyone. There are ways to—”

“There are no ways, Samuel. There is simply you betraying us if you ever do anything that would expose that child.” Emma took a deep breath and stepped away from Samuel. “I called for you here because I wished to tell you of my decision.”

Confusion crossed his eyes. And when he realized he came to see her because she called for him, fear and apprehension instantly covered Samuel’s face.

“There will be no wedding, Samuel,” Emma said as another tear dropped from her eye. “I do not wish to marry you.”

XXVI. Plans

She was acting differently, Byron noted.

Most often he would find her looking conflicted.

Was there something he ought to be prepared for?

-Above and Below

---

Emma realized she made the right choice when she saw the confusion in Samuel’s eyes and she could not feel a tinge of regret. She hated that she wasted his time, that she made him wait. But she knew she would live in regret if she ever let this go on for long.

“Why, Emma?” was his deadpan question.

Emma blinked away more tears and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I cannot love you more than a friend, Samuel.”

A quiet anger flashed before his eyes. He deserved to be angry and she deserved his fury, she thought.

“I do not care what happened that night. I care not if anything happened between us.”

He frowned. “Will you not even ask me?”

She shook her head. “No. The very fact that I cannot remember is enough.” She squared her shoulders. “My mind is set. Fret not about my brothers. I will have a word with them.”

Samuel ran his fingers through his hair as he took a lungful of air. And when he met Emma’s eyes, he said, “Can you hold this off for a bit longer?” he asked. “Em, we might be facing a great tragedy—for your family and I—if we do not find out what the Trilbys are planning. Perhaps you are merely too stressed out. I have been pushing you into a direction you never wanted to take in the first place. It must have put a strain on you and I apologize.” He took a desperate step toward her. “Em, we are close. We cannot give up now. Give this another chance, please. And when you still believe we must tell Margaret, I will not contradict. And then you can think about us again.”

Emma started to shake her head, staring at him in disbelief.

Samuel pleaded further, saying, “We ought to keep an eye on Wynne. He must have found something here—something they could use against us. Otherwise, why would he leave on short notice? And if you think I would even consider letting anything happen to Fiona, you are wrong. I was merely suggesting—”

“Do you hear yourself, Sam?” Emma shouted, desperate for him to hear her. “What have become of you? How did you let this obsession get to you? The Samuel I knew—my friend—would never agree to the Samuel before my eyes today.”

He stood there, gaping at her, as though he could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. “Emma, this has always been me. Perhaps it is you who changed. You have always been brave, Emma. You never saw everything like everyone else did.”

“Then you do not know me well enough,” she said, voice shaking. “Samuel, I wish you start to realize, as have I, that we cannot have everything we want.” She turned her back to him. “I need to be alone. I have things to pack. I am leaving and wait for the Theobald party to end. And then I will tell Margaret whether you wish it or not.”

Emma expected him to argue further, but she flinched when she heard the door crash close.

With tearful eyes, she proceeded to pack her things.

She had to go to the only place where she could not be bothered.

---

Samuel gulped empty the last drop of brandy.

The bittersweet taste did not mellow down the anger brewing inside him and he kicked the liquor cabinet. The glasses shook and slowly returned to their original motionless state.

He slammed his glass on the table and walked over to the window of the study. From where he was standing, he could see Emma being escorted to the carriage by Lady Alice who was looking worried. Her mother was saying something to her but Emma shook her head.

“Why is Emma leaving?”

Samuel whirled around to find Stella Marie standing behind him wearing a curious look in her face. His jaw tightened as he turned to fully face her. “Why do I always find you in places where you ought not to be, Miss Stella?”

She looked him up and down. “My fiancée is still in this household. I was safe from him here the night prior and I figured he is not one who thinks I like such rooms. This is currently the best haven for me.”

Samuel scoffed. “So you are saying that you deliberately found yourself here again and said not a word when you came in?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord. I was here first. I was quite surprised you did not see me when you barged in.” She frowned at him. “What is the matter?”

He shook his head. “You truly are an actress,” he murmured.

“My concern is genuine.” She stepped closer to the window. “Why is Emma leaving? What did you do wrong, my lord?”

“I am not in the mood for your wit, Miss Stella, if you think they are funny,” he nearly growled. “And I did nothing wrong.”

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug, taking a few steps away from him. “Then perhaps you were merely setting aside some of your priorities—unknowingly, of course. She would not be leaving if you has reasons to stay.”

He was not sure why, but he let out a mocking laugh until he tears almost clouded his vision. “What do you know, anyway?” he asked as his laughter died down. “You simply act—”

“I can take merely enough insult from you today, my lord. But go on, your I am quite immune to them.”

“Excuse me? It was not I who started this game of insult. I reckon you are the master on the matter.”

Stella sighed and lifted her brows, acknowledging his comment. “Perhaps.” She looked him up and down again and when her eyes returned to his, she asked, “May I spew another tiny bit of insult your way, my lord?”

“I believe I have no time—”

“You are proving yourself to be just like the many lords and ladies you abhor,” she continued to say anyway. “You believe you are the only one who has the power to express your own opinions. You still enjoy your social status and the privileges that come with it.”

“Is someone paying you to distract me from something?” he blatantly asked.

She chuckled incredulously and clasped her hands together before she added, “No one has to do that, my lord, for you are causing the distraction upon yourself on your own quite tremendously.”

“Then you do admit you are here for more reasons than you lead on.”

She waved her hand, dismissing his words. “Oh, I am here for the wine. I heard the Theobalds offer the best in the Town.” She offered a mocking smile. “As to distracting you, as I have said, you do it too well on your own.”

“How so?” he asked, tasting a bitter arrogance in his own tongue.

“You expect things to work your way and when they do not, you blame others but never yourself for you are too righteous and ideal to be imperfect, are you not?” Stella Marie kept her gaze on him, never wavering, as she said so. “That in itself is distraction enough, my lord.”

“Coming from an actress, the speech is quite remarkable.”

“I have heard worse insults about my profession, my lord. Yours does not even warrant a bit of a sleepless night.” She sighed and looked around the room. “You are not who you paint yourself to be, Lord Samuel, although I may be one of the very few who can truly see through you.” She murmured the last few words, but Samuel heard them quite clearly. She offered a mocking curtsy. “I truly meant to assume the role of someone you can talk to for I noticed you needed it. But you do not need anyone for now, I assume. Sulk alone, then, my lord. Emphasis on alone .”

With not another word spoken, Stella Marie gracefully exited the room.

He kicked the liquor cabinet once again when the door gently shut behind her. “Bloody hell!” Samuel cursed himself and everyone else.

---

“So this is why you have very slow progress with the little assignment given to you.”

Wynne looked up from his writing to find Ezra leaning against the doorway of his study. Ignoring the man, Wynne continued writing.

He heard his young uncle’s footsteps coming closer and Wynne sighed, deliberately covering his work with a blank sheet of paper before glaring at Ezra. “What do you need, Ezra?”

Ezra smiled at him. “Aunt Amelia wishes to tell you that your useless—her own words—assignment is over.”

Wynne frowned. “Why?”

Ezra shrugged. “We now know who the Leaguer amongst those family friends of yours.”

“Hmm,” Wynne managed, leaning back against his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who?”

His uncle did not seem to believe him. “You truly do not know?”

“Pray tell,” he said instead.

“Oh, I am not certain I am allowed to tell,” Ezra said.

Acting nonchalance, Wynne shrugged. “Very well. I do not care at all. Is that all? You are here to tell me I am free of familial obligations?”

“Well, are you not going to ask how our dear aunt managed to extract the information?”

Wynne sighed. “How?”

Ezra grimaced. “Eddie is not very good with secrets, I can say.”

His jaw tightened as alarm started to rise up his throat. “Where is Edmund?”

“Licking his wounds, I assume. He has learned his lesson, fret not.”

“Bloody hell, Ezra!” Wynne jumped to his feet.

“And he is inside my carriage. I intended to deposit him here. If we do not call for the doctor, the young man will die.”

“You bloody fool!” Wynne cursed before he shouted for the butler, the doctor and the housemaid all at once.

---

“And ye think these Trilbys are out te get yer family?”

Emma looked at Alex’s father, the head of the reclusive bandits of Meriwether, Gustav, and shrugged. “I am not so sure anymore, Gustav. They did try to harm Maxine but despite that, we have no proof. They claim it was Osegod’s doing and they had nothing to do with it. They can be very cunning. To what extent, I am not certain. My brothers whom I am certain know more than I, are not saying anything.” She raked her head with her fingers. “I ought to tell Margaret. I should.”

“Yer in a dilemma, Emma.” Gustav noted, looking at her with serious eyes. “Why?”

Emma shook her head. “I cannot be sure.”

“Oh, let me tell ye, lass—yer sure. Somethin’s holdin’ ye back.”

Emma moistened her lips as she shook her head.

“Or someone?” Gustav asked.

“No, nothing is holding me back. I am certain I can tell Maggie anything. But I cannot be certain if the entire League can be trusted.”

“‘Cors ye can’t trust the bleedin’ League!” Gustav cried out. “But ye have te tell someone. Tellin’ a big bandit ain’t tellin’, lass. I won’t be able to do anythin’. Unless, ‘cors, they do somethin’ te me Alex.”

Emma faintly smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to stay, Gustav. Mother would not have allowed me to return to Wickhurst on my own if I did not tell her I am staying here.”

Gustav scoffed. “That ‘Ma of yers. What does she think of Meriwether? A safe haven? Bleedin’ Everards—yer minds are all crazy!”

Emma chuckled.

Gustav smiled at her. “Yer prettier when ye smile, lass. Stay here as long as ye like, but don’t let this information ’bout them Trilbys linger untold fer long.”

“All I have are speculations. The man we are certain is a Trilby could be innocent.”

“Then why is he hidin’ his true self, eh?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” asked Emma. “Do we all have something about ourselves that we simply cannot show?”

“Well, I do like ye Everards, but I don’t tell ’em other bandits outside Meriwether,” Gustav admitted. “But me lass, these Trilbys did many evil things in the past.” When Emma simply stared, looking clueless, Gustav added, “They threw away Maxine’s mother after she gave birth. Some bandits took her in. One night, their entire village was dead.”

Emma was stunned.

“Them Trilbys dinna want gossips. Maxine’s ’Pa saved his bastard but he also ought te have saved the mother.”

Emma let out a shaky breath. She did not know about this. Maxwell never said anything. Maxine never shared a word. Even Samuel stayed silent over the matter. If anyone else knew, they surely missed the fact that Emma would have appreciated the information as well.

“And ’cors, who can forget what they did te Aurora? The woman was found barely alive in the Dark Forest by Alex. She didn’t make it. Osegod paid the price fer it, but there are others at fault as well. The Trilbys were friends with Osegod, lass. That man was evil ’imself.”

Emma felt a shiver run up her spine.

Yes, of course.

She closed her eyes and Aurora’s face flashed before her.

The woman did many terrible things in the past, but Emma now knew the woman merely wanted to survive. And as Aurora’s former friend, Emma failed her in some way. At that time, Emma barely had any idea of the truth. Too many people were involved and they were all intent on keeping their secrets hidden from her, Ysabella and their mother.

It was merely a few year back when she started to piece things together and even then, it was too late. Aurora died, leaving her daughter alone.

Did the Trilby truly had anything to do with it?

Did Wynne know? Was he there when Aurora was tortured? Did he know where Osegod kept her?

Gustav gave her a gentle pat at the back. “I’ll leave ye alone te think, lass. Find me if ye need me.”

Emma barely heard him.

Tears of anger, regret and even pain started to pour from her eyes.

For the first time, Emma Grace Everard found herself in the most difficult time of her life.

---

“Stop frowning,” Ezra told Wynne. “Otherwise, this man will have to deal with your brows after he deals with this one.”

“Shut your bloody mouth for once,” Wynne snapped as the doctor rose to his feet.

“He is well. No bones broken…” Doctor Johannes looked over his shoulder at Edmund lying on the bed. “Are you certain it was a squabble?”

“Yes,” Ezra easily lied. “I was there to break it up.”

The doctor nodded. “One would think the poor man was tortured.”

“Well, we shall do the honor the moment he recovers,” Ezra said with a smile. “Thank you, doctor.”

The doctor nodded.

“I would appreciate if this matter remains unknown to everyone else not in this room,” Wynne said, eyes on Edmund who was starting to get restless in bed.

“Yes, of course,” Doctor Johannes said. “He needs a long rest before he resumes any of his activities.”

Ezra guided the doctor out the door before he joined Edmund and Wynne by the bed.

“Must warn them…” Edmund murmured, trying to sit up.

Wynne pushed him back on the pillow. “You stay here, Edmund.”

“No…” The young man could barely open his swollen eyes. No, in fact, his entire face was bloody swollen. “They must know that… the Trilbys know… about Margaret.”

“You cannot do it,” Wynne coldly stated. “The very moment the family learns you warned the Everards, they will come back for you and they will not be forgiving.”

“Wynne, I cannot—”

“Bloody hell, Eddie! You almost died! What? All for the young chit?” Ezra asked, finally showing his anger.

But Edmund was angrier. His eyes were almost as red as his bloody lips and he almost sputtered as he shouted, “I found that young chit being raped by my own father! Yes! I will die protecting her if it means paying for his sins!”

Wynne stood frozen. Ezra took a step back in disbelief.

Weakly, Edmund added, “Why do you think the Everards hate us so much?” He managed a scoff and a groan of agony. “And I am no less than my father. I betrayed them. A few lashings and I uttered Margaret’s name.”

Wynne swallowed and tried to control the fury building inside him. He brushed aside the innocent look of Fiona in his head. He had to be the thinking person in the room. Ezra was obviously too stunned to even move. “I will have you be taken to Hastings. It is still mine, but it will not be for long. You can stay there. And I will sort this mess you have created.” When Edmund just stared at him, Wynne sighed. “It is about time you trust someone amongst the Trilbys, Eddie”

---

Everyone was back in Wickhurst.

So was Emma.

She tried to avoid her mother and her questions by spending more time in her bedchamber.

“Whatever is wrong, Emma?” asked her mother that morning, but was interrupted when Lindsay barged in, screaming for her dolls.

Emma immediately excused herself with a promise that she would have a word with her mother soon.

It had been three days since she arrived from Meriwether with Alex and Ralph who came by to fetch her upon their mother’s orders. And since then, she had not taken the courage to go and speak to Margaret or even Ralph about Wynne and his connection to the Trilbys.

Intending to tell Margaret today, Emma went calling to the Devitt household.

“Emma! You are here! Perfect!” Margaret said. “Whyever did you leave Theobald too soon?”

“I had things to think about,” Emma started.

“Is it about Samuel?”

“And other things,” Emma replied, nodding her head. “Maggie—”

“You seem distressed. You know you can tell me anything. Are you having second thoughts? Should we cancel the engagement? I will support you, of course. To hell with the brothers.” Margaret gave her a quizzical look. “But I am certain you can handle matters on your own. No matter, know that I will be there for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I am glad that you are here. Cole received passes for Above and Below from someone in the Men of Courts. We have seen it already, but I am quite eager to see who the new actor is. Are you aware they have a new actor to replace Jordan Smith?”

Emma shook her head.

“Well, they do. I have an extra pass. I am certain you would love to see it. We know you love that play.”

Emma smiled. “Well, of course.”

“Very well then!” Margaret stood. “Do Fiona and Faye know you are here? Oh, they have been begging me to see you. Go and surprise them upstairs while I see to Katie. And oh, Cole is at home but he is currently quite preoccupied. See, the two of us have been reviewing the slavery cases since we arrived. Both of us are about ready to give up. The files are enormous they could reach high up a hole and cover it!” Her sister started to walk out of the room. “Go and be with the girls. I will find you upstairs later for tea! And the play is tonight! I will send word for mother that you will be coming home late!” Margaret’s voice trailed away as she left.

Emma sighed. Was it relief that she felt?

Relief that she did not have to tell Margaret today?

But she knew she had to sooner or later before Samuel did something utterly stupid.

---

Christian Fulke was not like Jordan Smith, but he gave Byron Glocheshire justice.

He was not perfect, but his flaws were naturally charming on stage.

Wynne did not want to be here tonight, but this was Christian’s first night in Above and Below .

As the crowd filled the large tent, Wynne hid in the shadows near the back of the stage. Behind him, the actors and crew were in a mess. Everyone was running around doing things. He could hear Stella Marie practicing a line she said she needed to work with the new actor. They merely had three days to rehearse and it was not enough for everyone.

Wynne’s eyes immediately caught sight of Margaret Everard and her husband.

And their companion.

His jaw tightened.

He had to forget the kiss, he thought.

He had to get her out of his mind.

But of course, they were only in his mind for his body had something else planned. He just found himself walking to where she was standing. Her sister and brother-in-law were talking to a couple when Wynne grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the group without catching attention from anyone.

She tried to resist at first. He felt it in the way she pulled at her hand.

But when she realized who he was, pulling her away from everyone else was no a struggle at all.

He led her down an empty hidden corridor that led to the back of the stage.

“Wynne, what are you doing?” she asked behind him, voice almost a whisper.

Suddenly, Wynne was back to his senses. But then he could not tell her he had no reason in pulling her away from her family other than the fact that he wanted her.

Here.

With him.

He stopped and whirled around to face her. He was angry—at her and at him.

As he looked at her confused face, he a question popped in his head.

Why did it have to be her?

She took a step back. Suddenly her face was showing a kind of anger he had not seen before. And he immediately wanted to erase it because it was directed at him.

“What?” she demanded, almost in challenge.

“Why are you here?”

“I have a pass.”

“Emma, why are you here?” he asked.

“My sister and Cole received passes for the play from a friend at the Courts. They gave me the extra one.” She squared her shoulders. “I was not aware I am banned from seeing your play, my lord.”

His hand grabbed hers and pulled her toward him, none too gently. He bent his head until their faces were inches apart. “You being here is not wise, Emma.”

“Why? Does my presence here obstruct you from doing something?”

His jaw tightened. This woman knew who he was. She was here under Samuel’s orders.

But why could he read the fire in her eyes as his own desires?

“Your presence here places us both on dangerous grounds.”

“How so?” she asked, voice stern and challenging.

One of them could simply give up and confront the other. But they both knew it would not happen. He could not because it would be too dangerous for him. And she could not because she wanted to catch him at the best time.

“Where is Samuel?”

“I do not know.”

She was lying. “You are lying.”

“I truly do not know and I do not bloody care,” she said through gritted teeth.

No, she was not lying, Wynne realized.

And before he knew it, before they even realized it, he was kissing her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her arms were around his neck and she was on her toes, straining to get closer.

They had only kissed once but this felt like their hundredth.

The worst part was they barely scratched the surface of the yearning.

They could if they wanted to, but reality was merely a wall away.

Wynne pulled her against him as he leaned against the wall, his mouth exploring hers the way he explored the depths of his characters. It was sweet, a tale of its own. The longer he explored, the more he learned the complexities of it.

He had written hundreds of thousands of words in his lifetime and yet none of them could come close to describing his intoxicating need for this woman.

And the pang of pain.

Pain.

Wynne suddenly stopped and gently pushed Emma away. He looked into her confused eyes and cupped her face. There it was again. The pain blustered inside his chest and tingled down to his fingertips.

He did not like it for he was not used to it.

And bloody tarnation, this woman was causing it.

He let out a shaky breath. “Bloody hell, Emma, why are you here?” he found himself asking in barely a whisper.

“Margaret and Cole were invited by someone from the Courts. They had an extra ticket and gave me one knowing I love the play.” She merely repeated her earlier reply.

The very sound of her voice caused another aching current to run through him.

Why?

Wynne did not have to ask why. He knew why.

A lump formed in his throat. And his bloody eyes were starting to sting.

He pulled her toward him and planted a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“Wynne, I have to go. It is wrong for me to be here,” Emma murmured against his chest.

“Just a little longer, Emma,” he murmured, closing his eyes, trying to dissolve the tears. “This could be our last moment together, see?” he said, trying to jest and knew he failed. It was not even bloody funny.

He felt her stiffen in his arms.

“Are you talking about your plans to move away from Wickhurst?”

“Hmm,” was all he could manage.

“Then is this your way of saying goodbye?”

He did not answer for a while. “This is my way of saying I just had what they would call an epiphany.”

“An epiphany? Of what?” She tried to look up, but Wynne held her head back against his chest.

He planted another kiss on the top of her head. “You would not believe even if I told you.”

She remained silent and Wynne wondered if she knew.

No, of course not.

Because why would it ever cross her mind that the person she thought her enemy was in love with her?

Taking a lungful of air, Wynne loosened his hold and gently pushed Emma away. “Go, Emma,” he said. “I have a play to direct. You have a play to watch.”

She stood there looking at him, studying him.

Wynne swallowed and looked away.

She always saw through him and tonight would not be the perfect time for that.

He bent down and planted a long, lingering kiss against her mouth. Then he whispered in her ear, “Go,” before forcing himself to do the same.

He was certain she was still there, standing in the middle of the dark, narrow corridor.

The pain struck him once again.

He was in pain like a bloody fool and he now knew why.

He was walking away from the woman he loved.

Because he knew he could not bloody have her.

---

Wynne decided to return to his office to collect himself before he gathered everyone around for one last instruction. Nearly all guests had settled down and were ready to see the play. He could not afford to be distracted tonight.

But when he found Ezra pacing inside his study, Wynne sensed that tonight was not his lucky night.

Ezra seemed rather conflicted and could not even wait for Wynne’s question and said, “I am here because I was tasked to watch Margaret Everard and Cole Devitt.”

“Under whose orders?”

“Noah,” Ezra said, looking serious.

Wynne frowned. “And what precisely are his orders, Ezra?”

Ezra chewed on his lower lip and looked around the office.

“Ezra, what were his orders?” Wynne repeated sternly.

“I have to make certain the couple stays until the end of the play.”

Wynne froze in alarm, his mind racing to possible reasons as to why their uncle wanted Margaret and Cole to be here.

“Who sent the Devitts the passes for the play?” he demanded.

Ezra shook his head. “All I know is that they would be here.” Ezra looked at him. “He is not planning something drastic such as burning this place down, is he?”

“No….” Wynne rushed to his table and scribbled a quick note. He folded the paper and went for the door.

“Wynne, where the bloody hell—”

Wynne looked over his shoulder. “The Devitts did not bring their children here, Ezra,” he said, running toward Stella. “Give this to Margaret Everard. You know who she is.”

“Yes,” Stella said, looking confused. “Wynne, the play is about to start—”

“Start without me,” he said. “Stella, see that the note reaches Margaret Everard. Now.”

He looked over his shoulder at Ezra. “We have to go.”

“What? Where?” Ezra cried behind him.

Wynne whirled around to face the man. “Our dear uncle wants Margaret and Cole away from home.”

It finally dawned on Ezra and they both started to run.

XXVII. Burn

Ellie entered the Glocheshire mansion after a morning walk around the estate and the plantation surrounding it.

She had basked under a large hole and was quite eager to tell Byron that they ought to have a picnic by the lake that afternoon. It was a rare sunny day!

But instead of the calm quiet that was inherent of Glocheshire, a commotion greeted Ellie.

“What’s happening?” she demanded when she saw men in uniforms dragging Byron down the hall.

The leader of the men replied, “His lordship is under arrest.”

“What?” Ellie exclaimed. “For what?”

“Treason.”

-Above and Below

---

“This will put us in a ton of trouble, Wynne!” Ezra shouted after Wynne.

Wynne looked over his shoulder, throwing his young uncle a murderous look.

“I am merely telling the truth! The moment we interfere and the very moment they learn about it, we are dead!”

Wynne stopped and grabbed Ezra by the collar and growled, “If you do not go with me, Ezra, their lives will be on you! And I will skin you myself before Noah and Amelia can get their hands on you.” He pushed Ezra away and raced to his horse. There were very few guests outside the tent now as everyone else were inside, waiting for the play to start.

“Bloody tarnation!” he heard Ezra scream behind him before following his path.

“My lord! My lord! The play!” a man shouted after them as Wynne and Ezra jumped on their respective horses.

“Get on with it!” he shouted, kicking his horse to make it move.

Without another glance at the confused servant, Wynne urged his horse to gallop away from Ulric, intent to get to Wickhurst as fast as he could.

Ezra was not far behind him.

His jaw was tight as he bent lower, eyes stern on the road. His thoughts were no longer on anyone but the children in the Devitt household.

He honestly did not know what to expect when he got there or how he could even face it. All he knew was that there were children’s lives at stake tonight and it was because of his bloody family.

The very moment they entered Wickhurst, Wynne realized he did not know which way to go.

“I have been following them since this morning,” Ezra said, passing by Wynne.

Wynne followed the man, his heart already racing.

Bloody hell, he left his pistol in his office. Should a fight ensue, he only had his fists.

Wynne did not have to ask Ezra if the man knew where he was going because from where they were, they could already hear screaming. And the air was getting warmer—hotter even. The hint of smoke filled his nostrils.

He stiffened as he realized what was happening.

“Fire! Fire! Help!” someone was shouting from afar.

Wynne’s horse was starting to show signs of distress so he opted to jump off. Ezra did the same and they both found a safe alley to tether the animals before running to where the fire was causing havoc. When they emerged out of alleyway, they ran against a number of people escaping the scene and both stood stunned at what they were seeing from across the street.

“Bloody tell me that is not the Devitt house,” he said to Ezra as they looked up. The top landing, probably the attic, was almost engulfed by fire now. The glass window of the attic cracked and shattered, giving way to an angry fire which blasted hot light over the street below.

“Fire!”

Fire in the Town was considered crucial. It was amongst the feared tragedies for it could ruin an entire village in under a few hours. A large town such as Wickhurst was fully equipped to fight one, but it seemed that help would be delayed tonight. If his uncle was behind this, help would be timed perfectly to arrive to save the village, but not the house itself and everything in it.

Wynne’s attention was pulled from the house to a hysterical woman crying in the middle of the cobbled street. In her arms she was carrying a crying girl. Beside her was a stunned boy looking up at the fire.

“Johnny, they are still there! Johnny!” the nurse was crying.

“It’s impossible! They’re on the second landing!” a man answered, shielding his face with his hand.

“We can’t leave them! Please, Johnny!”

“I promise ye, they was behind me earlier. And they disappeared! I couldn’t get back te get ’em!” the man replied, face filled with anguish.

“Jed is on his way to Ulric!” another crying woman said as she grabbed the young boy in her arms to shield him from the sight of fire. “Don’t look, Master Harold. Your Mama and Papa will be here soon.”

The servants were still in their nightgowns, two or three nursing an injured footman who was trying to explain how he tried to search for the two girls but could not get past the grand staircase.

“Oh, my lord! Call Lord Ralph! Quick! Anyone! Call anyone!” a crazed woman was shouting at no one in particular as she ran around in a trance. “Any Everard, please! Oh, my dear Fee and Faye! Oh, God, please! Please!”

Wynne looked up at the top landing of the Devitt home. The fire had not yet consumed the entire second landing, but it would be soon if they did not do anything.

“Do not even think—” Ezra started to say when Wynne took one step toward the house.

Wynne shook his uncle’s hand away. “Either you go with me, or you stay out here and watch,” he murmured before running toward the side of the house, away from the crowd of panicking servants and growing onlookers.

“Wynne! Are you bloody insane!” Ezra shouted after him but he had to act fast. He had no time to waste arguing over a matter that ought not to be subject to discussion. Two girls were trapped in that bloody house! “Bloody hell!” Ezra shouted when another windowpane burst from the top landing, raining down on them both.

The side of the house was dark, but it was not hard to not miss the small window that led to the basement kitchen. He kicked it open, brushing aside glass debris with his boot.

“Wynne, we can wait for—”

“Go home, Ezra, if you wish to have none of this. Have a sleep slumber if you can,” he growled before he wormed himself through the small opening. He landed in a dark kitchen, but the evidence of the fire above was in the air. He pulled off his cravat, soaked it in water and tied it around his head to cover his nose and mouth.

As he excited the kitchen, he heard Ezra heavily coughing behind him. He gave his uncle one last glance before exiting the room to look for the two girls.

The man outside was not lying. Wynne found the grand staircase an impossible path to reach the second landing as the floor directly above it had fallen down.

Realizing the impact of the fire at such a short period of time, Wynne could start to taste the bitter taste of panic and defeat. Even he would not survive inside for long. If the fire would not eat him alive, the heat and smoke could very well do enough damage on their own.

“Fiona! Faye!” he shouted over the crackles of the fire.

He heard a weak voice coming from above them, a whimper of some sort.

Ezra, now beside him, nose and mouth covered by a kitchen towel, looked up. “Bloody hell,” they both muttered when they saw the two girls in their dirtied white nightgowns standing at the edge of the balustrade.

The said balustrade which had been connected to the grand staircase was about to give in, along with the floor the two girls were standing on.

“Help us, please,” one of the girls said, voice choking in tears and smoke. A glass shattered from somewhere and the two girls flinched in alarm as they held on to the balustrade with dear life.

“Slowly take a step back,” Wynne ordered in panic as the floor shook. “Slowly away from the balustrade.”

“We cannot!” The girl was Fiona. “The floor is shaking—ah!”

The floor dropped a few inches, taking the girls with it.

Wynne looked around in panic for something they could use to reach the girls.

“Fiona,” Wynne started, concentrating on urging the girls to step back to safety. “It is Fiona, yes?”

The girls nodded in tears and coughed. “Faye is sick. Quite sick.” The girl standing beside Fiona was swaying in her feet, still conscious.

But not for long, Wynne feared. The smoke was getting thicker. He pointed at the large cabinet standing against the wall and Ezra immediately understood.

“Fiona, I need you to take Faye a step back. Please, sweetheart,” Wynne said as calmly as he could while Ezra pushed a cabinet across the room toward the floor directly under the more stable part of the balustrade. “Just one step, Fiona. That’s it.” Wynne helped his uncle push the cabinet as he urged Fiona further, saying, “Now, take another step.”

“I did it,” Fiona’s shaking voice said from above them.

“Did you take Faye with you?”

“Yes. She’s sick. Please, help.”

“We are on our way, sweetheart. Be brave,” Wynne said, pulling a chair beside the cabinet. He climbed on it and unto the cabinet with Ezra keeping the furniture sturdy. He was not on the level of the second landing, but he was close enough to reach the balustrade.

Pulling himself up, Wynne managed to climb over the railings and unto the second landing.

The girls were pressed against the wall, their eyes wide in horror. They were still standing over the weak floor that would soon join the broken staircase below. Wynne had to pull them back to the secure segment of the floor now .

With one hand on the railing, Wynne reached out to offer his other hand to Faye. “Faye, sweetheart, reach out for my hand.”

But Faye refused to let go of Fiona.

“Please, Faye, reach for my hand.”

“Go,” Fiona weakly urged her sister. “Go, Faye.”

Faye reluctantly reached for Wynne’s hand and he immediately pulled the girl to safety. He did not waste more time turning for Fiona who was already reaching out her hand.

The ground underneath her trembled just as Wynne grabbed a hold of her hand.

The girls hugged each other the moment they thought they were safe.

But they were far from it.

The heat was nearly unbearable and Wynne could not find another way to get them back to the first landing other than the one he took.

He knelt down to face the girls, urgency in his voice as he said, “Now, we have to go back down but we cannot use the stairs. You have to trust me and my friend to help you. Can you do that?”

Fiona and Faye nodded. “Are you our guardian angels?”

Wynne bitterly smiled behind his cravat. “I am no angel, sweetheart.” He stood up and looked over the balustrade and shouted for Ezra to keep the cabinet steady.

He turned back to Faye. “I will guide you over the balustrade. I will hold your hands until your feet land on the top of the cabinet. But you will have to be very still. Will you do that for me?”

Faye nodded weakly.

Wynne took a lungful of air before he hauled Faye over the balustrade. “Place your feet through the railings,” he ordered and the child obliged. “Now, hold on to my shoulders. I will not let you fall, darling. Just hold on tight with every bit of strength you have left.” Faye did as he asked, allowing Wynne a few seconds to transfer his hands to her arms. “Now, take one foot out and try to reach for the cabinet. No, do not be scared. I am holding you.”

“You can do it, Faye,” Fiona said, coughing as she spoke.

“Cover your nose and mouth, Fiona,” Wynne ordered.

Faye moved her right leg and tried to reach out for the cabinet but she could not.

“It is okay, it is okay,” Wynne said, sliding his hands down to wrists. “Let go of your other foot. I am holding you.” He guided her lower until her foot touched the top of the cabinet, using all of his strength to keep them both from falling over. Wynne did not let go of Faye until the girl’s feet were safely planted on the cabinet.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Ezra said from below. “Find your balance. Now, slowly sit down. Dangle your legs to the side of the cabinet. Very good. Now, reach out your arms and come here. You’re safe now.”

Wynne looked down to find his uncle standing on the chair, gathering Faye into his arms.

He straightened and found Fiona looking quite determined. He smiled. “You are one brave girl, Fiona. I am certain you can do this, too.”

Fiona blinked and coughed. “I fence. I have terrific balance.”

Wynne reached down to lift her over the balustrade. “Of course you do,” he said with a grunt.

Following the same approach as earlier, Wynne managed to successfully transfer Fiona unto the cabinet and into Ezra’s arms.

He followed as quickly as he could, already feeling quite dizzy. Standing on top of the cabinet, he shook his head.

“Are you all right?” Ezra asked from below.

Wynne nodded and jumped the rest of the distance to the ground. He and Ezra looked at each other. They both knew they could not return outside together with the girls.

By now, there could be hundreds of people outside who might recognize them. He looked at the main doors. It was still passable.

He grabbed the two girls by the hand and guided them toward it.

Without thinking, he reached for the door handle and was immediately burned. He shouted, jumping back in pain. The door swung open and he turned to the two girls.

He looked at their scared faces one last time before he said, “Go. Go to safety, sweethearts.”

Wynne’s eyes lingered into Fiona’s. “You will come with us?”

“We will be right behind you,” Wynne lied. “Now, go.”

The girl nodded bravely, taking her sister’s hand and pulling her out of the house.

Wynne heard the cry of relief and panic from the servants outside as he ran back to Ezra who was already running back to the kitchen.

“You go ahead,” Wynne ordered, already turning around to go back.

“Bloody hell, Wynne! Where the hell do you think—”

“Go! I will be right behind you!” he shouted over his shoulder.

He ran back to the cabinet and easily lifted himself back to the second landing.

He knew what he was doing was crazy, but something was telling him he had to. He searched the second landing for the study and found it almost entirely engulfed in flame. So the fire started in the attic, causing the third landing to fall down first. This room was far from the attic yet it was in so much flame compared to the other parts of the landing.

Another fire was started here.

The heat was suffocating, the crackling fire intense.

It was impossible. Nothing could be saved from the room. Changing his mind, he ran back down the corridor to look for another study.

Someone like Margaret Everard would surely keep another office.

A Leaguer with secrets would not simply hide everything in a bloody study.

He skidded to a stop when he passed by a room that looked like the nursery. Of course. How else could a Leaguer watch over her child while working on something?

Entering the room which was now filled with smoke, he remembered how the Theobalds hid Maxine’s room by building a secret door on the wall. Wynne immediately started searching. He found it behind the crib. Pushing it open, he found himself inside a smaller version of the study down the hall.

---

The fire destroyed everything inside the Devitt home.

The firemen came just in time to stop the fire from spreading throughout the neighborhood, but not in time to save anything from the place of origin.

Margaret and her entire family took refuge in the Everard manor, all safe and shaken.

News of the fire reached every member of the family and now almost everyone was coming home, including their eldest, Benedict. They were yet to receive word from Nicholas and Sophia.

Emma had no time to even feel anything after the fire. She could even barely remember how Margaret received a note at the play and how it caused blood to drain down Margaret’s face. All she could recall was that they hurriedly made their way back to Wickhurst to find the firemen already fighting the fire.

Margaret and Cole were in panic until they were told that Ralph and Levi had already taken the children and the nannies home to the Everard estate.

With no time to waste mourning over the wrecked Devitt estate, they rushed home to be with the children.

Lady Alice had already called for the doctor to see to the children and everyone else talked in hurried whispers as they gathered information on how the fire started, forming theories as to why it happened if it was indeed intentional.

Emma had no time to join the discussion as she aided her mother, Ysabella and their sisters-in-law around the household, making certain that the children were comfortable.

Faye and Fiona would not leave each other’s side. The doctor said the two girls were doing well and that they were still in a little shock.

Emma was unable to shed a single drop of tear because it was taken over by matters they ought to attend to right away.

Two days later, Emma found herself watching over the children in the playroom as they played with their cousins as though nothing had happened. Could they remember everything, or were they merely suppressing the horrific memories?

As she watched the two girls, Faye and Fiona, she could hardly keep herself from asking. She heard from the servants. The two girls were trapped inside the house and they miraculously survived.

All the servants knew about what happened were from the first words Fiona told them when she and Faye got out of the house. “Our guardian angels saved us!”

That was the last they heard from either Fiona or Faye about the incident.

Emma could not force them to talk now. It might trigger something and God knew what it could bring to their mental health. Perhaps when everything was back to normal, she could ask about what happened.

She let out a shaky sigh, both of relief and stress, as she watched the children play.

And then, as if with a snap of a finger, she felt tears streaming down her face. She hurriedly wiped them with her hands before any of the children saw.

Downstairs, her brothers and Margaret were talking. In the kitchen somewhere, her mother and sisters-in-law were with Ysabella, looking over dinner preparations.

Benedict and his family were due to arrive tonight.

Nearly everyone would be here, but it would not be for a happy Everard occasion.

It was for an urgent family meeting.

XXVIII. The Trilby Strategy

“An incriminating letter was found in your study, Lord Glocheshire,” the head of the Men of Courts said.

“And as I have said, I do not know what you are talking about.”

The man picked up a piece of paper. “Perhaps if I read its contents, your memory will come back?”

Byron glared at the paper and said nothing further.

The head of the Men of Courts stared at him wryly. “This letter is addressed to you from someone aboveground.”

“What?” he incredulously asked.

“As a matter-of-fact, it talks about how they can send you the payments for the information you gave them.”

-Above and Below

---

The very presence of the eldest of the Everard children was not merely reassuring but also comforting.

Who would have thought that the once feared Benedict Everard could bring his siblings such feelings?

The very first thing he ordered was for everyone, save for their mother who was asked to look after the children, to gather to the study.

“How much of what we discussed could be shared with Mother?” Maxwell asked the moment Emma closed the door behind her.

“We shall answer whatever question she may ask,” Benedict replied as he focused his attention on Margaret and Cole. “Do you have any reason to believe the fire was intentional?”

“The fire was reportedly started in in the attic,” Cole said, looking serious—almost angry. “Perhaps it was to drive everyone out of the household so they can go after what they really wanted to destroy.”

“Another fire was started in Cole’s study,” Margaret explained. “The attic and the study received equal amount of damage.”

“You are still working on the slavery case, are you not?” Benedict asked Cole.

Cole nodded. “I have been reviewing cases and collecting additional evidence.”

“And we assume all your work is gone?” Levi asked.

“Not all as I still have a few left in the Courts, but yes, the crucial ones are in my study.”

“Maggie,” Ralph spoke, “you have a study. Was that destroyed as well?”

“Yes,” Margaret said. “So was the nursery. Everything.”

“Nothing was left? Nothing at all?” Agatha, Benedict’s wife, asked.

“Nothing.”

Benedict looked around the room before he asked, “Do we have to be alarmed? Are the Trilbys behind this?”

“They have all reasons to want to target us,” Ralph pointed out. “Noah Trilby’s reputation is at stake. They are concerned over Fiona like how Osegod was with Gwyneth. And Cole is likely to find evidence of their involvement in the slave trade.”

Benedict shook his head. “And we all thought it ended with Osegod.”

“No, I believe it started after the bastard was out of the picture,” Maxwell said. “The Trilbys can be quite cunning, Amelia Trilby the most.”

The eldest of the Everards looked at Margaret. “What do you plan to do now, Maggie?”

Emma watched Margaret reach out for Cole’s hand and she witnessed how the coupled looked at each other. They had obviously already talked about their next steps.

“I plan to withdraw from the League. My family is of utmost importance.”

“Although I cannot say the same for the Courts,” Cole added. “It needs someone to keep its integrity now of all time. I shall allow the slavery case to rest for a while before I start anew.”

Emma quietly sat in one corner with Ysabella, confused now more than ever.

If it was true that the Trilbys started the fire, did Wynne know about it? He seemed genuinely surprised that Margaret, Cole and Emma were present in the play.

Her eyes went to Margaret who was looking troubled yet determined.

Her sister had made her choice to leave the League. Telling her about Wynne could merely create confusion. She then turned to stare at Ralph. Ralph was an active member of the Town Guards. Perhaps he would be the perfect person to know about what Wynne’s secret.

She had to find the perfect time to talk to him after dinner.

---

Dinner was solemn, but Lady Alice made certain that everyone’s favorite meal was served.

Even the children joined in, giving the atmosphere an easier feel. But it was apparent that everyone was wondering about the unknown.

The Trilbys had not made a direct threat to them and even the fire could have been started by anyone. Cole, after all, had been overseeing different assignments other than the slavery case.

“Well, our sumptuous dinner is over,” said Lady Alice, clasping her fingers together as she eyed each of her children. Her grandchildren were ushered out for the night, leaving the adults all in one room. “I have just received word from Nick that he and Sophia are cutting their trip and coming home. We might as well celebrate that.” She stood and looked at her daughters and daughters-in-law. “Ladies, if you will follow me, I have a special treat. It is about time I open my prized sherry. Then mayhap one of you would have the mercy of telling me what in the name of all that’s holy is going on.”

Alex grinned at Emma and Ysabella and began to leave her seat but Ralph stopped her. “I’m not drinkin’, guv. I’ll be simply starin’,” she reassured her husband with a wink.

“You do know I do not believe you all the time, Lex,” Ralph called after his wife as the ladies began to sashay out of the room.

Emma was approached by Jefferson to whisper something. “Lord Samuel is outside and asks if you would spare him a moment.”

She raised one eyebrow. “He is not coming in?”

Jefferson leaned closer. “He thinks it best that he does not meddle in the family affairs as he understands it is quiet sensitive.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the drawing room where her mother and the other ladies just entered. From the dining area, she could hear the men all starting to leave as well.

“Very well,” she whispered, rushing to the entrance door.

She found Samuel standing in the driveway beside his horse.

“Em,” he said as she approached.

“You know you are welcome inside,” she told him.

He was already shaking his head. “I simply came to see if you are all right.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And Margaret and the children?”

“Everyone is well, Sam.”

He nodded and an awkward silence ensued. Samuel finally cleared his throat and looked at Emma. She could no longer find the trace of anger from the last time they talked. He seemed apologetic, even. “Have you told Margaret?” he asked.

She shook her head. “She has decided to leave the League.”

He was genuinely surprised.

“But I am going to tell Ralph tonight.”

Samuel considered her words, his brows knitted together as he thought. “Perhaps I ought to tell him myself.”

“Sam, it has to be I who—”

“Em, I know Ralph,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the front doors to see if they were still alone. “I know him,” he repeated, looking into her eyes. “He would not react well if you tell him how you found out about Wynne. It would be best if I tell him I did all the investigating on my own.”

“But then we would be lying, Sam.”

“How do you reckon Ralph would react if you tell him you have been escaping Wickhurst to follow a Trilby?”

Emma sighed, knowing Samuel was right. She nodded. “Very well, you tell him.” Samuel nodded and she added, “On the morrow. The very first thing on the morrow.”

“Yes.”

Emma looked over her shoulder. “I must return inside.”

Samuel reached out for her arm to stop her. She turned halfway to stare at him. “Have you thought about us again?”

“I barely had time to do any thinking, Sam,” she said before taking a long breath. She slowly let it out, looking straight into his eyes. She still adored him. He was a dear friend and she knew he was a good man with good intentions. He had simply gone off his original path but she knew he would get back for he was Samuel Theobald. “Sam, my decision is final.”

Samuel nodded slowly and let out a bitter, shaky laugh. “Get going then,” he said, forcing a smile. “I shall spend a sleepless night. I have officially left The Herald.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “When do you plan to start The Blower?”

He grinned. “You will learn about it the very morning it happens. I shall have a copy sent to you.” He looked up at the Everard manor and sighed. “Go inside and have a good night.”

Emma nodded. She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that perhaps now might not be the perfect time to release The Blower , but who was she to do so? She had just broken off their engagement and may have very well put a strain on their friendship. He could very well do whatever he wanted. She would no longer be the woman who would stop him from doing what he thought was right. “Good night,” was all she could muster for now.

---

“This is bloody crazy. Bloody crazy!” Ezra exclaimed as he folded the letter he just wrote. “We went inside a bloody burning house to save two young girls. You got yourself injured and now I wrote a bloody note that gives instructions on how to properly spy on bloody Noah Trilby, the head of the bloody Town Leaders.” He slipped the finished letter across the table at Wynne who caught it with his bandaged hand. “I am telling you, Wynne, I am almost at my limit.”

Wynne ignored his young uncle and leaned back against his chair. Soon, the letter would land in the hands of his trusted men.

“It is one thing to save a little girl from the man, but it is an entirely different story to spy on him,” Ezra was saying, brushing his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Wynne folded his hand under his chin and absent spoke, “He could have simply taken the girl if he only wanted the girl. Why burn the house?”

“Because he is bloody crazy! And so are you!”

He shook his head. “He needed to destroy something,” he said, not voicing out the memory of his last night at Theobald. Thomas Hayward had urged Margaret and Cole to build a case against the Trilbys. His uncle might not be quite as stupid after all to have caught wind of that plan.

But how?

The conversation that night happened between Leaguers. Cole would not have shared the information to anyone.

Wynne scoffed and shook his head. The League had a rat.

“We will die now, I am telling you.” Ezra was still talking. “It was my task to make certain the Devitts stay in that play. I will be flagged for this.”

“Noah will not suspect a thing.”

“Of course, he will not, but Amelia will,” a voice spoke from the doorway.

Ezra whirled around in alarm as Wynne turned his head to find Thorne glaring at them both.

“She is wondering who rescued the girls. It was said the footmen did it, but of course, Amelia being Amelia, suspects someone else did.”

“Or the girls could have just been brave and capable enough to save their selves,” Ezra snapped.

Thorne’s dark gaze travelled from Ezra to Wynne. His lips moved just a fraction to form a knowing smile. “You fools…” he said, shaking his head.

“You dropped by to tell us that?” asked Wynne.

“I seem to be the deliverer of warnings nowadays,” said Thorne with a sigh. “I just happen to be coming home from a visit to our dear friend Durley and decided I would drop another warning for you both.” He looked at Ezra and then Wynne. “Stay away from the Everards and know where your bloody loyalties lie, you idiots.”

Thorne disappeared just as swiftly as he arrived.

Ezra glared at Wynne. “You idiot.”

Wynne ignored his uncle and called for Lawrence. The man had another letter to deliver.

---

Burning Secrets: A Trilby Strategy

Samuel stared at his long article for a long time and let out a satisfied sigh.

The Blower had just printed its first ever paper and all copies were instantly sold. That was two days ago. They just printed another batch today and that, too, was almost consumed.

The Town was hungry for conspiracy, but soon they would yearn for the truth, Samuel thought. Just today, he received letters of inquiry from writers who were interested to be part of The Blower .

His dream was becoming a reality. Everyone was coming together to fight for the truth.

Tearing his eyes away from the paper, he looked out the window of his study. A few carriages were driving by. The people walking down the side of the cobble road were unaware that their lives could suddenly change if they did not recognize the problem the Trilby reign would bring.

“My lord, your carriage is ready,” his butler announced, snapping Samuel from his thoughts.

He nodded and reached for his coat.

He had promised Emma he would tell Ralph about Wynne Hastings, but he did not do so the very morning like he promised. He had been caught up writing an article that he missed the opportunity.

But he was ready to deliver that promise now.

Ralph had agreed to meet him at Grey’s tonight. From there, he would wait a few more hours before inviting Ralph to find a private place to talk.

He made his way downstairs and out the main doors and into his carriage.

After releasing The Blower , he could no longer ride on horseback. He was the only known writer of the paper and it would not be soon before he was targeted.

It was best to take necessary precaution.

“Grey’s,” he ordered the driver and the carriage started to drive away.

Samuel leaned against his seat, wondering how he ought to tell Ralph. What could his friend’s reaction be?

Perhaps Ralph would be willing to keep this secret for a while and work with Samuel better than Emma did this time. It would be famous, really. Wynne could lead them to his family’s secrets if they played this right.

Asking Emma to be a part of his scheme was wrong. He did not only place her in a dangerous situation, but he also, in a way, pushed her away from him. He could still not figure out how it happened. They may simply have grown apart, together with their opinions.

He did not want to tell her he was right about Wynne and the Trilbys. She was suffering enough after the fire, but she ought to have listened to him. She ought not to have doubted his opinions for they were right. They may have been construed as heartless and selfish, but he was right and they wasted more time bantering over what to do next that they missed the opportunity to catch the Trilbys before they ordered the fire.

If they had followed Wynne back to Wickhurst, they could have stopped it for it was certain the bastard had something to do with the fire.

How to prove it would be the challenge and he hoped Ralph would be up to it.

Samuel frowned and looked out the window when he felt the carriage make a right turn, speeding up thereafter.

“Where are we going? This is not the way to Grey’s!” he shouted at the driver. The man ignored him and instead of turning around, whipped at the horses to gain more speed.

Samuel soon realized that taking the carriage was far more detrimental.

XXIX. He Said, He Said

Byron stared blankly at the filthy stone wall before him.

Never had he imagined he would be outsmarted this way.

Perhaps he had underestimated them, he thought as he turned his head, staring out at the unmoving guard outside his cell.

Ellie McPhee.

He would have her for this.

-Above and Below

---

Wynne read the short note that arrived in Ulric that morning.

Stella silently sat in one corner, staring at him, the perfect epitome of patience.

Attack on Theobald tonight.

“Is it bad?” Stella inquired.

Wynne’s jaw tightened.

Stay away from the Everards and know where your bloody loyalties lie, you idiots…

Thorne’s words echoed in his mind.

Stella finally stood and walked over to his desk. With one glance, she managed to read the note before Wynne crumpled it in his uninjured fist.

He knew she was looking at him, studying him with judgment. But what else could he do?

He had done enough for the Everards.

He looked up and found Stella still looking at him, her expression blank. Yet he knew what she was thinking. “Not today, Stella,” he ordered. “It is time for rehearsal.”

Stella stared at him for a while before she squared her shoulders and turned. “Of course.”

The next few hours Wynne spent on directing the rehearsal, changing scenes and ordering new mechanics on the effects.

But all the while, he was utterly distracted. The time was ticking and he kept reaching for his pocket watch as the rehearsal went on.

“Why don’t we all take a short respite?” Stella recommended and walked down the stage without a word of approval from Wynne. “I am quite exhausted.”

“No, resume,” Wynne stonily rejected.

“No, I need a respite!” Stella angrily stated, looking over her shoulder at everyone. “Go, Christian, and study your lines,” she ordered further.

The new actor nodded in hesitation before joining the flock of dancers exiting the stage.

“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” Wynne glared at her with fire in his eyes.

Stella stood before him, a warrior princess, her hands on her hips and an even stronger fire in her eyes. “No, I ought to be the one asking you that question. What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?”

“I am doing my job and so should you,” he retorted.

She looked at him strangely, as though she was seeing a different man. “I have never questioned you, but now I believe I should, Wynne.” She pointed at the entrance of the giant tent. “Go.”

Wynne narrowed his eyes at her. “I am not certain if you are aware, Stella, but my place is with the theatre. You cannot order me to go anywhere else.” He stood up, sternly holding her gaze. “If I ever go against my family again, they will not be forgiving.”

“This theatre would no longer be what it is for you if you let anything happen to him, Wynne,” Stella said as angry tears pooled her eyes. “Your place is where you feel you ought to be. It would be nowhere if you have his life in your conscience.” She stepped away from him, back and shoulders stiff in defiance. “If you are not going, I will.”

“Why would you even want to save his life?” he asked with a scoff.

“That is precisely the point, Wynne. I have far less reasons than you do,” she said. “He has been your friend, you idiot. Or was that relationship also farce?”

Wynne whirled around, kicking his chair, sending it halfway across the room. Stella remained unmoved, glaring at him, ready to leave as she claimed.

“This will be the last,” he growled, pointing his finger at her. “This will be the last.”

She smiled. “Consider this a favor for me. And I will everyone rehearsal is moved on the morrow.”

But Wynne was no longer listening as he stormed out of the tent, angry at Samuel. No, he was angry at Stella—and Emma. Bloody hell, he was angry at himself.

---

By the time Wynne arrived in Wickhurst, the distant holes were starting to change their color, indicating that night time was soon to fall.

He went straight to his estate and ordered for Lawrence to make contact with the maid in Buford estate.

He restlessly paced around his study as he waited for news on Samuel’s whereabouts.

It took Lawrence nearly over an hour to return and when he did, he was told that Samuel had received a note from Ralph Everard to meet him at Grey’s that evening.

Wynne’s jaw tightened. His eyes landed on a copy of The Blower sitting on his desk. Samuel had made a crucial move two days ago. Tonight, he would pay for it.

“Prepare my carriage,” Wynne ordered.

Lawrence frowned. “My lord, may I inquire if you intend to—”

“Bloody hell, Lawrence, prepare the carriage!”

“Right away,” Lawrence stiffly replied.

Wynne took off his coat and replaced it with a shorter one.

Without second thoughts, he reloaded his pistol and exited the study.

---

A few hours later, Wynne’s carriage was following close behind Samuel’s.

It had made a sharp turn to the right and was gaining speed, leaving Wickhurst and far from Grey’s.

“Speed ahead,” he ordered his driver, overtaking the carriage. “Move along,” he ordered, looking back at Samuel’s carriage. Two men were sitting in front and none of them looked like they were regular carriage drivers.

Once they were safely out of Wickhurst and out of sight from any speculators, Wynne ordered his driver to stop the carriage, blocking the road.

He took a deep breath and whispered to himself, “You are a bloody idiot.” With a tight grip around his pistol, Wynne jumped out of the carriage and watched as the one behind them rolled even closer with no intention of stopping.

Confident, although not entirely, Wynne leaned against the back of his carriage in easy fashion, prepared for an act.

“Get out of the way!” one of the men his uncle or aunt hired shouted at him.

Wynne remained where he was standing, eyes on the man holding the reins.

Their gazes locked, measuring the resolve of the other.

The carriage was not slowing down. Wynne was not moving.

“My lord…” his driver spoke with apprehension from behind.

“Shut up, Kelly,” he ordered under his breath, his attention on Samuel’s approaching carriage.

His grip around his pistol tightened as the horses’ hooves grew louder.

“Ahhh!” the man driving Samuel’s carriage shouted in anger, pulling at the reins just in time to stop the carriage.

Wynne found himself face to face with Samuel’s horses, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. He let out a silent sigh of victory before pushing himself away from the carriage.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he greeted the two men. He recognized the driver as one of his uncle’s guards. The man seemed to have recognized him as well, but despite the difference is status, he glared at Wynne in anger.

“We have orders—”

“So, this is how you kill me,” Samuel’s voice said as he jumped out of the carriage, causing the two men who abducted him to jump to the ground, weapons at the ready. “It would be easy as the pistol I keep inside the carriage has mysteriously disappeared, leaving me unarmed.”

“I will take care of this, gentlemen,” Wynne ordered, ignoring Samuel’s statement. His eyes locked with Samuel’s. “You may now go,” he added to his uncle’s men.

“As we have said, we have orders!” his uncle’s guard shouted.

Wynne ground his teeth as he lifted his pistol and shot Samuel’s leg, causing the man to fall on the ground with an angry cry.

Without sparing another second, he swiftly pivoted his pistol at the two men who barely had enough time to react and said, “If you please, I would like to finish the job privately. This is more personal than you can imagine.”

The men looked at each other.

Wynne cocked his gun. “I am not one to say please twice, gentlemen.”

A silent grunt of defiance escaped the guard’s throat before he motioned for his companion to leave.

“Take my dear friend’s carriage,” Wynne ordered, swinging his pistol back on Samuel whose face was red with pain. “He will not be needing it again.”

He waited until Samuel’s carriage moved, rolling down the road away from Wickhurst. It would not be long before they reached Willowfair where his aunt and uncle would be waiting.

When he thought it was safe, he lifted his pistol up in the air and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the silent road. He shot another round in case his uncle’s men failed to hear the last one.

Samuel continued to glare at him as he approached.

“We have to go,” he told Samuel, reaching out his hand.

Samuel slapped it aside. “You dare make me believe you are trying to save my life? That does not change who you truly are, you bastard!” Samuel let out a mocking laugh as he lifted both arms to the sides. “You can kill me now. I am certain you are dying to do so.”

Wynne simply stared at Samuel. The man was raging with anger and pain.

“You are bleeding. If you do not see a doctor soon, you will die.”

“I know who you are, Wynne Hastings. I found out long ago that you are one of them. Is this part of your act? What do you plan to do? Go on, tell me. No need to be shy, Wynne. Drop the act of the weak, naïve writer. We both know your true nature.”

“I am not saving you because I want to, Samuel,” Wynne said dryly. “And of course, I know you know who I am. In fact, it was around the same time Emma told you, I believe.”

At the mention of Emma’s name, he saw the surprise on Samuel’s face before the man masked it with a bitter laugh. Shaking his head, he said, “You Trilbys cannot have the Town. My death shall not be the end. It will merely be the beginning—”

Wynne interrupted Samuel with a long, dry exhale of breath. “Would you bloody stop talking about me trying to kill you? My intent on saving your life is not for myself. You can very well do what you like after this night.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I am doing this for two women. And you have once been a good friend.” With a sneer, he added, “And because I always think way too many steps ahead of you.”

“You bloody bastard—”

Samuel was not able to finish his statement as Wynne punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious. “Sorry for the shot and the punch,” Wynne grunted as he pulled Samuel’s limp body off the ground. “But you always prove to be too loquacious. I have warned you about it if you can recall.”

His driver came forward to help him load Samuel into the carriage.

---

“What in tarnation is happening?” Ezra demanded as Wynne and his driver dragged Samuel into his drawing room.

“I have nowhere to take him,” Wynne said with a grunt, settling Samuel’s limp form unto the settee.

“What say you to taking him into your own bloody home?” Ezra demanded.

The driver exited the room without a word as Wynne ambled away to the nearest seat. Crossing his leg over the other and clasping his fingers together, he wryly stared at Ezra. “Call for the doctor.”

Ezra’s head fell back as he helplessly stared at the ceiling. “May the mercy of the heavens strike me a blow now before I suffer Amelia’s wrath.”

Samuel was starting to stir back to consciousness. His bleeding was controlled by the cravat Wynne tied around his thigh.

Wynne stared at Samuel for a while as Ezra shouted for his butler.

With a sigh, he unglued his eyes from his friend—former friend, that is—and slowly went to his feet.

“See that he is inconspicuously returned to Buford after the doctor’s immediate aid,” he ordered Ezra.

“And where are you going? Out to save more of the Everards and their friends?”

“No, I am going home to sleep.”

---

Samuel opened his eyes to murmurs and hushed voices.

It took him a moment to realize he was in his own bedchamber in Buford, and a moment more to remember how it happened.

“He is awake,” a voice said from beside him.

He turned his head and found Doctor Johannes offering him a gentle smile.

“Your friends are here, my lord,” the doctor said, standing up. “I merely stayed to see that you did not fall into a coma.” From how the doctor said it, Samuel could not decipher whether he was jesting or not. Perhaps both?

“What happened, Sam?” Ralph demanded. His friend was standing at the foot of the bed, face foreboding. When he slanted his eyes to the right, he saw Emma quietly standing opposite Ralph, bracing her hands around the bedpost. The concerned look on her face was readable enough. And it seemed as though she had been here for days by the state of her.

“Drink this. Just a sip,” the doctor said. Samuel obliged for his throat felt too dry for him to even breathe. Satisfied, the doctor replaced the glass of water on the night stand. You are lucky to have not lost so much blood.“ Turning to Ralph and Emma, he added “I will return tonight to see to his wound.”

“Thank you, Doctor Johannes,” said Emma with a faint smile. “His sister shall be back tonight.”

They waited for the doctor to leave the room before Ralph repeated his question. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days,” Emma replied. “You were taken in by two gentlemen who found you in the road. They called for Doctor Johannes and arranged for your transfer to Buford.”

Samuel frowned. “Two gentlemen?”

“Doctor Johannes said he was sent to one of the estates here in Wickhurst. He met the servants, but not the two gentlemen who found you. They must not have wanted anything to do with the shooting. Can you not remember? You woke up once.”

He shook his head in confusion.

“It must have been the laudanum,” she said.

Ralph cut their conversation by once more demanding, “What the bloody hell happened, Samuel? Who did this to you?”

Samuel’s eyes were on Emma as he replied, “Who do you think?”

He saw her jaw tighten. So did her hands around the bedpost.

He dragged his gaze back to his friend whose eyes had turned to slits. “Emma told me everything.”

He released a sigh of regret. “I was supposed to tell you myself.”

“Did he really do this?” Emma asked, her voice almost a whisper of disbelief.

Samuel scoffed but said nothing.

“How did you survive?” Ralph demanded.

Samuel shrugged his shoulders. “I can barely recall anything. All I remember was how I was shot by my bloody treacherous friend.”

“He left you to die? Or left you to survive?” Ralph asked, looking confused.

Samuel considered his next words very carefully. Without sparing Emma a glance, he focused his gaze on Ralph. “I cannot say for certain. All I can manage to sum up now is that he left me bleeding as a threat.”

Ralph erupted in a rage of angry outbursts, recalling how he had trusted Wynne enough that he had once let his wife hide in the man’s estate for the night!

Samuel realized that Emma had quietly left the room. His jaw tightened as he began to realize what had been happening behind his back.

---

“Amelia can do anything to ruin you,” Thorne said beside Wynne.

They stood in the dark corner of the theatre. The play had just started. The tent ought to be full by now, but there were barely anyone seated to watch the show.

It was not surprising that Amelia finally found out about Wynne’s little hobby . It could have been Ezra. Or it could have been Thorne. Bloody hell, it could have been Durley himself.

“This is not even considered fatal,” Thorne continued to say in a low tone. “This is a warning for your unwelcome interference on the road three nights ago.”

“What do you suggest I do then?” Wynne asked, tasting bitterness in his tongue.

“Be obedient and you can live the way you had always been.”

Wynne scoffed incredulously. “I wonder… Why do you follow her orders?”

Thorne slightly turned his head to stare at Wynne from the corner of his eye. “Do I?” he asked mysteriously. He looked around the tent, up at the ceiling and the walls. As he watched Stella dance with Christian Fulke, Thorne said, “Now, I suggest you pack up before she burns this whole place down. I promise you, it will not be long.”

Wynne nodded. “I am leaving.”

Thorne took a step forward. Giving Wynne a sideway glance, he pulled his bowler hat deeper. Before he departed, his voice was laced with regret as he said, “Then I am afraid you are on your own.”

---

Later that night, Wynne arrived in his Wickhurst estate and locked himself in his study.

He stared at the papers from the Hastings estate sent to him that morning. Soon, it would no longer be his.

The imminent sense of leaving and starting anew was in the air, he thought.

The knock on the door distracted him from his mental planning. Lawrence unlocked the door from outside and announced, “Lady Emma is outside demanding to talk, my lord,” the butler stiffly informed him.

Wynne shook his head. “Tell her I am not here.”

“Of course you are not, you bloody coward,” Emma’s angry voice said as she sauntered into the room, beautiful in her confidence and anger.

Wynne and Lawrence shared a look of understanding and the butler closed the door, leaving Wynne and Emma alone.

He leaned back against his chair and stared at Emma.

It was not safe for her—and him—to be here.

His aunt was closely monitoring his movements and her presence here could evoke further havoc.

But before he could even say a word, Emma had managed to circle around his table, closing the distance before them, and slapped his cheek to the side. His jaw tightened and his entire body tensed as he summoned for control.

“You bloody bastard!” she shakily shouted, her furious emerald green eyes in liquid pool of tears.

XXX. On Foes and Brothers

“What have you done!” It was the first statement Ellie demanded from the old man the very moment she stepped foot aboveground.

She had been dragged from Glocheshire and back to the world she had always loved.

“Do not tell me you did not know, Ellie, dear. You played a part in this game willingly.”

“I was not informed it would end this badly.”

“It was always meant to end bad, my dear.”

-Above and Below

---

Emma was surprised by her own attack and she immediately jumped back, placing a good distance between her and Wynne.

Yet she ought to be excused for her fury was as strong as it was before she stormed into the room.

Her eyes landed on Wynne’s bandaged hand before it traveled back to his dark, expressionless eyes.

He was doing it again. He was making it certain she found it hard to read him.

“I fell down my horse,” he said, lifting his injured hand in explanation.

“Stop lying. I know what you did,” she coldly said.

Wynne gave her a small smile. “And what did I do, Emma?”

“Samuel.”

He nodded in understanding. He leaned back against his chair. “Ah.”

“He almost died!”

He shrugged. “Then I did not manage to kill him.”

“No more pretenses, Wynne.” Her statement was enough to let him know that he knew. And to let him know that she was aware he knew about it.

His dark eyes locked with hers. “Did he say I tried to kill him?”

“He did not have to. You shot him!”

“And what if Samuel lied?”

Emma shook her head. “He never would.”

Wynne nodded slowly. “Of course, he never would. What you may not know about Samuel, Emma, is that he may have many words to say or write on matters he believe are of import, but he is also quite efficient in keeping some unnecessary details wordless, by which he can never be judged a liar.” He let the tense silence linger for a while. “Had he ever told you what truly happened the night you ended up in bed together?”

Emma stiffened. “That is none of your concern. Sam will never lie to me, nor would he lead us believe something else entirely.”

It was clear on the way he let out a slow chuckle that he did not believe her. “What if I say I saved him instead?”

“If you did, he would have claimed it to be true.”

“Ah, perhaps he lost consciousness too early.” Wynne sighed, tearing his eyes from her. He was ready to make her leave.

“Your family will pay for what you did,” Emma could not help but say. “I have honestly hoped you are not like them, but you just proved me wrong.”

He snapped his head toward her, revealing that he was surprised by her proclamation.

“You are after all a Trilby.”

Whatever he was thinking or feeling, he masked it with a bitter grin. “Would it not be marvelous if I were not? My family did too many horrible things, yes? Who would want to associate themselves with us after that?”

Emma looked into Wynne’s eyes for as long as she could, silently begging him to tell her he had was not like the rest of his family. She desperately needed to hear the words for she was tired of simply reading the signs.

But he was stubborn as always.

And it hurt.

Why did she come here?

She knew why and she hated to acknowledge it for it would prove she was being stupid.

Finally, she blinked away the tears and nodded. “Yes. Who would want to associate themselves with cowards who hide behind their arrogance and pride?”

Emma saw his jaw clench and waited a few more seconds.

When he did not say a word, she turned and as gracefully as she could, exited the room.

---

It was not a surprise when Wynne found himself dragged from his own bloody home merely a few hours after Emma’s visit.

And it was no less a surprise to find himself back in the drawing room of the Everard manor, surrounded by five angry Everard men.

“Let us make this quick,” Nicholas Everard said, eyes nearly drooping. “I am quite exhausted from my trip back to Wickhurst.” He started to fold his sleeve up his elbow, one after the other.

“Yes, please,” Wynne dryly replied. “I am late for tea.”

But before anyone could move, Ralph rushed forward, nearly knocking out Wynne’s teeth as his fist landed against Wynne’s cheek. “You bloody bastard! We treated you like a friend! Sam treated you his friend!”

“Stop it, Ralph,” Benedict Everard ordered his brother who was prepared to land another blow.

Wynne spit out blood unto the floor, regaining his breath and glaring at Ralph.

“We have had our fair share of breaking flesh and bones,” Benedict told his brothers who grunted with disapproval. “Let us all be civilized men.”

He leaned away from the wall beside the window that overlooked the driveway and walked toward Wynne.

“We simply want answers,” Benedict said as he stood before Wynne.

Looking up at the man, Wynne realized why nearly all of the Everards feared their eldest brother. His very gaze could make a wild boar want to bow down in obedience.

“What do the Trilbys want from us?” Maxwell asked from behind Wynne. “We believe we had made arrangements with Amelia. Is she breaking promises now?”

Wynne swallowed the tangy taste of blood, his mind silently calculating his next move. He was not going to die, that was for certain. These Everard brothers would not be too stupid to kill a man in their mother’s estate. But he might very well be dead in the hands of his own family if he ever said the wrong things.

“If you can spare me a tiny bit of trust, I would like to say that I have no bloody idea what my family intends to do now, or tomorrow, the fortnight after, or even in the near future.” He looked around at each brother. “Because I do not bloody care.”

“That is not the answer we seek, Wynne,” said Levi. “Try again.”

“Or would you rather want to do so in the Courts?” Ralph growled.

Wynne hated the thought of being bound before men his equal, even more so by the brothers of the woman he loved. A small part of him was laughing at his current predicament. He would still receive the same Everard beatings like everyone else who dared love an Everard woman. The only difference was that the others won their women in the end. Wynne never would.

Shifting his thoughts back to reality, a question popped in his head. Was it not his fault that it all led to this?

The worst part was that he was on his own on this one and he did not merely have to save himself but he also had to involuntarily do the same for this family.

The bloody bastards did not even know the extent of what the Trilbys could do once irked. They may have met Amelia and Noah—may have had a taste of their spite—but they have not yet witnessed what the patriarch of the Trilby family could do. None of these men were familiar with what George Trilby could bring upon them should he take matters into his own hands.

Wynne knew better. He knew his boundaries.

Defying Amelia and Noah’s little games was one thing, but defaming the Trilby name in any other way would land him directly to his great grandfather’s doorsteps. And by then, he may no longer even be capable of breathing.

He could not deny anything for none of them would believe him in the first place. And he had nothing to confess.

What else could he do then other than present logic?

“You cannot take me to the Courts and you all know that,” he said instead. “Who would believe Samuel’s words in the Courts? He had been targeting the Trilbys from the start with naught but theories and opinions. His words would not be taken as anything else.”

“Then you claim you are part of all this?” Ralph demanded. “The fire. The attack on Samuel and God knows what else?”

Wynne shook his head. “What I am saying is that you cannot prove anything to the Courts. Do you even have enough evidence to make a case? Do you have reliable witnesses? In the Courts, I would merely be an unlucky man born into a very complicated family, a matter that was never an option upon my conception.”

“Do not try to be smart before us, Hastings,” Nicholas angrily stated. “The Trilbys may have some power, but the Everards have—”

“This discussion is over, my friends,” a voice erupted from the doorway.

Everyone turned and saw Durley quickly walking toward Wynne. “By orders from my friends from the League and the Guards, I am taking your prisoner into my care.”

Wynne let Durley free him of his bounds.

“Who amongst the League?” demanded Benedict.

“I am not certain I want to go with you, Durley,” Wynne added. It was true. The only people who had the power to summon both the League and the Guards were his own bloody family. And at the moment, none of them was quite happy with his misplaced loyalties. “I would rather stay here, thank you.”

Durley gave him a look of warning. “Shut up, Peter,” he murmured, causing Wynne to stiffen. He was not aware Durley knew him well.

“Who amongst the League, Durley?” Benedict Everard demanded once more.

“You very well know the League does not like using names,” Durley said, turning around to face the Everard brothers. “Nicholas,” he greeted. “I was not aware you are back in town.”

“Just this morning,” Nicholas replied.

Durley and Nicholas shared a look before Durley nodded and turned to Wynne. “Get up,” Durley ordered.

“Why do we trust this man?” asked Levi, pointing at Durley.

“Because I am a friend,” Durley said.

“And you say so in front of a bloody Trilby?” Wynne incredulously scoffed.

Durley turned to Wynne before he slanted his gaze back on Levi. “Hastings will not say a word. After all, I saved him from you lot.”

“Do you expect us to simply allow you to whisk him away? Where do you plan to take him, Durley?”

“The location is undisclosed. You all know the League,” said Durley.

“I barely had enough time to get comfortable being bound,” Wynne said, wishing he did not sound as desperate as he was. He honestly wanted to stay and suffer an Everard beating over a Trilby lashing. “I can very well go home on my own after the Everards heard my case, Durley.”

“We are all merely wasting our time here, gentlemen. The League shall appreciate the cooperation of the Everards on this matter,” Durley said, ignoring the Everards and Wynne. When none of the brothers seemed convinced, Durley sighed. “You cannot take him to the Courts as he said. You do not have anything against him. But he can very well take all of you there for physically dragging him out of his home.” He turned to Wynne and said, “Let us go. There are Guards waiting outside.”

Ralph looked out the window. From his expression, Wynne realized that Durley was not lying.

“Remove yourself from Wickhurst,” Nicholas ordered as Durley led Wynne toward the door. “We will not provide mercy the next time we see you, you bloody traitor.”

“Go and tell your family as well,” Levi added.

Wynne ignored them. They would always be Everards, he thought.

On his way out, he saw Maxwell following him with thoughtful eyes.

There were merely two people amongst the Everards Wynne thought he could not hide anything from—Emma and Maxwell.

But that was none of his concern for now because the Everard manor was heaven compared to where he was headed. And there, he better be prepared.

---

Emma, Alex and Ysabella were standing by the hallway of the manor as Durley was escorting Wynne outside where the Guards were already waiting.

Whatever they were planning to do to him, she doubted it would be good.

Her heart almost stopped again when she saw his state. The left side of his face was swollen.

Her eyes landed back on his bandaged hand.

Where did he get injured? What happened to him before this? Samuel had said he barely managed to make a fight so that injury was not caused by Samuel.

And why did he let her brothers hurt him? It was not him. He had too much pride to allow himself be dragged here by force from his own home.

Why was he being taken by the Guards?

Do they have a case against him?

He barely even confessed to anything!

As he was escorted to his carriage, Emma tore herself away from her sister and rushed down to the driveway. But she stopped midway when Wynne turned and threw her a cold look.

Emma was frozen in her spot.

Never had she ever seen him look at her that way before.

Did he think she had anything to do with this?

Did he think she ordered her brothers to get him after their confrontation?

A shiver ran up her spine, enveloping her with different emotions. She felt dread, pain and love all at once.

The look of him watching his own play, of him holding a pistol outside the theater, of him in the woods talking with his actors, of him discussing about writing and imagination, of him dancing with her on stage, his face coming down close to hers—those and everything else rumbled inside Emma’s head, filling her with devastation so new for her.

Durley and two other guards pushed Wynne into the carriage.

Emma had a feeling they were not taking Wynne where they claimed he would be.

She wanted to cry for help, but why would she? He could be on his way to his family. This could be a rescue. But why did it feel wrong? What did she not know? Something in the way he had always looked at her told her Wynne was more than what they thought he was.

She did not know anymore. She was having a terrible time grasping anything. Even the truths seemed unbelievable anymore.

Before the carriage rolled away from the driveway, Emma had already turned to stiffly walk back into the manor.

She felt Ysabella following her as she climbed up the stairs to her bedchamber.

She saw the murky form of Mrs. Beagle sitting by her window as her knees began to finally give in and she dropped on the floor, shoulders shaking and tears streaming down her face.

The pain was like nothing she ever felt before.

She knew it would be painful the moment she realized she was in love with him, but never to this extent.

Only now did she realize she was hoping all along. Hoping that things would not be as horrid as they were now, hoping that they might be a possibility.

And only just now did she realize it could never be. He was headed to an unknown and she barely had any power or reason to stop it. He may be doing so willingly, but then, what if he did not?

Both questions tormented her.

Emma heard her door close and the lock turned.

“Em,” Ysabella whispered, dropping on the floor beside her, gathering her in an embrace.

Emma cried harder, clinging on her sister’s shoulders.

Mrs. Beagle jumped from the window, probably curious why her humans were on the floor bawling their eyes out.

“Oh, Em,” Ysabella choked, stroking Emma’s hair. “You are in love with the very wrong man at the most unfortunate time.”

XXXI. A Homecoming

If Ellie were to think as the woman before she met Byron, she would demand to her present self to stop.

But she was no longer that woman, she thought as she drove her car, following close behind the man who was responsible for all this.

Byron may never forgive her for what she did, but she should at least try that he would be saved.

-Above and Below

---

The only consolation Wynne had was the fact that the patriarch of the Trilbys was not there.

But that did not mean he would not get the same treatment bestowed upon Edmund.

The very moment Durley and the Guards dropped him off Noah’s estate, Wynne prepared himself for a long, arduous afternoon.

He was immediately bound and taken to the part of the estate that was rarely graced by the masters or the servants. It was reserved for occasions such as the one he was currently enjoying.

Iron clasps held his hands high as he stood on this toes, shirtless and bleeding.

Blood dripped on his back where he received Noah’s infamous lashings. He could taste it as well in his mouth.

This might last days, he thought, intent on conserving his energy.

Edmund took three days to confess.

Wynne wondered how long it would take him.

From the corner of his good eye, he saw Ezra standing beside Amelia, his young uncle looking quite uncomfortable and helpless all the same.

The position he was in now was not where Ezra would want to be in so it was only understandable that the man did nothing for what could Ezra do, really?

“What did you tell the Everards, Peter?” Noah asked, walking around Wynne, voice deadpan and whip at the ready.

Wynne remained silent. He had answered the question countless of times. He never said anything to the Everards and it was true.

“I hardly believe you, Peter,” Amelia said from where she was standing.

“Your dear Durley was not tardy, Aunt Amelia,” Wynne managed, spitting out blood. “I barely had time to shake hands with the Everards—AH!” He shouted in pain as Noah’s whip slashed his back with the whip once again.

Every nerve in his body came alive; the wounds that had gone numb seemed to suddenly be in flames. Wynne shivered. He could no longer feel his hands. His legs were barely keeping him up. Soon, he would merely be hanging limp.

Noah grabbed Wynne by the hair, swinging him forward. “Then do tell us why you saved Samuel Theobald,” Noah icily asked, breathing into Wynne’s bloodied face.

Wynne weakly chuckled, enraging his uncle. Noah pushed him away and just as he swung his hand back to strike Wynne with his whip, Wynne murmured, “You’re all fools…”

“What?” Noah asked, dark eyes alight with renewed fury.

“Fools…” he repeated, lifting his head to look his uncle in the eye, “Killing Samuel will be as much as confessing to everything he accused you of.”

“Samuel Theobald had offended many individuals in the past. Any of them can be his murderer,” Amelia said.

“And do you think Samuel Theobald would not leave anything should he be killed?” Wynne asked, turning his head to his aunt. “He is prepared, dead or alive. Trust me, I have been his friend. I know how his mind works.”

No one spoke for everyone knew Wynne was right. Noah and Amelia could do anything they wanted, but they had the tendency to rack their brain before committing such acts. They might think they were cunning, but in some cases they rarely were. And they knew they made a rash choice ordering for Samuel’s death.

“Then we do hope you reconsider who your friends are again, Peter,” Noah said as he threw his whip to the side. Amelia and Ezra exited the room as Noah followed. But before he walked out of the cold, stone-walled dungeon, he stopped and turned to Wynne. “And while you wait for your next course of punishment, think hard about another matter, my boy.”

Wynne swallowed, his uncle’s words growing faint as his head dropped. He was losing consciousness.

“Tell us where Edmund is. I might be a little lenient.”

Edmund? “He’s…”

“He is not in Hastings, if that is what you are about to say, lad. Think hard, Peter. Where is little Eddie?”

A sense of panic came over Wynne. Eddie was in Hastings the last he knew. The young man was supposed to be safe there.

“You know what that bastard can do to us, Peter. He has naught been but a pain in the arse since his father died. Tell us where he might be and your punishment will end. Is he with the Everards again?”

Wynne shook his head. “I do not know.”

“The Haverstons?”

He shook his head again.

“Then perhaps you will remember by the morrow.”

---

The soonest Samuel could get his hands on paper, he wrote the next article for The Blower .

Emma sat in silence as she meticulously read each word from her own copy. She could imagine how everyone in the Town was doing the same, engulfed in Samuel’s miraculous survival from the attack.

“He mentioned the Everards,” Alex spoke. Emma looked up to spare her sister-in-law a glance. The woman was absently caressing her abdomen. At times such as this, the news of a new babe was a happy welcome to the entire family, their only consolation that there was a good future ahead. “Said we’re on his side and the Town should be too. We’re fightin’ the same battle as he,” Alex added, shaking her head. “I don’t know, ’bout ye, Em, but it bothers me that he involves the family.”

Emma made no comment as her eyes traveled back on the page.

Samuel did not reveal Wynne’s identity, surely to provide more mystery, but he claimed that he was face-to-face with the devil himself.

“Lord Hastings was released by the Guards,” Alex provided further. “Ralph told me so.” With a sigh, the woman added, “It’s nae surprise, aye? Them Trilbys—Noah Trilby—can do anythin’.”

“They do not have incriminating evidence against him,” Emma whispered more to herself.

“What?” Alex asked.

Emma looked up. “They do not have incriminating evidence against him. All they have is Sam’s accounts of the events and he was barely even conscious when he was found. Lord Hasting’s release was not against the law.”

Alex gave Emma a thoughtful look. “If ye say so. I also agree, but Ralph’s adamant he should have been held longer.”

Emma nodded her head in understanding. Wynne was released, but where could he be now?

With his family , a tiny part of her thoughts replied.

He could be celebrating with the family, she reasoned. But another voice was saying otherwise. Why did she have a feeling Wynne was not in a good position?

---

Three days later, Wynne was on the floor, barely breathing.

His body could not even manage to flinch when the sound of footsteps echoed around the cold stone room.

“You did this to yourself, Wynne,” Ezra’s soft voice said from above him. Wynne felt his body being moved. Or was it simply his imagination?

He did not know anymore. His very soul could very well be leaving his body and he did not even recognize it.

His breathing came out as a wheeze. It could be his last, he thought, but it was not. He was able to take in another, keeping him alive.

“You could have just done what they wanted. You have been doing so for years without trouble.”

He was certain now that he was being wrapped in a warm cloth. But it hurt. Every part of his body the fabric touched erupted in flames.

“Samuel was the last help I can offer you,” Ezra continued to say, voice laced with regret. “And this.”

He could not manage a word. His mind was struggling with the pain.

Slowly, the little light that crept through his swollen eyes began to fade.

---

When awareness returned, Wynne knew he was far from his uncle’s dungeon.

He was in a bed.

Trying to move, he failed.

“It is best you do not move,” said a familiar voice.

Thorne.

“The pain will only get worse. The doctor who attended you was paid handsomely to make certain you recover.”

Wynne opened his mouth.

“Edmund is out of Hastings if that is what you are trying to ask,” Thorne supplied.

Wynne tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. Where? Where was Eddie?

“Aboveground,” was Thorne’s matter-of-fact reply. “He will never live in the Town for a day if Noah gets his hands on him again.”

All he could manage was a soft sigh of relief.

“As for you, you are going back to Ulric in a while. You should realize how lucky you are. Durley and I managed to convince them you had done naught but be lazy. You have made a convincing case in saving Theobald, but you cannot tell them you saved the young girls from the fire. Do you understand, Peter?” Wynne heard Thorne, but he was in no state to reply. “This would be the last time I would interfere, Peter. The same goes for Durley. So I suggest you go on with your plans and make certain you are never seen again. Just like your mother.”

Everything started to disperse once again—everything but the pain.

---

Samuel was still confined in bed when an unexpected visitor barged into his room.

His eyes rounded in surprise when he saw Stella looking very furious. Her hair was almost in disarray, as though she had not had any sleep at all.

“Stella…”

“You are a disappointment,” she said, sending the latest copy of The Blower flying across the room. It landed on Samuel’s lap. “Where is the man who defended his sister from the rest of the Town? Where is that boy whose voice resonated with the hopeless?”

Samuel’s jaw twitched. “You are trespassing, Madam,” he stonily snarled, sending her a sharp look. “I have no time to listen to a woman whose loyalty lies with the wrong bunch.”

“My loyalty remains with the people whom I know would die for me. And I would die for them as well.” Her golden brown hair was red with rage, her blue eyes alight with intense hate. “I wonder where yours lay now—the cause you claim to support… or yourself?” She took one step forward. “Should I remind you of the first article you wrote that fascinated the Town? You entitled it Silent No More —”

“Enough, woman! Get out of my house—”

“You talked about how you found your voice after how you kept mum about your sister for years, after witnessing how she was treated for being a bastard. You talked about how you managed to summon the courage to speak out,” Stella continued, glaring down at Samuel in condemnation—as if he was nothing now. “I am afraid, my lord, that you are back to being the mute boy that you were. You may not be spewing lies, but you are neglecting the truth before your eyes as well and for that, may you go to hell!”

Samuel tried to shot out his bed but remained on it as the pain in his leg attacked. Stella incredulously scoffed at him, shaking her head. “You barely got what you deserve. It ought to have been you flagged nearly to death, not him.”

Samuel frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I am here to request a favor if you can even stomach it,” she said, lifting her chin without answering his question. Samuel saw a glint of guilt in her eyes. “Please spare him of your propaganda. He at the very least deserves it after saving your life.”

Without waiting a response, Stella Marie whirled about, leaving Samuel alone and the door ajar.

I am doing this for two women …

Wynne’s voice echoed in his head.

He now knew the other was Emma.

Was the other woman Stella?

---

Emma made her decision that very night.

She had had trouble sleeping in the past three days since Wynne was taken away by Durley.

The questions nagging her were not the same ones her siblings had in mind.

None of them was even considering Wynne as innocent.

And she may be a fool for the man to even consider it, but she had to at least find answers.

As everyone else was fast asleep, Emma climbed out of her window and quietly guided her horse out of the estate.

Once out of sight and earshot, she climbed up her horse and rode out of Wickhurst.

Hours later, she found herself in Ulric.

A gasp escaped her throat as she approached the silent place. The giant tent was barely standing and some of the smaller ones surrounding it were in disarray.

One would think the Ulric theatre was raided.

XXXII. Love and Pride

Ellie looked out her window from across the street.

She watched the old man climb out of the car and enter the hotel with guards surrounding him.

A little while later, another man entered the building with his own guards in tow.

Ellie took a long breath and sighed.

She turned away from the window and looked at her reflection from across the room.

She did not know if Byron was still alive, and if he was she hoped he would be there when she saved him.

-Above and Below

---

With heart hammering hard against her chest, Emma ran all to the rear of the tent to find the smaller ones which housed the actors and crew.

She had been to Ulric enough times to know where Stella’s tent was and she wasted no energy to go there.

Without bothering to knock, for she was honestly expecting to find no one, she pushed her way through the flaps, bursting into the tiny room with heavy breaths.

But the actress was there.

Stella whirled around, eyes round with surprise, to face Emma.

“What are you doing here?” Stella snapped, looking behind Emma, probably to check if she was with company.

“I am alone.”

Stella’s eyes darted back to her, filled with accusation. But instead of voicing it, the actress ordered, “Remove yourself from the premises, Emma.”

Emma ignored her. “What happened here—” she stopped mid-sentence when her eyes landed on the basin of water in Stella’s hands. Inside floated a white cloth. The woman herself was nearly in disarray, not in her usual glamour of fine gown and perfectly donned hair. “What happened, Stella?”

Stella looked at Emma for a long time before deciding her words were better left unsaid. “Go away, Emma. Go back to Wickhurst.”

She walked past Emma with her basin full of water and out of the tent.

Emma turned and followed Stella who stopped and turned, blue eyes swimming in a pool of anger. “I have started to see you as not just another shallow gentry. You have always been wise, but I guess you are blind after all. Just like the rest of them.”

“Then do make me understand what is happening, Stella. That is why I am here!” Emma almost begged, walking closer to the woman. Her throat was closing up on her as tears pooled her eyes. “This… I… Please, I need to understand. I do have trouble recognizing who to believe at the moment. Both my instincts and my mind tell different things and I am bloody confused!”

Stella looked about. When she faced Emma again, her lips were shaking and her hands tightened their hold around the basin. “You do not know what he has done for you.” Emma froze. Stella scoffed incredulously. “You have no inkling at all, do you? Of course you do not! You are simply like the many damsels in distress in the novels you read, after all.” A drop of angry tear dropped from Stella’s eye. “Now, please, Emma, go. We have enough of you people from Wickhurst.”

No, was Emma’s first thought. No, she could not leave. If she did, she would find herself back in Wickhurst with no answers and more confusion. She looked at the basin Stella was holding. “Where is he?” Stella looked away and Emma demanded, “Tell me where he is, Stella or I swear to God!”

Stella looked at Emma. “He would not want to see you.”

“I do not bloody care. I want to see him now. Where is he?” The more Stella was not saying, the more Emma felt the dread eating her alive. “Where is he?” she asked again, looking around. “If you do not tell me, I will look for him myself—”

“Keep your voice down!” Stella hissed. Emma looked at the actress in the eye. Stella looked like she was internally struggling and Emma feared she would only insist that Emma left. “Follow me.”

Stella turned and started walking.

Emma followed, crossing the path toward the giant tent, around it and into a secret entrance that led to the back of the stage. From the little gaps, Emma saw that the chairs were no longer there, folded away to one corner.

Was the theatre moving away this soon?

Did that mean Wynne was fine? Did she expect worse? Would he be physically capable of throwing her out then? Because she honestly thought he might be hurt.

Yet as she followed Stella down the narrow corridor leading up to Wynne’s office, she knew she did not think wrong. The smell of different tonics was in the air and she could hear hushed voices traveling through the open doorway.

Stella stopped outside to look over her shoulder at Emma. “Do keep your calm.”

Emma followed the woman through the doorway, interrupting the discussion between Lawrence and another man who was a member of the theatre’s crew.

“What is she doing here?” Lawrence demanded when he saw Emma, but Emma did not care if the butler was throwing her daggers with his look for she had gone stiff as her eyes landed on the spot where Wynne’s table once stood. Now, there was naught but a lone bed and in lay a person she barely recognized.

A gasp escaped her throat as she stood there, frozen in shock at the sight of Wynne Hastings.

“Oh my God.” Her voice quivered as tears blurred her eyes. She blinked, her vision clearing and she almost stumbled as she rushed to his bedside. She looked at Stella who was laying the basin of water on the table in one corner while the other man excused himself from the room. Emma opened her eyes but no words escaped.

Her eyes landed back on Wynne and her hands instinctively reached out but she stopped herself. Could she touch him? The very sight of him told her touching him might merely cause him further pain.

“Step away from his lordship, please, my lady,” Lawrence said and although with respect, his voice and demeanor were filled with ire and warning.“

Emma stumbled back, her entire body shaking, her eyes filled with horror at the sight of Wynne. Whoever did this to him had naught but evil in their veins.

Lawrence blocked Emma’s view by coming to Wynne’s bedside, bending over and placing the damp cloth Stella handed him over Wynne’s forehead.

Emma felt helpless as she watched Wynne, her mind jumping from one conclusion to the other. But she knew—deep inside she always knew—what caused this. But why? Why would his own family do this to him if he had done nothing but follow their orders?

Unless he made a mistake.

Unless he disappointed them.

Without looking at Emma, Lawrence spoke, “I told him you would not bring him any good. I always warned him. He ought to have listened.”

Emma felt the blood drain from her head.

She searched for Stella who stood by the other side of the bed, eyes no longer angry. Instead, the actress looked determined. “We are going away the very moment he recovers,” she told Emma. “The best way you can help him is to keep your family at bay. That includes your fiancée.” Her blue eyes locked with Emma’s. “He would want nothing to do with the lot of you after everything he suffered.”

Emma felt her knees give in. She stepped back and held on to the empty chair beside her.

“Compose yourself, my lady. You have seen enough, I believe,” Stella said, lifting her chin. “Go back to Wickhurst where you belong.”

She shook her head.

No, she could not leave. How could she?

But what was she to do? How would she be of help when she was not even welcome here?

With shaky breath, Emma nodded, tears falling straight to the floor. Forcing what was left of her strength, she walked to the doorway.

The moment she was out of sight, Emma braced herself on the wall and slumped to the floor. She could hardly cry. She was simply in pain.

---

Hours later, Stella walked out the door and found her standing by the doorway.

The actress seemed surprised. “What are you still doing here?” Stella demanded.

Emma looked at Stella, eyes bare of any emotion. “I do not know where else to go.”

“Home. Wickhurst. Buford. Whichever suits you,” Stella retorted with a frown. “Ulric is the worst place for the both of you. I am not jesting, Emma, you cannot be in one place as him.”

Emma shook her head. “No, I am where I want to—”

She was not able to finish her words when Stella’s attention was stolen from her. The actress had turned to the side. Emma turned her head and found Dr. Johannes walking toward them. She pushed herself away from the wall. Both she and Stella were ready for the doctor before he even reached the doorway.

“You stay here,” Stella ordered Emma after Doctor Johannes greeted them in haste. “Or Lawrence will throw you out himself.”

Emma stopped in the middle of the doorway. She watched as Doctor Johannes talked with Lawrence and Stella. The butler noticed her presence and immediately sauntered toward her. With one last look of disapproval, Lawrence shut the door in front of Emma.

It ought to have been enough to make her leave, but Emma squared her shoulders and stiffly returned to lean against the wall beside the door.

She waited for more than an hour, aware that everyone back home would start to wake up and it would not be long before they would wonder why she had not yet come down to break fast. She knew that this would not be the perfect time to disappear, after what happened to Samuel and the fire, but Emma was willing to be fool enough to believe that she was where she ought to be.

When the door finally opened and Doctor Johannes walked out, Lawrence quickly closed the door. Emma heard the lock turn, but instead of being dissuaded, she turned to Doctor Johannes.

The man was looking at her with a knowing and apologetic look on his face.

“How is he, Doctor?” Emma asked, hoping her voice did not shake.

“He is in a very bad shape at the moment,” the doctor honestly replied. “But he will recover.”

Emma nodded. Doctor Johannes, discreet as always, did not say anything further. He might be wondering why she was here of all places. He gave Emma a slight bow but Emma called after him as he started to walk away.

“Doctor, can you answer a few questions?”

“My job always puts me in difficult situations where I am not allowed to speak more than what is necessary, my lady,” the doctor said without stopping. Emma equaled his steps and he added, “But ask away. I will decide whether it is proper to answer or not.”

Emma swallowed. “The night Samuel was attacked. You were the doctor who attended him.”

“Yes.”

“Who rescued him, Doctor?”

“That, I do not know. Lord Buford claims to not know the men who picked him up from the road.”

Emma’s shoulders fell.

Doctor Johannes stopped walking and looked at Emma. The man knew many secrets of the Town, but he was not in liberty to say anything. “But I do know who called for me.”

“You do?”

“Lord Buford did not tell you where I first treated him?”

“First treated him? I knew he was taken to the estate of one of the gentlemen who found him before they transferred him to Buford.”

The doctor nodded. “Yes.”

“Then can you tell me whose estate it was?”

Doctor Johannes shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot—”

“Tell tell me which estate you were called to, Doctor, please.”

Doctor Johannes took his time, looking at Emma as though he wanted to help. “I hope that the information I give you will not put a dash on my career, my lady. But perhaps it is about time I speak. I have read Lord Buford’s recent articles and I am sorry that I do not approve of them.”

Emma nodded. “Tell me, Doctor. Where did you go to first the night Samuel was attacked?”

“Will the information be of any aid?”

“To my conscience, yes. I need answers, Doctor, please.”

Doctor Johannes struggled for a long time. His eyes kept looking back and forth from Emma and the door to Wynne’s office.

“I love him. And guiltily so,” Emma said. Doctor Johannes did not seem surprised. “You must understand how difficult this must be. I need answers, doctor. No one is willing to give me the truth. At the very least, do help me find my way to a good start.”

The man shot Wynne’s closed door one more look. Looking back at her, he took a long breath and sighed. “You did not hear this from me, my lady.”

Emma eagerly nodded, a tear falling as she did so. “Yes, of course.”

Doctor Johannes watched as she hastily wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I was called to come to Ezra Trilby’s estate.”

Emma nodded.

Doctor Johannes looked like he regretted telling her, but his words told her otherwise as he said, “This is the first time I broke a client’s trust, my lady, but if it gives light to the truth, then I will sleep in peace tonight.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I give you my word that your name shall not be tainted.”

The doctor nodded. It seemed he had something more to say but he decided he had said enough. Emma did not wish to pressure him further so she merely waited as he bowed to her one last time.

Emma waited long enough to ensure that the doctor had left before she exited the theatre and climbed on her horse.

She must return to Wickhurst.

But she had one last stop before going home.

---

When Ezra Trilby appeared at the door, his eyes emitted anger.

But when Emma thought he would push her away, he grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door, ordering for the butler to leave them alone.

“Why are you here, my lady?” he demanded, looking about as though he was afraid they were being watched.

Emma realized she would not be invited into a parlor so she went straight to the point. “Why did you save Samuel?”

Ezra Trilby frowned and then he chuckled, shaking his head. “I would not, for the life of me, attempt to do anything heroic for that bastard, my lady.” He shook his head again. “No, I did not save him. I merely called for the doctor.”

A shiver ran up her spine as she slowly realized the truth. “Then who—”

“Who do you think?”

He did not have to say it, really, for Emma knew.

“Leave now, Lady Emma,” Ezra Trilby ordered, reaching for the door handle.

“Why would Wynne—”

“I cannot tell you more. I have done enough for you Everards because of that fool. I cannot do more. Leave now, please. You are simply placing us both in trouble with your presence here.”

And what if Samuel lied? Wynne’s words rang in her head.

…he is also quite efficient in keeping some unnecessary details wordless…

What if I say I saved him instead?

Emma’s breathing started to shake as she stumbled back.

“Are you all right?” Ezra asked. “Bloody hell, woman, get a grip and get the hell out of my estate before I get flagged as well.”

Who would want to associate themselves with us after that?

Emma nodded and stiffly turned to the door. She had found herself unwanted by quite a few people that night. But at the very least, she got more enlightenment now than when she merely had Samuel’s words to rely on. Thank you,“ she said through quivering lips.

---

Emma did not return to Ulric immediately as much as she wanted to. She had been quite busy with estate affairs what with almost the entire Everards now at the manor.

Their mother had insisted that they all dined together before Margaret and Cole travelled to Devonshire with the children where they would take a long vacation to gather their thoughts and keep the children safe. The decision to leave for Devonshire was unanimous. The Devitt family would leave in a week. Cole simply had a few matters to sort in the Courts.

All the while, Emma had kept everything she discovered all to herself. Things were just returning to normal. Everyone was not willing to discuss the fire in fear of the children overhearing them. But all were weary and all were set to blame the Trilbys.

That same night, Emma escaped from her bedchamber again and rode to Ulric.

When Stella saw her tethering her horse outside the theatre, the actress merely ignored her.

Emma quietly followed the woman to Wynne’s office but Stella stopped outside the door, turning to Emma. “I am not going to ask you to leave because he will.”

Emma froze and then she smiled. “He is conscious?”

Stella stiffly nodded. “Very. And he will be very angry to see you.”

She did not care. She reached for the door before Stella could and pushed her way in.

Lawrence was nowhere in sight and she was glad. At the very least, she had merely one brooding man to deal with.

As Emma’s eyes found Wynne. His words from that night in the theatre came back to her. Just a little longer, Emma… She shivered. It seemed so long ago since she felt herself wrapped in his embrace, his lips against hers, their breathing one and the same. This could be our last moment together, see?

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded as soon as he saw her. Although his eyes were still swollen, the anger was imminent. “Stella, escort her out of here at once! What the bloody hell had you been thinking allowing her in the premises?” Wynne shouted.

Emma flinched, but she remained where she was.

Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she asked, “Who did this to you?”

“None of your bloody business.”

“Did my brothers?” she asked. Well, she had to at least be certain.

He scoffed. It was answer enough.

“Your family.”

He snapped his head and glared at her from his bed. “Leave, Emma.”

“I refuse to when I know—”

“I no longer wish to associate myself with you or any of the Everards. Do you understand, woman?”

Emma’s eyes did not waver, but she felt her resolve starting to wane. Was he blaming her for putting him in this state? Perhaps he ought to. He had every right, after all.

“Why would they do this to you, Wynne? What did you do?” she asked instead. “Or is it for something you did not do?”

“Bloody hell, woman, remove yourself from here!” He pointed to the door. “Or do you wish to see me struggle my way out of this bed to drag you out of here?”

“No need,” Emma said, her knees getting weak. “I can make a graceful exit.”

It was enough to know he was doing fine. As she turned to the door, she said, “I will leave you be for now, Wynne Hastings,” she said. “But I will be back tomorrow night. By then, I hope to at least reach your bedside.”

---

Stella closed the door after Emma left.

The picture of her frozen as he demanded that she leave was still fresh in his mind. The pain in her eyes was undeniable, but so was the guilt. And he did not need her guilt. Under the covers, he balled his hands into fists in frustration.

Why would she come here after accusing him of trying to kill Samuel? Had she not made it clear that he was a Trilby and she an Everard?

“Why would you do that?” Stella softly asked, turning to face him. “She came here yesterday looking for answers and she was devastated to find you barely alive. That should be enough to tell us she is willing to give you a chance when everybody else already gave their judgment.”

He hid his surprise by glaring at Stella. “Stop meddling, Stella.”

Stella arched her brow. “If I did, you would not be alive. But then, I placed you in this state by insisting you save a friend. Perhaps I ought to be blamed as well.”

He had nothing more to say.

He refused to discuss Emma, Samuel or any of the Everards.

As Lawrence had said, he did this to himself.

Perhaps it was time to listen to his butler and focus on recovering.

And then leave.

XXXIII. Guardian Angel

Days later, Ellie had everything she needed.

But not where she needed them to be.

The challenge now was how to go back belowground.

She barely slept as the old man stayed a few more days aboveground.

All she could do for now was wait.

-Above and Below

---

As much as she wanted to go back to Ulric, Emma realized that it was best she stayed away for a while and give Wynne enough time to recover and herself to organize her thoughts.

To only way she found best to do so was put everything she knew in perspective and she did just that for the next days that followed. She wrote and drew everything she knew about Wynne and the incidents that occurred before and after Emma discovered his true identity.

She placed marks on things unknown to her, perhaps because they could only be explained by Wynne himself or other people like Samuel, her brothers and Margaret.

Her sister may have shared her relationship with the League, but Margaret never discussed in full detail what she had been working on. Just like how they knew Fiona was a Trilby, but how she was rescued or the events that happened prior to her rescue, were never discussed. The same could be said for Maxine, Samuel’s sister. They knew her mother was a Trilby, but Emma was not aware how far Maxine had gotten close to that side of her family when she discovered her identity. Maxwell never shared anything, nor was he willing to discuss it. Even the full story of Aurora Randolph was a blur. She had disappeared from Wickhurst and later died, leaving behind a daughter.

As she stared at everything she had come up so far, Emma realized how ignorant she had been—still was. There had been too many things going on and she was left in the dark.

All she was told was that the Trilbys were the enemy.

But who amongst them, truly?

Any woman could say that the Everards were rakehells. Yet she knew well enough that most of her brothers were never such. Could one truly define an individual by the family they belong to?

Could they judge Wynne because he happened to be a Trilby?

She knew that her argument could enlighten her family, but not now when they were this cautious for the truth still remained that any of the Trilbys could be the enemy.

Emma stood and looked down at the large parchment on the table.

Wynne saved Samuel.

That was one of the facts she could say with confidence.

But why would Samuel lead others to believe otherwise?

---

With one last thing to do, Emma went to the bedchamber Faye and Fiona shared in the Everard manor.

In merely a few days, the children and their parents would be bound to Devonshire.

“Aunt Emma!” Faye said, beaming at her as she brushed Fiona’s hair.

“Hello, darlings,” Emma said, sauntering into the room. She smiled and then hesitated.

The girls looked quite happy. Any sign of stress from the fire was no longer in evidence. If she wanted to talk about that night, she had to be very careful. If she made one wrong move, Margaret would never allow her near the girls.

“Are you ready for Devonshire?”

“Yes!” Fiona said, voice filled with excitement. “Mother said we can visit the village. And Aunt Agatha’s school, too!”

“Famous!” Faye added.

Emma put on a sad face. “I will miss you. Terribly so.”

“You can come with us!” the girls chorused.

“I would have to stay,” Emma, retorted with a smile. “But I might consider spending a few months in Devonshire if the two of you can manage to be good girls.”

“Of course, we are,” said Fiona.

“Because you have your guardian angels watching over you, yes?” asked Emma.

Faye stopped brushing Fiona’s hair and nodded dreamily. “Yes, of course,” the girls said in unison. “Our guardian angels will be quite disappointed if we fail to be in our best behavior,” added Faye.

“I have been practicing fencing to work more on my balance,” said Fiona. “I encourage Faye to do so. She had a hard time when our angels rescued us.”

“She did?”

“Yes, of course. She was shaking. But then, she was not feeling well.”

“And how did your angels help you again?”

“They must have been shy to show us their wings so we had to climb from the second landing on our own. They helped us, of course. They dragged the cabinet and we used it to climb down.”

“That was very courageous of you. Did you cry a lot?”

“Of course, but the angels told us we were safe,” Fiona said, putting a ribbon on her hair. Faye helped her secure it with a pin.

“But one of them burned his hand,” Faye murmured as she placed another pin on Fiona’s hair.

Emma frowned. “He did?”

“Yes, when he touched the door handle. But it must not have hurt,” Fiona answered. “Surely he healed fast. They were strong, see?”

“Oh, I wish to have seen them as well.”

“Oh, we did not see them in full,” said Faye. “They covered their faces.”

Fiona giggled. “We told you, Aunt Emma, they were shy.”

Faye’s face fell for the first time. “They told us they would be behind us but they disappeared.”

“Probably to tend to the other angel who burnt his hand,” Fiona said to Faye.

As the girls carried their conversation further, Emma took a long shaky breath.

Things were starting to fall into place.

She felt the threat of tears behind her eyes and she blinked, forcing herself to smile.

“Well, then, I believe they must still be watching over you,” she told the girls, walking closer. “Would you like me to do your hair, Faye?”

“But you are terrible at it, Aunt Emma.”

“Oh, yes. Then what say the both of you to a game of chess?”

The girls sighed in disappointment.

“Pies?” Emma tried again.

Faye and Fiona looked at each other.

“I will not tell your mother,” she added.

The girls grinned and eagerly nodded their head.

“Then we must hurry,” she said, leading the way to the kitchen.

---

“Dear, have you been visiting dear Samuel?” Lady Alice asked one morning as they broke their fast.

Emma saw how everyone’s eyes turned to her, Maxwell in particular. She blinked and cleared her throat. “I am meaning to call on him this afternoon, Mother.”

Their mother nodded. “Do that, dear. The poor man must feel bored. The Theobalds had already left Buford.”

Although their mother was no longer talking about the marriage, probably because she thought it was not amongst her priorities at the moment, Emma still felt terribly awkward.

How could she tell her family that she had broken off the engagement?

“Maxine can go with Emma,” Maxwell offered, eyes on Emma.

Suddenly Emma felt suspicious. Did Maxwell know? She knew that he was too perceptive, more than necessary, in fact.

“Yes, I can accompany you, Emma,” Maxine said, giving Emma a smile. “I was with Samuel yesterday afternoon and by his state, I am certain your presence can make a difference. He has been rather silent and withdrawn.”

“I can go on my own,” Emma said. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather be with him alone this afternoon.”

“Perfect then!” Lady Alice said, clapping her hands together. “But do take the carriage, Emma. I do not feel comfortable with you running about Wickhurst on foot.”

Emma caught Maxwell’s gaze and she quickly looked away to give her mother a reassuring smile. “I shall.”

---

Emma stood in the middle of Samuel’s doorway for quite some time, watching him as he wrote in his bed, ignorant of her presence.

He seemed like the Samuel she always knew, always engrossed in his craft. But there was something different about him as well.

Squaring her shoulders, Emma cleared her throat.

Samuel looked up and for a second his eyes were blank, as though he was still in his little world. And then he sat straight, surprised.

“Emma!” he said, his eyes traveling to the space behind her.

“I came alone, but Maxine sent some biscuits.”

He did not respond and waited until she took one more step into the room.

Emma took a long breath and locked her eyes with Samuel’s. “I came to ask you questions and I beg that you answer them honestly, Sam.”

She saw the panic cross his eyes for a moment before he composed himself and nodded. He set aside his writing articles and faced her with a determined look on his face.

“What else did you lie to me about, Sam?” she asked.

She saw the confusion in his eyes. “I did not lie to you, Emma.”

“Then tell me the things you kept to yourself.”

His face turned taut. “You said you did not want to know what happened that night.”

“Perhaps I do,” she said, lifting her chin. “Perhaps I merely did not want to know because somehow, deep in myself, I knew nothing happened, Sam.”

Samuel turned his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular, and scoffed. “You passed out after we drank half a bottle of brandy. You had been quite mellow then and I came to be there for you to cry on. And when you had had enough spirit, you started to get undressed. And then you passed out.” He looked at her straight in the eyes. “Nothing happened, Emma.”

Her jaw tightened. “You made me believe otherwise.”

“I was planning to tell you when we woke up but your brothers arrived and everything went fast afterwards. I barely had enough time to remember the details of the night when I was dragged to be beaten by Maxwell and Ralph. And the next thing I knew, you have agreed to be engaged.”

“You could have said something.”

“I was afraid!” he said, eyes flaring with anger. He hated confessing he was capable of fear. “I was afraid you would hate me for having placed you in such a difficult position. I was hesitant to tell you the truth, which was why I had been distant. I spent my time with work to take away the guilt.”

“You could have spent it wisely by telling me the truth!”

“And have you walk away from me?”

Emma stumbled back with an incredulous look on her face. “You were afraid I’d walk away?” she asked in disbelief. “Samuel, can you not see? I eventually did!”

“Because you never truly intended to marry me? Were you simply waiting because you wished to know if I have gotten you with babe? And were you going to say no the moment you were certain you are not with one?”

Emma’s whole body froze. She could not believe his words. “What has gotten into you!” she shouted, tears of frustration, anger and guilt streaming down her face. Frustration for he was being stubborn. She knew he did not mean what he said and he merely said it out of spite. Anger because she could no longer find any way to help him get back to the man he once was. And guilt because mayhap she was one of the reasons why he turned this way.

“Perhaps there is another reason why you walked away, Em,” Samuel said with bitterness. “You love that bastard.”

Emma wiped her tears and shook her head. “Does the condescending look mean that you find me just like every woman there is? That with merely a few weeks of pretense, I fell for him? That I did act like any damsel in distress, falling for the man who was spying on us? Are you disappointed that I had a change of heart?” Her answer was enough to convince him that he guessed correctly. Why would she even deny it? “I never had a change of heart, Sam. My affections were never placed on anyone else. He is the first.”

Samuel let out a wry, mocking laugh. “Do you wish me to feel guilty over what happened to him?” he snarled. “You are not the first to attempt it, but you are very much welcome.” He waved his hand at the door. “Please, go and gather your family and friends and embrace another enemy under your care. And dare not go to me in the future to say I have always been right.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief, her vision blurring as more tears flowed. “Samuel,” she choked, “perhaps it is about time you gather your own thoughts and opinions. Mayhap then you will be able to find yourself again amongst the rubbles.”

When Emma started to walk away, Samuel said, “Are you leaving then? For good? After everything, Emma?”

Emma stopped and turned to face Samuel, her lips forming a small, gentle smile. He was still her dear friend Samuel. She would miss him and their past, but things had changed.

“We are still family, Sam,” she said. “Your sister is my brother’s wife. Your parents will always be a part of my mother’s life and ours. You are forever Ralph’s friend and I hope that someday, when things are better, we can like each other the way we used to. But what happened ought to tell both of us that we would have never been good together.”

“Then you are willing to go to him? To the man who intended to ruin your family?”

Emma shook her head. Another tear dropped from her eye. “No, I intend to go to the man who left his own to save not just us, but also himself.” Emma sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Sam, he saved Faye and Fiona from the fire. He saved you. What else do you want?” The anger toward Samuel was no longer there. Perhaps it would always be the case with him. He could do the most stupid things and she would still find it in her to forgive him, just like how she would her brothers.

If he was even surprised that Wynne saved the girls from the fire, he did not show it. Emma sighed. “What happened that night shall remain between us. Our family need not know,” she said, speaking of the night that led to their engagement.

“Do you think it would reassure me when I know you are being stupid going to that bastard? You may think otherwise, Emma, but your safety is amongst my priorities.”

“My safety fell from your priorities the very moment you convinced me to worm myself into Wynne Hastings’ life, Samuel. I do not blame you for it, truly. I agreed to it after all.”

“If you go to him, Emma, you will lose me forever.”

Emma ignored his words. She had been listening to Samuel for a long time. It was quite enough. Instead, Emma nodded and said, “Go and fight for what you believe is right, Samuel, and know that I support you. But I will not be fighting with you. I simply choose to have my own battles.” He scoffed. “I am sorry if I am a disappointment to you, but you barely know what my heart wants. You know how my mind works, but you have no inkling on my heart. You are in love with the idea of me—a woman who can speak and think like you do. A woman of free ideas. But you are not in love with the woman , Sam, for I am so much more than your idea of me.”

Emma did not wait for a response.

---

That night, Emma made up her mind.

She had already confronted Samuel. It drained her energy, but her resolve was still as strong.

If she slept on it another night, she might lose the courage.

And so she decided she had to go to Ulric tonight.

After climbing down her window and running to fetch her horse, Emma felt even more determined. Wynne would have to face her tonight as well whether he liked it or not.

He would not be capable of pushing her away—physically, that is.

But his butler will be, a voice reasoned.

Emma paused from untethering her horse as she considered the butler, her current archenemy.

“Are you going to a late-night tea party, Emma?”

Emma jumped on her feet and whirled around to find Maxwell leaning against the wall, hidden in the shadows.

XXXIV. The First Strategy

Bryon was face to face with the very people he considered friends.

Only now they were not facing each other across a gaming table.

He was on a stand while they were on the other side of the room, waiting for him to be judged.

If the League was waiting for the perfect time to save him, it had long passed.

He was simply a pawn they could not save, for if they did, the entire League might be in jeopardy.

Today was his last day in the Courts.

He would finally be judged.

-Above and Below

---

Her heart hammered against her chest as her mind tried to find a good enough reason why she was in her breeches, untethering her horse in the middle of the night.

But this was Maxwell she was facing.

No one could lie to Maxwell, no matter how convincing they were.

Her brother’s long hair curtained the sides of his unreadable face as he pushed away from the wall.

“How did your meeting with Samuel go?” he nonchalantly asked, walking over to her horse, caressing its mane with one hand whilst his eyes were fixed on Emma.

“As expected,” she replied matter-of-factly. “As you may already guess, the engagement is off.”

Maxwell’s face did not even change, not an inch of a frown or a sign of anything. Nothing. He simply looked at her as thoughtful as always.

Emma sighed. “I confronted him with the things he neglected to share with us.”

Her brother’s brows rose. “Such us?”

“Why he never told any of us that Wynne saved him.”

Maxwell slowly nodded, quietly accepting the information.

“Mayhap you must also know that Wynne saved the girls from the fire that night. He must have realized what his family was planning and arrived just in time.”

Again, Maxwell merely nodded.

Emma was starting to lose all hope. If she could not convince Maxwell, who else on their right mind would ever consider Wynne innocent?

“And he was beaten by his own family after he was taken from the Everard manor. I believe as punishment for intruding with their plans.”

Maxwell nodded.

Emma was getting frustrated. Could she at least convince her brother to allow her to leave?

But she had to wait. She had to be very careful with her next words.

“And when will you get to the point where you tell me you are going against the odds for the man, Emma?”

Emma’s eyes rounded. Panic was the first to rise, but she immediately cleared her throat to say, “Well, I was waiting for the perfect timing.”

Maxwell blinked. “It is not wise to be with the man.”

“Max, I am yet to find out. You cannot tell me so,” she said, lifting her chin.

Maxwell started shaking his head.

“What would you have done if Maxine was with the Trilbys when you realized you were in love with her?” she asked.

Maxwell chuckled dryly. “Do not even attempt to go that route, Emma. You know such tactics would not work on me.”

“Still, answer the question, Max.”

Maxwell looked at her for a long time before saying through clenched teeth, “I would have dragged her out of that bloody family.”

Emma nodded. “Precisely. Now I hope you understand why I am leaving tonight.”

She started to climb her horse but Maxwell stopped her, pulling the reins.

“Max, I never stopped any of you from doing what you wanted,” she said as calmly as she could.

“I am not stopping you, Emma,” Maxwell said. “I am simply about to suggest that you do not have to go now. It is dangerous and stupid to be riding out of Wickhurst on your own.”

Emma glared at him.

“You can do so on the morrow,” Maxwell said, voice filled with authority. “After you have considered every possible scenario your actions might bring upon us.”

Emma moistened her lips, considering his words.

“You need not ask my approval. You are an Everard. You will always do what you want. Of course, I am not speaking for the other brothers who might take different courses of action should they find out.”

“You are not going to tell them until I even try, Max,” Emma said, starting to panic once more. Maxwell was Maxwell, and her other brothers were… well, themselves. There was a big difference.

“I may give you a little bit of a head start. A few hours, a day—you will never know. I might also change my mind and tell them this very evening.”

“You dare and I will never forgive you.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Very well, a day or two. I will give you a day or two to humiliate yourself in front of a Trilby and yourself.”

Emma glared at Maxwell, but she was thankful all the same.

“But there is another thing I insist that you do before you ride out of Wickhurst on the morrow with your stupidity.”

“What is it?”

Maxwell shrugged. “The mother ought to know.”

Her brother turned and walked back to the direction of the side entrance. “Max! Are you insane! She will have a faint!”

He looked over his shoulder. “Then choose, Emma—the other Everard brothers or their mother?”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too, you idiot,” Maxwell said with a grin.

Emma looked about as her brother walked away.

“Return the horse or find yourself bound to a bloody chair in the middle of the parlor.”

Emma growled and led her horse back into the stable.

---

Emma settled in the settee beside her mother as the woman read the recent scandals on the Town Herald.

“The Haverstons are once more the star of the today’s paper,” Lady Alice informed Emma. “Belinda and Cressida got into a bit of scandal.”

“Truly? How?” Emma asked.

“One lady claimed Belinda deliberately locked her inside a closet during a ball.”

“She did?” Emma asked, snorting.

“But Cressida swore Belinda did no such thing,” Lady Alice said as she read aloud, “ Lady Easton then inquired why Lady Harp would be inside a closet in the first place.“

“Oh, you know Cressida, Mother,” Emma said, waving her hand to brush off the topic off. “She could be telling the truth, or she could be lacing it with a lie, most often in a very hilarious way.”

Lady Alice folded the paper and set it aside. “Oh well, I am certain she and Belinda locked Lady Harp in the closet for good reasons.”

Emma chuckled, shaking her head.

As her laughter died down, she continued to stare at her mother who sensed it and smiled at her.

“Did you happen to find me at such time when I am alone to confess that you have broken your engagement with Samuel?”

Emma’s eyes rounded in surprise.

“Oh, Rachel told me. Samuel told her and Lord Theobald that they ought not to expect a marriage.”

Emma’s sighed. “Are you disappointed?” she asked, hesitantly looking her mother in the eye.

“Of course, I am!” Lady Alice exclaimed. “But then, I am not the one to wed the man, Emma. It is you. And if you do not wish to, then you must have very good reasons.” Her mother closed her last statement matter-of-factly, but Emma saw the question in her eyes.

“I am in love with someone else,” Emma confirmed.

Her mother suddenly fanned her face with her hands in a dramatic way, one Ysabella would sometimes do. “Oh Lord, I am sensing you are about to tell me you are in love with someone I should not approve of.”

Emma bit her lips to contain her smile. “Experience tells you so, mother?”

“Goodness gracious! Yes!” Lady Alice said, waving her arm dramatically. “Ben married your governess! Levi coveted someone else’s fiancée! Margaret married the man who scarred Benedict! Ysabella courted a man for years! Maxwell married a bastard, Nick a woman of color! And Ralph… instead of imprisoning a bandit, he slipped a ring around her finger!”

Emma grimaced. “Hearing you say those things, Mother, I can merely imagine how you feel.”

“Oh, no, of course, you cannot, dear,” Lady Alice replied. “You cannot imagine the joy of seeing my children happy with someone they truly love.”

Emma’s eyes immediately filled with tears as her heart swelled with the intense feeling of love for her mother and the pain of the longing to want to have the same love her siblings had—to be able to claim it for herself as well.

“So go on, Emma,” Lady Alice urged, lifting one brow. “Do tell me.”

“I am in love—”

“Yes, yes, you have already said so. Tell me who this man is.”

Emma moistened her lips and squared her shoulders. “Wynne.”

She saw her mother freeze.

“Wynne Hastings.”

There was no reply. Her mother simply stared at her.

“He is a Trilby.”

“I know,” her mother snapped.

Emma felt uneasy all of a sudden. “But he is not like the rest of them, Mother.”

“Your brothers think otherwise.”

“That is because they do not know him and what he has done,” Emma countered. “Mother, he saved the girls from the fire. He saved Samuel.”

Lady Alice frowned. “I did not know that.”

“No one else knows,” Emma whispered. “And because of what he did, he was punished for it by his family.”

“What?”

“The last I saw him, he was confined in bed. He was beaten by the Trilbys.” Emma shifted in her seat to fully face her mother. “Mother, he is not like them. He is artistic and smart. He wrote Above and Below. He directed the play.”

“He did?”

“But you cannot tell anyone, please. He would hate me if the secret gets out.”

Lady Alice merely nodded.

“He is also funny and he can be quite charming. He understands me, Mother. He knows Emma Everard in more ways than any man ever did. And although he made it hard, I am proud to say I understand his whole person. I had always seen his true color. I have known he was a Trilby for a time and yet I was never afraid of him. He was an odd comfort—his very presence makes me want to do things I have always been apprehensive of. He is wonderful in my eyes, Mother.” Emma felt a tear roll down her face. “And I wish for no one else.”

Her mother simply sat there, looking at her. Finally, she asked, “Tell me what you plan to do, Emma.”

“Something drastic, Mother,” she confessed. “But I want your blessing.”

Lady Alice looked away. For a moment, she merely stared in the air, deep in thought. When her eyes veered back to look at Emma, all she said was, “He is a Trilby, Emma.”

Emma nodded. “And for them, Mother, I am an Everard.”

“If what I learned from your brothers were true, Emma, then the man has been spying on us!”

“Yet never told them a thing. If he did, the girls would not have been saved. If he did, things would have already been bad for us.”

“We are not certain of that,” Lady Alice said, fear in her voice.

Emma nodded. “Then I shall stay put,” she murmured in resignation.

Her mother frowned. “Why?”

Emma sniffled. “Because you disapprove of him. I surely could never live my life with the man I love when my own mother hates him.”

Lady Alice scoffed. “You sound like your father when you are trying to manipulate me.”

Emma shook her head. “But I am not. I am not going to him as I planned. I will stay put where you want me to be.”

Her mother let out a loud sigh. She reached for Emma’s hand and squeezed it. “Darling, he may very well be my least favorite son-in-law, but I shall be able to handle him.”

Emma froze as she looked at her mother in surprise. “Are you certain?” she asked in disbelief. “Truly?”

Lady Alice let go of Emma’s hand and reached for her tea. “Ah, I will have to convert the young man.” Before she took a sip, she murmured with incredulity in her voice, “A Trilby into the family! A Trilby!”

“Maxine is a Trilby.”

Swallowing her tea, Lady Alice shook her head. “He is a full-bred, my dear.”

Emma grimaced once more. “Yes, I am afraid so.”

She set her teacup down and looked at Emma with narrowed eyes. “But he can be tamed, yes?”

Emma jumped to her feet and kissed her mother on the cheek. She straightened with a big grin on her face. “We can try.”

As Emma fled to the door, Lady Alice called out, “Dare not ride on horseback! Take the carriage!”

---

Emma sneaked into Ulric, leaving behind the carriage and the driver on the road. She did not want to alert anyone who had all intentions of throwing her away.

But as she got closer to the giant tent, Emma realized that the place seemed empty. The other smaller tents were now gone as well as the ones where the other entertainers resided.

Her heart started to hammer as she raced into the theatre to find it empty. The stage was almost completely gone. The curtains were down and the chairs she saw from the last time she was here had been cleared.

Emma rushed to Wynne’s office and turned the knob. It was locked.

She noticed the silence that followed the movement of the door handle and she realized that someone was inside.

Emma knocked, but not too loud, afraid that Wynne’s butler may be around.

“Wynne, open the door,” Emma said, knocking once more.

There was no answer.

Emma knocked once more. This time, she heard footsteps walking back and forth inside the room. Was he deliberately ignoring her?

“If you do not open this door, I shall do something drastic, Hastings!” Emma said, knocking on the door. “I will expose you as a Trilby.”

There was silence inside the room. And then the footsteps resumed. The door remained closed.

“I will tell everyone you are the Herald’s gossip writer.”

Emma was still ignored.

“Very well, I am certain the Town will appreciate the real identity of the creator of Above and Below .”

Emma waited, holding her breath.

She flinched when she heard the lock turn and the door opened, revealing Stella looking quite amused. “He did not want to open the door but I badly needed to step outside for personal matters,” Stella informed Emma, adding in a whisper, “I will lock the door if I were you.”

Saying nothing more, Stella walked out and Emma immediately rushed inside, locking the door behind her.

Her heart was racing stronger than before as her eyes landed on Wynne.

He was carrying a heap of clothes from across the room to his bed. He was finally on his feet. His face was still swollen, but he was healing.

The bandage around his hand was still there, but they seemed to be working quite well as he was folding his clothes. At that, Emma swallowed.

Pain and fear laced with panic wormed through her veins as she realized what he was doing.

He was packing.

He was leaving.

XXXV. Wynne Hastings

Guilty.

That was the verdict.

Byron could not bring himself to feel anything as his carriage took him to his final destination.

He did this to himself.

He had let one woman outsmart him.

The carriage pulled to a stop, snapping him back to his senses.

He heard a commotion outside before the door opened and one of the Leaguers he knew well grinned at him.

“We apologize for the late rescue, my lord.”

-Above and Below

---

“Make it fast. I have no time to waste,” Wynne said, voice cold and emotionless. He did not even spare her a glance.

Emma took a lungful of air. “Why did you let me believe you were responsible for Sam’s accident? And why did you not tell me you saved my nieces?”

He froze for a second before he recovered and finally turned to face her. His eyes met hers from across the room.

He was the man she fell in love with. He might try to hide his true self, but Emma could see right through him. Difficult it might be, but she could see him even more clearly now.

Even the cold and empty look in his dark eyes could not push her away. Not this time. Not when she knew the truth.

He was no monster.

As Faye and Fiona would say, he was an angel.

But he would never admit that now or ever. He would not be Wynne Hastings if he ever did.

She ought to at least make him tell her who he believed he was—his own version of himself. Then perhaps they could both reach a compromise.

“Who are you, really, Wynne Hastings?” Emma choked. “For once, tell me the truth. Tell me who you truly are.”

Wynne simply stared at her at first. “After everything that happened, Emma, did you really come here to ask me that?”

“Then allow me to rephrase,” she said through her teeth. “Did you truly plan to use me?”

“Yes.” His answer was without hesitation. “I was tasked to use you and Samuel.”

She expected that. “For what purpose?”

“To know who the Leaguer amongst the Everard is,” he said. “I first suspected it to be you, but I immediately changed my mind. You are wise beyond your years, but you are not one who would be a part of an organization who could control you.”

Emma realized, as Wynne spoke, that he had found out who the Leaguer was. “The fire.”

He nodded. “Yes.” He turned and resumed with his work. “Are you satisfied now? You may go.”

“You told them about Maggie?”

He did not reply. He simply stared at her.

“They found out on their own,” she concluded. “Why did they hurt you?” she demanded, walking closer. “They would not have hurt you so bad if you did not do something they would not have approved of.”

Wynne paused and straightened to full height. When he turned, his eyes looked squarely into hers. “Why would you ask questions you already know the answer to, Emma? You know now I saved your nieces from the fire. You know I saved Samuel.”

“But why. Why would you—can you stop that!” she said, pulling the coat he started to fold to get his attention. “Why would you save my family? Samuel? Why are you leaving?”

Wynne looked at her for a long time. “What is the answer that you seek, Emma? Tell me, for I cannot give it to you.”

The pain seared through her as she realized the truth in his words.

He looked away from her, turning his head to look at the wall, as though he was looking through a window.

“I am leaving because it is the only way I can survive and live the life I want—for myself and no one else,” he said when his gaze returned to hers. “My aunt and uncle are crazy, but my great grandfather is crazier.”

Emma felt a shiver ran through her spine. His great grandfather?

“They do horrible things and most of the time, we, or at the very least, those of us who are quite in our right mind, manage to prevent the worst ones.” He took a step away from her, a smirk on his face. “We Trilbys are ambitious, but those you consider enemies are far more. I have long given up on them the very moment they destroyed my family.”

Emma braced herself for what he was about to tell her.

“My father never showed he cared for his wife for he was cruel that way. Thinking now, I believe he was always the selfish kind. He never wanted his wife to use his love for her against him. He loved her and I saw it in his eyes whenever he looked at her, but never when she was looking back. I witnessed how my mother tried and failed for that love many times for I have done the same thing,” he said, voice etched with bitterness. “Love is never given refuge in a Trilby household. Along with forgiveness.” He sighed. “Soon, my mother found a man. My great grandfather warned my father of the fact. Perhaps he was right all along, or perhaps it happened later as my mother’s last act of rebellion. But it did happen and things merely went awry after that. My childhood was shattered when they told me my mother was killed in an accident when she tried to run away with her lover. I later found out that my great grandfather ordered for her accident.” He paced in front of her and as he spoke, it was like hearing a story fresh from his imagination. But it was from a distant memory and that was the cruel part. “My first lover was paid by my father to go away.” Emma scoffed in disbelief. “He did not have to, but he wanted to. He had to prove that no women could be trusted.”

Finally, Wynne stopped and looked at her again. “You see, Emma, I find it hard to trust anyone. Not even my own family.”

“But you chose to be good,” she said, almost a whisper. “Despite everything, you chose not to be like them.”

He scoffed at her words and shook his head. “When I was young, I did not believe my mother was dead. I honestly thought she merely disappeared. She was the only good in Hastings and suddenly she was gone. I had to find her. And so I packed my bags and toys and the few townsends I managed to steal from my father’s pockets. And I ran away.” He paused and a small smile appeared on his lips. “But Lawrence found and took me back. He was our footman by then and somewhat my nanny. He insisted that I needed my father and that there would be time for other things once I’ve grown.” He shrugged. “I have done my part for the Trilbys. I have been the good son my father needed me to be. I inherited his estate when he died early.” He looked around the room. “And now… it is time I become that boy again.” His eyes lingered on the large luggage on his bed. “It is time for the other things , Emma.” His dark eyes went back to look at her. “That is why I am leaving.”

Emma frowned. “And you expect your family to simply let you go?”

He shook his head. “It is not easy to escape from the Trilbys. One must learn how to cut all the strings and disappear without a trace. It took me my whole life to learn how to do that.”

“So you do what they want and disappear. Simply like that?”

He nodded. “With a few aces for future use.”

“So you spied for them to earn your keep?”

He shook his head. “I have done many things for them in the past. Why do you think I am in the Herald? I keep the bad articles from getting published. Until, of course, Samuel focused on them and it was nearly unstoppable. The spying… well, it was just what I needed to keep everyone distracted.”

“So you can have more time to prepare and disappear.”

“Yes.”

Emma frowned. “But is that answer enough? Shouldn’t you stay and try to keep them from doing more harm?”

“I am no martyr, Emma. I am not Samuel. I have done enough.” He lifted his shoulders. “But do you wish me to give you warning? As a Trilby who happens to know how his family thinks?”

Emma remained silent, her mind clouded by the fact that Wynne was leaving. Could he not demand why she was here?

“Be very careful is all I can say. You Everards have in your care two of our own. One is your brother’s wife, Sam’s sister. The other is Fiona, an innocent child who ought to remain where she is. Should my family win, Noah Trilby will do everything in his power to take Fiona. He is as much of a fool as Osegod was and he would do everything to keep his name clean. Fiona will tarnish that reputation for she will remind the Town of what his deceased wife had done in the past.” Wynne peered down at her as if he wanted to make certain his every word was taken in. “Do you understand, Emma? You and your family ought to stay away from the Trilbys from this moment on, Margaret the most.”

Emma simply stared, her eyes beginning to water once again. She already knew what the Trilbys could do, could already imagine the worst. But that was not what she wanted to hear from Wynne. Had he no hesitation at all about leaving? Nothing at all?

When she remained silent, Wynne sighed. “Emma, did you hear me? Tell your bloody brothers these words. Should they listen, it would save the lot of you. Not all Trilbys can be dragged into the Everard drawing room willingly. They cannot expect to beat a Trilby and everything is over and done with.”

Emma blinked and a single drop of tear escaped her eye. Wynne’s jaw tightened and she saw how his hands balled into fists. Emma swallowed. “What else have you done for me?”

“What?” he asked incredulously with a scoff. “Do not think too highly of yourself, Emma. I did not do it all for you.” He sharply turned, adding, “Now, leave.”

Emma could not go. Not when she made a fool of herself in front of Maxwell and her mother. She could not bloody go home without a groom!

“Are you taking the theatre somewhere? Like you planned to?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question. But she was in a state of panic.

He merely allowed a curt nod. She regained a bit of her confidence. He was not asking her to leave again… yet.

“With Stella?” she warily asked.

“Yes, of course. Perhaps I should marry her. It will cut the cost of the play for certain. She could finally escape from Sandre.”

He was taunting her. Was he taunting her? Bloody hell, she could not tell. Taking all the courage she could muster in one sentence, Emma asked, “And what of me?”

She saw him stiffen. But when he remained unmoving and silent, Emma stepped closer, a warrior in a riding dress.

“I demand that you do something about me as well, Wynne Hastings.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he asked, almost angry. By the look in his eyes, she could see that he thought she was playing him.

“Now that you are almost free of your family, perhaps you can be part of mine for I am certain Stella would never marry you,” she said, tone nonchalant. “And if you are worried about my brothers, we simply have to find a way to get you to their good side. They could not hurt you for they already did that. They will, of course, treat you like a mere shadow, but that you can get used to until they can bear your presence no more and start talking to you.”

Emma saw the disbelief in his face. “Do you realize how absurd you sound, woman? Are you bloody insane?”

She was not insane, she thought. She was utterly serious. “Wynne,” she said, tone staid and determined. “Are you in love with me?” When he simply stared at her, Emma feared that he would soon demand that she remove herself from the room at once. There was no other way to keep that from happening, she thought.

Unless, of course, she found a way to make it difficult for him.

Before he realized what she was doing, Emma was already unbuttoning her dress. “I asked you a question,” she said, voice shaking as she pulled her dress down her shoulders. The dress dropped on the floor, around her feet. Now, he would have to force her to dress if he wanted her to leave.

His eyes widened in surprise. There was a tinge of anger there as well, but she paid it no mind. “Emma, what the bloody hell—”

“Are you in love with me?” she asked again. She looked him in the eye and added, “Because I am.” Her heart was racing against her chest. She was crazy after all. Utterly so. And she was standing in her drawers, almost naked, in front of a man who might not even care about decency and still throw her out! But by the look in his eyes, she knew that door would remain closed for quite some time. She swallowed and forced a small smile on her lips. “And by the by, I am seducing you for my own selfish reasons. This is the only game I am willing to play at the moment.”

XXXVI. Free

It was good to finally be free.

For it would give him time to hunt for her.

Perhaps she was somewhere aboveground enjoying the fruits of her labor.

Where, though, was the question.

Her estate was abandoned with no traces of where she went.

“Who are you looking for, exactly?” his closest friend and fellow Leaguer asked.

“The woman who nearly got me killed, of course. We find her and we get enough evidence to find the man behind all this,” he replied. “I have to go back aboveground myself.”

“Which woman? You mean Ellie?”

“I see you have gotten acquainted.”

“Well, yes, of course. She has been belowground.”

“Of course, she was. I brought her here. And she left me here thinking I’ll die.”

“No, she returned while you were in prison.”

-Above and Below

---

“Whatever you are planning, Emma, it is leading nowhere,” Wynne said, voice filled with warning. The way her determined face looked back at him made him feel scared. Bloody hell, yes, of course he was scared for he knew what he would do if she kept this on—and kept her clothes off. “From the very start, what we started never promised a very good destination. And that is one destination I never planned.”

Wynne watched as Emma placed her hands on her hips and pretended to think. He swallowed. She was handling this pretty well. “I am not convinced.”

His eyes narrowed. He had to think fast. He assessed the situation. She was in a state of undress, the door was locked—she made certain of that. His butler could be somewhere. He could shout for anyone and the door would be kicked open. But she had him trapped. That single dress on the floor was trapping him in this bloody room.

Frustration raged within. It was being laced by a growing fire of desire. She was in her undergarments and it did not require a lot of imagination to make his body react.

“I have promised never to marry, but I shall make you an exemption,” Emma said, stepping out of the pool of dress around her feet. She kicked off her riding shoes.

Wynne took a lungful of air and without looking anywhere but her face, he gritted out, “We have both fooled each other. I knew early on you knew who I was. Everything you did, I suspected. I played you as you played me. Whyever would you be so utterly stupid as to propose marriage?”

She shrugged. “Everything you did, I suspected as well. Yet there were also things you did that you kept secret and they were the things that matters most. We fooled each other long enough to know we can never win. From the beginning, we both knew that somehow, there was something else.”

She took one bold step toward him. “You tried to seduce me,” she whispered as she drew closer. When she was finally within reach, Wynne realized he was holding his breath. And as Emma’s emerald eyes looked up at him, her dark hair framing her face, his hands tightened even more into fists. “You tried to be my friend. Could you say now you regretted it?”

His jaw tightened.

“Can you not see me as your friend?” she asked, her eyes flickering along with her tiny smile. “For I see you as one. And I can see you as more,” she added, voice breaking.

Wynne was about to give in. Hearing the pain in her voice reminded him of the same feelings he was hiding inside. She was everything he wanted but could never find the courage to claim. Here she was, offering herself freely and he was a coward to have her.

But someone had to be courageous enough to protect them both and everyone around them. He had to be that someone.

He looked down at her, slowly getting lost in a pool of emerald green. “We have fooled each other,” he repeated. He had to remind himself of that fact. From the very beginning, there was nothing true between them.

“Yes, we did.”

But there was something there , a tiny voice in his head whispered. Something grew and he fostered it, stupid and crazy that he was.

He stood frozen as her words echoed in his head.

Are you in love with me?

Because I am.

She was bloody in love with him. She, Emma Everard, was in love with a bloody Trilby.

“We played a very dangerous game, Emma,” he said, no longer intent on pushing her away. She would not allow him to do that. Should he surrender then?

“Yes,” Emma said with a nod. She stepped closer.

He could hear her breathing as clearly as his own racing heart.

She was the bravest woman he had ever had the chance to encounter. She came here with no weapon but her wit and self.

It just dawned on him that she was here . And that she was here for this .

She did not have to say it. He did not have to ask. It was clear now. She did not care he was a Trilby. She did not care of what he did. She did come here for his own accounts of the events prior to this moment for she came here for him .

“Yet you are still here,” Wynne said, barely a whisper.

Emma smiled at him. “Because we both lost the game.”

Wynne did not notice his own hands unfolding and reaching out for her. And he did not even remember what he was thinking before he pulled her against him, the thin fabric of her undergarments and his shirt the only things between them. All he could suddenly think about was her and nothing more. Her, being here and nowhere else.

His lips hovered over hers, his chest heaving as his heart pounded hard against his chest.

God, he wanted this woman. He craved for her.

Yet sanity told him it could not be. It could not work.

He could live with her being an Everard. But could she accept him when her family could not? She may now, but sooner or later, she was bound to question this moment and this impetuous decision.

But a part of him questioned his logic. Emma Everard was never the impetuous one. She had thought this through. Whyever she thought this could work was only known to her.

As always, she read his thoughts. She looked him squarely in the eyes and pressed closer against him. “Wynne, it is time we surrender.”

Before Wynne could respond, Emma rose on her toes and kissed him.

At the feel of her lips against his, Wynne was undone.

Every time she was this close, his mind would shatter to a million pieces and it was impossible for him to collect them once more and take control. There was no room for thoughts when even the overwhelming sensation of having this woman in his arms was too much to bear.

He turned, carrying her with him, toward the bed. In a matter of seconds, he had her under him, hungrily claiming her mouth, controlling the kiss, stealing her breath to give himself life. His hands searched under her drawers, tracing skin and igniting both their senses.

She squirmed beneath him as his mouth traced her neck and his hands explored higher up her waist.

A whimper escaped her when his mouth covered the tip of one breast over the thin fabric of her chemise.

She was Emma Everard and she was not bound to simply be worshiped. Her hands roamed in equal hunger over his back, pulling his shirt free from his breeches. Her legs bent, framing his hips as he ground it against hers, the fabric of their clothing both stimulating and a hindrance.

His hands grabbed hers, pushing them over her head as his mouth returned to hers, hungry for the intoxicating taste of her.

He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, to free himself of this hunger, but he also knew that he would be insatiable. Once would never be enough.

And so he stopped.

Breathing fire at the side of her face, Wynne willed himself to fight the urges, the excruciating desire.

“Emma, please,” he begged. His voice sounded like a whimper, a cry for help. “Please, not today.”

She stiffened beneath him. “Why? Are you hurting?” she asked.

God, yes, he was hurting. He was in pain. And he was not merely talking about his bloody groin.

He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her. He turned to the side, carrying her with him, not quite ready to let her go.

He turned his head to look into her beautiful emerald eyes.

He wanted to believe she was for him. She was everything. She was existence.

And she would never be that if she chose him.

He was intent on leaving with no destination in mind. He would have no home to offer, no manor to keep her safe and warm.

He had no family.

Cupping her face in one hand, Wynne gave her a long, lingering kiss.

“Wynne—”

“Perhaps we can stay like this for a while,” he whispered against her mouth. “Just like this, yes?”

Her eyes narrowed. She squirmed against him and Wynne fought for control. “Just for a while?”

He nodded, kissing her once more. “Just for a while longer.”

---

Emma stirred.

But before she even opened her eyes, she knew.

She knew that she woke up to an empty space beside her.

When she finally took the courage to open her eyes, a single drop of tear rolled down her cheek.

Coward.

That was the first word that came to mind.

But was he?

Was he a coward to leave her and chase his own dreams?

She sat in bed, her eyes searching. His luggage was gone.

That was cruel of him, Emma thought, as her eyes roamed the room.

She scrambled over the mattress when she saw a folded piece of paper on the table by the bed.

With shaking hands, Emma opened the note.

Samuel is never the man for you.

Nor am I.

With every love in my heart, I wish that you can find someone you can trust and freely love. Find the one who can offer you a home and a family.

Go home, Emma. Your family awaits.

Someday, you will thank me for this.

Emma crumpled the paper in one hand as anger flared inside her.

Who was he to tell her he loved her and then wish for her to find someone else?

As the words in his letter echoed in her head, Emma shook her head.

No, he was not being a coward.

He was being stoic as he always was.

How he even managed to do so was beyond her. How could he have endured all this without showing weakness?

Emma shook her head in disbelief.

She took one last look around the room and took a long breath and sighed.

Very well, she thought as she slipped out of bed to get dressed, if Wynne was too utterly shallow to think that she could not be with him, then perhaps she ought to show him how this fight ought to be done.

This one was harder that she had anticipated.

It was time for a new strategy.

---

Emma spent the next two days in the Town Registry, befriending the man who still adored Samuel to the core and gave her a free pass to the thousands of files he was tasked to look after. He initially had many questions, which Emma merely answered by saying, “You will learn about this research in one of the articles of the Blower .” It was enough to keep the man excited and respectful of her research.

He could be of help finding the documents she needed, but Emma was doing this on her own, she thought with determination.

Maxwell had maintained his silence. He, neither their mother, asked Emma what happened when she came home that fateful day.

But it was Ysabella who took the courage to finally ask Emma what she had been doing to win the man she loved. She did so just as when Emma was returning from her trip to the Registry.

“You did not have to tell me that you were planning to get him,” Ysabella said, looking at Emma. “But what happened is something I do not know.”

Emma sighed. She realized she could no longer shed a tear over what happened. “Oh, he vanished two days ago. I am not certain where is.”

Ysabella frowned. “You mean he left you?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Does he love you?”

“I believe he does,” Emma said with a nod.

“But he must be thinking he is a Trilby and you an Everard.”

“Among other stupid things,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.

Ysabella appeared thoughtful. “Did you try to seduce him?”

Emma nodded. “And made a fool of myself, I tell you.”

“Oh,” Ysabella said with disappointment.

“He is too determined to leave.” She then told Ysabella everything she knew about Wynne, what he did for their nieces and Samuel. And what his family did for him for these things.

“That is rather brave of him,” Ysabella commented. “Not at all what I expected.”

“Of course. He had been painting himself differently that you will most definitely find it difficult to even see him as anything else.”

Ysabella stared at her with curious eyes. “Who else knows?”

“Max and Mother,” Emma said.

“The others?”

“Good God, no. Not yet,” Emma said, almost in panic. “Not when I have not yet leg-shackled the man.”

Ysabella scoffed in amusement. “Leg-shackle? Emma, you have come a long way from the woman who always insisted never to marry!”

“Well, that bastard did this to me,” Emma retorted with frustration. She brushed her fingers through her hair and looked out the window.

“Knowing you, you must have a plan?”

“Of course,” Emma said. “Just a few more days and I will be ready.”

“Ready? For what?”

Emma sighed and looked at her sister. “The only thing keeping me from him is his bloody family. He must believe I cannot be with him because of them. He is being careful.”

“And perhaps you should, too. Look what they can do to their own kind—what they did to him. They could very well do the same to you, Emma.”

Emma shook her head. “No, not when I have something against them.”

“Something like what?”

“Themselves,” Emma said with a grin.

Ysabella blinked in confusion. “I’m afraid I do not follow.”

Emma’s smile widened. “Ysa, the Trilbys are known to be very secretive of their true identity. We do not know who they truly are.”

“Whatever do you mean, Emma?”

Emma shrugged. “I have to know who I am up against. I am building the bloody Trilby family tree, Ysa.”

“You are what!”

“Because of Samuel, I realized it is possible if you simply know where to look and where to start.” Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she added, “I did just that. And I stumbled upon something really unexpected.”

“What?”

“Something tragic and evil. Something the Trilbys would want to stay buried in the Registry forever.”

XXXVII. Parting

“You cannot find her,” one of his superiors said with finality.

“Of course, I should.”

“If you want her alive, you will stay put,” said the man.

Byron frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Byron, she did not merely give you your freedom.” His superior looked him in the eyes. “She gave us the evidence we need to catch the snitch amongst the Leaders.”

Byron started to shake his head. “Then the more reason we ought to find her. She can be a witness. If you she truly chose our side, then she ought to prove herself.”

“No. We have made a deal with the woman.”

“A deal?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“Your freedom, of course.”

-Above and Below

---

“Do tell us,” Ysabella whispered, breaking the silence in the room.

Alex frowned at her and then at Emma who was pacing the room. “Tell ye what?”

“Oh, you know what,” Ysabella said, impatient. She grabbed Alex’s hand and repeated her question. “Tell us.”

Alex’s shoulders dropped as she sighed. “Yer brothers called fer the man.”

“Yes, we know that. We saw him enter and exit the manor. Tell us why.”

“Te talk, ’cors.”

“Alex,” Emma said, stopping beside her sister. “We know Ralph tells you everything.”

“Nae, he don’t.”

“He does because if he does not, he knows the consequences.”

Alex scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yer brothers asked him questions.”

“About who?”

“Wynne,” Alex said. “Hastings. Ye know him.”

“What did they ask Durley?”

“What happened te Wynne, ‘cors. After he was dragged out o’ the manor by Durley ’imself.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “And why would our brothers care what happened to him?”

“Ye know ’em,” Alex said, waving her hand. “They’re curious creatures.”

“Whose plan was it to call for Durley?”

“Max, I believe.”

“And what did Durley tell them?”

At that point, Alex hesitated.

“Alex,” Emma said, voice filled with warning.

Alex looked her in the eyes. Emma saw the understanding cross her sister-in-law’s face. “Oh.”

Ysabella sighed. “She just realized it, Em.”

“Yer in love with the man,” Alex said with awe. She stepped back and laughed. “Yer in love with a bleedin’ Trilby!”

“Hush!” Ysabella and Emma hissed, looking around the bedchamber.

“Aye, aye!” Alex said, chortling and shaking her head. “Oh, Ralph won’t like ’tis at all. No, he won’t.”

“He does not have to know now, Alex,” Emma said, stepping closer to her sister-in-law. “Now, do tell us what Durley said.”

“He defended Wynne,” said Alex. “Told yer brothers the man didn’t have any intention o’ betrayin’ ye. He was tasked by ’is fam’ly, ’tis all. And he betrayed ’em countless times. And that he was punished fer it.”

“What else?” Ysabella demanded.

“Durley also said it’s best we Everards leave the man alone.” She looked at Emma with amusement. “Which I’m quite sure won’t happen. When d’ye plan te abduct the man? Will ye need some horses te take ye to Tiny Town?” Alex’s eyes narrowed as excitement filled her voice. “I can find a way te distract Ralph. Or Ysa and I can come with ye. We’ll tell ‘em we’re travellin’ te Meriwether. Aye, we can do that. Then we’ll ask Ned and Barto te grab yer man and tie ’im up as far as Tiny Town.”

Ysabella and Emma looked at each other.

Emma considered Alex’s plan. It was marvelous, really. It had been done before. But that was not how she wanted to win her man. No, not that way.

So she shook her head and stopped her sister-in-law’s rambling by stepping closer to say, “I am going to get him my own way, Alex.”

Alex frowned. “Yer way? What? Yer goin’ te read ’im a book?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I am going to do it the proper way.”

Ysabella and Alex looked at each other and then at her. “There ain’t a proper way te win a Trilby, Emma,” Alex said.

Emma shrugged. “At the very least, I ought to try.”

---

“Are you here to throw me another copy of The Blower ?” Samuel asked after Lawrence left the room.

Stella shook her head.

Compared with their previous encounter, she looked quite her old self. Confident, calm and beautiful.

“I came to tell you that I am going away for a long time.” When he raised his brows in doubt, she offered one of her sweet, yet condescending smiles and added, “And I hope you the best.”

“You must know, Miss Stella, that I find your statement quite hard to believe,” Samuel said after a scoff.

She looked at his state sitting in his winged chair with his injured leg raised on a foot stool. Her eyes returned to his. “I know you are a good man, my lord, and I understand it is difficult to fight for something while everyone else is against you.” Again, Samuel scoffed in disbelief. “I merely hope that you will find the perfect balance in your life to elevate your career and make a difference without losing touch of those you hold dear.”

Samuel’s brows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes at her, amusement at the back of his mind. “You truly are leaving remarkable parting words, Miss Stella.”

She nodded. “Yes, I while keeping myself from strangling you, for believe me, my lord, the urge to do so is still very existent.” Samuel chuckled. Her smile faded as she took a breath. “Write amazing articles about us this time.”

“Never.”

Stella chuckled. Samuel realized it was the first real one from her. “Then do come by and watch us one of these days. And should you ever decide to do so, please do not be late.” He merely shrugged. He had no intention of giving false hopes. “One can never appreciate a good story without knowing how it began.”

She looked around his study, an image of a woman visiting a man’s prison. “Very well, I must bid you goodbye. My real intention was actually to ensure that you are still injured and is capable of physically ruining anything.” When Samuel scowled at her, she laughed again. “Goodbye, my lord.”

Stella offered a short curtsy and gracefully walked to the door.

Samuel scoffed when he realized he was finally alone again.

And then his lips twitched into a small smile.

---

Wynne waited in the quiet study.

This would probably be the last he would ever step inside this place.

There were no regrets there, he realized.

When the door opened and Amelia sashayed into the room, looking as though nothing happened, Wynne stood up.

“Oh, do sit down, Peter, my boy.”

Wynne’s jaw tightened, but he remained calm. He smiled at his aunt and ignored her words, remaining on his feet. “This shall be the last you will see of me. I have no intention of touching any of your furniture again.”

Amelia froze and stiffly turned to fully face him. “And why is that?”

Wynne shrugged. “I came to announce that I intend to denounce the Trilby name.”

Amelia laughed. “You must be jesting. Are you offended that we punished you for your wrongdoings, dear? We are you only family.”

He shook his head. “I do not think so.”

Amelia cocked a brow. “Whatever do you mean?”

Wynne reached for something from his coat’s inside pocket. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a piece of paper which he handed to Amelia.

His aunt merely lifted her chin and frowned at the paper.

“Do you wish me to read it for you?”

Amelia’s brow arched higher. “Is the content of that paper something you hope would prevent us from doing something?”

“Honestly, yes.” Wynne said with a smile. “As a matter-of-fact, I do believe this will put a leash on any future actions.”

His Aunt scoffed and lifted her eyes at Wynne. “You dare threaten me with a piece of paper?”

“This is not merely a piece of paper,” Wynne said, walking to the table where he carefully placed the paper. Turning to face her aunt again, he added, “I found it in the Devitt household. Margaret Everard must not have realized how valuable it is and kept it to be forgotten in her study.”

At the mention of Margaret’s name, his aunt walked to her table and snatched the paper. She gave Wynne a stinging look before she read the contents.

As his aunt’s face paled, Wynne smiled. “Emma Everard might come calling anytime soon,” he said, satisfied to see his aunt’s shaking hands. “And you will have to be happy to oblige with whatever she demands.”

Amelia Trilby’s jaw tightened and her hands balled into fists, crumpling the paper in one hand. “I cannot promise what Noah will do, so despite what I may allow the Everards, your uncle might act otherwise.”

Wynne dramatically sighed. “Ah, then you have to be prepared. That letter might land in the wrong hands. What you have in your hand is merely one of the many copies I made.”

Amelia’s eyes flared with hatred and a dash of fear.

“Leave me alone. Leave the Everards alone. Then we shall all remain happy where we are.” Wynne made a move to leave. “And dare not attempt to have me killed for the letter is not with me. It shall come out in the open upon my death—or the sudden death of anyone I hold dear.” He smiled at his aunt. “You ought to keep us all alive for your own sake.”

“You bloody bastard!” Amelia’s voice shook with anger. “You dare do this to your own family.”

“I am no longer family, Amelia,” he said with a taunting smile. “Never have I felt so happy not to be.” With no more words to say, Wynne hastily walked out of the manor he had always despised.

On his way to the grand entrance, Vega’s voice called out to him from the grand staircase. “Where are you going?”

“Have a marvelous life, Vega,” he said over his shoulder. “So long!”

He was free. Finally free.

---

Wynne arrived in Hastings to find Stella already waiting for him there with a glass of brandy ready for him.

“Everyone is ready for tomorrow’s departure,” she informed him as he settled in his chair with a sigh. She looked around the room. “I believe I shall miss this place. We have enjoyed many of our games in this room and many others.” When he made no comment, Stella added, “It is sad that you let it go.”

“What are you trying to say, Stella?” he asked wryly.

She shrugged, settling herself in the chair across from his. “I was merely wondering why we are going away. Ulric was perfect.”

“This had always been our dream—to travel and perform.”

She looked at him as she sipped from her glass. There was a quiet stillness while she took her time to taste her drink and swallow. “Do not be like your father who drove away the woman he loved because he was afraid of what she could do to him. And do not be an even bigger fool to run away from a woman because you are afraid she would do the same as your mother.”

“I have no time for this,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you go and prepare for tomorrow.”

Stella sighed with resignation. “I am your friend, Wynne. I will always be. I have always believed in you and I believe I always will. I merely wish you find the courage to be happy.”

“Says the woman who can barely manage a genuine smile,” he retorted.

“At the very least, one of us ought to be happy,” she countered.

Wynne’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Loneliness needs company, my friend.”

Stella simply shook her head and raised her glass. “To a great lonely journey, then.”

Wynne raised his glass. “To a great journey.”

---

Emma stared at her brothers as they all stared back at her as though she was an unknown entity they just discovered.

Since Benedict was soon to leave for Devonshire with Margaret and her family, she had decided to gather all five Everards brothers in one room and make her announcement.

“Well?” she asked, looking at each of them. “Any words?”

The silence was almost deafening, but so was the resounding, “No,” from Levi, Nicholas and Ralph.

“You are bloody crazy!” Ralph exclaimed. “Insane, Emma! Insane!”

“Why? Because I want someone you do not agree on?” she asked with a challenge. “Society have disagreed on the women you chose to marry and yet you are all happily married. Why can I not be with someone I love?”

“The difference, Emma, is that the women we chose loved us back,” retorted Nicholas. “Yours is simply from a family who can never be trusted.”

“Have you not talked with Durley? Has he not told you the truth about Wynne?”

“We do not care what Durley tells us.”

“Then why bother call for the man!”

“It was Maxwell’s idea,” Ralph said. “Nothing is changed. The man had been lying to us all along. He could have died in the hands of his family and we would not have cared!”

“He saved the girls from the fire!”

“A fire which should not have happened if he truly wanted to save us!” Nicholas countered.

Emma felt helpless. She could tell them about Samuel, but it was not her truth to reveal. She would not paint someone badly just to save someone else.

She looked at Maxwell who had remained silent throughout. He merely stared back at her without a word. Bloody hell, he was still weighing things. In fact, he must be thinking she was stupid to have chosen to tell the brothers this soon.

Emma stared at Benedict. Her brother looked at her and sighed. “I do not approve of your choice, Emma.”

Emma tightened her jaw and stiffly stood from her chair. “Very well, then.”

Ralph narrowed his eyes. “You are accepting our decision?”

She pretended to think. “Yes.”

“And you shall comply to it?” Nicholas added as she walked out the room.

Emma did not reply.

“Emma Grace!” Nicholas shouted.

“Ben! Do something!” she heard Ralph say.

“She’s a bloody Everard. She will do something crazy,” Nicholas added. “Go get her, Levi.”

“Why the bloody hell would I—”

“Just do it!” Nicholas and Ralph shouted.

Emma quickened and steps until Levi caught up with her in the staircase.

“Emma, come back to the parlor. Now,” Levi ordered.“

Emma stopped and turned to look down at her brother. “Levi, do you remember the promise you gave Ysabella and I years ago? A debt you have to pay?”

Her brother almost paled as he remembered and shook his head. “That was naught but childish—”

“Because of us, you managed to get Tori,” she reminded him. “I wish to claim your promise now.”

Levi stared at her in disbelief. “Surely you cannot expect me to oblige with—”

“Then I am greatly disappointed,” Emma said, her voice tinged with hurt. “Tell the rest to worry not for I will not climb out my window and run away tonight,” she said as she turned to continue up the stairs.

“Emma—”

Ignoring Levi, Emma rushed up the last remaining steps.

“Well?” Ysabella and Alex asked the moment she barged into the room.

Emma looked at the two women. “Initial plan failed.”

The two ladies dropped their shoulders in disappointment. Alex sighed and walked over to Emma. “Plan B, then?” she asked, voice filled with excitement.

Emma nodded. “Plan B. I will have to do it on my own.”

Ysabella and Alex jumped to their feet and rushed to the door. “Plan B it is!”

XXXVIII. An Everardly Plan

He was not even certain why he was looking for her.

Perhaps he needed answers.

Perhaps he merely wanted to know she was fine.

But she had disappeared.

Not even the people aboveground could lead Bryon to where she could be.

It was as though she had completely disappeared from the face of the earth—both below and aboveground.

---

“Emma has not yet come down?” Lady Alice asked around the table two days later.

As she asked her question, they heard the grand doorway open from the hall and soon after, Wakefield barged into the dining room. “Is Ysabella here?” the man asked, his eyes hopeful as he scanned the room.

Nicholas stiffened as he turned to his wife, Sophia. “Ysabella was with you earlier, yes?”

Sophia nodded. “But I believe she left to find Alex and Emma. While everyone was having tea. But then, I am blind, so I cannot truly say I saw her walk to the tea room.”

Margaret looked at their mother. “Was Alex not with you earlier, Mother?”

“My wife was in the playroom the entire time,” Ralph said. “Was she not?”

“No, she was not,” Victoria replied. “I was in the playroom most of the entire day.”

“I cannot find Ysa,” Wakefield announced what was already known to everyone.

Maxwell closed his eyes and sighed. His wife turned to him. “Did we not meet the three of them down the hall of the second landing?” He merely nodded.

“They did approach me,” Cole said, clearing his throat. “Ysabella and Alex. I believe it was last night.”

“Why?” Ralph asked.

“They asked about legal matters.”

“What matters?”

“I cannot say. They presented themselves as my clients. I am obliged to keep their confidence.”

“Bloody hell, Cole—” Ralph started, but Benedict cleared his throat and said in a very calm voice, “We might want to discuss the most important matter at the moment. Has anyone seen Ysabella, Emma and Alex during tea time?”

“I saw them in the garden, talking,” said Agatha, Benedict’s wife. “But I assumed they were merely gossiping.”

“The three of them do not just gossip, darling,” Benedict murmured under his breath.

“Bloody hell!” Ralph growled. “I will kill her! I swear to God, I will kill her!”

“Gentlemen,” Lady Alice said, looking around the table. “Well, are you not going?”

“Bloody hell, Mother, we do not know where they are! We have to first know what their possible plans are and what they want to achieve. They approached Cole for God’s sake, inquiring about legal matters! My bloody wife, inquiring about legal matters!” Ralph said. “Believe me, they are planning something drastic. We ought to know what. If Cole could tell us what—”

“Do not tell me you do not know what their goal is,” Lady Alice sternly said. “Best you think while you gather your horses.” When the brothers merely scowled, Lady Alice added, “This is your fault.”

“What!” Levi, Nicholas and Ralph cried out in unison.

“Your sister told you the truth and what she wanted. You did not even consider thinking from her point-of-view. And now she has disappeared with Ysabella and Alex—and my grandchild!”

The brothers looked at Benedict. They were waiting for an order.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Those three could very well be dead by now!” Lady Alice exclaimed, causing all five brothers to jump to their feet. “Go to Meriwether! I am almost certain they have found an ally in Gustav!”

---

“Are ye sure ’bout this?” asked Alex who was sitting on a rock.

Emma looked at her sister-in-law. “I am, but I do hope you get back to Wickhurst before Ralph hunts us down and kill us all for taking his pregnant wife out of town.”

“Oh, he’d kill us fer sure, aye,” Alex said, “but he won’t if we’re with ’em.” She motioned her head at her cousins, Ned and Barto. The two young men grinned at Emma and Ysabella.

“And you are certain she will pass this way?” asked Ysabella, doubt in her tone.

“’Cors!” Ned said. “If she received yer letter, she’ll pass by,” Ned said.

“Aye,” Barto seconded. “And ’tis the safest place fer her not te suspect we’re from Meriwether. We dinna want te cause Uncle Gustav trouble, d’we?”

Emma nodded as she looked about. They were in the middle of a lone road just outside of Willowfair, the town where Amelia Trilby called home. And it was the road Amelia would surely take if she would be traveling east. It was behind Blucksley, therefore away from Meriwether where she might encounter bandits. And it was a road that led to Thorne. But that was not where she would be headed today if she had indeed gotten the short note.

“Are ye sure she’d believe the note?” Alex asked. “We dinna have the Whiteford stamp.”

Emma took a deep breath and sighed. “The mere mention of Whiteford would most definitely make her jump to her feet. From what I heard, the Trilby patriarch is the worst of them all, hence the most feared. She would come—if she got the note,” she finished, giving Ned and Barto a glance.

“Oi, Em, we delivered it as ye said!” Ned proclaimed defensively.

“Shush!” Ysabella hissed as she scrambled back into the shadows. “I hear something.”

Sure enough, the sound of an approaching carriage could be heard from the distance.

“Move back,” said Alex, pulling Emma with her into the shadows. “Let Ned and Barto do their work.”

Ysabella and Emma held their breath as Ned and Barto hid behind two large rocks, both on either side of the road.

“This will be our only chance, Alex,” Emma whispered, “Do you believe your cousins can do it?”

“Aye,” Alex said, nodding her head. “I’d join ’em if I’m not with babe, but yer brother will kill me again fer sure if I did.”

Emma sighed as they waited, crossing her fingers as she did so.

Never had she thought she would ever find herself doing something stupid like this for a man.

Yet here she was.

Emma forced herself to stop thinking about Wynne for the mean time. Instead, she focused all her attention on Ned and Barto as the two prepared to jump. However they would do it, Emma had no idea. She mere heard stories from the two and Alex and perhaps a few tips and tricks here and there.

As the sound of the carriage drew nearer, Alex took a step further back behind the large rock, taking Emma and Ysabella with her.

Emma frowned when she saw Ned pull out a long wooden rod. “What are they—oh,” she said, amazed at the ingenuity.

The two young bandits did not jump in front of the carriage. Ned shot the wooden rod through the two wheels of the carriage.

It did break as expected, but it did cause the carriage to jolt and the driver to slow down. Eventually, the carriage stopped and the driver jumped off his seat to check the wheels.

When he realized what must have happened by the presence of the broken rod, he immediately jumped in panic and ran back to the front of the carriage with every intention to escape, but it was too late. Ned and Barto were already behind him, grabbing him by his collar and covering his mouth.

Emma did not wait for Alex’s response as she heard a woman’s voice from inside the carriage, demanding what was happening. She walked out of their hiding place, leaving Alex and Ysabella behind.

And then she proceeded to the carriage, passing by Ned and Barto who were tying the driver by the side of the road.

Reaching for the handle, she pulled the carriage door open and swiftly climbed inside, sitting right across Amelia Trilby.

“Hello,” she greeted, noting the woman’s surprised and scandalized look. She looked around and sighed. “Good. You are alone. I was afraid you would bring tons of guards.”

“Wha—what are you doing?” Amelia Trilby demanded in a high-pitched voice. The woman moved to pull the curtain and look out the window.

“Your driver is currently unavailable,” Emma said with a smile on her face.

Amelia Trilby’s jaw tightened as she composed herself. Suddenly, the panic in her face was gone. It was replaced by something else entirely. She looked at Emma with a condescending look in her eyes. Her shoulders squared, as though ready for battle. “What do you want?”

“I am assuming you already know who I am,” Emma said, giving Amelia a mocking smile. “I am here to make demands and arrange an agreement.”

Amelia Trilby’s brow cocked high as she scoffed, as though she already knew what was coming.

Emma crossed her leg over the other and leaned back as though she was in the most comfortable carriage. “First, Wynne, your nephew, or Peter as you may call him, has been claimed.”

Amelia chuckled in mock amusement, looking around the carriage except Emma’s eyes.

“I figured you would not be as interested, of course,” Emma said, “hence I would like to go on the details of why you ought not to intervene with whatever I do with your nephew.” Emma leaned forward to catch Amelia’s gaze. “I am quite persistent, you see. And because of that, I happen to find out a lot about your family.”

Amelia stiffened but did not say anything.

“I can perfectly present the entire Trilby family tree in front of you, if you wish. Everyone in the Town would be surprised to know how many of their friends are actually Trilbys!”

Amelia frowned and scoffed. “Do you expect me to feel threatened by that knowledge of yours? Anyone can very well find out who the Trilbys are through the Town Registry. We do not hide anything.”

Emma’s brows arched. “Oh, truly?” She sighed and pretended to take interest in the interior of the carriage. When her eyes returned to Amelia’s, she asked, “Then surely anyone can also find out the origins of Egerton and Wyndam?”

By the way Amelia’s jaw tightened and the woman’s hands balled into fists, Emma knew she was on the right direction.

“Were they not once one and the same, Amelia?”

The woman remained silent, dark eyes burning with dark fury.

“It was Mecklenberg before George Trilby, the Trilby patriarch and the Lord of Whiteford, divided it between his two sons, Robert and Francis. Noah Trilby, your brother, eventually inherited Egerton. Leopold Trilby now owns Wyndam when Francis passed.”

“Everyone knows who own both estates,” Amelia growled. “That is no secret.”

“But not everyone knew or even wondered why Mecklenberg was divided,” Emma countered. “No one truly wondered what happened to its previous masters.” She smiled, tilting her head in a curious fashion as she stared at Amelia. “But you Trilbys know the answer to that.” Emma let the silence linger for a while before she asked, “What happened to the Fredericks, Amelia?” Amelia’s eyes started to shake. “Are you not going to Whiteford? I am sorry for that. We made you believe your grandfather sent you that note in haste. It talked about an important meeting regarding the Fredericks. And you immediately went in haste to meet him.”

“I heed my grandfather’s orders despite—”

“Now,” Emma said, lifting her hand to stop Amelia, “let us go back to the Fredericks. I could not find any records of them in the Registry. It seems they have vanished. Perhaps I should talk to the people of Filkept? You turned the place into a village when you divided the land. Why, I wonder?” Amelia opened her mouth to speak, by Emma interjected by adding, “To be generous? Ah… I doubt it. To keep them satisfied so they do not talk?” Amelia’s eyes rounded with rage. “Now, that is a fairly good question.”

“You and your stupid theories can go to hell—”

“I can go on further with my research. I barely scratched the surface, really,” Emma interjected once again. “I merely had a few days to spare for it. And honestly, I do not care about what I found. But I might change my mind if you make this very difficult.” She straightened in her seat. “So why do we not reach a compromise? You did so with my brother and Maxine, yes?” When Amelia merely remained quiet, Emma continued, “If you ever threaten the Everards again, you will never get to your goals for I will expose the Trilbys. You, of course, cannot order for my death for my research is in the hands of a few trusted friends who would merely be happy to continue to dig further.”

Amelia’s jaw tightened. Emma waited in silence for the woman’s next words. “What else do you want?”

Emma grinned. “Glad you asked, my lady.” She sighed. “Give me Wynne and I will leave you be. I will no longer be curious about the Fredericks. Whatever you grandfather did cannot be blamed upon you, yes? But you all share the same name. Noah, most of all shall suffer the tremendous blow this scandal shall bring. One question about the Fredericks would spark a great controversy, may it be false or not. It is best you enjoy my silence.” She shrugged, making her intentions simple. “Leave us be. Leave Wynne alone. Leave Fiona alone. And I promise a peaceful rest for your secrets.”

“None of us is part of the League,” Emma further added, “Anymore, that is. All gratitude to you and your family, of course.” She let the words sink into Amelia. “We are willing to separate any horrible things Osegod did for it was all his doing, yes?”

Amelia replied in a shaky voice, “Of course.”

“You claimed it was not you who caused Maxine’s accident.”

“I told Osegod it was a bad move. The bastard did not listen. We never condoned everything he did, my dear,” Amelia said through gritted teeth.

“Then we are on the same page. You stay away from us—and by that I meant every bloody person we Everards associate with.” When Amelia simply remained stiff, Emma taunted, “I cannot hear a reply, Amelia. Would you rather not reach Whiteford? I can think of many places where you will be celebrated in the best fashion. One of which is the village where your twin sister died.”

Amelia’s face paled and a shaky breath escaped her throat. “Of course,” she snapped.

“Of course what, Amelia?”

“Of course, you can be assured the Trilbys would never harm the Everards.”

“And everyone we associate with.”

The veins in Amelia’s throat engorged. “And everyone you associate with.”

“As to Wynne, he has already stripped himself of his titles, I presume?” Amelia scoffed in response. “That also means he stripped himself of the Trilbys. Thus, he is nobody to you, yes?”

“Very much so.”

Emma nodded. “Good then.”

“Now go,” Amelia ordered, voice shaking with contained anger.

“Ah, before that,” Emma said, taking out a piece of paper from her coat. “Would you please sign this?”

Amelia glowered at the paper. “I would not—”

“Ah, then consider everything we agreed on null and void,” Emma said, starting to roll the parchment with both hands.

Amelia grabbed it and Emma dutifully handed her a pen.

The woman’s hands shook as she signed her name at the bottom of the parchment.

“We also took the honor of stealing your family seal,” Emma said, handing the woman the Trilby seal.

Amelia glowered at her as she stamped on the parchment.

“Messy, but this shall do,” Emma said, checking the parchment before rolling it again. She reached for Amelia and the woman immediately leaned away in response. “I will not hurt you,” Emma promised with a sweet smile. She leaned forward and pulled the giant necklace from around Amelia’s neck. The woman gasped in horror. Emma gave her a wink. “My bandit friends would demand a pay, I am afraid.”

“Leave! Now!” Amelia shouted.

Emma chuckled and pushed the carriage door open. She paused before climbing down. Turning half her body around, she said, “You are not the only ones who have secrets, Amelia.” She pointed her finger above and winked. She saw how Amelia’s jaw tightened and she smiled in satisfaction. “Let us keep it that way, shall we?”

Amelia scoffed, saying, “You lot need not beg for dear Peter. He had made his case and is free of the Trilby name. He is no longer family.”

Emma nodded. “Goodbye, dear Amelia. May your life be filled with happy tragedies.”

As Emma walked past Ned and Barto, she threw them the necklace and whispered, “She has more.”

Both bandits left the bound driver and walked up to Amelia’s carriage.

“Oi, milady! Havin’ a good night, eh? We need more payment fer yer driver!” Emma heard Ned greet as she walked away to meet Alex and Ysabella.

It was done.

---

By morning, Emma, Ysabella and Alex were found by the men in the Everard manor having tea with Lady Alice.

And they were laughing.

“Where the bloody hell have you been!” Shouted both Ralph and Wakefield.

“I told you,” Lady Alice said to Ysabella and Alex, “It was not a good idea to go home. I was right, yes?” She then turned to her stupefied sons and sons-in-law. “Take a seat, gentlemen. Would you like some tea?”

“This is not the time to take their actions lightly, Mother,” Benedict said, looking sternly at the three woman. “You could have placed yourselves in great danger. What you did was irresponsible.”

“I did not run away,” said Emma. “And these two would not allow me to go on my little adventure alone. And we did take precautions.”

“I stayed safe,” Alex said. “I dinna even show m’self. I dinna even touch a bleedin’ rope! ‘Twas actually pretty borin’, really.”

“Yes,” Ysabella calmly uttered, putting down her teacup. “Ned and Barto did all the work.”

“Ned and Barto!” Wakefield, Levi, Nicholas and Ralph screamed in utter disbelief.

“Didn’t ’Pa tell ye? Ye went te Meriwether, didn’t ye?”

The men looked at each other. Maxwell sighed. “I told you we ought to have dropped by Meriwether.”

“I did suggest they find you in Meriwether,” Lady Alice said, shaking her head. “They never listen.”

“Where did you attempt to find us then?” Emma asked with a frown.

None of the men spoke.

It was Maxwell who provided an answer. “Willowfair.”

Emma scoffed. “You thought I was stupid enough to walk right into Amelia Trilby’s home? Are you insane?”

“Wait. Are you saying Gustav knew and he allowed it?” Ralph demanded of his wife.

“’Cors!” Alex said.

Ralph scoffed in disbelief as he turned to look at Wakefield who groaned in frustration. “I’m not even surprised.” He turned to his wife. “Would you please stand up, Ysa? I would like to go home now.”

“Are you going to throttle me?”

Wakefield’s jaw tightened. “I might, yes.”

“Then I am staying. Mother has invited me to stay for dinner.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Everyone might have forgotten something.” He turned to Emma. “You coming home safe does not discount the fact that you disobeyed us.”

“As far as I am concerned, brother mine, I disobeyed no one.” Emma said, “I did not run away. I returned home even if I could now freely go and search for Wynne myself.”

“Freely search?” Benedict asked.

“Ah, your sister is a genius,” Lady Alice said. “She took things by her hand in the smartest possible way.” Their mother reached for the roll of parchment sitting on the table and handed it to Benedict. “Now, we simply need someone from the Courts to put a stamp on it.”

The men were speechless as they crowded around the agreement.

Emma sighed and came to her feet. “I am rather tired. I wish this document shall be enough to at least make you reconsider your decision on the man I wish to spend the rest of my life with,” she said to her brothers before leaving the room.

“I’m stayin’ fer dinner as well,” she heard Alex announce as she walked down the corridor. And before their voices disappeared, she also heard her mother shout, “Children! Good God!”

---

Not many hours later, Emma’s bedchamber door opened and Levi entered.

He quietly closed the door and stood against it for a while, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes studied Emma sitting in bed holding a book, Mrs. Beagle sleeping beside her.

“You are rather the best in manipulation,” he said, breaking the silence.

She merely shrugged.

“Would you run away for good if we do not give you our blessing?”

Her shoulders dropped. “No.”

His brows arched high. “Truly?”

She looked at him pointedly. “I know I will not be happy with him if I choose him over all of you.”

Levi looked around the room and then back at her. “This room would never be the same without you in it reading your boring books.”

“It was never the same ever since Ysabella married,” she countered.

Her brother pushed away from the door. “They are not willing to give the man more than one chance, Emma. And before you jump with you, I am telling you that it is a final decision. If he ever does something in the future, something we do not like, he is gone.”

Emma contained her happiness as she nodded.

“I am keeping good on my promise. Are you certain you are going to use it on this one? It cannot be returned if you fail.”

“I do not want anything else.”

Levi nodded. “Good. Then find the bloody bastard.”

Emma grimaced. “I am afraid it might take a while to find him.”

Levi scoffed. “Then I wish it will take forever.”

“Bastard!” Emma said, throwing her book at him.

She missed by merely an inch for her brother was already on his way out the door.

Emma was grinning from ear to ear as she scooped the startled Mrs. Beagle in her arms. The cat cooed and Emma hugged it closer. “It is time we find him now, Mrs. Beagle.”

XXXIX. The Hunt

It dawned on Byron one late afternoon when he was in one of the balls he was invited to for the season.

His eyes were on the dancers in the middle of the ballroom.

And the thought simply came to him.

He was looking for her not because he needed answers of why she saved him or of what she was planning.

He was looking for her because he needed her.

He was searching for her for he was afraid for her life.

‘Where is she?’ was a constant question. Now, it was simply, ‘Ellie, please, where are you?’

-Above and Below

---

Ralph strode inside the parlor with a large grin on his face. He looked at Emma sitting by the window, reading a book.

“Hello, dear sisters,” he greeted, taking the settee beside Ysabella. Her sister had in her arms her sleeping two-year-old child. “What an amazing uneventful day, isn’t it?” their brother added with a smug look on his face.

Emma glared at him over her book while Ysabella managed to kick Ralph with Gillian in her arms.

“What?” asked Ralph defensively. “It truly is an amazing uneventful day! Levi and Tori have long went home, taking my dear boisterous niece with them. Maggie and Cole and their army of fiends are in Devonshire with Benedict and Agatha. Max took his wife home just yesterday and Nicholas is off to continue his adventures with Sophie.” When they thought he would not add more, he said, “And oh, Emma is still hunting for that bastard. With great failure—”

“You…” Ysabella said, kicking Ralph again, “beast!”

“Ow!” Ralph cried out, jumping from the settee. And then he stopped, looking down at the still sleeping Gillian. “Bloody hell, he truly did take after his father, ignorant to everything around him.”

Ysabella jumped to her feet, Gillian and all, and Ralph rushed to the door laughing. “I just came by to tell you that Alex will be coming over for tea!”

Ysabella turned to Emma. “Do not mind him.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I am used to his remarks. You ought to have heard Nick before he left.”

“Oh, they will get used to having Wynne around.”

“If I do find him,” Emma murmured.

“The last time, you almost did. You were simply late because Ralph took his time. Next time, you ought to ask William to accompany you.”

Emma sighed. She closed her book and looked at Ysabella. “Mayhap I am not meant to find him after all, Ysa. His theatre pops up anywhere in random. They do not advertise through the Herald. And by the time we get word of their whereabouts, it is either too late or they are too far for me to reach on time.”

“Worry not,” Ysabella said with a confident smile. “Soon, he will start feel comfortable and too confident. He would start to think you have given up and take less precaution. By then, you have to be ready.”

Emma shrugged. Her sister could be right.

“Have you read Samuel’s latest article?” Ysabella asked. “It was quite refreshing, was it not?”

Emma nodded. “For once, he did not talk about the Trilbys.”

“Do you think he is telling the truth?”

Emma thought about her answer for a moment. “I do not know many things about the League, Ysa, but with everything that has happened so far, Sam could be right.”

Ysabella shook her head. “Then it is good that Maggie is no longer part of the League. If some of them are indeed dirty, we do not wish our sister to be involved in them in any way. She had a hard time with Aurora. And then the fire happened. She has to focus on Cole and the children.”

Emma grinned. “Oh, speaking all grown-up, eh?”

Ysabella rolled her eyes. “Well, I must be, aye?”

She sighed. “Perhaps we all are.”

“But not entirely. Let us not lose touch of the childhood.”

“Yes, definitely not.”

“Now, you wait here while I take Gillian to his nurse.” Ysabella stared down at her son. “I am afraid Ralph is rather right. My son takes after his father. He is too ignorant.” Emma laughed. “Oh, very well. Alex should be here soon and the three of us could talk more about the next possible route of the elusive theatre.”

Emma nodded and watched her sister carry her son out of the room.

She did not know if she wanted children. Perhaps in the future.

But not while her groom was still on the run.

---

“Dear, would you mind if you accompany me to Dartridge?”

Emma frowned at her mother. “Dartridge?”

“Yes, the village near Henry House.”

“You are far acquainted with the Lord and Lady of Henry, Mother. I know your history, remember?”

“Yes, yes. I am not talking about Henry House and the horrid person who resides there. You also know how I am acquainted with the Lord and Lady of Langworthy.”

Emma pointedly looked at her mother. “Langworthy is almost three days away from Dartridge, Mother.”

“Yes, perhaps,” her mother said, tone mysterious and smile excited. “But still, you might want to go with me. Or you might regret it.”

Emma cocked her brow. “Truly?”

“Yes, dear,” her mother said, tone getting higher with each word. And then she waved a card with her right hand. “Lady Langworthy sent me this.”

Emma stared at the card. “And what is that?”

“An invitation to a show—in your case, an occasion and a very special one at that.”

Emma threw her book to the side and jumped to her feet. “Careful!” her mother said as she grabbed the card. “It is an invite-only show, dear.”

Emma gaped at the card. “Mother! How in the world did you manage to get this! Surely he would not have sent you one!”

“Lord and Lady Langworthy came visiting Lady Lettice a week ago and joined us for tea. She remembered me specifically asking if she knew where the theatre would next appear. She is a fan of the arts, you must know.” When Emma merely looked at her with impatience, Lady Alice hurriedly said, “When she got her invitation, she found a way to acquire one for me as well. Connections, dear.” Lady Alice was smiling broadly as she stared at Emma’s face. “I suggest you prepare right away, Emma. You will have to travel without rest if you want to be at that show.”

Emma read the contents of the invitation. It was three days from now.

With tears of joy pooling her emerald eyes, Emma went to her mother to give her cheek a peck. “I love you. You know that, yes?”

Lady Alice rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Emma laughed and turned.

“Bring your nicest dresses!” her mother cried after her.

She would need more than that, Emma thought as she skipped countless of steps up the grand stairway.

---

Wynne was sitting in a winged chair at the back of the stage, going through some documents as the actors prepared for the show.

He could be in his office, but since they were about to start in an hour, he had to be outside to be available for everyone should they have any concern.

“Have you seen Jordan?” asked Stella.

“No,” answered an actor.

“No,” answered Wynne.

The actress huffed. “We ought not to have taken him back in. It was a very bad decision.” She turned to a crewman nearby. “Go find him. I wouldn’t be surprised if you find him under one of our guests’ skirts.”

Wynne looked up at Stella. “It was your idea to take him back.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Because he is one of the best.”

Wynne shrugged.

Stella huffed again. “I should find him myself.” She turned around and left in a hurry.

Wynne went back to his documents and merely a moment later did he realize it was quiet. He looked up and found that there was no one around.

“Stella ushered them outside for some tea,” a very familiar voice spoke from the right entrance.

Wynne nearly cursed himself. All the while he thought he had everything under control, but he was utterly wrong. His heart would still hammer hard against his chest at the sound of her voice and even at the thought of her name.

He knew she had been looking for him. And he always made certain she would fail.

Yet he was also aware that it would not be for long.

“Go home, Emma,” he said, arranging his documents and putting them to the side.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her pull away from the entrance doorway to start walking toward him. His heart hammered even harder. Bloody tarnation! His hands would start to shake if he did not control the situation. “I do not know, Wynne, being back at the theatre seems to feel like I am home.”

He snapped his head to finally face her and his breath was taken away from him. She was not dressed in a fancy gown, nor was her hair donned perfectly. He could hardly breathe because she was still the same Emma. She was the same woman he wanted.

“Your mother will be devastated that you are too far away from Wickhurst. Go home.”

“My mother will be visiting Sheills in a fortnight,” she nonchalantly said. “Our next destination is Sheills, yes?”

Wynne’s jaw tightened. “There is no Sheills for you, my lady. You are going home.”

“I have decided to leave Wickhurst to become a traveling writer. I did not entirely do all of it for you, you know. It is time I stop merely reading and start writing. Traveling, as what my brother Nick says, can be quite inspiring. Perhaps one day, we can turn one of my writings into a play.”

“Bloody hell, Emma, this is not the place for you or your transient ambitions.”

“And oh, do not fret about your family. We have reached an arrangement. So long as you keep calling yourself Hastings, I believe we are safe for now,” she continued without hearing his statement.

Wynne sighed and looked at her almost pleadingly. In the months that he was away and living his dream, he ought to have mastered dealing with these feelings. “Emma—”

Her emerald eyes stared back at him with happiness. Was she not angry he left her alone in bed in Ulric? Had he not made it clear that they were better off apart? “Emma, you are making things complex by being here.”

Her next statement told him she was not willing to continue the topic he opened. Instead, she proceeded to what she came here for. “Now, I know sharing a chamber will mean we must go to Tiny Town first. And I demand that we do the very next day. It is not very far. I would not sleep with you for the second time unwed.”

Wynne frowned. “We never made love, Emma.”

“Oh, we did.” Her lips curved into a smile. “In my head we did many times.”

Bloody hell, she came prepared, Wynne thought to himself. He shook his head. “You are being stubborn.”

She waved her hand in the air. “I was told a woman in love always is. And I am an Everard, Wynne.” She stepped closer all the while keeping him in his place as she looked him in the eyes. “ I told you, did I not? If I happen to be in love with a Trilby, I would act like an Everard.“

Yes, yes she did tell him. Should he have believed her then?

“You are being impossible.” He wanted the statement to come out with a tinge of fury, but it came merely a little louder than a breath.

“No, I am being the other things , Wynne,” she said, reminding him of his own words.

It is time for the other things, Emma. It was not long ago that he told her that.

She stepped closer and it was then that he saw something in her eyes. She was happy to see him, yet there were other things she could not say. There was fear. And there was desperation. “Or at the very least—“Her voice cracked as her eyes started to pool with tears. Wynne felt his chest tighten at the sight of her. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I am being the other things, or at the very least a part of the other things .”

Wynne felt his own eyes sting as his own resolve started to crumble. He lifted both hands and cupped her face to wipe her tears. The gesture caused her to sigh in relief and blink more tears. She nervously laughed. “Would you dare be a little stupid as I and let me be with you?” she choked out. “Could you?” When he simply bent down to plant a light kiss on her lips, Emma added, “I came a long way to do this after all.”

He scoffed. “Truly?” He kissed her mouth again, this time lingering softly, a little longer.

She nodded. “I robbed your aunt in the middle of a road.”

He stiffened.

“And made her sign an agreement,” she added, wrapping her arm around his neck.

“It was stupid of you,” he hissed.

She rose to her toes and kissed him a little longer. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body closer against his—as though it was possible to be one with her. “You left me no choice,” she said against his lips. “I had to be the stupid and impetuous one.”

Wynne leaned his head away from hers to look at her.

He knew. He had to admit it now. He had always known she would find him and he would let her stay.

Emma moistened her lips. “Well? Do you have a day to spare on the morrow? We could be at Tiny Town by luncheon.”

Wynne’s chest rumbled with laughter, the first in a very long time.

“And can I stay the night?”

He bent his head and trailed a kiss along her jaw. “This is an invite-only show, Emma,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh, I have an invite,” she said, “under my mother’s name.”

Wynne traced her jaw with his lips to find her lips once more. “Then you can stay the night.”

XL. Wallace

Ellie sipped her drink as she read.

Her wide-brimmed hat gave enough shade against the bright sunlight.

A few minutes later, she realized she could no longer comprehend the words on the page. Giving up, she looked up and stared at the horizon.

She looked around. It was a beautiful, sunny day.

She was on the other side of the world.

That man would not be able to find her here.

She was safe. But most of all, Byron was saved.

With a bitter smile, she gathered her things and left the beach, wondering where she would go to next. A different question lingered at the back of her mind. Would she ever dare go back?

She walked the rest of the way to her room which overlooked the beach. She threw her book to one corner and went straight to prepare herself a drink.

With her glass, she walked back out to the balcony to wait for the sunset.

Then Ellie stopped just outside the door.

Coming toward her was a familiar silhouette of a man.

Without realizing, her feet slowly made their way out of the balcony and into soft, white sand.

Her eyes started to water as she walked to meet him.

-Above and Below

---

There was no grand wedding as Lady Alice would have hoped.

There was simply a bride in haste and a groom without doubt.

How could he find the courage to doubt his decision to go to Tiny Town when his bride’s mother was their one and only witness?

Lady Alice was dressed as though she was out for an afternoon tea with her friends. Wynne himself knew how the woman had been planning a grand wedding for her daughter and for a moment there, he hesitated.

“No, no time to change your mind or make preparations,” Emma hissed at him as they waited for the vicar by the entrance of the small chapel in Tiny Town.

“But your mother wanted something bigger than his,” he murmured under his breath, looking warily at Lady Alice. “Look at her pace about. She must think this a very bad idea.” Lady Alice was walking back and forth by the chapel doors, murmuring incomprehensible words to herself.

“No, she is impatient,” said Emma, staring at her mother fondly. “She worries that my brothers will arrive before the wedding starts.” When Wynne stiffened beside her, she clasped his hand in hers. “And if that happens, you will fight for me, yes?”

Wynne looked at her incredulously. “You are not bloody serious, are you?”

She shrugged. “You know my brothers…”

Wynne scoffed and shook his head. “You jest.” His head whipped to the side, his eyes anxious, as a carriage stopped outside the chapel.

Emma jumped to her feet almost immediately when she spotted the vicar climb out of the carriage.

“Ah, thank the heavens he has finally arrived!” Lady Alice said, facing the vicar who was entering the chapel. “What took you so long?”

The man blinked a few times, surprised by the demanding question.

“Well, do hurry on,” Lady Alice said, gesturing for Emma and Wynne to enter the chapel. “Hurry now, children.” As Emma and Wynne approached, Lady Alice added, “We do not have all day. Your brothers could very well be on their way as we speak! Alex and Ysabella could only try enough to hold them off.”

Wynne cursed under his breath and took Emma’s hand to rush down the aisle to follow the vicar who was grumpily making his way to the altar, murmuring words of judgment about impatient mothers.

“Shall we begin?” Lady Alice asked the vicar, tone impatient and excited. “We do not have the entire afternoon. My children will have to return to their theatre. And I would not wish to miss the play. And my other children… well, we would not want to greet them inside your chapel so to speak.”

The vicar ignored Lady Alice and faced Emma and Wynne. He cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes,” they chorused.

---

Stella Marie prepared herself for the first act.

Since Wynne’s marriage many months before, she felt more at ease. Perhaps because they stayed longer in one place than they used to before the wedding, or mayhap it was because Sandre had finally married another woman. Maybe because she was finally free and she had nothing to fear now. She had the stage and the freedom to be anyone every night.

As the music started and the curtains parted, Stella walked to the center of the stage and was greeted with thundering applause.

Above and Below was over. This new play was the new rage amongst the townspeople. And like its predecessor, it was loved by many.

Like she always did after they left Ulric, Stella scanned the audience with a smile, all the while searching.

When she did not find what she was looking for, she widened her smile and squared her shoulders. The crowd cheered louder as she lifted her arms to take a bow. It was her signature that hinted the show was about to start.

The music changed and the lights dimmed.

But before the audience disappeared before her eyes, she saw him.

He walked with a limp.

And he walked down the aisle to an empty seat along the second row.

When he removed his bowler hat, his eyes met hers.

Stella smiled and offered Samuel Theobald a slight bow before she composed herself.

And then she began to sing.

---

Wynne frowned at the thick manuscript in his hands. “Trust me, I do love the story apart from this.” He shook the manuscript in one hand. “E. Wallace. You chose to call yourself E. Wallace.” He shifted his position on the stool to glare at his wife. “Are you bloody crazy? They will know, Emma.”

She scoffed. “And why can I not use my husband’s pen name as well? They will not know, Wynne. Now, stop moving or I will slice your neck. It is quite tempting as it is.” She wiped the blade with a clean cloth and took his chin with one hand to continue her task.

“They will! They will know,” he growled without moving his jaw.

Emma finished what she was doing with great concentration, choosing to ignore him for a while. Finally, she sighed and turned his face to check her work. “This will do,” she said. “You make it a burden to shave your face every time. I ought to return the task to Lawrence.”

Wynne wiped his face and continued to stare at her with incredulity.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Should I use E. Theobald then?” He scowled at her. “E. Wallace it is then!”

Wynne shook his head. “G. Wallace will do. Grace.”

Emma grimaced. “I do not particularly like that part of my name.”

“As I do not like Peter. It is fair.”

Wynne removed his shirt and with only his breeches on, went to his side of the bed. Emma watched as her husband prepared to sleep. “Where did Wallace come from again?”

He sighed and turned to look at her still standing at the side of the bed. “He was my mother’s lover.”

She gasped and her eyes rounded in shock. “Bloody hell, Wynne!”

He shrugged and scoffed with amusement. “I had to find a reason to not despise the names.”

Emma appeared to think about it. And then she shrugged and joined him in bed. They lay facing each other. Emma reached out to pull the cover lower down to his hip.

Wynne chuckled. “What are you doing?”

Emma lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is rare to see you like this, you know. You adore those coats of yours and they often make me want to burn them every time.”

“You sound like Lawrence,” he commented, pulling her closer to him and closing his eyes.

“I may burn him with the coats,” she retorted. “Two months, Wynne. We have been married two months and the man still hates me.”

“No, he does not,” he murmured. “He secretly adores you.”

“No, he does not.”

“I found him earlier smiling as he was reading your manuscript.”

Emma’s eyes rounded. “Probably because he thought I finally failed at something!”

“He was almost at the last few pages.”

“He gave me tea this morning.”

“That is good then.”

“I asked for water.”

Wynne chuckled. “He will get it right soon.”

“Oh, yes. And then you will end up a without a wife because when he does, it will only mean he found the perfect poison for my drink.”

“He will not do such thing,” Wynne reassured. “He is yet to find the perfect recipe. You are the least person to easily fall victim to a murder. You are one hard lady to kill, Mrs. Hastings.”

“You enjoy my little feud with your butler,” she said with a laugh.

“I do, yes,” he said, pulling her closer.

A long, peaceful silence followed.

And just as when Emma thought he had already fallen asleep, his lips moved against her forehead as he asked, “Why did you risk so much for me?” Emma’s lips curled into a smile. It must have taken him a lot of courage to ask that question. “I know you love me, but there were so much at stake. The Trilbys could have gone after you.”

She scoffed. “Amelia is set on something big. You were merely a pawn she no longer needed or wanted. Of course, she was ready to give you up so long as those who know her secrets keep to their own.” When he did not say a word, she asked, “You are not hurt, are you? With my words, I mean. You may have been her pawn, but I took the bait and claimed.”

Her husband shook his head. “No, surprisingly I am not. And I am glad you took the bait.”

Emma snuggled closer. “Good.”

“Why did you make her believe you have secrets aboveground? If she finds out—”

“Oh, I wanted to know if the Trilbys have something aboveground. It was a trick in disguise. And I was right. Your former family does have secrets.”

Wynne leaned his head back to look down at her. “Emma, this discussion will not lead to more conspiracies from you.”

“If you tell me more of what they are planning—”

“As I told you, wife, I only know they have access aboveground. I do not know what they have above there.”

“Then who has access aboveground?”

He shook his head. “I cannot tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because that person is keeping Edmund safe.”

“Is he like you and Edmund then? Trapped in your family?”

“No. He likes the power.”

“Then—”

He rolled her to her back, trapping her with his legs. “Enough, Emma Grace.”

He started to trace her jaw with his mouth.

“Amelia once said that you had made your case before I even showed up. What did you say to her to have gained freedom?”

“I gave her what she would have given anyone—a threat.”

“What threat?”

His mouth now traversing down her neck, he answered, “Something she would die to hide from everyone else.”

“What?”

“Remember the fire?” Emma could only nod as his hands had found their way under her night dress. “I managed to find something in your sister’s study.”

“What!” she exclaimed in disbelief. His mouth closed over one breast, damping the fabric of her thin dress. “What? What did you find?” Her question came out as a gasp. His mouth and hands were doing wonders. Emma swallowed hard, starting to lose control.

Wynne tore his mouth from her breast to look into her eyes. His hands moved higher, baring her hips under the covers. “Margaret may have merely considered it minor evidence, but it was quite devastating for someone who truly knew Amelia Trilby and the person of interest.”

A shaky whimper escaped her lips. Wynne had settled himself between her parted legs. Her breathing started to come short as he loosened his breeches, the rough material brushing against sensitive skin. She gulped and tried to keep track of their conversation. “What was it? What did you find?” Biting on her lower lip, Emma lifted her hips, wanting to feel more.

“A short note. Bloody hell, help me with this,” he impatiently said as he tried to kick his breeches off his legs. Emma dutifully helped with her feet, roughly pushing the last barrier of clothing between them.

“For whom? Who was the short note for?” she asked, her hands on his back, traveling down to his hips, guiding him down, sliding his hips down against her inner thighs.

“Amelia.” Wynne grunted, his eyes now filled with thick, hungry desire as he pulled her night dress higher and over her head and finally throwing it to the side.

“From whom? Her conspirators?”

“Margaret may have thought the same, but it was not.” He bent his head and nipped her ear, one hand kneading her breast, hips grinding against hers, teasing her until she whimpered with impatience and want.

Emma moistened her lips, fighting the urge to stop talking, but she knew he would enjoy taunting her in the morning if she did. She turned her head to the side to search for his mouth. After a long, devouring kiss, Emma grazed his freshly shaven jaw with her teeth. “Then who was it from?” she moaned, gulping hard as she lifted her hips to feel him. His breath hot in her ear, his hands doing wonders on her breast and elsewhere. His fingers found her and she sobbed against his neck, tasting sweat and skin, wanting to surrender but too stubborn to let the subject be.

“My mother.”

Emma was almost ready to allow herself to surrender to the torment when his words sank into what little remained of her consciousness. She stiffened and gasped in surprise. “Wynne!” she cried out in disbelief. He turned his head to nuzzle her neck as his shoulders shook with his light chuckle. She slapped his arm. “Your mother! The note was from your mother?”

Leaning on both hands, he pushed away from her and nodded. His dark eyes were still filled with amusement and lust. “Yes, it was. The League may have intercepted it.”

“What do you plan to do with it?”

Wynne tucked her hair behind one ear before cupping her face, lovingly looking down at her. “I do not know.”

“What does your mother want from Amelia?”

A small, bitter smile curled his lips. “That is left for us to find out, eh?”

“Will her involvement put a stop to the Trilbys?”

He brushed back the tresses that feel over his forehead. “Not everyone in my family is evil, Emma. I would not want to see all of them ruined. I do not know my mother’s intentions, but the very mention of her name drained the blood from Amelia’s face when she read the note.”

“Then if you find her, she can—”

“Or perhaps I can leave her be,” he interjected. “I had always wanted to find her after I realized she could be alive, but mayhap she does not want to be found for a reason. I might leave her be. After all, someone is working on bringing the Trilbys down all on his own.”

She fell silent. She knew who it was. Durley. “Out of words, wife?” he teased, his hip jerking intentionally between her legs.

Emma moaned and squirmed. “I have more conspiracies.” She bit her lip as his body teased her further. “Would you like to hear them?”

Wynne groaned and lowered himself against her once more. His teeth nipped at her neck, causing a slight pain that shot hundreds of sensations throughout her body. “Yes, please,” he murmured, taking his mouth past her collarbone, sending its adventure lower to the tip of one breast as she stretched for him to devour.

Emma’s breathing quickened as his hips moved slightly away from her. Without warning, he plunged inside her, claiming her in one fluid motion. A sound escaped her lips as her senses spiraled around the magnificence of having this man in her arms, inside her, all hers. No one else could claim him the way she did. And no one else could have her the way he could.

“Well?” he coaxed through gritted teeth. Emma shook her head. She met his thrusts, her breath coming out in soft whimpers. “Perhaps later,” she panted, kissing the tight muscles on his shoulder, grazing the skin with her teeth, her control fading away.

“Good decision,” her husband said with a grunt, plunging deeper. The bed creaked against the floorboards, a concern they both knew they should address very soon. They had to find a sturdier bed.

As their body turned sleek with sweat and heat, and the quiet night turned colder against the heat of their bodies, Wynne asked, “How about ‘darling’?”

Emma dug her nails into his back, biting her lower lip as his hips plundered faster, deeper. “I… too common,” she panted. “Wynne, please. Not tonight.”

“You can barely think,” he murmured before claiming her mouth, his tongue delving deep, kissing her as if he was having a taste of her for the first time, his thrusts becoming uncontrollable.

A few moments later, both of them were breathless from the kiss, their bodies moving faster in unison now, sleek and seeking, reaching for a soul-shattering resolution. “’Cors, I can,” she retorted, opening her eyes to glare at him. “But not now .”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart?”

“I do not like it. Wynne, bloody hell! Let us call each other whatever comes to mind. At the moment I want to call you bastard if you do not stop this.”

Wynne’s laugher rang around their chamber.

“I did not say stop! I said stop teasing, you bastard!”

And then the laugher stopped along with the talking.

XLI. Family Tree

“What do you think will happen next?” Valerie asked her twin.

Violet sighed and shrugged. “We now know how Gramp ended aboveground, but if you ask me what would happen next, I can only tell you that Gram ended up here as well. How or why, I do not know.”

“Something must have happened. Something the Trilbys did.”

“We’ll know what’s next soon.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Next vacation, yes.”

Violet smiled contentedly. “Emma did get her happy ending after all. I was so freaking afraid.”

Valerie turned to her sister. “There is still the Trilbys. Don’t get your hopes too high.” Violet threw her sister a stingy look. Valerie sighed. “They could have all perished.”

“Shut it, Val!”

“Okay.”

Silence lingered for a few moments.

“And Gram could have been the only one who survived. She went aboveground to be with Gramp.”

“Shut it!” Violet hissed. “Gramp promised to tell us the rest of the story the next time we go for a visit. So, for now, shut it.”

“I’m just trying to think of the possibilities. The Trilbys were bound to do more.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did more evil stuff, but I have so much hope for how things will turn out for the others.”

“How come?”

Violet snorted and smiled. “Val, we are the living proof the Everards survived.”

---

“How have you been?” Ralph asked as he handed Samuel a glass of brandy.

Samuel shrugged, stretching his leg. “Quite okay, thank you.”

His friend stared at his leg. “Has it fully recovered?”

Ralph chuckled with a shake of his head. And before silence could reign in the room, he took a more serious tone with his next statement. “By the by, I am quite certain you have read about the emergence of the rebels.”

“Re-emergence,” corrected Samuel. “They had been around for ages, I believe. Why?”

Ralph was fixing him a quizzical look. “You do not associate yourself with them, do you?”

“Why would I?”

His friend’s eyes narrowed at him. “Because I know you, Sam. You would not hesitate to do so if you believe it is the right course of action. I am warning you as your friend not to be in touch or associate yourself with them. Their cause is not to make a difference in the Town. Their mission is to destroy it.”

Samuel smiled. “Then you must feel relieved I did not turn out to be your brother-in-law.”

“You bastard, this is no laughing matter.”

“It is not, so let us leave the rebels be.”

“How can I when I am a Guard?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” He looked around Ralph’s study. “Should we play chess?”

“We are leaving in two hours, but I can spare the time,” his friend said, walking over to the chess table. Samuel followed and settled opposite Ralph.

The door to the study burst open and Ysabella rushed in but came to a halt when she saw Samuel.

“Sam!” she cried, walking over to offer her hand which he took to plant a welcoming kiss.

“Hello, Ysa,” he greeted before facing the chess table once again.

“What is it?,” Ralph asked his sister. “I thought you will on your way to Devonshire by now,” he added as he arranged his pieces on the board.

“Where’s Alex?”

“Why?”

“Well, I need something from her. She said yesterday that Gustav sent something for me from Meriwether. Where is she? I need to get it now. William is quite impatient today.”

“My wife is currently getting ready for the journey. And let your husband wait,” said Ralph.

“Like how you waited for him,” Samuel chided. “He ought to be able to wait for years if he has to.” His shoulders shook with laughter as Ysabella slapped his arm.

“You are both horrible,” Ysabella said, turning around. “Very well, I will find Alex myself.”

When they were finally alone, Samuel asked Ralph, “What could Gustav be sending your sister?”

“God knows what. It could be a bloody napkin if I care enough to know. My father-in-law can find interest in many minute things. Last month, he sent a dagger he hand-crafted himself for his soon-to-be grandchild. Imagine Mother’s horror.”

Samuel laughed as he made the first move on the chess table. He leaned back in his chair in an easy fashion, waiting for Ralph.

“Where do you plan to spend Christmas? Theobald?”

Samuel shook his head. “I was invited to a party near Dovier.”

Ralph frowned. “Quiet far. It is a village near Wakefield, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. And also far from the ruckus of Devonshire.”

Ralph laughed. “You can always join us,” his friend said with a teasing smile.

“Burn me first,” Samuel said with a scoff.

They shared a light chuckle and played until Alex and Ysabella interrupted them with tea and biscuits half an hour later.

---

The journey to Devonshire for both Wynne and Emma was a little difficult.

For one, Wynne did not want to leave the theatre for an entire fortnight. But Emma had to remind him that all the actors would be gone and the two of them would not be enough to defend the theatre should anything untoward happen.

Second, Wynne two weeks was too long to be around the Everard brothers.

“Do you not remember the dinner after our wedding?” he reminded, his face drained of blood. “They took me to a private room, Emma.”

“But I rescued you just in time,” she pointed out. “You were not on the floor that long. We did not even have to call for the doctor.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Did you marry me to witness me suffer with every bloody Everard gathering?”

“You do not suffer every time, Wynne. Do not be too dramatic. You enjoy Alex’s company. And Ned and Barto like you.”

“They are not precisely Everards, most definitely Ned and Barto.”

“There is Maxwell. Have you not spent an entire day with him designing the ring you gifted me?”

“And the entire time I thought I was talking to no one but myself.”

“It is because the two of you are too much alike. Max and I are, too. The three of us can be around the same table and have a long conversation without opening our mouths.”

“When it is with you, Emma, it can be quite sexy,” retorted her husband. “But when it is your bloody brother, it can be very uncomfortable.” He cursed under his breath. “Bloody tarnation, now that you have placed the picture in my head, it is quite disturbing.”

Emma chuckled and tucked a few stray hairs behind his left ear. “You look adorable when you’re uncomfortable. It is like I am seeing the stuttering Wynne Hastings again. Fret not, husband, I have fought quite hard to get you. I will not let my brothers bully you for the entire two weeks.”

Wynne sighed again, gathering her into his arms to close his eyes. He never liked long carriage rides, but he was glad he was with the best company on this one.

---

“It would have been better if you brought along Stella Marie,” Ralph commented as the family retired into the parlor of the Devonshire estate.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Stella is on her way to Kipp to attend a party.”

“Kipp? The one near Wakefield?” asked William.

“Yes,” replied Wynne.

Ralph frowned, looking curious. “How far is it from Dovier?”

Wynne shrugged with disinterest. “A few hours? Why?”

“Samuel is spending Christmas near Dovier.”

Levi scoffed. “You cannot be thinking—”

“Why not?” asked Emma. “Samuel has been to some of the plays. Wynne and I can attest he did not come for us for he never showed to any of our invitations to join us for the after-show dinners.”

“Probably because he still wants to kill me,” Wynne murmured.

“Once I caught him waiting outside Stella’s dressing room,” Emma continued, ignoring her husband’s statement. “He looked like a boy caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.”

Her husband frowned. “You never told me this.”

“Because I did not think too much of it,” she retorted with a wave of her hand.

“Should the two of them end up together, I will be the first to offer my condolences,” said Ralph. “They will kill each other before they could even march up to a vicar.”

“But why Kipp or Dovier of all places?” wondered Nicholas. “There are far better places for a secret tête-à-tête.”

“Why not?” countered Alex.

“Why meet at all?” added Ralph. “It could a simple matter of coincidence. Let us pray they do not meet.”

Alex gave her husband an incredulous look. “It was you who suggested the idea.”

“Do we not have anything more interesting to talk about other than Samuel and Stella Marie?” complained Ysabella. “I like them separately, but not together. Do you not agree, Maxine? As what Ralph said, the two of them would kill each other in a heartbeat.”

Maxine smiled. “I have long decided to cease any opinions on my brother’s choices, but should he choose to be with someone like Miss Stella Marie, then I will offer no objections.”

The door opened and everyone turned their heads to see who interrupted their gathering. “And what are we discussing at this very moment?” Lady Alice asked as she was escorted into the room by Benedict.

“The Trilby family tree,” lied Nicholas.

“We were?” Wynne asked dryly.

“Oh, how boring,” said Lady Alice as she settled in the settee between Margaret and Sophia. “Perhaps I should return to the playroom. The children have far more interesting things to say about dragons and vampires.”

“Wynne’s family is interesting enough,” Ralph said with sarcasm.

“Former family,” corrected Wynne. “But I do agree they are interesting.”

“Simply look at it,” said Ralph, waving his hand in the air, “the great grandfather is still very much alive.”

Wynne nodded his head, mentally making calculations. “Almost a century-old,”

“This is the oddest topic ever,” said Emma.

Alex caressed her bulging stomach as she said, “No, not at all,”

Nicholas turned to Wynne. “Vega is your aunt, yes?”

“She’s his cousin,” replied Maxwell who had been silent the entire time. “Her father is Amelia’s cousin.”

“Then you two are cousins,” pointed Nicholas at Wynne and Maxine.

“It makes me uncomfortable the way you put it,” Wynne said. “But yes, we are.”

“It is okay, Wynne,” said Maxine with a laugh. “I honestly find it quite cute.”

“It is odd, darling,” her husband said beside her. “But then, you are odd so it is understandable.”

“Edmund is a cousin as well,” Nicholas persisted, attention still on Wynne.

“And Tashia,” Wynne added.

The Everards looked at him. “Tashia?”

“Vega’s sister,” he said with a shrug.

“Bloody hell, the Trilbys are as complicated as the Everards,” Nicholas said with awe.

Ralph lifted a hand. “Hold on. Ezra is an uncle of yours.”

Emma sighed. “Yes, Ralph. How many times do we have to narrate the entire family tree? You had already sat us down not long ago.”

“I lost the diagram,” said Ralph, turning to Wynne. “Then Ezra is Amelia’s cousin,” he said with disbelief. “How bloody old is Amelia again?”

“Robert. Francis. George II.” Wynne counted the names with his fingers. “Robert is the eldest and it took quite a while before Francis and George II were born.” He looked at Emma. “Do we really have to discuss this every time?”

“No,” Emma said, giving her brothers a pointed look. “He is no longer a Trilby.”

“But he has good information,” Ralph countered. “I still cannot believe George Trilby outlived two of his sons.”

“It is hard to kill evil,” Wynne replied with a shrug.

“Ah, but evil can be tamed,” Ysabella said with a smile.

Emma sent her sister a taunting look. “Like how you tamed a rake?”

Ysabella winked. “Precisely,”

“I was not a rake,” William strongly objected.

“You were the most notorious rake in town,” Levi said with a chuckle and he evaded William’s kick by jumping behind his wife.

“Nothing can beat the taming of a bandit,” Ralph grinned but immediately added, “well, it was a two-way process,” when Alex threw him a sharp look.

“What is best than taming a beast?” Agatha, Benedict’s wife, spoke beside Benedict. Her eyes shimmered with laughter as Benedict cleared his throat.

“Oooh…” the rest of the Everards said as they looked at Benedict, somehow cautious. It took one courageous being to even joke about Benedict’s old moniker.

“Well, that is quite true,” they heard Benedict murmur as he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on top of his wife’s head. “And you have strayed us both from the topic,” he added to Emma, “Thank you.”

“Why… we have not noticed,” said Ralph with sarcasm.

“Mother said that Ysa and I are the best at it, remember?” she said with a laugh. “Is it not right, Mother?”

“Well, yes,” Lady Alice replied, smiling as she watched her children with fondness.

Her sons would never treat Wynne like they would Samuel, she noted to herself as she watched Ralph return his attention on Wynne, intent on making the man suffer a little more.

“Stop making my husband uncomfortable, you dimwit!” Emma was saying.

“What did you call me?” Ralph demanded as Cole was heard saying to Wynne, “It gets better. They take their time before they offer the good brandy. You might have to wait for two more Christmases.”

“It took a while for me,” added William. “But then, you are a Trilby. Yours is a different case, bad blood and all—oof!” he cried out as Ysabella elbowed his side. “Jesting, Love! Jesting!”

Margaret stood up with a laugh and approached Lady Alice. “Mother, are you feeling all right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Tori and I are going to escape before the ruckus starts to prepare snacks for the children. Would you like to join us?”

“You go on ahead, dear,” Lady Alice said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Margaret gave her a peck. “Merry Christmas, Mother. I hope you are feeling the spirit?”

Lady Alice’s eyes started to water as she was overwhelmed by an intense emotion. She nodded, looking around the loud room. “Yes,” she choked.

Margaret left the room with Tori and soon, one by one, her children started to depart the parlor as well to do whatever they had to do around the manor, leaving Lady Alice with Benedict and Maxwell.

It was not long before the three of them realized what some of them were really up to.

Soon, she could hear her grandchildren squealing as footsteps—nearly a dozen of them—ran around the second landing.

“Ralph! If you do not throw that bloody frog away, I will hang you!” they heard Ysabella scream from somewhere, followed by the children’s excited laughter. “Oh God, there is another one! Get it out of here!”

Benedict sighed beside Lady Alice, silently shaking his head.

“There is more, Aunt Ysa!” one of the children shrilled. “Uncle Ralph! No! No!”

“Ralph, you idiot!” Emma’s voice shouted. “Wynne, get Harold! No! Fiona, get your brother! Oh, for God’s sake, Ralph, put that thing away this instant!”

Lady Alice shared a look with Benedict and they both chuckled.

“Should I stop the ruckus now?” Maxwell asked the two of them dryly, already on his feet.

Benedict shrugged.

“Gillian!” Emma was shouting again. “No, you cannot touch that! Wynne, take him away from here. Where’s his father?”

“I have my arms full, Emma,” Wynne was saying. “No, Harold, we don’t eat frogs—”

“No, no, take Emerald with you!”

“And that’s my cue,” Maxwell said as he heard his daughter’s name. He rushed to the door and his voice boomed around the manor as he shouted, “Ralph! What the bloody hell are you doing!”

“Ralph, Max is on ’is way!” Alex was saying. “Yer dead fer sure!”

Ralph was laughing so hard that he could hardly speak. “No, no no, Max. It was Nick! I swear it was—”

“It was you!” Fiona and Faye chorused with laughter.

“Ralph! The others have escaped into the kitchen!” Margaret shouted from somewhere. “Get them out of here now or you will have frog soup for supper! When are you going to stop playing with these things!”

“No, when is he ever going to grow up!” Emma shouted.

“Max! No, please! I swear it was not solely my idea! Nick, you bastard! He’s hiding somewhere! He took more into the house than—”

“I say you tie him up, Max,” Levi’s faint voice suggested.

Alone in the parlor, Benedict and Lady Alice shared another look.

“You must be tired of this ruckus,” said her eldest, “but I am also quite sure you enjoy it.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” A loud thump followed her statement. “Well, so long as nobody gets hurt, which I think is currently happening now.”

Benedict shook his head and they listened to more shouting about frogs and supper with more squealing from the children.

“I wish Father is here with us,” Benedict softly said. It was rare for her eldest son to expose such sentiments.

“He would have loved to enjoy this very moment,” Lady Alice said, nodding her head, her eyes stinging with tears. “Unlike the two of us, he would be out there joining the fray after calling for the doctor.”

Benedict chuckled.

“Harold would not have asked for more if he were here. I can merely hope that I had done a good job on my own.”

Benedict reached out to gently cover her hand with his. “You have done far beyond, Mother. But sometimes, I also wonder if he would be pleased at how we all turned out to be.”

Lady Alice turned her face to her son who gently wiped the tear off her cheek with his free hand.

“I know what he would say,” she told Benedict. “He would tell me with his laughing emerald eyes that our children would never be the perfect bunch society would want but we would have them no other way. You must know that he was the different one between us. He had always been the one to dare to defy society from the moment he took the courage to do so. And he would have loved to witness all of you do the same.”

Benedict silently chuckled, shaking his head.

Lady Alice sighed, once more dreaming of the man who had changed her life.

Their children were different, Harold would assure her.

They were their children and they gave them life. They had showed them life as the two of them would have lived it eight times.

They were different and passionate, feisty and brave, odd and kind.

They were Everards.

Author’s Note

We have finally reached the end of the Everard series.

As much as I hate saying goodbye to this family, I have to admit that I am happy to move on.

This has been such an amazing journey.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone who has been with me from the Haverstons and up to the last book of the Everards. I am constantly amazed by the enormous support and encouragement I get from all of you, silent readers included.

I will move on to write Lady Alice’s story, The Enchantment of Lady Ice. I have always wanted to show you how her character evolved and how Lord Harold was because in my head he is very much alive. 

I hope to see you all in The Enchantment of Lady Ice and in my upcoming stories which will have nothing to do with the Town series. The Trilbys will come, but it will not be soon. I need to do something different again because that’s how I feed my ever wandering imaginative mind. I only hope that you will all still be there with me.

We have grown with the stories and I, as a writer, learned a lot from this series. But, of course, editing shall follow.

Until the next one,

J.D. Ruiz (greenwriter)

After the Wedding

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Secrets in Standbury

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Theobald Hunt

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AU Shorts: Benedict & Agatha Part I

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AU Shorts: Benedict & Agatha Part II

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AU Shorts: Benedict & Agatha Part III

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AU Shorts: Benedict & Agatha Part IV

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AU Shorts: Benedict & Agatha Part V

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AU Shorts: Max & Max Part I

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AU Shorts: Max & Max Part II

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AU Shorts: Max & Max Part III

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AU Shorts: Max & Max Part IV

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AU Shorts: Max & Max Part V

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AU Shorts: Levi & Tori Part I

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AU Shorts: Levi & Tori Part II

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AU Shorts: Levi & Tori Part III

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AU Shorts: Levi & Tori Part IV

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AU Shorts: Levi & Tori Part V

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