The Night Of

“Hurry!” he shouted at the carriage driver as he climbed inside.

The horses whined loudly before they galloped down the cobbled street lit with lampposts.

Sleeping estates and buildings passed by his carriage window as they sped away. The Town was darker as night had come aboveground, evidenced by the faint moonlight that streamed down the distant holes and the one they had just passed by.

His heart was beating hard against his chest, leaping along with the bounding carriage. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

Bloody hell. This is not part of the plan, Cole Devitt cursed inside his head as his carriage rode out of Willowfair.

I. The Murder of Osmond

The affluent town of Wickhurst was baffled by one certain article in the gossip section of the Town Herald.

It was no ordinary gossip for it involved a death of the Prime Minister. It might as well be that the news had been misplaced, but the theory behind the death deserved its spot in the section for it involved a very mysterious, if not scandalous, murder. A passionate love affair gone wrong was the favorite theory thus far.

Margaret Everard was shaking her head at the absurdity of it all as she folded the paper and set it aside. The Prime Minister’s death did not deserve such thing, she thought. How obsessed were the Townspeople with gossip that even the Town Herald would place Osmond Trilby’s death in this section?

Her gaze landed on a letter that arrived for her that morning. The plain red was bore no seal.

Calan Haverston, Lord of Easton.

Her mentor.

In her small study that was connected to her own bedchamber, Margaret allowed herself a moment before she read the letter in private, almost certain what it was about.

As one of the few female members of the League of Founders, a group of people whose identities remained anonymous to many due to the nature of their work, it was paramount that she had this room to write secret missives to secret individuals.

Her mother and two youngest sisters might think she was spending most of her time locked in the study knitting or sewing flowers on cloths like women her age pretended to enjoy doing, but Margaret Everard was never good at those things. Only her five brothers knew why she needed this very study. It was understandably obvious that they did not approve of her being part of the League, but they had collectively decided to respect Margaret’s decision four years ago. They also made it their mission to make certain that their mother never knew of her daughter’s involvement in the group.

It was not only the fact that the League was involved in numerous dangerous missions, but they were also rumored to be connected to many conspiracies all over the Town. “This might just be the news that would end Mother,” as one of her brothers, Maxwell, had put it. “She may take pride in it, or she may loathe it. Either way, she is better off not knowing.”

She opened the letter, but before she could start reading, the door to her study burst open and brother number two, Levi, stormed in. “Can you not ask Nick or Max to do it instead?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Margaret folded the letter as a smile crept up her face. Her mind refocused to another mission that had nothing to do with the League of Founders: finding a husband for her best friend as soon as they could.

Victoria Ashdown was desperate to find a husband and Margaret promised to help. With Levi’s help. One might say that demanding a list of eligible bachelors from Levi was rather immature, but Tori was fearful that her stepmother might succeed in stealing her inheritance from her deceased mother, and also the dowry her father had set for her before he passed. “No, brother,” she replied to her brother.

“Why me? I did not decide to go back to Wickhurst for this. We just had a lovely, chaotic dinner. My estate is waiting for me. I need to go home. Nick and Max can help you.”

Margaret may be younger, but there were moments when she had to act as though she was older than most of her brothers. She sighed with patience. “Max makes many people uncomfortable with his cynical air. And should he ever allow himself be bothered, he would grab the first man he sees without consideration just to get the task done. And Nick will merely spend most of his time chasing skirts. Those two are useless. And do not think we never tried to ask them.”

“You did?”

“Of course!”

“And they refused?”

“Adamantly.”

His brother blinked his emerald green eyes in surprise and disbelief. “They did not even offer a suggestion?”

“Of course, they did,” Margaret said, looking at him. “You.”

Levi bared his teeth.

“They said it is about time you take on responsibilities after escaping most of them for three years. And I agree. For one, you left the twins to Ralph, of all people, and I have to step in to help him if you must know.”

Levi rubbed his hands on his face and Margaret was secretly amused. In the past few years, Levi had been a little distant. Once, he had always been a charmer, but for reasons unknown, he started to lock himself away in his Standbury estate. He tried his best to always appear fine whenever he was with the family, but Margaret could tell he was going through something. Mayhap this was one of her ways to keep her brother home. It may be a selfish move, but Margaret knew all too well what loneliness and despair could do to a person, most particularly to someone who was constantly alone.

“The twins! They have matched many couples from servants up. Should I remind you of their recent project in the names of our very own Ben and Agatha?”

Margaret shook her head, strays of black hair swaying at both sides of her face as she did so. “The twins are too romantic and idealistic. Tori does not need romance. She needs a husband.”

“And when are marriage and romance a separate matter? Was I too far gone from society to have missed it?”

“You know very well most marriages do not have romance, and you know very much about romance not leading to marriages.”

Her brother’s face mellowed at her words for a moment, the memory of the past shared between them for a short second, before his handsome face scowled once more. “I do not see why I have to do this. I have been away from Wickhurst for too long. For God’s sake, Maggie, I have been rumored to have gone insane and banished by you all three years ago!”

Margaret’s smile did not waver. “But you still have your charm. You do still have your friends and those friends have other friends.” Margaret waved her hand. “Do make the list, will you?” As he argued about having little knowledge about his friends now, Margaret dismissed his statement with a roll of her eyes. “I will chaperone the twins to a ball two nights from now with Ralph. You should come with us.”

“I thought you only needed a list?”

“You might as well go. You are not leaving Wickhurst today or on the morrow, are you?” She knew she could not go far with Levi. There were buttons she could not press, but she was hoping to keep him with them longer this time.

“No, but I intend to leave within the week. The moment I deem it safe to escape mother.”

She smiled with relief. “Then there you have it. You should come with us.” And she proceeded to narrate more reasons, focusing a little on their two youngest sisters, whom they collectively referred to as the twins . Ysabella and Emma were not twins, of course, but they were born the same year. And ever since they came into their lives, the pair never ceased to cause them trouble. It was always a task to keep an eye one them.

“And while there, meet your friends. Get reacquainted. Be a charmer. And get us names.” When he scoffed, she added, “And it might also help her a little if you dance with her.”

“Dance with Tori?”

“Have you forgotten to dance?”

“Why would I dance with Tori?”

“Because you will want people to notice her. Levi Everard is at the Wickhurst Season, and the first thing he does is dance with Victoria Ashdown ,” Margaret said, waving a hand in the air. “Women would gossip about it, the men would hear it and they would all turn their heads and look for Tori, and then at Tori. Now, do you know why it is necessary?”

Levi pursed his lips.

“She is my best friend, Levi. And she is your friend as well. It is our duty to help her. If her stepmother wins, it will be on our conscience. She is alone, Levi. She has no one else.”

Whatever she said, it must have worked because Levi finally said, “You are indebted to me, Margaret.”

She grinned. “Gladly. Now, off you go. If mother looks for me, do tell her I am painting,” she said as she unfolded the letter once more.

He wryly looked at her. “You do not paint.”

“Oh, but I do. In secret, of course.”

“Of course,” Levi murmured, turning to leave.

“And the list, Levi!” she called after him.

After Levi firmly closed the door, Margaret returned her attention on the letter and began to frown as she read on.

M,

You must have heard by now about the Prime Minister. At the moment, all ten Town Leaders, along with both House of Lords and Commons, are in preparation for a convention to vote for a new Prime Minister.

The Deputy Prime Minister have tasked the League to investigate further.

Osmond Trilby has received only one caller on the day he was murdered. It was Cole Devitt, Lord of Ashmore, current head of Wickhurst’s Men of Courts.

Margaret stiffened and her hand began to shake as she read on.

Cole Devitt called on Osmond Trilby on Monday. The latter was found dead the morning after. The cause of death is a stab wound on his back. Further investigation by the Town Guards reveal Osmond Tribly bled to death in his room the night prior.

That very same night, Cole Devitt was expected to attend a dinner hosted by Willowfair’s head of Men of Courts, but he never arrived. He left town, perhaps shortly after Trilby’s death. His whereabouts are yet to be determined.

The League has taken the investigation from the Town Guards. For the time being, we are looking into every possible angle of the murder, but Cole Devitt is the top on the list of suspected individuals.

Should he return to Wickhurst, which we believe he would, you are to report it immediately. It is also your task to observe his movements while awaiting further orders.

As Wickhurst’s head of the Men of Courts, he has all the connections he could utilize in his favor. All further missives shall be strictly delivered only to your residence and mine.

Send weekly reports promptly.

-CH

Margaret read the contents once more, this time more carefully.

She hoped the name had changed, that she had simply misread Calan Haverston’s letter, but she read it correctly the first time.

Standing to her feet, Margaret lit a fire, dipping the edge of the letter in it, before dropping it into the small wooden box. She absently watched the fire consume the paper until it was naught but a sheet of fragile ash before she closed the lid. Walking to the window that overlooked the Everard gardens, Margaret hugged herself despite the warmth of the room with a frown.

Cole Devitt.

She had not seen him since he strode into their parlor to take Agatha back to prison. Not long ago, her brother’s fiancée and also Ysabella and Emma’s former governess, was branded by the entire town of Wickhurst as a witch simply because Benedict chose her over someone in his station. Many events followed that day until the happy wedding Benedict and Agatha deserved. Margaret had been preoccupied, even until now with Tori’s problem. Never had she had a moment to think of Cole Devitt after he came back to Wickhurst to fill in the role as the new head of the Men of Courts.

Or maybe Margaret merely mastered the art of blocking any thoughts of the man.

Cole Devitt.

Tori had once said she should hate him for what he had done, but Margaret might after all be stupid because she could not bring herself to summon any hatred. He had left her incapable of hating him, much more so develop affections toward anyone else.

Sometimes she wondered if she merely confused the feeling to that of love all these years. He had ruined her for anyone else. He was the sole reason for the darkest years of her life. But how could she hate him if she also understood why he did what he did?

Whatever she may feel toward him then and now, Margaret knew with almost all certainty that Cole Devitt was no murderer.

However, she had a duty to the League, and if Cole Devitt was a suspect to a murder, then she should start working.

II. A Lover’s Glimpse

It was curious that Cole Devitt had chosen to attend a ball. Margaret had never seen him around any she had attended since the social season started. And to see him again from across the ballroom, talking and laughing with a few gentlemen that had gathered around him, Margaret could not help but wonder why he was suddenly making appearances.

She kept him within her range of vision, all the while careful still to not be seen. To the very few who knew of her family’s history with the Devitts, she could not be seen with him. Not by her brothers. Not even her mother. Or even Tori.

Her friend was currently dancing with Levi, attracting most of the attention of the guests who were curious that the first thing the charming Levi Everard did since his return to Wickhurst was dance with Victoria Ashdown. Margaret smiled to herself as she watched their curiosity turn to interest. Tori should have a chance to change the future her stepmother had set for her.

She left their youngest Emma with Ralph to saunter through the sea of guests, brushing gowns and coats along the way. Margaret’s heart began to pound against her chest as she willed herself to keep walking and do what she had set out to do.

How difficult would it be to strike a short conversation with the man who had once been your entire world?

Surely it is easy ,

she thought wryly.

Yet he had destroyed that world in one single night , a voice whispered in her head.

He was merely three yards away, just a few steps and she’d be face to face with him. But then he moved and she stood frozen in her spot. Her limbs stiffened as the image of Cole Devitt in the middle of a rocky field flashed before her eyes—him holding the tip of his sword against her older brother’s face, eyes filled with hatred, face crumpled in pain. He merely did not scar Benedict’s face that night. He had ripped her heart as well.

Her breath shook as she let it out, and before Margaret realized it, he was gone. He had walked off to the other side of the ballroom with an acquaintance. Many years ago, they, the Everards, were his friends. Benedict Everard was rarely seen anywhere without Cole Devitt, just like how Margaret was always with Tori. He had joined them in many of their excursions and dinners. He was always with them, just like how Tori was always around the Everard brothers.

The music was coming to an end and she could hear Ralph and Emma behind her bickering still and now joined by Ysabella. Margaret did not realize that she was still holding her breath and her hands were trembling. With an incredulous scoff, she shook her head and her hands.

Good Lord! She was being pathetic.

Her heart had slowed down, but a tiny hint of pain was distantly humming, a feeling she had grown quite accustomed to over the years.

Perhaps not tonight, she told herself as she made her way back to her family.

He had made it back to Wickhurst and it was good enough.

There was no need to make contact , she said to herself.

She was simply asked to spy.

---

Cole opened the missive inside the carriage. Going to the ball had been a risk, but he had to keep up appearances as the new head of the Men of Courts.

Evading invitations had stirred curiosity over his private life, even more so when the desperate mamas realized he was an unmarried man with a title. And with the Wickhurst Season in full swing, where desperate mothers wield their best weapons, and gossip was the main sport, he would not wish for anyone to dig into his life. Not now when everything was in a fragile state.

He read the contents of the missive.

The murder is merely speculation. They do not have anything to support the theory he was killed for something foul. Keep your promise and I shall keep mine. For now, ease your mind. You are still in the clear.

He crumpled the paper, jaw tight as he looked out the window of the carriage. He drew a long breath and slowly let it out.

Margaret Everard.

She was there at the ball.

She was beautiful still, even more beautiful from the last time he saw her standing in the middle of the Everard parlor, defending Agatha Blair from him and his men.

She had been well.

That was good enough, he thought, pulling the window curtain of the carriage close.

She is well, he whispered in his mind.

III. Evidence

Calan Haverston’s missive arrived before Margaret departed for the weekend Theobald Ball with her mother and Levi.

M,

This is in response to your last message.

We found a gold brooch that held the Devitt family crest in the scene of the crime, which is the bedchamber. It places Devitt in the very room where the murder was committed.

Again, to answer your question about an interrogation, we cannot do so at the moment. We believe he is working with a group of people. He shall be at the Theobald Ball this weekend as we have guessed. I hope you could provide me with a good report as to his activities during the party the soonest you arrive back in Wickhurst. Be very wary for the party itself could very well be a good chance to concoct a plan if he is indeed working with someone. Meanwhile, I and others are working on other angles, as well as looking into other possible suspects.

-CH

Her mentor’s words never allowed her mind a moment of rest as they traveled out of Wickhurst to attend one of the season’s famous and scandalous parties.

Why would Cole do it? If it were true, what could be the reason behind it?

Was he working with people to destabilize the parliament?

Or were they both involved in something and things went awry?

Margaret let out a heavy sigh. She ought to think critically and without prejudice. Evidence would never lie.

And one was found that linked him to the murder.

“You look weary, Margaret,” her mother said from across the carriage.

“Of course, she is. She takes on the problems of not only her best friend, but of the household as well.” Levi said wryly beside her. “Among other things,” her brother added meaningfully.

She shot him a sharp look before she turned her attention to Alice Everard. “It is merely the journey. I never liked carriages.”

“She prefers horseback if you must have forgotten,” Levi reminded their mother.

“Mother does so as well,” she snapped.

“Quite true,” their mother said with a smile. “I would still choose it over this boring carriage if my back would allow it.”

Margaret stared at her brother. “You may have given Tori the list of eligible bachelors, but you know very well we have much to do still. You are to introduce her to Lord Chattoway while I distract her stepmother.”

Levi shook his head and grumbled under his breath.

She saw her mother’s blue eyes assess her with concern. She knew it was not about them meddling into Tori’s affairs that concerned the woman. No, it was something else entirely that caused such look of worry.

Margaret smiled at her, taking in her mother’s aging beauty. All of them inherited their mother’s black hair, but acquired their emerald green eyes from their late father. Alice Everard was the sole living Everard who had blue eyes.

“I am well, Mother, do not fret,” she reassured. When the woman remained unconvinced, she chuckled and said, “Truly, I am!”

Lady Alice opened her mouth, about to say something, but thought better of it and closed it once more. Her mother was witness to her suffering after Cole Devitt left. And Alice Everard, who was dear friends with the Theobalds, was never ignorant of who would be gracing this year’s Theobald Ball.

Cole Devitt was indeed a great cause of concern for Alice Everard. He, after all, nearly ruined not only her eldest son, but a daughter as well.

---

“It was gracious of you to accompany me this year, son,” Lady Ida Devitt said as they neared the Theobald mansion. The holes above the estate showed them a good, sunny day aboveground, a contrast to the dimness of their world below. No matter how many lamps the Town put up every year to mimic the light of the world above them, the fact remained still that they were deprived of many things. Yet they were things they had all been accustomed to and dealt with all their lives.

Cole smiled at his mother, offering no words. If Cole had his way, he would rather go alone, but his mother had never missed a single Theobald Ball, despite the fact that the Theobalds were amongst the closest friends of the Everards. Every year, she would leave Tiny Town where she resided with her sister, and find her way here.

His mother’s brown hair had streaks of white which she masterfully carried with pride. There was no one alive he knew that could muster such pride than Ida Devitt, a trait that had made their lives challenging, especially for his late sister, Leah. His mother had been difficult on them both, but she loved them dearly. Leah’s death destroyed his mother the most. Or so he thought until he found Leah’s old letters.

“The Everards will also be in attendance.” His mother’s calm voice turned cold. Cole followed her gaze out the window of their carriage. A group was climbing out of a large carriage that preceded them. Levi Everard was first. He helped his mother down the carriage and eventually his sister, Margaret. Cole checked himself and made certain his mother could not read his face.

“Good thing their beast of a brother did not come along,” Ida Devitt added, eyes following the three Everards as they climbed the steps to the grand entrance of the manor.

Cole followed Margaret’s hand with his eyes as it rose to brush her hair off her face, a fascinating habit not many refined women of society would dare do, her head tilted toward her brother who was trying to say something. And the same hand swiftly moved to smack Levi Everard’s upper arm and her expression had turned to one of mock horror. Levi laughed and walked ahead to avoid another attack from Margaret while Lady Alice walked on, ignoring her grown children. He had once been witnessed to the same picture he witnessed just now.

They are still the same Everards, he thought.

His lips quirked but he caught himself and held them tight, finally forcing his eyes off Margaret.

“Leah would have loved attending this party,” his mother said. “She would have had a full life with fancy gowns in fancy balls.” Her face was stern when she veered her eyes back to Cole. “You ought to know, son, that I pray to God every night, giving Him praises for enlightening your mind those years ago. It would have destroyed me if you married that girl. They took Leah away from us.”

His jaw tightened and he drew a deep breath to numb something inside his chest before it even began to creep in. Always, since that day he left, he wished his mother would spare him the aching reminder of everything he had lost. He had not merely lost Leah, but he also lost a best friend and the greatest love of his life. But he always reminded himself that his mother lost a child as well. And he would keep silent and allow her to the luxury of hating and blaming.

But it had changed now. Everything he allowed his mother to say against the Everards out of respect for her grief was not just bringing back the hurt, but they were now starting to feed a growing hatred he never thought he would ever feel toward his own mother. It was one reason why he so carefully, without hurting her feelings, urged her to leave Ashmore two years ago after his father’s death. He paid for the villa she shared with her sister, and he would continue to do so until her death. But she could no longer stay in Ashmore. Not after what Cole discovered.

Leah’s letters echoed at the back of his head, every word and cry for help clenched at his heart. The guilt he felt for leaving his sister alone, for blaming Benedict Everard for her death, constantly consumed him.

Did you know? He wanted to ask his mother as she blabbered on about the Everards and the unfair privileges they enjoyed in society. Of course, you did. And you let it all happen. You pretend to know nothing and blame everyone else.

“Cole?” Ida Devitt’s voice slowly emerged through his own cloud of thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

He blinked away, couldn’t look her in the eye. “Yes,” he lied.

“Good. And do try to keep away from the gaming halls. You should go and enjoy the company of young, respectable females.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he murmured.

“My friends would very much like to introduce—”

“No,” he sternly interjected. When her eyes widened in surprise at his tone, he forced a smile, hating himself for not having the heart to show her how much he despised her. He had already concluded that it would always be a complicated kind of love, the one he felt toward Ida Devitt. “No,” he repeated, this time in a gentle manner. “No matchmaking, Mother.”

Their carriage drew to a stop and he fixed his coat, ready to climb out and free himself of his mother’s presence. She was good company only when she was with friends, with whom she could continue the pretense of a grieving mother and widow. And she must feel the same with him because she was instantly distracted by other things the moment she stepped out of the carriage.

The Everards had long disappeared into the mansion and he hoped never to encounter them in the duration of the party. The Theobalds held the biggest annual weekend balls, attended by affluent gentries from all over the Town, and it would not be at all curious if one would fail to meet most acquaintances throughout the weekend.

He came not to accompany his mother. He had no wish to spend the entire weekend with her. He was here not because Ida Devitt demanded it. Someone else made him come.

---

She had called herself names since she froze in his presence and she vowed never to have it repeated. Having arrived at the large Theobald mansion, Margaret left the bedchamber she shared with her mother. Since Tori was not yet due to arrive, Margaret wandered around the large estate.

She went to every gaming hall she knew, or those that she was privy to in the years she spent in Theobald parties, and finally gave up after an hour. He might come later or on the morrow as some of the other guests preferred to do.

Very few would arrive late for the weekend party. Most would want to get the best chambers or demand for those reserved for others if they failed to arrive on time. Those who arrived late would simply have to content themselves with the smaller unwanted chambers.

Having decided to search for Levi instead, for her brother needed a little reminder of his task at hand, Margaret retraced her steps. She was crossing the great hallway leading to the grand staircase when she heard a familiar voice that made her heart stop.

She paused and slowly turned around.

And there he was, standing and talking to a man younger than Ralph, both of them deep in conversation to notice anything or anyone.

He not too far for her to not notice the gold brooch pinned on the collar of his black coat. She had seen it too many times in the past and she knew he had a dozen of it at the very least. Even from where she was standing, Margaret knew what that brooch looked like. It would have an image of a bird with its wings spread wide, its claws on top of a letter ‘A’, which stood for Ashmore, the title attached to the Devitt name, one he inherited after his father’s passing.

And along with the memory of the brooch was the bitter picture of the one she designed for him ten years past, a simple round brooch with an amethyst stone in the middle. Thinking of it now, she could not help but scoff as she thought of how naïve she had been to have wasted many hours and nights on that little project.

What have become of it now? Did he throw it away? She wondered for a moment as she stood to watch him and his young friend. Mayhap she ought to demand that he return it, she thought for a brief second. It was still an Everard piece after all, she added in her head. It could be worth a fortune now, considering it was an only piece.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of her thoughts, Margaret focused on her task at hand. She looked around and realized the hallway was almost empty, save for a few guests who had just arrived. As she began to think of postponing her plan on spying on Cole and his oddly young friend, she made the mistake of angling her eyes back toward him and found him staring right back at her.

IV. Stalking Surprise

Just as that day their eyes met in her family’s parlor in Wickhurst months ago, Cole felt his entire being stiffen and his brain freeze while the rest of his senses went berserk altogether.

The very sight of her transported his mind into a place somewhere in time. The feeling was undeniably familiar that he almost believed he was back in a life before Leah’s death, a time when his days were filled with fun, his future planned with Margaret Everard present in every facet of it.

The look in her green eyes reminded him of what he did not choose, of the pain they suffered but did not share.

“Lord Ashmore,” his companion said, snapping Cole back to what now became the future of his past.

He tore his eyes off the only woman whose very presence could make any future seem horrible because she was not in it.

“Let us resume this talk at another time,” he said. “We have passed the time necessary for a casual greeting.” Without another word, he turned his back to the young man and walked away. He stole a glance and found that Margaret was already gone.

---

Margaret hurried down the corridor while her feet would still allow it. Her heart was beating hard against her chest as though she ran the entire day.

Seconds. It had merely been seconds yet it felt like an eternity.

When she rounded into an empty corridor, she staggered to the wall and leaned against it to catch her breath. She brushed some stray strands off her face and swallowed.

She ran her damp palms down the skirts of her dress. “Master yourself, Maggie,” she murmured. “Focus and stop being pathetic.”

Pushing away from the wall, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, cleared her throat.

He blamed your brother over his sister’s demise. He nearly killed Ben. He scarred his face. He left you. There are too many reasons to hate him now.

She willed her mind to work, recounting what she had to do first.

Tori.

Of course. Tori needed her help.

---

“Tori, are you alright?” Levi asked. Margaret turned to find Tori’s face turn as pale as her hair. Mayhap she had tightened Tori’s stays too much earlier. But it was part of their plan. After Lord Chattoway forgot Tori in the maze garden earlier, it was apparent that they had to move to the next man on Levi’s list: Wittlock.

“I am sorry, but I feel I am about to faint,” Tori replied, gripping Levi’s upper arm.

Wittlock’s eyes widened with alarm, and told Tori what everyone already knew. She did not look well. Wittlock turned to Levi and added, “Perhaps she needs to—” which Margaret thought was the perfect time to interrupt by saying, “Please, get her to a room while I get her stepmother.”

She then turned to Levi, gaze filled with meaning. Her brother’s eyes narrowed, understanding her wicked plan. His eyes flew back to Tori.

“She is certainly not all right,” Wittlock said, catching Tori when she swayed.

“I will look for her stepmother,” Margaret hastily said. “Allow him to help,” she whispered to Levi. “And do not interfere.”

“I do not like this, Margaret. This is foolish,” he hissed.

“Loosen her stays and she will be alright,” Margaret said before rushing away.

She walked around the ballroom to search for Tori’s stepmother, Lady Clarice. She needed to distract the woman before Clarice could do anything to intervene with her stepdaughter’s chances. Wittlock was a very good candidate. His gaze never left Tori since her friend entered the ball earlier. Not only was he well-traveled, he was also from a good family. He was the perfect husband her friend was looking for.

“Margaret, where have you been?” her mother’s voice asked, stopping her parade with a hand.

She turned and feigned surprise. “Ah, Mother! Do forgive me. I was with Levi and Tori. Have you seen Lady Clarice?”

Her mother shook her head while Margaret’s eyes scanned the entire ballroom. Then her eyes landed on him. He was standing in the back of the crowd talking to the same young man she saw earlier. Her mother was talking about the treasure hunt that had transpired earlier in the day.

“Yes, I knew of it,” she absently answered, following Cole’s movement with her gaze.

“And I was told the treasure was never revealed?”

“Yes. Lady Gedge did not reveal it.”

“But the winner knew what it is? Rather curious, wouldn’t you say? Lady Gedge keeping a secret? History tells me it would not be for long. That woman has a certain itch in her mouth that could only be eased by gossipmongering.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure,” she absently replied.

“You are distracted, dear. Are you feeling fine?”

“Headache, Mother,” she lied, planting her fingers to her temple. “Would you excuse me? I would like to rest a while.”

The way her mother’s eyes narrowed told her Alice Everard did not believe her. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing for Tori, it better be worth it.”

She bit her lips to suppress a laugh. “Will you be fine alone?”

Lady Alice rolled her eyes. “I should be. Lady Theobald has requested for my presence.” Her mother leaned closer and whispered, “Lady Lettice has found the pianoforte in the music room. I was hoping you’d accompany me for the ear-splitting experience.”

Margaret chuckled. “I’m afraid you would have to suffer alone tonight, Mother,” she said, walking away.

“Do have a good rest—or whatever it is you children are up to!” her mother said after her.

Margaret was approaching a group of ladies she barely knew, waiting until her mother found a friend and both ladies walked out of the ballroom. Tori’s stepmother was not in sight, which was a convenience. Wherever the woman was now, she was missing Tori’s initial success. If Levi was doing his job, of course.

“Cole Devitt, yes?” one woman in the group asked as Margaret sauntered away. She paused and slowly joined the group with a smile. The other ladies were too immersed in their chat to notice her intrusion.

“Yes, I heard he transferred to Wickhurst,” another lady said under her breath as she sighed. “Why does Wickhurst have the best bachelors? They already have the Everards,” another whined, looking around the group, even at Margaret.

Margaret joined the mournful nodding of heads.

“I had a chance to dance with an Everard. It was the highlight of my first season,” one woman bragged.

“Who?”

“Benedict Everard, Lord of Devonshire.”

“He’s married now, dear.”

“Yes. It was on the Herald.”

“He’s not particularly handsome, is he? Not like the rest of his brothers?”

“My cousin swears that Benedict Everard was the best-looking Everard before his scars. And them Wickhurst people dare refer to him as the beast ! Can you believe it?”

“I’m afraid I have not seen him without the scars. How did he get them?”

“No one dares talk about it, but I heard rumors. They said it was from a fight over a woman.”

“Is he not the new head of the Men of Courts in Wickhurst?” Margaret finally asked. “Cole Devitt, I mean.”

“He is now, is he not?” said another lady, her voice dreamy. “If I should say, he is rather handsome. Not like Nicholas Everard, of course. But he has a certain charm about him. I cannot quite point it out.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” answered one lady with a giggle.

The ladies turned their heads to stare at Cole’s back, the topic of Benedict completely forgotten. “Who is that young man he is with?” she asked.

“I do not know and I do not care,” answered one of them.

“He is rather too young. Barely out of the schoolroom. Is he a younger brother?”

“Lord Ashmore, as I recall, is an only son,” Margaret found herself saying before she could stop herself.

The ladies snapped their heads at her with interest.

“You are familiar with him personally?” one wide-eyed girl asked.

“No,” she lied. “I might have read it on the Herald. He was featured weeks ago, I believe.”

“Ah, yes. It was the same article that drew my attention to him. Good of him to have given that poor woman in Wickhurst a pardon.” She turned to her friend to explain, “That same woman is Benedict Everard’s wife. Benedict, the Everard I once danced with.”

“You mean Agatha Everard?” Margaret asked.

“Yes, but she was not an Everard yet by that time, yes?”

The other ladies nodded. “They were affianced.”

“Was she not the Everard sisters’ governess?”

“I heard she was a servant before she became a governess,” another added.

Margaret slowly backed away from the group. Cole was heading out of the ballroom with the young man.

They were an unlikely pair. Why would Cole be spending time with such company?

She traced their steps and waited until they entered a room in haste, giving Margaret even more reason to reach the door. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was about. The corridor was empty; the distant noise from the ballroom the only sound. She was not going to linger for long, she thought, as she leaned her ear to the door. She just had to know who the young man was.

“Margaret!”

Margaret jumped to her feet and whirled around, heart leaping to her throat. And she was quite certain it stopped beating when she realized who was standing in front of her.

William Wakefield.

“Good heavens! You startled me,” she shakily said, catching her breath.

The handsome, blond lord laughed, his blue eyes alight with amusement. Levi’s infamous rake of a friend caught her snooping around an empty corridor. No—he caught her with her ear pressed against a door!

“I did not mean to cause you alarm, but I was meaning to enter through the very door your head has been resting on,” he said with a wide grin.

Margaret forced out a chuckle. “I was looking for Levi,” she said, “and I was not certain if I could barge inside without notice.”

“Well, of course, you could,” Wakefield said, walking over to the door, hand extended. “Whyever could you not?”

Margaret opened her mouth to stop him but it was too late. Her eyes were wide even before the door swung open.

“It is a gaming hall, see?” Wakefield said, his arm spread out to present to her the room.

Everyone in the room paused and turned their heads to stare at her, Cole Devitt and his young dark-haired companion included.

He was sitting around a card table with an old man while the young man was standing not far away, talking to someone else.

This time, however, Margaret was more overwhelmed by relief than anxiety. She may not be as prepared as she had hoped, but she was not alone. She did not meet Cole’s eyes as she composed herself and pretended to scan the room with her gaze.

She swallowed. “Well, I’m afraid my brother is not here,” she told Wakefield.

“Margaret!” A man she recognized as her late father’s friend greeted, jumping to his feet. “Come, dear. Join us for a game!” To his friends, he added, “The late Harold Everard and his wife used to play in Grey’s! Are you aware of that?”

“You mean Lady Alice?” someone asked.

“You did not hear that from me!” the man said with a laugh.

“Do join us, Margaret,” Wakefield said, his hand coming to rest under her elbow while the rest of the room waited for her to step inside. “And fret not for I am here. As my friend’s dear sister, you are safe with me. And from me,” he said with a chuckle.

Margaret was aware of Cole’s gaze, but she ignored it.

Bloody hell , she silently cursed.

As Cole was to Benedict before, Wakefield was also like a brother to Levi and she was comfortable with him, having been a witness to many of their drunken nights back when Levi was still living in Wickhurst. She smiled and squared her shoulders. “Very well,” she said, taking a step forward into the gaming hall. “But I shall not be long,” she added to Wakefield.

“Come here, child,” said her father’s old friend.

“Would you be doing the honor of making introductions, Lord Humphrey?” she braved to ask in a voice that was surprisingly not shaking, although her senses were highly aware of just one presence in the room.

Lord Humphrey laughed loudly. “Of course! Of course!”

Margaret was grateful that Wakefield did not leave her side as she walked around the room, passing by card tables and a large table where a Faro game was being held. The men had once again resumed their games, pausing only as she passed by to offer a small smile. Noise began to fill the room once again.

Lord Humphrey took her gloved hand in his and hooked it in the crook of his arm, taking her away from Wakefield. He took her from one acquaintance to another, stopping games for introductions, their names barely brushing her consciousness, most of them awed by the mere mention of the Everard name.

“The family that can rob us of our riches and still make my wife happy,” quipped one man. “You make wonderful pieces, dear.”

“I do not, my lord. I lack the talent to design jewelries like my brother.”

“Maxwell, of course. He makes the best, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“The last piece my daughter got, I had to pay with my soul!”

With a laugh, Humphrey took her away and toward the card table where Cole Devitt had been sitting. During the short journey, her heart was uncontrollable. Blood rushed to her ears and she fought for composure with each step.

As she was introduced to the old man he was playing with, Margaret could feel his gaze seeping into her skin. And as the old man took his seat and Margaret turned to face him, Cole slowly stood up.

Her eyes finally met his brown ones. His face was bare of any emotion, save for an expectant look. Where in the bloody hell was Wakefield? Had he not said he would not leave—Ah, the bastard was talking and laughing with a friend!

“And this is—” Lord Humphrey began, but Margaret decided to take the matter into her own hands. “Lord Ashmore,” she interjected with a smile. Cole’s eyebrow twitched, but nothing more, and he offered a small bow in her direction. “I know him quite well,” she added, realizing this was the closest they had been since that day she begged him to spare Benedict’s life.

“You do?” Lord Humphrey asked, surprised. Cole was the same, but he did not show it. However, his jaw tightened as they waited for her reply.

Her gaze locked with Cole’s. Or mayhap he held hers prisoner because she certainly had not yet mastered the power to do it herself. “Yes. Lord Ashmore is the new head of the Men of Courts in Wickhurst. If you must know, he visited our estate due to one big misunderstanding.”

She could not help the pang in her chest when she saw the relief in his face. Did he fear she would reveal their history?

She blinked away and smiled at Lord Humphrey. “But that’s all settled now. You must have read it on the Herald.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Cole said before Humphrey could utter a reply.

Margaret managed a curt nod without sparing him another look. “The pleasure is all mine, my lord,” she murmured, proud that she was able to smile and turn away. She did not lose control and she handled it quite well. Now, all she needed was for Humphrey to introduce her to the mysterious young man.

Her eyes searched the room and she frowned.

The young man was gone.

V. When Men Gossip

Margaret found no reason to further her stay in the gaming hall. The young man whose name she wanted to know had suddenly left without notice, sly as a thief. That, in itself, was suspicious enough.

“I cannot stay for long, my lord,” she reminded Lord Humphrey, her mind already on Tori. She should return. It might be good for her friend to be stuck in a room with Lord Wittlock, but a longer stay might attract a scandal.

“Of course, dear,” her father’s old friend said. “Spare me a few minutes, yes?”

She smiled and nodded, growing conscious by the second.

Humphrey talked more about her late father, their mining business, and the latest happenings in Wickhurst, most particularly Benedict’s recent marriage. Humphrey was careful not to talk about the tragic mining accident ten years ago. Benedict and their father were trapped in the mines for days, and emerged with just one of them alive. Their tragedies did not end that day, however. For Benedict, for Margaret, and even for Cole.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him talking to Wakefield.

She did not know how much Wakefield knew about Cole, or if Levi had bothered to share the history with the man.

Turning her attention back on Lord Humphrey, Margaret decided she’d leave in five minutes. There was nothing for her here. If he had plans, Cole would not be stupid to do it here.

---

He was itching to get away because a part of him could not stand to be in the same room as Margaret Everard.

Why was she here in the first place? Had no one ever told her that it was not proper to be the only lady in a room full of men? And to have entered with Wakefield! The man wore scandal as his second name!

Was William Hayward, the Lord of Wakefield, courting her?

“I do admit, Devitt—I can address you informally, yes?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, saying, “As I was saying—It was rather brave, if not gallant of you to decide not to pursue Lady Agatha’s case,” Wakefield was saying.

“There was no case to begin with,” he dismissively said, stealing a look at Margaret as she talked with Humphrey. She was taking off her gloves.

“I see,” Wakefield nodded. The man was too handsome for his own good, Cole thought to himself. He was a charming dandy.

Which makes him irresistible to most women , he thought.

Including Margaret Everard herself, a voice in his head added, leaving a bitter taste at the back of his throat as he swallowed the rest of his drink.

“Do you think it wise to escort Lady Margaret in this room?” he could not help but ask. He needed to know.

Wakefield’s brows rose in surprise. “Lady Margaret is no stranger to me,” the man said.

“But she is a stranger to most men here,” he gritted out.

“Ah,” Wakefield’s eyes lit with understanding. “She is old enough to decide where she wishes to be. I would not be the man to stop her.”

He cocked a brow. “Are you not?”

Wakefield’s eyes glimmered with laughter before he gave it voice and chuckled. And that chuckle turned to a fit of laughter in a matter of seconds, causing some people in the room to turn their heads, including Margaret herself. Their eyes accidentally met and he saw a hint of a small smile on her lips before she turned away. Was that intended for him?

“Surely, you must be jesting,” Wakefield said when he finally caught his breath. “I have no interest or intentions toward Margaret other than friendship,” he explained in a lower voice. “I do not dally with sisters of my friends. Remove every female Everard off the list. I would not wish to meet all Everard men—five of them—in the middle of a rocky field with a gun. My life is too precious to waste for a duel.”

Well, I have, a voice in his head spoke.

“And in addition, Margaret has no interest in marriage,” Wakefield whispered.

Cole’s eyes flew to Margaret whose back was now facing him. Her black head angled toward Humphrey as the man talked. “She doesn’t?”

“Yes,” Wakefield replied, taking a drink from a passing footman. “I’ve heard her say it twice, I believe. Her brothers, too. They think she’s too strong-willed to allow herself be shackled. But my mother told me a different story.” The man paused to sip his drink, and Cole waited with anticipation. “They say she had her heart broken. Gossip around Wickhurst says her brothers had already murdered the bastard.”

Cole stiffened.

“I heard another story that she refused to eat for nearly a month when he left. One of their maids told one of ours that she was almost without life—a living corpse, they said. Of course, merely hearsays, but it could be true as well. Her brothers would not discuss the matter. Not that I would dare ask, of course,” Wakefield added. Then he inched closer. “If the story is indeed true, one can merely wonder what that anonymous bastard had done to cause an Everard such grief. Margaret is by far the strongest of mind in a skirt I have ever encountered. It would take a monster to make her haunt her own household with her grief. I am no saint, but I would never dare hurt a woman in such brutal a manner. Whoever that fool was must be one big bloody bastard indeed.” Wakefield finished his statement with one big gulp of brandy.

Cole could not find his voice. His throat seemed to have closed up on him. His eyes were glued on Margaret, watching every tiny movement she made.

…she was almost without life—a living corpse, they said…

His jaw twitched.

“What say you, Devitt? Is there a law by the Men of Courts to hang a man who breaks a maiden’s heart?” Wakefield asked in jest.

Cole scowled, his ever-perfect composure at a breaking point.

“Ah, here she comes.” Wakefield’s words did not register fast enough in his rattled brain, and it was too late to walk away. Margaret had already reached them, her eyes not directly looking at him but at Wakefield.

“William, I assume you are staying?” she asked.

It was the first time Cole had noticed that her voice had changed over the years. He had always loved the cheerfulness in her tone in the past, but now it was nothing but direct and stern, almost cold.

“Of course, but I would escort you back to the ball should you wish to leave now.” Cole vaguely heard Wakefield’s reply. He was lost in her gaze even when they were not directed at him. Her eyes looked distant. The glimmer that had once always resided in them was gone.

Bastard, he said to himself. Did he think Margaret would have simply accepted what he did those years ago and went back to spending her time in the gardens with her books like she used to? Did he really believe it when he thought she would simply join the next season and find another man? Did he truly think he was the only one who changed through the years? That his was the only suffering?

“There is no need,” Margaret said to Wakefield. Then she faced him, shoulders squared, a smile that did not reach her eyes pasted on her lips. “I would like Lord Ashmore to do the honor.”

Cole almost sputtered. He blinked a few times as his brain processed what she just said. Margaret’s beautiful face assessed him, looking expectant. He was no longer staring at a young, mischievous, and naïve Everard. He was facing a woman who knew pain and grief, and survived alone.

“I believe the lady has asked you to escort her to the ball, Devitt,” Wakefield said the words his mind was denying him.

Cole cleared his throat. He turned his head to stare at the old man he had been playing cards with moments before Wakefield interrupted them. Unfortunately, he was snoring in his seat.

“Why, my lord?” Margaret asked, voice teasing and taunting at the same time, “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

His brows cocked high. “Afraid?”

“Afraid?” Wakefield, the ignorant fool, repeated his question.

Margaret’s lips curved into a secretive smile; eyes still locked with his brown ones. “Lord Ashmore may still believe that I do harbor… resentments,” she said, stealing Wakefield a look before jumping back into his eyes. “Because of our history, of course” she added. “Or mayhap, my lord, you have regrets?” she added with a taunting laugh.

Wakefield sputtered in his drink. He turned to face Cole, eyes wide with realization and disbelief. “Heavens smite me now!”

Cole’s jaw tightened, his gaze in a battle with Margaret’s. Before he could give Wakefield a reply, or warn the bastard to mind his own bloody business, Margaret chuckled and her hands flew to grab his arm. In a single step she managed to stand beside him, her hand at the crook of his arm. “I was merely jesting, my lord,” she said, giving his chest a tiny pat with the hand that had been holding her gloves before she turned to Wakefield. “It does not become your handsome face to look so outraged, William. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Cole did not wait for Margaret to lead him toward the door. He did so himself, stiffly and with cold determination. She waved at the other gentlemen in the room, including the horrified and shocked Wakefield, until they finally exited the door into the corridor.

With no witnesses in sight, Cole stopped and ripped her hand off his arm. He took two hasty steps away from her before he faced her. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Margaret’s smile did not waver. Gloves in hand, she looked magnificent in the middle of the corridor. No, she looked regal in that red gown. Her black hair was expertly done, ringlets falling on one side of her face. For a moment he envied those strands as they brushed against her skin.

“I was merely teasing,” she said with a wave of her hand, a gesture he knew too well, as much as he was familiar with how she would brush her hair off her face if it was down. She frowned at him. “Did I take you away from someone? Please, forgive me. You must have come where with company.”

Ignoring her statement, he turned on his heels. “I should lead you back to the ball.”

He walked and she followed, walking beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He remained silent because he could hardly control his own breathing. They were nearing the entrance to the ballroom. He could breathe again then, he thought. He hastened his steps.

“I should not to have irked you so. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying it,” he snapped. When he realized his tone, he stopped walking to collect himself, and she did the same, the two of them standing outside the threshold of the ballroom. The music and chatters from inside were not helping to appease the chaos inside him.

Cole briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he turned his head to the side to look down at her. She did not look as offended at his outburst as he had imagined.

She just looks painfully beautiful.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Do not ever say you’re sorry,” he said, stepping away. “Not to me, Meg.” Her emerald eyes flew to his, and for the first time he saw the vulnerability in their depths.

Cole tore his eyes off her and stepped into ballroom, leaving her alone outside the doorway.

---

Margaret could not sleep. She lay in her bed, thinking of Cole Devitt.

She praised herself for such great display earlier.

Her heart had not calmed down until she found Levi and Tori. And now, she could not erase the look on his face before he left her in the entrance of the ballroom.

He called her Meg.

Who would have thought that hearing it from his lips could cause her heart to twist and clench, destroy itself, only to struggle to beat again?

She shook the sound of his voice from her thoughts and rolled to her side to stare at the gold brooch in her hand. For a moment she wondered if he’d ever notice it was missing; and if he did, he’d remember her hand tapping his chest earlier.

The bird with its widespread wings glinted against the faint light from the windows. The exact same one had been found under Osmond Trilby’s bed.

“Did you do it?” she whispered in the darkness.

---

Cole was making his way to one of the breakfast rooms when his mother stopped him in the middle of the corridor. His valet had just informed him that he had lost a brooch, but he cared little about it. After drinking himself to oblivion last night, the bloody thing could have fallen off somewhere. And since waking up with the worst headache, he was ready to leave this place and return to Wickhurst.

“Where have you been?” Ida Devitt demanded.

“My bedchamber,” he replied. He made a move to walk away but his mother stopped him by his arm.

“I saw you talking to that woman last night outside the ballroom,” she said under her breath, her voice cold and reprimanding. “Have you forgotten?” she asked before Cole could brush the topic off. “Her brother killed your sister.”

Cole’s jaw went tight. “How could I forget, Mother? You never cease to remind me.”

Her hand tightened around his arm. “You dally with the sister of the man who not only took Leah from us, but my grandchild as well. I have to remind you every chance I can because you seem to constantly forget.” Stepping closer, hand shaking, she added, “You wanted to kill Benedict Everard in that duel, but you didn’t because of her, did you? She begged you and you forgot to fight for your sister’s honor.”

He gently pulled free from his mother’s grip and righted his sleeve. “I did not kill Everard because of her.” He stared into his mother’s brown eyes and wondered how long she would keep up with the act of a victim. “I did not because I could not.”

“You are as weak as your father,” she hissed.

“Perhaps.”

Her mother scoffed and stepped away. “You believed their wretched story just like he did. Believed that Benedict Everard planned to propose to her but was stuck in that mine.”

“They had their father’s corpse to prove the fact,” he said through his teeth.

“We lost my daughter—your sister. We lost her child!” she hissed.

“And they lost their father!” His voice rose, the strain of his current dilemma and the encounter with Margaret last night adding to this moment.

His mother shook her head. “I’m glad I stopped you from going back to her when you saddled your horses merely a day after returning from that duel. They’ve poisoned your mind. She had bewitched you like that governess of theirs did to that beast, Benedict. I saved you from your own foolishness. Should I have not begged you to stay, they would have already ruined your life.” Ida Devitt haughtily lifted her chin. “You have me to save you from your foolishness even until now. I forbid you to go near that woman.”

He could have said more, but this was not the place or time for a confrontation. Instead, he just smiled. “Are you done?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Did you hear me? I forbid you to be near the Everards.”

“I heard you quite perfectly.” He started to walk away and paused. “I do not ever wish to discuss this matter ever again. It is getting rather old and tedious. Should you raise the topic one more time, I’d make my way to Margaret Everard and haul her to Tiny Town,” he said over his shoulder.

“You dare!”

“I dare, Mother.” He took one step and paused once again. “Do not worry about Margaret Everard. I would dare not subject the poor woman to another suffering. And do not,” he said, turning to face his mother, eyes boring into hers, “go near her. Spare her of us as you have spared me of them.”

She scoffed and glared as if she no longer recognized him. And he felt the same. In the past two years, he was no longer certain if he knew her at all.

Ida Devitt knew why Leah died. Or how she died. And for that, Cole could never forgive her.

VI. A Leaguerly Probing

“Why are you breathless?” asked the gentleman to his friend who just rushed in.

“I sighted her walking toward the pond,” said the friend. “Perhaps I should pursue?”

“Well, do catch your breath first, Luther,” the other said with a laugh.

Cole did not wish to hear, but the two gentlemen were in the next gaming table.

“Say, my friend,” said breathless man as he settled in an empty chair, “It was rather disappointing of Humphrey to have deprived us of her company last night.”

Cole immediately became alert as the conversation progressed. So did Wakefield, who was sitting across the same gaming table.

“I had been meaning to enjoy her company since she strode into the room in that red gown, I tell you.”

The statement was met with a chuckle. “You and every man in the room, Luther.” A pause followed. “Well, save Humphrey and old Warren—the man was snoring in his seat right after they were introduced!”

Just as when Cole thought that it was merely a casual talk among two friends, that the topic was finally coming to a pass, the man named Luther said, “I heard she has no intentions to marry.”

Cole threw Wakefield a sharp look, but Wakefield shook his head just as the other man replied, “I heard the same from my mother.”

“Do you reckon she entertains lovers? I would not hesitate to be on the list if she has any.”

“And I would not hesitate to share should you be generous enough.”

Cole’s jaw tightened and the two gentlemen snapped their head in surprise when he intentionally slammed his glass of brandy on the table, making Wakefield flinch. “My apologies,” he said in a cold, flat voice.

They tore their eyes from him and Luther stood up.

“Where are you going?” the friend asked.

Luther snickered. “The pond. I heard it is rather a nice day for a walk.”

His friend snorted. “Walk, you arse. The Town deprives us of any day, good or bad.”

“Well, then I’m glad there will be no rain to ruin it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“She has five brothers.”

“They’re not here, are they?” Luther righted his clothes, undeterred. “By the by, wish me luck,” he added before he turned away to leave.

Cole’s eyes followed Luther to the door. And then he looked at Wakefield. “Are you not going to do anything?”

But the man merely shrugged. “I’m quite certain Margaret knows how to take care of herself.”

“She’s the sister of your friends.”

Wakefield sighed. “Luther is a gentleman. The most he would do is flirt with her. I don’t know why you’re too concerned.” And then he paused, remembering something. “Ah, yes. I forgot. History and all.”

Glaring, Cole pushed his chair back.

“Where are you going?”

“Save my seat,” he said before he stood and walked out the gaming room to find Luther. He cursed under his breath when he saw him already at the end of the corridor. The man was walking fast, his steps filled with intent.

Cole briskly followed, even considered sprinting, when his prey reached the side entrance of the estate and walked out.

“Lord Luther,” he called out as the man was exiting the estate.

A frown crossed Luther’s face as he threw Cole a look, but his steps did not slow down. “Yes?”

“I’m afraid we have not been introduced,” Cole said in the most neutral tone he could muster, one he often used in the courts.

“Surely there is a much better time,” the man replied, turning to the right to enter the garden.

“But it is the perfect time,” Cole said, finally reaching the man’s side. Luther was taller, but the man was a dandy and would not last a minute in a fistfight. “I could not help but overhear your conversation earlier concerning Lady Margaret. With that, I believe I must introduce myself.”

The man finally skidded to a stop in the middle of the garden. Luther narrowed his eyes at him, obviously irked by the inconvenience.

Cole held out his hand. “Cole Devitt of Ashmore, head of the Men of Courts in Wickhurst.”

Luther’s brows cocked high and merely stared at his hand. “I see why you think you have the right to interfere with my very innocent plans, Lord Ashmore, but do know I do not welcome it, nor do I care.”

The man started to proceed but Cole said through gritted teeth, “She is under my care as a friend of the Everards, Lord Luther. Her brothers would not appreciate it should they hear about your intentions, or your unconventional way of pursuit.”

That stopped Luther and despite what he told his friend moments ago, it was apparent that the male Everards caused him concern.

Luther’s eye twitched. Composing himself, he pulled off a tight smile. “You are quite right. What was I thinking?” Luther looked over his shoulder to where the entrance to the pond was. “Perhaps I should start by asking for a dance tonight. Good day.” His shoulder brushed against Cole’s rather too roughly as he retraced his steps back to the manor.

Cole shook his head and cursed himself.

What in the bloody hell was he doing?

Placing his hands on his hips, he glared at the ground and started to turn to make sure Luther returned to the gaming room.

But he did what he knew was a mistake and veered to the direction of the pond.

---

“There must be an explanation,” Margaret muttered to herself as she paced in front of the manmade pond not far from the garden. A hole was located directly above it and faint sunlight showered down the center of the water. “Did he leave the party?”

She placed one hand on her hip, tapping her fingers.

“And why would he disappear from the gaming hall?”

She paused, turned on her heels and retraced her steps, frowning at the ground.

“He did not wish to be introduced,” she concluded. “Why?”

No answer came.

Margaret paused and a growl escaped her throat at the same time her head fell back in frustration.

She must find that young man. He looked too young to be in this party without company.

“He must have arrived with someone.” She turned and paced once more. And then she paused, considering her thoughts. Should she search Cole’s chambers?

She shook her head.

“No. Absurd. He’s not stupid to bring something incriminating.”

Margaret ran her palms over her face and sighed. Was it too late to ask her mentor for a different assignment? A personal history with the subject should be enough reason to be dismissed from this mission.

“Ah, bloody hell, Calan,” she groaned. “Why me?”

---

He might not hear what she was saying, but he knew she was frustrated.

The sight of Margaret Everard having a monologue transported him back to the day they first met. He did not know then that she was related to his then friend Benedict Everard. Although he had spent most of his summers and school days with Benedict, he never had the chance to meet Margaret Everard until she was eighteen.

Similar to what was happening now, he spotted her by chance in a garden, berating herself for stepping on her dance partner’s foot far too often during a dance.

She had been surprised when he could no longer help himself and stepped out from his hiding place to say, “Mayhap you need a good instructor, my lady.”

That was the start of their courtship. With those words, Cole was able to capture Margaret Everard’s heart. And when she brushed off propriety and asked if he was offering her a lesson in the middle of the garden, he knew he had to.

“Of course. We would not wish for more gentlemen to limp their way home, do we now?” he had said and for the first time heard her laugh. And he knew then he wanted more of that laughter.

The events of the past quickly disappeared as the present Margaret, clad in her light blue gown, turned and spotted him standing not far away.

Certain now that he had been caught, Cole had two choices: retreat or pretend.

He decided on the latter. His feet moved and took him to where she was standing, her face that of surprise and confusion.

“Were you seeking me out, my lord?” she asked.

He fought the urge to smile. Typical Margaret Everard to ask a direct question. But gone was the innocent and eager curiosity in her eyes. It was replaced by something else, something plain inquisitive and taunting.

“No,” he replied, eyes on the pond. Why in tarnation was he here?

“Well,” she said, walking closer to him. “I was here first.”

“And I reckon you do not wish to remove yourself from here merely because I wish to see the pond.”

She chuckled, but it lacked the soul that had once filled it. “Are you not going to ask why I’m here?”

His clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself standing straight. “I came to appreciate the view. There is nothing more I wish to do—or know.”

“I was plotting something.” Her voice was meant to provoke him. “But I cannot tell you.”

“Fair enough.” For all he knew she came here to vent out her frustrations over her brother or maybe even him.

And before he knew it, Margaret was standing before him, peering at him with a frown. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. Cole stepped back, surprised.

“Have you been drinking? In the middle of the day?”

“I was in one of the gaming rooms,” was his short reply. He stepped to the side but she followed.

“Why will you not look at me, Cole?”

Cole. Just Cole.

It was nearly his undoing, but he forced himself to lower his gaze to meet hers. “I am now.”

Bloody hell, she was beautiful.

Her smile did not reach her eyes. “I am glad we can talk now. Like old friends.”

He did not answer. He was not glad at all. Did she think he enjoyed the pain?

“Why have you never married?” The words escaped his lips before his brain filtered the words. “You ought to be married by now with children of your own instead of sniffing old friends .”

Surprise registered in her face but she quickly recovered. With a wave of her hand, she nonchalantly said, “Oh, you know why.”

She turned to face the pond, standing beside him. He dissected her answer and could only come up with one interpretation.

I hurt you, he wanted to say.

He prepared himself to leave. This shall be their last encounter, he promised himself. Whoever would express any desire to court or seduce her in the future should no longer concern him.

“I would like to offer you friendship.” It was the last thing he wanted to hear.

“No,” he quickly replied.

“Would you not wish to think about it first?” she suggested in a jesting tone.

“You are the last person I would want to be friends with, Meg.” He silently cursed in frustration for using that name again. “People who suffered the same fate as us are better off as strangers.” He stepped back and gave her a bow. “Good day, my lady.”

He turned to walk back to the manor, daring not to look at her.

“Was it easy?” she asked behind him.

His feet froze. Without turning to face her he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Forgetting. Was it easy?”

Something twisted in his chest and he could barely breathe. He finally turned and braved to face her. His brown eyes searched hers. “Was it for you?”

She put up her bravest smile and answered, “That’s why I wish to be friends. It was very surprisingly easy.”

Slowly nodding, he tried to smile and failed. “Then my answer is the same. Have a good day, my lady.”

He walked away knowing they both knew the other was lying.

---

Margaret nagged herself for how she handled the encounter.

Whatever she was doing, she should stop. She was a Leaguer. Calan Haverston had not recruited and trained her to waste her time mending a broken heart.

She had committed herself to the duties for the Town. The Prime Minister was murdered. Her history with Cole Devitt, or what was left of it, was entirely out of the picture.

Reminding herself of Calan Haverston’s instructions, she focused her attention on finding the younger gentleman she saw hanging around him. But it was a challenge with a manor this size, with its hundreds of rooms and guests.

Yet Margaret knew there was somewhere everyone always had to go to—luncheon.

There were three halls the Theobalds had transformed into dining rooms for their grand weekend party. Margaret scanned each before her brother and mother arrived to take their fill. Tori was still with her stepmother and had said that Lord Wittlock was escorting her later, a progress to their plans.

She was on her way to the third dining hall when she spotted the young black-haired man. The lad was about to enter the hall and Margaret scurried after him and feigned a trip and crashed against him.

“My apologies!” she said, eyes wide in mock surprise and horror. “It was very clumsy of me,” she said.

The young man looked paler in close proximity, his face vaguely familiar, but not really.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked in a schooled manner.

She nodded and narrowed her eyes at him. “You look quite familiar. Were you not in the gaming hall last night? I know I saw you.” He blinked away in alarm. “Oh, fret not. I shall not tell your guardian. I have five brothers who sneaked into such rooms when they were younger—younger than you, even.” She followed her statement with a laugh, one the lad did not bother to return. “We did not have the opportunity to be introduced,” she said. “I’m Lady Margaret Everard.”

The young man was clearly struggling. It was apparent he wished his name to remain unknown. And she knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if he should lie or tell her the truth. The truth might raise questions, but if he lied, he’d merely draw more attention to himself and Margaret did not take the young man as someone stupid.

And she was right. She saw truth in his eyes before he spoke. And she heard in his voice that he’d rather say another name than the one he spoke. “Edmund Trilby,” he murmured.

VII. Departure

A Trilby.

Edmund Trilby did not only share the same name as Osmond Trilby, but he had been spending quite a good amount of time with the man suspected of his murder as well. It was too much of a coincidence.

By mid-afternoon, Margaret found herself sitting on a bench not far away from Tori and Wittlock, still utterly confused of the murder case and the sudden appearance of another Trilby.

She had thought—and mayhap the League believed so as well—that Osmond Trilby’s death was a political one. After all, the suspect was a head of the Men of Courts. Yet Edmund Trilby was too young to be associated with anything political, leading Margaret to believe that the cause of the murder could very well be close at home.

This might turn out to be a challenging case, considering the family Osmond Trilby belonged to.

She knew of the Trilbys. They were among the families who went down to build the Town centuries past, making them one of the oldest and influential families. Townspeople considered them still to be powerful, despite being rather odd. They very rarely engaged in social affairs, selecting only the most extravagant of balls to attend to. They hid their children until they were old and capable enough, probably to keep them safe. Their preference led even the richest gentries to believe that the Trilbys thought themselves too high in society to mingle with just anyone. They kept to themselves and any surrounding scandals were hushed.

Dark and mysterious gossips had been whispered about them, but none was proven to be true thus far. There were whispers of dungeons where they punished their servants—and even their own; stories of changing their names so they could spread their influence and power. There were even ghost stories to scare the children. Such stories were still told with enthusiasm and no one cared whether they may be true or not. The Trilbys were the epitome of a good scary story. The most recent one was, of course, the one that involved Belinda Carrington and her sister, Julia.

Belinda had been banished out of Willowfair many years ago after a big scandal here in Theobald. Julia went on to marry Noah Trilby, elevating the Carrington family status in society. But a few years ago, Belinda escaped from where she was banished and returned to Willowfair. Things went insane from there and the varied stories were a little confusing. To this day, it was unclear what truly happened. Even Calan Haverston, her mentor, whose brother eventually married Belinda, could not say much about the matter. Margaret only knew enough because Belinda, after the horrors that happened to her, worked for the Everards as the twins’ governess. And all she was willing to say during her short time with them, before McKenzie Haverston came and swept her off her feet, was that Julia killed their mother and tried to do the same to her. Her sister was pregnant when the Guards captured her, and was persecuted after giving birth.

The Town was not nearly as curious as to why Julia wanted Belinda dead as they were to what happened to Julia’s child after she was hanged. The Trilbys never made any attempt to explain themselves, nor did Noah Trilby.

Margaret was aware that Belinda tried to gain custody of the child after she married McKenzie Haverston. And it was in vain. Not a soul had seen the child. The Trilbys had kept it to themselves like how they did with most of their personal lives. Their ghosts and demons, their ugly truths.

She wondered now how many secrets the Trilbys hide. How many children could they be hiding? What was Edmund Trilby’s relationship to the Prime Minster? And how did he know Cole Devitt?

She knew little of Osmond Trilby. He was brought to power simply because of his name, that’s for certain. He was a widower. Noah Trilby was his younger brother.

Margaret sighed. She should look more into the Trilbys.

---

“Margaret Everard asked for my name,” Edmund Trilby informed him, face even paler than it usually was. “I thought it wise to provide the truth.”

Cole’s jaw tightened and he looked around the empty corridor.

“I already compromised many things for you, my lord,” Edmund said when Cole did not reply. “You should keep your promise.”

“Any sacrifice you make would also reflect upon me,” he said. “Was it not you who brought me into this mess?”

“What I brought you is aid to your cause. It was you who brought yourself into this mess,” the young man said. “With or without my help, you are still a suspect to the murder.”

“Keep your voice down,” he snapped. “Go home,” he said to Edmund. “No one could see us together again. The last thing I would want is a nosy witness.”

“But—”

“You delivered what you wanted to say in private. Be loyal to our plans and I shall keep my promise.”

Edmund looked at him with uncertainty. “Can I trust you?”

“Yes.”

“I do not wish for another death, my lord.”

“None shall happen if you do what I say and go back to Willowfair.”

Edmund gave a curt nod. “Be wary. The League has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“They are the least of our concern.”

“But they can be a hindrance to your cause.”

He walked past Edmund Trilby and stopped, a frown on his face. “Why did Margaret Everard ask for your name?”

Edmund shook his head. “I don’t know, but I believe she deliberately sought me out.”

Cole’s jaw tightened.

“You must not forget what I told you. They have placed someone to watch your every move.”

Nodding, Cole muttered, “Thank you for the caution, but I know what I’m doing. And you being here is only causing us both harm. Go home, Edmund. I mean it.”

Cole swiftly strode away. He had to be careful from now on. He was the League’s leading suspect to the murder and they had every reason to believe so.

---

Mayhap she had been thinking too much of Cole Devitt that fate had led him to find her in the garden on the day the guests were departing the Theobald estate. Or mayhap he had been seeking her out, she thought as he strode through the garden, his steps purposeful.

Forcing a smile on her lips, Margaret watched his flat, unreadable face.

He had always had a mysterious side, one of the many things that drew her to him. But it was not the same as the empty look she was seeing now. The first night they met in that ball while she was eighteen and he was six-and-twenty, Cole Devitt’s eyes were filled with naught but mischievousness and wonder. His lips curved into a secretive smile and he easily laughed.

Their courtship started that night when she asked if he intended to teach her to dance. It took three days for them to discover that he was Benedict’s best friend. Her brother was never one to talk about his friends, particularly in the presence of Margaret and the much younger Ysabella and Emma.

“Would you ever tell me your name?” he had asked her that night, his eyes looking into hers as though he was studying a rare piece of gem.

“I’m not one to give away my identity to anyone so easily,” had been her reply.

“How do I address you then?”

Her eyes had been filled with mischief as she answered, “Meg. Call me Meg.”

Before her mind wandered to the day Benedict had discovered them three days after that night, Margaret met the eyes of the present man that won over the Cole Devitt she knew and loved. Her eyes locked with his just as easily as years before.

He was adamant to put a good distance between them. Why did he seek her out now? For Margaret, it meant only one thing: he knew she sought out Edmund Trilby and his relationship with the man was too important that he was willing to confront her, or at least coax the truth from her.

“For someone who does not wish to be friends, you seek me out too often,” she said in the best teasing tone she could muster.

She could hear the thudding of her pulse as he shortened the distance between them. Hearing her words, his face began to soften. An act? She wondered.

He stopped at a good distance, eyes seeking hers. For a moment Margaret recognized the look. He had used it on her many times in the past when he suspected she was lying or hiding something. And many times, she never knew if he knew the truth—if he ever knew she was lying when she claimed she had countless suitors when they met, or when she lied about having been kissed before him. And in the many times she had tried to trick him or lead him to believe something otherwise, he had the same look in his eyes as he had now. And she never knew to this day how many of her little lies he caught and ignored.

“Mayhap I was merely seeking out someone else,” he said, tearing his eyes off hers to look about the garden. “Perhaps you have seen him ?” he asked, giving emphasis on the last word.

Feigning confusion, Margaret asked, “Whoever do you mean, my lord?”

His gaze hovered over her and like many times in the past, she couldn’t read his mind.

“Hm,” was all the sound he made.

“Do you intend to find this friend of yours?”

“No. He must have already gone home,” he replied.

He started to bow but Margaret grasped his arm and pulled herself closer to him. She had clearly caught him off guard. “If that is so, mayhap you could join me for a walk.”

Her mind was telling her to let him go, to allow him to leave, but she reasoned she should dig deeper.

This is stupid, Maggie, said her rational brain.

Just this moment, another part begged.

And while her inner self battled against itself, Margaret heard Cole say, “Margaret, please—”

She smiled. “Just a walk in the garden,” she said, taking a step forward. But he remained stiff as a rock.

Having had enough of the pretense, she dropped her hands to her sides and sighed. “Very well,” she murmured, looking around.

“Why are you here alone?” he said, his tone serious as though he was talking to one of his subjects.

Margaret lifted one shoulder. “Levi and mother saw Tori and her stepmother off and I do not wish to be there.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m rather irked at how this party ended for my friend, you see. And I needed more time to think.”

“Think?” he asked.

“How to help Tori land a husband, of course. She needs my help, and as a friend, I’m obliged to help her find a husband who would suit her and not her stepmother’s needs.”

He was silent for some time before he finally asked, “Why are you determined to find Lady Victoria a husband when you ought to focus on finding one yourself?”

“Ah, there we go again about my marriage plans,” she said in jest. But as he opened his mouth to defend himself, she hurriedly provided an answer. “I had long given up.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he expertly managed to conceal it. “So, you came to the garden to think about Lady Victoria’s problem and how to solve it.”

“Yes. Tori needs time to deal with her disappointment.”

“I cannot fathom why she would be disappointed. She seemed to have been spending quality time with Lord Wittlock.”

Margaret was surprised that he noticed Tori’s activities. “She proposed to Wittlock in desperation yesterday and he vehemently said no.”

For a moment, his passive demeanor broke as his brows arched in surprise. “Rather bold of her.”

“You do not know what a desperate woman could do, my lord,” she retorted. “And Wittlock thinks everyone is a nancy, including me.”

His eyes widened a tiny bit in surprise. “You? How did you find out he thinks of you that way?”

“Oh, I do have keen ears.” Margaret did not mention she could read lips and she had read it in Wittlock’s when the man told Tori what he thought of the Everards. Margaret turned her head to the direction of the manor. “I’m afraid it’s time to leave.”

Cole nodded and stepped aside.

“Good day, my lord,” she said with a smile. “If I should pick one pleasant thing during this weekend, it must be meeting you again. It has been a long time.”

He simply kept silent and belatedly nodded when she waited.

“I shall be seeing you around Wickhurst then,” she said as goodbye, whirling around to leave.

She thought she heard him say, “I’d rather not,” but decided to ignore it.

They would be seeing more of each other back in Wickhurst. And there, she would be on top of her game.

VIII. The Lost Girl

Coming back to Wickhurst meant confronting more work.

And the twins.

“Well? How did it go?” asked Ysabella as she sashayed into Margaret’s room with Emma in tow.

Margaret stared at her sisters. They were both eighteen, the same age as her when she thought the world was wonderful. Their faces glimmered with the same light as hers when she and Tori spent their time with naught but ideas of love and balls.

“Do you mean the Theobald party?”

“No, we meant Tori and Levi.”

Margaret narrowed her eyes at them. “There is no Tori and Levi, sisters. There is just you, little devils, planning and playing games on people. Do not make Tori and Levi your next victims. I’m warning you. Tori does not need games. She needs a husband.”

“Oh, very well,” Emma said with a sigh, walking out the door, followed by Ysabella.

“I told you she’d say that. Maggie is the most predictable, isn’t she?” Margaret heard Ysabella say to Emma.

Shaking her head, Margaret locked her bedchamber and proceeded to the connecting door that led to her private study and went straight to work.

Picking up her pen, she dipped it in the inkwell and began composing a report to Calan Haverston. She told him about Edmund Trilby and his curious connection to Cole Devitt.

After the report, she began her own inquiries.

If it would not be against the instructions of the League, I would like to request a few more details about Osmond Trilby. Any information on his connection with Edmund Trilby would be much appreciated.

-M

Once done, Margaret called for the butler, Jefferson, the only person she entrusted her letters to all these years.

There was no time to rest for her, she thought, as she watched Jefferson leave. Tori was in dire need of help. And there was Cole Devitt walking about Wickhurst, doing whatever it was he was doing and she wondered how she could spy on him without getting caught. He knew her more than any of the others she spied on before, which could be a problem. As the twins said, she was predictable.

But she wasn’t. Ysabella only said that because she didn’t know what Margaret really did.

“Or what I’m capable of,” she said with a smile.

---

Wickhurst and many other affluent places in the Town relied heavily on the service people. Lords and ladies could barely live a day without a maid to dress them, change their linens, pour hot water into their tubs, fix their hair, serve their food—among many others.

For most of these servants, their entire day was spent working. If they were lucky to have landed into a good-natured home, they could obtain a few weeks of vacation to spend with families and friends.

But, sadly, not all could be considered lucky. Some had spent years—even their entire lives—in the service of their masters and mistresses. Most never married and those who were could barely keep their families together.

The service people could very well outnumber their masters, but they were still amongst the poorest of the population.

But they were paid still, their masters would argue. They were given roofs over their heads and food to nourish their body. The few townsends they earned were not the only things they got from their masters and they were not considered as slaves, the gentries would say.

True enough, after some lawmakers fought for the rights of servants, it had become a law that all servants should be paid fair amount for their services. Slavery was abolished.

Yet there were still those who managed to gain profit by selling slaves to areas of the Town where law was overlooked. Women and children disappeared in their villages and were never found. Many argued they had been banished to other parts of the Town, but no one bothered to take the disappearances seriously because they were not important enough to warrant attention. They were not worth a townsend. Why would the Town waste time and money to find them when it was already apparent that they willingly left their villages and sought better chances elsewhere?

For years, Cole Devitt had thought the same. They’ve had servants in Ashmore disappearing, eloping with lovers, or taking another post in another household.

But that was before he learned the other side of the truth. Five years ago, he found evidence of cases that should have been given attention but were never given a chance. Such cases had uniform claims: illegal slave trade.

But they were cases filed by servants—relatives of the people who disappeared and who had reached out for help. But servants were rarely given voice even in an institution such as the Men of Courts, whose very purpose was to be fair to all .

As Cole dug into the cases, he found more disturbing statements and proof. And two years ago, he stumbled upon the most incriminating evidence in the last place he could have imagined: his own home.

He trusted no one from then on, never told a soul about his secret investigation.

Yet he still got caught.

The product of his investigation landed him in Wickhurst. Someone got word of his interest in the illegal slave trade and was powerful enough to displace him from his previous post in Dartridge. And with his authority there no longer recognized, he had to leave nearly everything he gathered behind, including witnesses.

Wickhurst was an affluent town and slavery was not a common practice, if not absent. Law was practiced and imposed here. Whoever was responsible for putting him here knew he would not find anything significant.

He ought to be out there where the trade was active, he would often think to himself whenever he was in the privacy of his chambers.

He sat in his chair, buried behind a pile of old records he ordered be taken to his chambers for him to study and review. They were trying to bury him with new cases, including the one that concerned Agatha Blair, the former governess of the Everards and now the wife of his former friend, Benedict.

Powerful people forwarded Blair’s case to the Higher Court and obtained an order for her arrest. He merely received the order for the arrest on the same day they were to take Blair to prison. Had he known, the poor woman would not have had to see or smell the stench of the cells. It was nothing but a social prosecution without basis of the truth. Witchcraft was a thing of the past.

Agatha Blair had been lucky to have had the Everards to support her. They were able to clear her name without a trial and Cole was merely happy to give it rest. He had more cases of much import to study than witchcraft.

People were disappearing from villages every day and no one cared. He could not stay still when the voice of the minority was silenced by those who were in power. Cole would not rest until those responsible stood before him in court. Many had lost their lives because of the greed of the few. Some were the victims themselves; others were just innocent people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Just like Leah.

---

Days after they returned from Theobald, they attended the Archibald Ball in Wickhurst. And since then, Margaret started to question Levi’s true motives. Her brother had the gall to cheat at a Faro game to sabotage Tori’s chances with Lord Archibald, another man on the list of prospects, the same list he made for Tori.

Margaret did not suffer that ball and that horrible game for nothing! Tori did not swallow her pride and allowed her company be the prize to the winner of the game. And her dratted brother cheated—and won! And got caught! A drama ensued between Levi, Archibald, and Tori. And also, between Levi and Margaret.

And now, merely days after the said ball, Tori sent a missive for help. Her stepmother had locked her inside her bedchamber with every intention to marry her off to Lucas Rowe.

Pacing around her bedchamber, holding Tori’s missive in one hand, Margaret devised a plan. Tori would have to disappear for a while. And while her friend was gone and away from her stepmother’s control, Margaret had to do all the work and convince Lord Archibald that Tori would be the perfect wife. But she could not go with Tori. She had to stay in Wickhurst for her assignment.

Margaret groaned. She would need Levi’s help after all and she must end their silent war. And if they had to take Tori out of Wickhurst, she would need a companion. Her mother would not agree to her plan. Ysabella and Emma would not go without the other.

She groaned. The twins both had to go. But the two young ladies did not like Levi’s Standbury estate, where Margaret planned to hide Tori.

She cursed under her breath. She had to use one of the promises she had secured from the twins to make her plan work.

Setting aside Tori’s missive, she picked the one that came in moments ago.

M,

Need to talk in person. Be in Willowfair.

-C

Margaret sighed as she stared at the ball invitation that came with the missive. Calan Haverston rarely requested to meet in person, but whenever he did, it was undeniably serious.

---

I’m back in Willowfair. Be wary of her. She is very wise.

Cole crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire. He hoped not to hear more from Edmund Trilby, but he could understand why the young man would keep on sending him the useless missives.

Paranoia was not healthy, but so was not having anyone to share it with.

Turning around, he saw the pile on his desk and for a brief moment he wished he was somewhere else. Or sometime else.

Odd, really, that he could not erase a specific event from the past in his mind since that morning—the day Benedict Everard caught him and Margaret kissing in the garden. It had been her first kiss despite her insistence that she had had enough practice. He was able to tell, yet he never told her so.

Benedict’s shocked and angry face was still fresh in his mind. Margaret had claimed that she did not know he was friends with her brother, and to this day, Cole was not certain whether she lied. But it was one of the things he liked about Margaret Everard. She was no easy woman to read. She had always been a good kind of mystery.

But the same thing was confusing him now. He had hoped to discover why she sought out Edmund Trilby in the Theobald Ball, but all he got was an innocent smile. Was it truly an innocent one, or was she pulling off one of her tricks? Had she gotten better over the years?

He let his head fall back and sighed. One could never know with Margaret Everard.

---

Their mother’s departure for Devonshire to visit Benedict and Agatha was perfect for their plan.

The twins were hesitant at first, but when Margaret informed them both of the details of the plan, they immediately agreed. Margaret had to remind them that Levi and Tori were not to be subjects of their matchmaking games.

“I cannot go with you, but do drive to Ralph’s residence in Dosett where Levi is,” she ordered the twins before they departed. “He would know what to do.”

“But what if he does not wish to come?” asked Emma.

“He shall come,” Margaret said.

“Can you not come with us? You might convince him to—”

“No, I cannot, sisters,” Margaret said in haste. “I have more preparations to do. Once Tori is out of Wickhurst, her stepmother would make a move and I should stop her or slow her down. Do you understand?”

Both ladies nodded.

“Just go to Dosett, get Levi, and rescue Tori.”

“What should we do if we’re caught? Lie?” asked Ysabella.

“You always lie.” She waved her hand and said, “Now, please. Go. Tori does not have much time. And do be careful. No games!”

Ysabella and Emma grinned. “Yes, of course!”

Margaret waited until her sisters climbed into the carriage before she turned to the footman. “Do not take them out of your sight until you reach Dosett. Once there, make certain that Levi comes with them. Should anything go wrong, you take them back here.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the footman.

Margaret watched the carriage drive away. The street was dimmer as night had fallen aboveground. A perfect time to escape Wickhurst, she thought, silently praying her siblings would succeed. They would, of course , she thought with confidence as she turned to find her way back to her study.

“My lady,” Jefferson met her in the hallway.

“What is it?” she asked without pausing.

“You must see something, my lady,” the man said, walking beside her.

“I do not have time for household—”

“It is rather important,” Jefferson insisted.

Margaret stopped and sighed. She gave a curt nod. “Lead the way.”

She began to frown as Jefferson led her to the direction of the kitchen. Once there, she found that almost all of their servants were gathered in the center of the large room, all looking concerned. All turned when they heard her enter with Jefferson.

“The scullery maid found her outside the service door, my lady,” Jefferson said with a flick of his hand, ordering the other servants to step back.

Margaret’s eyes landed on a black-haired young girl. Her face was smeared with soot, grime, and tears. Her pale blue eyes stared at Margaret with a look of innocence, but Margaret saw more behind them.

This girl has been through so much.

“She refused to leave, my lady,” Jefferson was trying to explain. “She claims to be lost and that she is in grave danger. She has no one, she says. Of course, she could be lying, as they all do, but I thought it better to call your attention and—”

Margaret raised her hand to silence the man and took one step toward the child. “She is not merely covered in grime, Jefferson,” Margaret said, looking at the child closely. “I’m not going to hurt you, child,” she softly said when the girl stepped away from her, fear in her eyes. “She’s covered in bruises.”

“Terrible fate for anyone, much more so a child,” someone was crying behind her.

Margaret looked the child in the eyes. “I’m Lady Margaret. What’s your name?” she gently asked.

The child licked her lips, swallowed. And as if it pained her, she croaked, “Faye.”

IX. Favors

“Just Faye,” the child added before Margaret opened her mouth to ask.

“How old are you, Faye?”

“Seven—Eight. I don’t know,” the child replied, shaking her head.

Margaret nodded to show her understanding. From the corner of her eye, she could see some servants staring at Faye with distrust and suspicion.

“They’re searchin’ for me, milady,” Faye said, lips quivering, fresh tears welling her eyes.

Margaret pursed her lips and straightened to full height. Her questions would have to wait. Turning to the housekeeper, Charlotte, she ordered, “Feed her and see to her wounds and bruises. Let her rest.” She looked around the room at the expectant faces of the servants who had been in their family for years. “She’s telling the truth until she proves otherwise.” They nodded, some eagerly, others not so. “Speak of this to no one while I figure out what to do next.”

Again, everyone nodded.

Margaret looked at Faye once more. “They will take care of you, Faye. For now, you’re safe here. Do you understand?”

Faye nodded, a tear dropping straight on the ground.

“You will not tell them?” the child asked, voice barely a whisper.

“Who, dear?”

“Them. The men chasing me.”

“Who are chasing you?”

“Bad men,” Faye said, closing her eyes and fisting her skirts.

She could ask the child everything, but now was not the perfect time for that. If Faye was telling the truth, then she may be in danger.

“Don’t tell them.”

Margaret nodded. “I will not. I told you—you’re safe here.”

Faye’s light blue eyes went wide, imploring. “Will you take me? I can work here. I can clean and mop the floors. I can do anything. Just let me stay. I won’t even go out.”

“I’ll see what I can, Faye.”

Margaret turned to Jefferson. “No one should know of this, not even my brothers.”

Jefferson blinked, startled. “My lady?”

“If Faye says the truth, I do not want any of my brothers telling anyone at Grey’s or wherever they spend their drunken stupors at about her. I shall be the one to inform them should I have enough details. For now, see to her wellbeing. I will be in my study.” She started to leave but remembered something. “Have the carriage be taken out early on the morrow. I shall be out about town the entire day.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Margaret gave Faye a comforting smile before she walked out the kitchen.

Their mother had not been gone for long and strange things already started happening in the household. And she was the one left to take care of it all. And all the while she thought she had avoided such responsibilities entirely when she decided never to marry!

---

Samuel Theobald was too young and too rich to be among the writers of The Town Herald. The Theobalds were not merely known for their extravagant yearly weekend parties every end of the Wickhurst Season, but they were also known to be the most influential. They had two sons. One was married and residing in his own estate with his wife and children. The other one was Samuel. He could have chosen to do nothing. But for years now, he had been proving to everyone, including Margaret, that he was more than the name he was born with.

Apart from being her youngest brother’s best friend, Samuel was also privy to many things around the Town, including the gossips. One he’d pick up every night at Grey’s with Ralph and the other Everard brothers.

“What brings you here, my lady?” he asked, leaning back against his chair. “Did Ralph send you?”

“Why? What happened?”

He blinked and considered her for a moment. “Never mind. I assume he still thinks we can handle it ourselves.”

“Are you both in trouble?”

He shifted in his seat with a grimace. “Not really, no.”

Margaret narrowed her eyes. “I came to ask a favor,” she said, wondering what trouble Samuel and Ralph had gotten into now.

His brows cocked high with interest. “Favor in exchange for another?”

Her eyes narrowed even further. “What trouble are you in with Ralph now, Samuel? Is that why you were not in the Theobald Ball?”

He scoffed. “Ah, those weekend parties are all but the same. Tell me—Were there more beautiful women this year?”

“Do not change the subject, Sam.”

Samuel groaned. “It’s nothing.” But he eventually conceded when she continued to stare at him. “We might have been blackballed from Grey’s.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be a joy?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Precisely what anyone guilty of something would say.”

“But it’s true. We didn’t do anything. We were simply in the right place at the wrong time.”

“The place being Grey’s?”

“Yes. The time being is when two of our friends started throwing fists at each other and accidentally boxed the manager.”

Margaret smiled. “And what made you think I can do something?”

Samuel cleared his throat. “Well, I, for one, am aware that you have a special bond with Mr. Crawford.”

Her brows lifted in mock surprise. “Truly?”

“Yes. I know you’re friends.”

“He’s the manager, of course, we’re friends,” she wryly said.

Samuel was starting to look uncertain. “I know.”

Margaret sighed and slowly nodded. “And you wish me to do you some favor.”

“Yes. Well, since Ralph did not come for you for help, and if you truly think it’s best that he doesn’t maintain his membership to the club, maybe you can just save me.”

She laughed. “You are one good friend.”

“Well, I know he would do the same for his best interest.” When she did not say anything, he added, “Please, my lady. My membership at Grey’s is a big part of my job. It’s where the best stories start, see?” He straightened in his seat, pale gray eyes pleading in a way Ralph’s would if he was attempting to manipulate his older sister. “And if you save me—and maybe even Ralph if you wish—I will grant whatever favor you came here for.”

“Very well.” He almost jumped out of his seat as she straightened in hers to deal with business. “I have knowledge that Lady Ashdown is planning to pay for the announcement of Lady Victoria’s engagement to Lucas Rowe.”

Samuel cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. I might have heard of such contract.”

Margaret glared at him. “I’m certain you have.”

His lips quirked. “I cannot tell, really.”

She sighed. “I ask that you postpone the announcement.”

Samuel Theobald blinked a few times. “Why?”

“Because Tori is not marrying Lucas Rowe.”

“I cannot simply—”

Margaret cocked her brows at him. “Then perhaps I cannot also simply sashay into Grey’s and talk to my dear friend Mr. Crawford.”

He groaned. “I do not own the Herald, you know that.”

“But there is no such law that prohibits you from postponing any announcements, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Or one that would hold you liable for such postponement?”

“Yes, but our credibility—”

“Shall remain intact. If anything shall not perish, it is The Town Herald.”

“My lady—”

“Ten days,” she said. “Give me ten days.”

Samuel’s raked his fingers through his blond hair in frustration. “Why do you people ask this of me?”

“Because we are friends and I am also friends with Mr. Crawford.”

“Your brother is my friend,” he said, tone filled with intent.

“Of course. So are my other brothers. And the twins.”

“Only because they agree to make Ralph’s life a living hell whenever I wish for it,” he countered. “And since you’re making me risk my position, I should also ask for something more.”

Margaret sighed. “Very well. I shall talk to Mr. Crawford and profess the innocence of both you and my dearest brother.”

“Perfect.” He stood as she did. “Ralph will owe me.”

Margaret shook her head. “Good day, Samuel. Always glad to see you.” She sauntered to the door. “And visit your parents. They do miss you.”

Samuel Theobald merely stared at her wryly before she closed the door.

---

Her next order of business was to walk right into the Men of Courts. The large stone building was located in the heart of Wickhurst, an epitome of justice for everyone to beheld.

“I wish to make an inquiry,” she declared, startling a young man behind the desk.

“M-my lady?” he stammered, looking around him to make certain he was the one being addressed.

“I’m talking to you, Sir,” she said, lifting her chin haughtily. “As I have said, I wish to make an inquiry.”

“What about, my lady?”

“I wish to know the legalities there is in taking a child as a servant in my household.”

“A child?” The man paused, thinking. “How old is this child? My lady,” he added hastily.

“Eight.”

The young man cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, assuming a professional and confident air. “Well, the law does not have an age limit to servants so long as they are paid, given food and shelter.”

“No particular law on child labor?” she asked, surprised.

Another clearing of throat. The young man before her was starting to look uncomfortable. “As of this day, there is none, my lady.”

“That is rather odd. I was expecting a special law is present. One specific to children.”

The man behind the desk blinked in confusion. “But they are of the same class servants, I mean. Child or not, if they opt to work as such, they shall have the same privileges as the others.” As Margaret tried to absorb everything, the man added, “But the current head of the Men of Courts in Wickhurst is looking into the case.”

Margaret raised her brows in surprise. “He is?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, he supported a law that would require all households to register the names of every servant they have under their wing. It is currently being lobbied in the High Courts.”

“Hm,” she uttered with a nod. Then she smiled. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The man bowed as she turned to leave, only to realize that it was not she the man was bowing to, but Cole Devitt himself. He was standing merely five paces away.

Margaret was unprepared for another encounter, but she managed a small curtsy. “I’m not here to see you, my lord—if that is what the frown on your face indicates,” she said before he could say anything. “I came for an entirely different matter.”

Cole nodded, face unreadable. And stepped aside. “Good day, Lady Margaret.”

“You did not even bother to greet me and now you’re saying goodbye,” she murmured as she walked past him.

Aware that he was watching, Margaret could not help but wonder how long it would take before she broke down. How many more encounters could she endure?

Before leaving Theobald, she was hopeful and confident. Wickhurst was her turf. She should be comfortable doing her mission her. But one encounter with Cole Devitt and she was still the same woman back in Theobald. She was still clueless on how to approach this case. In fact, she was uncertain if she wanted to pursue this case. Calan Haverston must have a bigger plan if he requested her presence in Willowfair. Whatever it was, Margaret found herself feeling quite ambivalent.

She knew Cole was a man of honor. He was a man of truth. Whatever tragedy they may share in the past, however he had hurt her, she knew in her heart he was a good man. She knew now that he was innocent, that there may be a reason why he went to Osmond Trilby that day. But how could she prove it when everything else pointed to him as the murderer?

---

“What did Lady Margaret want?” Cole asked.

The man lifted one shoulder. “She inquired about child servants, my lord.”

Cole nodded and retraced his steps to the entrance of the building, careful not to be seen by Margaret as she crossed the street to where her carriage was waiting. He bounded down the steps and found his own carriage and coachman.

“Follow that carriage,” he ordered before he climbed inside.

When had she started to go about town without a companion? Had she no care for her own safety? A lady of her status could very well be a target of robbers. Or worse…

Cole shook his head before his mind could give voice the worse. She was eight-and-twenty. She could do whatever she wished.

His carriage followed hers down the road.

It was odd that she came to the Men of Courts to ask about child servants. Could she not have simply sent a letter of inquiry as commonly practiced? Or asked someone else to do it?

But why was he questioning how she did things?

You want to know what she’s up to, a voice in his head answered.

He should be careful. Anyone could be watching him and he could be putting Margaret Everard in danger as well. The League would wonder why he was constantly in her presence and the last thing he’d want is for them to pay her attention.

Her carriage rolled on. His followed not far behind until they stopped.

Cole looked out the window and watched Margaret climb out and walk up the stairs that led to a large doorway.

The Archibald estate.

Of course, she was here to pursue her plans for her friend. Cole had heard that Jordan Archibald had been paying special attention to Victoria Ashdown.

With a scoff, Cole shook his head when he realized what Margaret was planning to do. What better way to convince a man to get leg-shackled than be close to his mother?

Margaret Everard was still the same in some ways, he thought. She was still the calculating, wise woman he knew.

He knocked on the ceiling of the carriage. She was keeping herself busy.

So should he, he thought as he gave an order to return to the Courts.

X. Mission

The last stop she made was to the Archibald estate. Tori, Levi and the twins should soon reach Standbury if their schedule had not been delayed. The faster she could urge Lady Archibald to convince her son, Jordan, to offer for Tori, the faster she could send a missive to Standbury for her siblings and Tori to return to Wickhurst.

She had not heard of Tori’s stepmother making noise about her stepdaughter’s disappearance, and Margaret doubted she would. The lady would not compromise their reputation just yet.

For Margaret, the stepmother was the least of her concern.

“Margaret, dear. What a lovely surprise,” said Lady Archibald.

Margaret smiled. “I had been meaning to spend an afternoon with you, my lady, after our recent talk.”

The woman laughed. “Lady Victoria must be very lucky to have you as a friend.”

“I also enjoy this little scheme or ours. It’s quite fun.”

“I’m quite ecstatic, too.”

“How do you plan to talk to your son, my lady?”

“The moment I get a hold of him, of course. I have already hinted my desire for him to marry. And I had not been lacking on praising Lady Victoria.”

“They shall be the best couple this Wickhurst Season.”

“Oh, but I believe it is Lord Benedict and Lady Agatha who caused quite the biggest stir!”

“Ah, my brother and his unexpected love affair,” she chuckled.

“Fret not, my dear,” Lady Archibald said. “Most of Wickhurst see them both as nothing but lovely. I would like my son to experience the same wonderful things your brother found with his wife.”

“My brother is happy indeed. And I intend for Tori to be as well. Before the season ends, of course.”

The woman sighed. “Ah, yes. The season is ending soon.”

“Yes.”

“We might not have enough time to make the announcement before then.”

“But we can open the Sheills Season with it.”

Lady Archibald’s face lit up. “Of course!”

“I’m truly glad to share this little mission with you, my lady.”

“As am I, dear. But what about you? Have you no suitors to consider?”

She’d rather not talk about herself so she veered the topic by saying, “One task at a time, Lady Archibald, one task at a time.”

And she should hurry for her next one, she thought, determined to finish her tea.

---

Faye appeared entirely different that evening. She had been cleaned, quite thoroughly so, by Charlotte. Her black hair was properly held in a neat bun and her cheeks had a little glow of pink, although the bruises on the right side of her cheek and all over her arms were still vividly visible.

Apart from the bruises, she looked like most children, except for one thing. Her eyes lacked the glimmer of life. They were flat, emotionless, even as she said, “Thank you for having me, milady,” in a soft voice. Her pale blue globes were that of someone who had been through the gallows of the darkest parts of the world and back to tell no tale.

“I hope they have been treating you right, Faye,” she kindly said.

“They have, milady. They gave me food. And gave me bath.”

Margaret nodded.

“I don’t wish to leave, milady. I want to work here.” One look at the girl told Margaret that she had been living her life pleading. There was no sign of shame when she said those words.

“I went to the Courts today. I have to make certain of some things before I make my decision,” she carefully said to the child. “I was informed that I can take a child as servant, and I have decided to keep you.”

Relief overcame the fear in Faye’s eyes.

“I shall have one of the maid servants groom you to be one and mayhap when you are old and trained enough, you can serve my sisters, Emma and Ysabella.” A small indication of a smile quirked the girl’s lips. “Would you like that?”

Faye nodded. But even as she said those words, Margaret did not like the idea of Faye spending the best of her years serving others.

“But before we make that official, I would like you to answer a few questions.”

“I shall try to answer them, milady,” Faye eagerly replied, but the apprehension was clear in her face.

“Do you remember where your family might be?”

The child shook her head. “No, milady. I was raised by many ladies where I once lived. They said my mother died when I was born.”

“And your father?”

“The ladies who raised me didn’t tell me about my father, milady.”

Margaret nodded. She did not know how to move on with her inquiry. She was facing a child, not someone of age and mind to defend herself.

“They’re looking for me—the bad guys.” Faye’s voice shook and her hands started to tug at her skirts.

Margaret nodded. “Faye, you’re safe here.” The child was too anxious. The last thing she needed was someone to rekindle the fear. “You can leave now. We’ll continue this some other time. Have a good night.”

Margaret stared blankly in space even after Faye disappeared. She wanted to know the girl’s story, but she had to be careful and patient to do so. For now, they just needed to keep the child feel safe until she was ready to tell more.

And Margaret had more pressing matters to attend to. A ball at Willowfair was waiting for her after her, and so was Calan Haverston.

---

Willowfair was comparable to Wickhurst in prestige. It was not merely a town that was known for its amazing parks, but they housed most of the Town Leaders and many members from both Houses. They opened the year with their Willowfair Season with elegant parties. And it was a little less scandalous than Wickhurst Season, too.

Most importantly, it was where most of the League of Founders could be found, among them Calan Haverston, the Lord of Easton.

It was Calan who sought Margaret out during a masked ball five years ago, asking her questions about her plans for the future. She had been awed that a mysterious stranger, and a man at that, was willing to talk to her about politics, history, and philosophy that night.

She thought the masked man had left a big impression on her; she never thought she did the same to him.

Merely a fortnight after their talk, Margaret received a letter with the League’s seal on it. The initials LF did not register until she read the summons. Without much thought, Margaret gave her mother a false story to visit Tori and went straight to Grey’s, Wickhurst’s infamous gentleman’s club.

If she were any similar to most women her status and refused to even breathe the air in that notorious place, she would not have had the privilege to be working with the League of Founders. She believed to this day that it was the first true test she had to take before any of the ones given to her by the ten silhouetted men who met her that fateful night in a dark room behind Grey’s gaming halls.

Thus far, Margaret had seen the faces of none but three of them. The other two she had a chance to work with, the other one was Calan Haverston.

She met her mentor after having passed her tests, and his identity did surprise her. She could not speak the entire time he introduced himself and discussed how their relationship shall proceed from thenceforth.

Margaret slowly drew her mind away from the memory as the streets of Willowfair gave her a stark reminder of Osmond Trilby’s death.

While many went to Willowfair for shopping and attending luxurious balls, for Margaret it meant business. It meant many secret meetings with her mentor.

The ball she was invited to was not as famous as many others in Willowfair, but there were still a good number of guests. However, now that Wickhurst Season was ending, and another due to start in Sheills, those who may recognize her here were mostly out of town.

She barely had enough time to rest from her journey before she hastily put on a gown and whisked herself into the ballroom.

“Margaret!” Belinda Haverston greeted with glee.

Margaret gave the lady a peck and a wide smile. Having been the twins’ governess for a short time many years ago, Belinda was amongst Margaret’s few friends.

“Of course, do not mind the other ladies,” said a voice behind them.

Margaret turned and found Cressida Haverston, Calan’s wife, and Mary Haverston, Adrien Haverston’s wife, smiling at her.

“Lady Cressida,” Margaret greeted. “Lady Mary.”

“This ball is turning rather boring, to be honest,” Cressida said, rolling her eyes.

Margaret chuckled. “I have read on the Herald that Peyton did manage to sneak into a ballroom with her cousins. It was rather ingenious of them to have succeeded.”

Cressida closed her eyes with a groan. “Please, Margaret, spare me the reminder of my daughter’s mischiefs. I recall too much of myself whenever anyone does.”

“She did worse things,” Mary Haverston said to Margaret.

“Well, I most definitely know that. But it does not mean I wish for my daughter to follow my example,” Cressida retorted. “Which is why I have my husband to thank for. He makes certain Peyton grows up prim and proper. And speaking of the dear devil, he is by the refreshments, Lady Margaret, if you wish to speak to him.”

Cressida gave Margaret a meaningful wink before she turned to Mary and Belinda to say, “And I happen to see the Prewitt sisters and their friends. Belinda, do you remember what they did to your tea two weeks ago?”

Belinda’s brows arched high and she stuck her chin out and walked away, saying to Margaret, “See you in a while, Margaret. Do enjoy yourself for the time being.” Cressida eagerly followed while Mary turned to Margaret to whisper, “I promise I would try to stop them, but I might enjoy it too much to care.”

Margaret laughed as she watched the three ladies, all wives of the famous Haverston brothers, sashay their way across the ballroom to where their unseen targets were. All because of tea?

Shaking her head, Margaret turned to find Calan Haverston, but it seemed he found her first. She bumped into his broad form and quickly stepped back in surprise. His dark eyes were casted across the room, hooded with a frown. “Where is my wife going?”

“The Prewitt sisters, I believe,” she answered.

She saw his jaw twitch before he curtly shook his head and turned his attention on her. His dark eyes held hers and she remembered feeling intimidated the first time he did so.

Calan Haverston had an air of arrogance and indifference about him that made most men uncomfortable, and women oddly drawn to him. If he was not married to the feisty Cressida, Margaret believed that he would have women still begging for his attention.

“Is she with Belinda?”

“And Lady Mary, yes.”

He muttered something under his breath before he said, “I shall not be long. We cannot draw attention.”

Margaret nodded, too familiar with the situation where Calan would whisper information or orders that he could not risk putting on paper, while she listened.

His eyes still on his wife, he led her somewhere less crowded. “Devitt’s association with Edmund Trilby is no longer a matter of curiosity, but of urgency.”

“You found out who Edmund Trilby is.”

“Yes.” Margaret remembered to breathe and she did, only to have the air trapped in her lungs once more as her mentor spoke again. “Edmund Trilby is Osmond Trilby’s only son.”

---

She is not in Wickhurst, is she? Should you not stay close to her? We could not simply assume she is not bound to cause trouble. Do not let appearances fool you, my lord.

Cole threw the missive into the fire, considering Edmund’s words.

Mayhap the young man was correct.

XI. Plans

Calan motioned with his head and moved through the crowded ballroom. Margaret followed, still in disbelief.

Cressida was standing with Mary and Belinda, facing two black-haired ladies, as Margaret walked past. Calan Haverston’s wife gave her a reassuring smile before she turned her attention back on Belinda who was saying something to who Margaret guessed were the Prewitt sisters.

Her mentor swiftly escaped the ballroom. Margaret saw him turn to the right and quickly followed. The corridor was not empty, but after another turn, she found herself entering a small garden devoid of guests. It was poorly situated between a wall of rocks and the side of the house, allowing lesser air for breathing.

Calan’s voice was mild and emotionless as he spoke. “The League is aware of your history with Cole Devitt.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. She tried to ignore the feeling of betrayal that rose inside her but found it hard to do so.

“We always make certain that we know the story of everyone who joins the League before anything else.”

“I gave you no right to—”

“You gave us privilege into your affairs when you joined us. You knew that from the very start.”

Margaret glared at him, the bitter taste of perfidy still in her tongue. “I am starting to not like you, my lord.”

A small smile quirked his lips. “It is also part of the work.”

Margaret’s jaw tightened. He was right.

She knew that there were gossips about her having her heart broken by a man, but that person had always remained a mystery to many. Her courtship with Cole was too private to begin with, and their engagement short-lived. Any chance sighting of them was merely perceived as friendship, considering Cole’s closeness with her brother, Benedict. To many, it was just like seeing Samuel Theobald with Ysabella or Emma. They never even graced the gossip column. Not once.

“If the League is so excellent in digging pasts, should you not have found something on Cole Devitt’s as well?”

“Unlike you and many others in the League, Lady Margaret, Cole Devitt seems to be a man who knows how to keep his secrets.” Calan moved out of the shadows and fixed her a look. “Use your history with the man and find out what he’s up to.” His eyes did not waver as he added, “Or what he did.”

Margaret scoffed in disbelief. “Cole Devitt is capable of many things, my lord, but I doubt murder is amongst them.” She paced before him. “And if you truly know my history with the man, then surely you are aware how it’s impossible for me to do my task.”

“You have a different understanding of the man. You can read his thoughts in ways no other Leaguers cannot.”

“And how certain are you that I still can? He left me, my lord. It never crossed my mind that he would leave me, but he did. It merely proves that I did not know him well enough then, and most certainly not now.” Her voice began to waver as she talked, her heart getting heavier by each word.

She had joined the League not only to serve the Town, but also to forget Cole Devitt. And now, they wanted her to infiltrate his life. Famous!

Margaret sighed. “We do not even have enough evidence to link him to the murder. You found his brooch in Osmond Trilby’s room, but you are not certain how long it had been there. Anyone could have planted the brooch in the room, Edmund Trilby included.” When Calan looked away, Margaret frowned. “Or is there more that you’re not telling me?”

Calan’s emotionless face did not change as he addressed her question. “The very fact that Devitt managed to get close to Edmund Trilby, a young man one can easily fool, tells us more. We have managed to collect very little connection between Devitt and Osmond Trilby but the one we gathered provides us a clue that Trilby’s connection with Devitt may root from the past.”

Her brows knitted to a frown. “Whatever do you mean?”

Her mentor craned his neck to see if they were still alone. Satisfied, he said, “Records we found in Osmond Trilby’s house tell us that the man had ventures with the late Lord Ashmore.”

Margaret frowned. “Who happens to not be the current Lord Ashmore. His father’s affairs are separate from his.”

Calan nodded. “The man died under questionable circumstances.”

“He killed himself,” Margaret provided, her throat tight at the reminder of how Leah’s death had affected so many people, including her father. But the look on her mentor’s face told her more. “You believe otherwise.”

“The man sent calling cards to associates the same day of the alleged suicide. He was making plans for the days to follow. He was not planning to kill himself. We need to investigate the late Lord Ashmore’s connection to the Trilbys, but to do that, we need access to his effects.”

“Surely, the League can access Ashmore as easily as they accessed my past,” she said with derision.

“That’s why you are handed this mission, Margaret.”

Margaret slowly shook her head, imagining herself rummaging Cole’s library. If she could not even spend a minute with him without him pushing her away, how could she make him invite her to Ashmore where his sister and father died?

Calan’s eyes softened. “You truly believe him to be innocent.”

“I do. Despite our past, I do believe him to be innocent.”

Her mentor looked at her, his face unreadable. “Then prove it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he already turned away. “Osmond Trilby was Noah Trilby’s brother.”

Calan paused and faced her again. “Yes, he is.”

“Belinda’s sister, Julia, was married to Noah Trilby. The Trilbys have been keeping Julia’s daughter from society. They have been a subject to many dark rumors. If they can do these things to their own, perhaps they can do worse. Has the League not investigated them?”

“We talked to most of them. The Trilbys are being investigated for many things, Osmond Trilby’s death being one of them, but they have this uncanny ability to avoid trouble. They have more connections than anyone we know. They have people everywhere. We watch their every move, but thus far, we have noted nothing that connects to the Prime Minister’s death, save for his son. Edmund Trilby has gone back to school, but we cannot sashay in there and interrogate simply because he attended the Theobald Ball. But the moment he sets foot out of Adam’s, we shall try to talk to him again.” He paused to look at her. “Did I answer your question?”

Margaret nodded and stared blankly at Calan Haverston’s retreating form. She understood his unspoken words: Everyone else was doing their job. She had to do hers.

---

Margaret travelled back to Wickhurst, regretfully declining Belinda’s invitation to prolong her stay with them.

As the carriage drove on, she could not help but think about Cole. If his father had a connection with Osmond Trilby, was it possible something went awry that led to Arnold Devitt’s demise? If so, it might have driven Cole to murder. He had, after all, tried to kill Benedict in the past, didn’t he?

He was amongst those who had much self-control. The only time he lost it was after Leah’s death. And the very fact that he could should tell her he was capable of murder.

But would he really do it? Could he? Could he have killed Benedict if she did not stop him?

When no answers came, Margaret shook her head and ordered for the carriage driver to go straight to Wickhurst without a stop.

The answers were in his father’s past. And perhaps, also in the years that they were apart. Something must have happened that landed him in Wickhurst and in the company of Edmund Trilby.

If there were any clues—effects that could prove he was innocent or not—they must be in his private study. Or in Ashmore.

But how could she get closer to Cole Devitt?

---

There were very little he gathered from the old records.

Anything that concerned servants and slavery claims were not as promising as the ones he found in Dartridge. Most of Wickhurst had been loyal to the law. At least, that’s how it appeared to be on paper.

As he stared blankly at the old records before him, his thoughts drifted back to the past, on the day Margaret asked him why he wanted to be in the Men of Courts.

“To give justice.”

“What pushes you to do it? You can be a Town Guard.”

“Our laws are flawed, Maggie. Most favors only those with power and money, while those who don’t have any stay at the bottom.”

“You wish for equality.”

“Fairness might be the right word.”

His study door opened and his middle-aged butler, Hugh, stepped in with another piece of paper, pulling him back to the present.

“A missive arrived for you, my lord.”

Cole took the letter from the man. “Is there anything from Ashmore?”

“No, my lord,” replied the butler. “But there is one from Tiny Town. It’s in…the box.” The box was a wooden chest in his bedroom where all other missives that did not require his immediate attention were kept, letters he merely opened when he was holding a glass of brandy.

Whatever theatrics his mother wrote, Cole had no desire for them. He nodded and said, “You may take your leave. You may retire.”

“Very well, my lord.” Hugh bowed.

“By the by, Hugh,” he said, staring at the man with curious eyes. “You have been in Wickhurst most of your service life, yes?”

Hugh nodded. “Yes, my lord, that is correct.”

“Has there been rumors of illegal activities, one that concerns slavery?”

The man blinked, surprised by the question. “None that I have heard of, my lord.”

“Would you care to ask some of the servants?” When the butler merely stared at him, he added, “It is for a paper I’m drafting,” he lied.

Hugh nodded. “Very well, my lord, I shall ask around.” He bowed and left Cole alone in his study to stare at the paper.

He sighed.

Edmund Trilby.

With both hands, he opened the letter.

I could not leave Adam’s.

They know. I’m almost certain of it.

Keep keen eyes on her, my lord.

Whatever your plans, do them fast.

Cole closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Too many people were relying on him, yet he felt he was going nowhere.

XII. How to Lure a Lord

“Have they not arrived yet?” Margaret asked Jefferson, talking about Levi, Tori, and the twins. “Are you certain you posted the letters?”

“Yes, my lady, I did.”

She sighed. “The Walkelin Ball is in two days. We do not have much time.” It was only yesterday that Lady Archibald had confirmed her son’s plan to offer for Tori, the only good news she received thus far since arriving from Willowfair.

“They should be here by now.”

Was it possible that her brother did something to prevent this match? She had given him specific instructions not to meddle.

To distract herself, she sat behind her desk and asked, “How is Faye?”

“She is faring well, my lady,” Jefferson replied.

“Send for her, please.”

Moments later, Jefferson returned with Faye. Her bruises had lightened, nearly invisible now, and her face was fuller.

Motioning for Jefferson to leave them alone, Margaret walked to Faye and led the child to seat across her table. “How are you doing, Faye?”

“Very good, milady.”

She saw Faye tugging at her dress. She found her next move to be difficult for the child, but she must do it if she wanted to know more. “How did you get here, Faye?”

She watched the girl swallow. “The ladies who raised me. They told me I have the best chance to escape, so I did.”

“The ladies who raised you?”

Faye nodded. “They are not safe there.”

“There?”

The fear in her eyes returned and Margaret saw her start to panic.

“It’s all right, Faye. We don’t have to talk about this place if you’re not ready.”

The girl lifted her head to meet her gaze. “I escaped from a manor.”

She had to be careful with her next question. “Where did you come from, Faye? I’m not talking about the manor you escaped from, but the place where you came from. Surely you must know?”

Faye swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Then can you tell me how you got to Wickhurst?”

Faye looked down and chewed on her lip. “I jumped into a hackney. I was lucky they didn’t catch me. I stayed hidden under the seat for days until the driver found me and forced me out.”

“It was very brave of you,” was all she could say.

Faye lifted her gaze and said, “I want to ask something, milady.”

“What is it?”

“Can I change my name?”

Margaret smiled wanly. How desperate was this child that she would ask to change her name? How frightened? “What name would you like?” she asked, humoring the girl.

Faye frowned. “I don’t know yet.”

“We shall settle with Faye for now while you think of a good one.” She then realized that Faye did not come with papers. It might prove to be a problem in the future.

For now, it was enough that the child was well. And if she wanted another name, then by God, Margaret would grant her that if it would make a world of difference to how she’d start to lead her life from here on.

Merely moments after Faye’s departure from her study, Margaret began to pen a missive.

---

Dear Lord Ashmore,

I hope this missive finds you well.

I have a few concerns about a particular servant of mine.

She came to me without papers and I fear that our household might encounter legal problems should this be found unlawful. With that in mind, I wish for the said servant to obtain papers.

I’m currently unavailable to visit the Men of Courts and it would be a tremendous help if you can provide instructions on the steps I ought to take.

Your fast response would be greatly appreciated.

Yours,

Margaret Everard

Cole ran his eyes over her name a few more times to make certain he read correctly.

He began to frown and then scoff.

Shaking his head, he refolded the paper, placed it to one side and went back to work.

---

Dear Lord Ashmore,

I’m afraid my previous letter missed your attention.

The concern I brought upon you is of great importance to me and it would be my greatest pleasure if you can choose to not ignore it. I am certain your butler knows where my missive is. But if it is missing, then allow me to rephrase the contents of my missive once again…

Cole shook his head, folded the letter, and placed it over the first one.

In a matter of a day, Margaret Everard had written him two missives.

Although he had the answer to her question, it was not as urgent as she might think. He had more pressing matters to attend to. She could wait.

He picked up his pen.

She is in town, he started to write.

---

The next day, Margaret was called by one of the maids to hurry down. A carriage was approaching the estate. Hoping it would be her siblings and Tori, Margaret rushed to the entryway.

As she waited for the carriage to draw near, she paced the driveway, hands on her hips. Her brows were knitted into a frown and her teeth worried her lower lip.

Had he received her missives yesterday? He must have.

It was a legitimate concern that she had expressed, was it not? And as a Man of Courts, he must know the answers.

Squaring her shoulders, Margaret set the matter aside. She would think of a better way to get close to him after the Walkelin Ball. Her smile was at the ready as the carriage finally stopped before her.

Tori was the first to climb down from the carriage and Margaret immediately met her. “Oh, thank goodness you are here,” she said, giving Tori a hug. She looked over Tori’s shoulder and at the twins. “Where is Levi?”

“Oh, we left him,” Ysabella nonchalantly replied, walking on. “He was foxed.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “You traveled alone without male companion?”

“Unless you do not consider the two carriage drivers and the footman of the male species, then yes, we traveled without male companion,” Emma replied, walking past them to follow Ysabella up the stairs. “Where is Mrs. Beagle?”

“Your cat has gone missing once again!” Margaret shouted after the twins, following behind them with Tori to enter the hallway.

“Oh, well, she she’ll return after her monthly disappearance,” said Ysabella. “We shall see you all after our long and well-deserved respite.”

“It is a wonder you are both not insisting on coming to the Walkelin Ball,” Margaret said, at awe with their lack of enthusiasm.

The twins stopped in the middle of the stairway and glanced at Tori and Margaret. Ysabella was the one who spoke. “So, it is the Walkelin Ball, is it now? Is it tonight?” Before Margaret could utter a response, Ysabella shrugged. “Well, we do have better things to do here.”

Margaret stole Tori a glance, but her friend seemed as ignorant as her. Her eyes narrowed at her sisters. “I do not know, sisters, but you sound suspicious.”

“We are always suspicious to all of you,” said Ysabella before disappearing upstairs with Emma.

Margaret eagerly led Tori to the parlor. “I have so much to say to you before you rest and prepare for the ball. I was afraid you’d miss it, really. It is wise to have brought alone two drivers. Now, you cannot clearly go home to your estate, for your stepmother might have iron clutches at the ready for you. You are to stay here until your engagement with Lord Archibald is secured and announced.”

She went on to talk about how she practically courted Lady Archibald while they were away. Tori listened, but then Margaret stopped, realizing she was the only enthusiastic soul in the room. Her friend looked forlorn. “Tori, is everything alright?” Margaret carefully asked.

Tori blinked. “Yes, of course. Merely tired, that is all. We traveled from Standbury without stops,” her friend replied, tucking her blonde tresses behind her ear.

Margaret simply nodded.

Tori did not deserve the fate her stepmother had set for her. Lady Ashdown had nothing but hatred for her stepdaughter. She had thrown Tori to the Everard household too many times during their childhood years that her friend had to spend many days in their estate simply because the lady was too busy running around Wickhurst with friends. And now that Tori demanded for the inheritance her mother left her, Lady Ashdown suddenly wanted to marry Tori off to her own nephew. If that happened, Lucas Rowe, the nephew, would get Tori’s dowry along with the settlement her mother left her.

“Then you must rest,” she said to her friend, kissing Tori’s forehead. “You should be ready for the ball tonight. Be at your best, my dear friend, for your future husband awaits.”

As Tori left the room, Margaret could not help but feel guilty. She wanted her friend to find happiness and love, but how could she when time was running out? Samuel Theobald may not be able to delay the announcement of Tori’s engagement with Lucas Rowe any longer than he already had. Tori had to accept Jordan Archibald’s offer of marriage tonight. And hopefully, love and happiness would just come later.

Margaret rang for Jefferson.

“Has there been no missive for me yet?” she asked.

“None so far, my lady.”

She nodded. “Lady Victoria and I are going to the Walkelin Ball. Are the twins truly in their chambers?”

“They are, my lady.”

“No whispers of wicked plans?”

Jefferson looked amused. “They do tend to do things quite unexpectedly, my lady. It is hard to guess.”

Margaret sighed. “Find me in my study in an hour. I have a missive for you to deliver straight to Newton again.”

Margaret went straight to her study, steps determined.

If Cole Devitt intended to ignore her previous missives, then she would make certain he would not ignore the next one.

She wanted this case over with. She wanted to go back to her normal days where she did not have to constantly think about him.

Taking her dipping pen, she began to scribble a note.

At the last second, Margaret decided to use her left hand. It was better Cole Devitt did not recognize her writing.

---

I have information regarding the recent case you are working on. Be at Grey’s tomorrow evening.

If you don’t show, you shall regret it.

“Who delivered this?”

“A young man, my lord,” answered Hugh. “The usual boy who delivers the post.”

“Ask for the boy and send him to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Hugh.

Once alone, Cole studied the note with a frown. He could not recognize the writing either. It appeared to be written with a shaky hand.

Mayhap Edmund Trilby’s paranoia was coming true.

It was not merely the League, but the enemies were also closing in.

But this could also be a trap.

XIII. Elopement

The Walkelin ball did not merely end badly for Tori, but for the Everards as well.

Tori had gone missing from the ballroom after an invite from Jordan Archibald himself. Margaret knew the man was intending to propose when he invited Tori to the garden. But mere minutes later, the twins arrived with their unwilling brother, Nicholas, looking for Tori. And not long after that, Levi showed up fresh from Standbury.

And before anything happened, Tori was dragged out of the ball by her stepmother. They tried to stop it, but her friend seemed to have already given up and went with Lady Ashdown.

What transpired in the garden had been a great confusion to them, really, but Margaret soon found out from Levi that Jordan Archibald had been having an affair with Clarice Ashdown herself!

The morning after, Margaret paced around her bedchamber. Samuel Theobald sent her a note that Lady Clarice had been demanding that the Herald announce Tori’s engagement with Lucas Rowe. Samuel said he would have to publish the announcement in two days the most, otherwise he would be in trouble.

What to do in two days?

Archibald turned out to be a bloody bastard after all.

Could Levi not have made a better list?

Margaret had both hands on her hips with her head tilted back as she stared at the ceiling, thinking about Tori’s predicament and her pursuit of Cole Devitt, when the door to her bedchamber burst open and Levi stormed inside.

“We have to take Tori out of that house, Margaret,” her brother tightly said, walking closer.

Margaret recognized the look on her brother’s face. It was merely not worry painted there, but desperation as well. “The twins told me you intended to propose to Tori at the Walkelin Ball. Are they correct?”

“Yes.”

Margaret sighed. “Levi, what happened in Standbury?” Something happened there, she was now certain of it. Otherwise, Tori would not have come back looking distraught and Levi being so weary.

“I… Well…” Levi shifted his weight. Then he grimaced. “Let us just say things happened that led me to decide I’m the best man for her.”

Margaret blinked in confusion. Tori practically grew up with them. Everyone treated her like a sister. And Levi and Tori always bickered. Yes, they were friends, but they were not a perfect match.

“Well, it’s rather late. Her engagement to Lucas Rowe is coming out soon.”

Levi blinked and his emerald green eyes wavered before he cleared his throat and said, “I’m planning to elope with her.”

“What?”

Levi’s eyes flickered with impatience. “Elope, Maggie. Surely you know what the bloody word means.”

“But Levi—”

“What?” Levi snapped.

“But why?”

“Why the bloody hell do you think? Her stepmother is marrying her off to a horrible, disgusting form of a human being—which I believe were your own words.”

“Tori would not want to marry you because you pity her, Levi.”

“Pity her? Bloody hell, Maggie, you should know better than that,” her brother bitterly said. He looked furious and desperate. No, he was so many other things at once.

She groaned. “Good heavens, Levi, I should have known.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Will you help me or not?”

But how did it happen? What did she miss? Where and when did it start? The Theobald party? The Archibald Ball? Standbury? Levi and Tori had been together most often than she did with them because of the case. Had the two been treating each other more than friends all this time?

When Margaret merely stared at Levi, still unable to wrap her mind around the fact, Levi said, “Maggie, snap out of it, for God’s sake.”

Finally, Margaret did and the reality of it all came crashing down on her and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Levi, you love her,” she choked out, jumping to wrap her arms around her brother’s neck. “This is such a big relief. I knew you intended to marry, but I didn’t think I would let you do so merely out of pity. I am—” She paused and stepped back with a frown. “But Tori might not want you. She might refuse to elope with you and—”

“She will, Maggie, trust me,” Levi said.

“You are quite confident, aren’t you?”

“Not confident. Just bloody in love, sister,” Levi replied, giving her a stern look. “Now, will you help me?”

---

“Why?” Ralph whined.

“Because I do not want the twins to be sneaking out in the middle of the night to do whatever they may be planning to do,” Margaret said, looking at Maxwell and Ralph. “You’re currently banned from entering Grey’s, anyway, so stop whining. No Grey’s for tonight,” she ordered, eyeing Maxwell. “For the both of you.”

Deep inside, she was anxious. Maxwell was older than her and could easily ignore her demands and still go to Grey’s.

“Then simply tell them of your splendid plan with Levi!” was Ralph’s rejoinder.

“They will only make it impossible. The least damaging thing they might do is demand they go with Levi and Tori. The worst is if they talk and the servants and the whole of Wickhurst would know what happened before Levi and Tori reached Tiny Town.” When they continued to scowl, she sighed and feigned a look of disappointment. “I cannot believe you cannot spare a night from Grey’s. I would not be surprised if one day we’d all be burning inside this house while the lot of you are drowning yourselves in the gaming table.”

“No need for theatrics, Maggie,” Maxwell wryly said, rolling his eyes.

“What about Nick?” Ralph asked.

“I believe Levi asked him for a different favor.”

Ralph shook his head and started for the parlor. “Care for brandy?”

“Make that a bottle,” Max said, following close behind. “If mother learns of this, Maggie,” Maxwell added, walking past Margaret, “be certain she’s informed I was forced to be a part of this.”

“You have our utmost gratefulness, brothers—Levi and I!” Margaret said. The parlor door slammed shut and she turned to dress for the night.

---

“Do you have to wear breeches?” Levi asked, staring at her from across the carriage.

“It is when I have to climb up a window,” she retorted. “Now, after you and Tori leave Wickhurst, I plan to delay her stepmother from announcing that stupid betrothal. I must make certain that the news of your elopement comes before that.”

“To hell with what that woman does. So long as I get Tori to Tiny Town and make her my wife, the whole of Wickhurst could drown itself in gossips.”

She chuckled. “Truly, Levi, you astound me. Have I been too blind to have not taken notice?”

“No, not really. You were merely too preoccupied.”

She shrugged. “Well, there is that as well.”

“Be careful with whatever you’re doing, Maggie,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “You can’t do everything for everyone.”

“Then stop asking for my help.”

He scoffed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m taking your Tori Mission off your hands after this.”

“I hate to say this, but it would be my utter pleasure. Just keep her happy.”

“I shall try my best.”

She grinned. “I can now focus on the League.”

He shook his head, face shadowed with concern. “I just hope you are not putting yourself in danger, Margaret. You do so much for many people, even the entire bloody Town itself, yet you take yourself for granted.”

“I can take care of myself, Levi.” She looked out the window. They had arrived. “It is high time to rescue your bride,” she excitedly said as she reached for the carriage door.

---

Merely half an hour later, Levi managed to convince Tori to climb down her bedroom window—again—and get inside the carriage. Tasked to gather the clothes thrown out the window earlier, Margaret pushed them to the side, wondering for a second when she’d ever get the chance on this kind of love that her brothers stumbled upon. First, Benedict, declaring without shame his love for Agatha months ago; and now, Levi, risking so many things to elope with Tori.

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Tori. “I am sorry we came late. I had tried to find a better way to rescue you from that madhouse but I am afraid this is the best way to do that.”

Her friend merely stayed mum, still looking quite lost after having been rescued. Margaret could not blame her friend if she was still in shock. It was not every night that two Everards would sneak into her bedchamber to rescue her.

“Do not make it sound as though marrying me is a distasteful thing for Tori to do, Margaret,” Levi wryly said.

She threw him a sharp look. “I would have welcomed the fact if you have not been such a fool yourself. And she deserves more than an elopement,” she snapped.

Margaret looked out the window. As the carriage was drawing to a stop beside another one, she reached for the door handle.

“Where are you going?” Tori asked.

Margaret smiled at her. “I would love to see you walk down the aisle in a beautiful gown in one of the most beautiful churches in Wickhurst, Tori, but I am afraid that cannot be for now. My presence is not needed in this elopement.”

“But—”

“I have important matters to do apart from this one,” she explained. “And I have to be here when the Herald appears in a few hours. I would not miss it for the world.” She had given Samuel Theobald a nice gossip to be printed for everyone to read in a few hours.

Margaret reached for Tori and gave her a hug. She then turned to give Levi a hard look. “Do take care of her.”

“I do not require such order—”

“I know. And Nick?”

“He should be on his way,” he replied.

Margaret sighed, gave them both a chaste kiss and jumped out of the carriage.

It was time to go to Grey’s.

---

Eyes turned upon his entry. It was not because they did not know him. It was because he very rarely went to Grey’s.

The place reeked of spirit and chortles from drunken men who could not quite figure out how to waste their wealth. A loud, roaring laughter erupted from inside the main gaming hall and everyone’s attention was stolen from Cole, giving back his little privacy.

Yet there was nothing private in a gentleman’s club, save for the fact that the men who entered its doors would never speak about what happened inside if they could manage to do so. But there were still those who had loose tongues and they were the kind Cole wanted to avoid.

Grey’s was packed that night, with almost all members in town present in every table. Now that the boring Sheills Season had begun, no one was yet ready to leave Wickhurst.

Surveying the entire hall, he found a free table and went straight for it. Whoever it was who was planning to meet him would have to go to him.

Some eyes followed him but after a while of staring, they grew bored and went back to their previous activities. Most were playing cards, but Cole knew those inside the main gaming hall were playing more elaborate games.

A server came to ask if he needed a drink. He ordered a glass to pass the time. When the server returned, another form appeared behind the man and slipped into the empty chair across Cole. The server walked off, leaving him alone with the stranger.

The man’s bowler hat was pulled too low, almost covering his nose. Yet the lips right below the said nose were rather too full and delicate to be that of a man’s.

The person across from him tilted the hat up with slender fingers to reveal the last person he expected to meet in that place—Margaret Everard.

In men’s clothing.

Wearing a bowler hat.

In a gentleman’s club.

And while his brain tried to convince him it was her, she started to speak. “I was afraid you would not come.” Her voice low and croaky. “I am—”

Without a word, Cole sprang to his feet, sending his chair against the wall, and grabbed her hand in a tight grip. She gasped in surprise and started to protest but he was too infuriated to notice.

With a tight grip, Cole pulled her across the hall and out of Grey’s.

XIV. What Happened At Grey’s

Furious might actually be a better word if Margaret considered how his hand gripped her wrist along with his long and forceful strides that led them directly out of Grey’s.

There were two carriage drivers talking outside and both stared after them as Cole led her farther away from the lamppost right outside the entrance and into a dark corner, behind a large stone statue of a man holding a deck of cards.

“What in the devil do you think you’re doing?” Cole demanded, letting go of her wrist.

Margaret caught her footing, squared her shoulders, and smiled at him. “I’ve been trying to get your attention and have not gotten any response. I figured, since it is drastically necessary that I help my servant, that I have to take the discussion with you elsewhere.”

His brown eyes were dark with furious disbelief. Yet the longer his eyes remained on hers, his face began to soften. “Why are you doing this, Meg?”

Margaret blinked away the guilt. “Doing what?” she whispered.

“How did you know about the case?”

For a moment, she was confused. And then she remembered her note. “I lied. I don’t know what you’re working on.” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Truly, I do not know what it is. I was taking a chance in hopes that you will see me.”

His brow twitched. “See you.”

She nodded and awkwardly looked back to where the bright doorway of Grey’s was. “Would you like to go back inside?”

“Bloody hell no,” was his strong response.

“Well, I’m saying we should. I want a drink,” she said, taking a step toward the entrance, but he stopped her. “What?” she asked. “Can a woman not enter a gentleman’s club?”

“This is not a place for you.”

“Whatever do you mean? My mother was a member here.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Well, she was a secret member. She was the one who helped my father and his friends regain their membership when they were blackballed.”

He pulled at her arm and blocked her path, his face serious. “What are you doing here?” He looked around. “Where’s your carriage?”

Margaret began to feel an urgent need to make him stay. “It would be fun to play a card or two inside. Would you like me to show you how to cheat on Faro while we discuss the matter about my servant?”

His nostrils flared. “I do not have time for games, Margaret, most particularly the one you’re trying to play.”

“But—”

His eyes assessed her from head to foot, his frown growing deeper by the second. “And why are you wearing breeches?”

“I had to climb to a window earlier,” she shrugged. “And I don’t go to Grey’s dressed as I usually do.”

“Which window would that be?”

“Tori’s, of course,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “She and Levi eloped to Tiny Town this evening.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” She merely shrugged. He scoffed in disbelief and placed his hands on his hips. “Do you often do this?”

“Climb windows? No, of course, not. Unless it’s entirely necessary.”

“Dress in breeches and go to Grey’s,” he corrected.

Margaret looked at him wryly. “I told you—I’m a member. Ask the manager. We are friends.” As a matter of fact, she frequented Grey’s on occasions when the League required it.

“And what other odd things do you do out of whim?” he demanded.

“They really are not out of whim , my lord. I am quite sensible,” she nonchalantly replied. “And,” she added, pausing to give him a mysterious smile, “I’m willing to discuss a few of them in private.”

His ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, giving her a moment to study him closely. The sharp arch of his brows was still the same, she noted.

Dark brown eyes landed on hers again. “Why are you doing this?” he repeated the question.

Margaret wrinkled her nose. “I told you—I need help with my servant. You were ignoring my missives.”

His eyes narrowed, the same way they did years ago when he knew she was trying to hide something else.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, squaring her shoulders and looking about to see if anyone was witness to their exchange. There was none. “Well,” she repeated, looking him straight in the eyes. “Apart from the fact that I really do have an important concern, I also have another agenda in mind.”

“Agenda.”

She nodded. The thumping against her chest had long subsided and her mind had cleared. His presence no longer made her jumpy as they did minutes earlier. “Yes,” she replied, her voice calm and composed.

He simply stared at her as though she was a rare creature from aboveground.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you not going to ask what it is?”

“No.”

“I’ll tell you anyway,” she said, taking a brave step closer. He took a step back and she made another forward until he was trapped between her and the cold stonewall.

His face was similar to the stone behind him—dark and blank.

“My offer in Theobald stands still. I wish to be friends. One with benefits.”

It took a few seconds before he allowed himself to react and when he did, his face contorted with disbelief and utter shock. “Impossible,” was the only word he was able to articulate. Margaret believed that if he tried more, he would have stammered.

“Good God, Cole, I’m not asking you to marry me.”

At her words, he stiffened. Something crossed his face that she made her almost afraid. Something dangerous.

“What I mean by benefits is that we get to help one another. For one, you can help me with the case of my servant,” she said in one breath, eager to be rid of the hard look on his face. If this was what it was like to remind him of the past, then perhaps she should just let the past be. “And in return, as your friend , I shall also provide you with conveniences. Whatever you wish.”

She watched his jaw twitch. If her ears were not fooling her, she thought she heard him curse under his breath.

“Go home,” he said, he coldly said.

“But what about my servant?”

“I said go home.”

“She really needs papers and I think she’s in danger.” As he walked away, she called out, “Are you not taking me home?”

“No,” he said without stopping.

“I might go back inside and play cards.”

He kept walking.

Margaret watched him leave with a satisfied smile. Her hand lifted to adjust the bowler hat over her head.

That was a small progress, she thought. Small, but progress nonetheless.

---

It seems, dear townspeople, that a pair of prominent names had escaped Wickhurst and drove to Tiny Town yet again!

It has come to the knowledge of this paper that Lady Victoria Ashdown climbed down her window last night with the help of Levi Everard!

Whoever would have thought that the two seemingly good friends could cause quite a scandal?

A good and reliable source (yes, one of them Everards) relayed that Victoria Ashdown and Levi Everard are in love. The perfect product of the last Wickhurst Season, indeed!

Someone must have known this was bound to happen!

We assure you, we never saw it coming!

-The Town Herald, Gossip Section

Cole shook his head with a scoff.

So, it was true.

Memories of the previous evening assaulted his thoughts yet again. His jaw tightened as he remembered the familiar feel of her skin in his hand, her pliant mouth as she talked about her crazy proposition and her servant. He remembered how they tasted like, how they made him feel. Last night, he almost lost control.

He harshly brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He could not believe that she managed to fool him into coming to Grey’s.

Last night should serve as a warning. Shaking his head, he tried to drive her away from his mind and reached for the letter his assistant brought to him that morning.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed as he began to read its contents.

Dear Lord Ashmore,

The case of our missing cat, Mrs. Beagle, has been a curious one for me.

She frequently goes missing at least once a month and we do not know where she goes.

I know that the law regarding the welfare of animals in the Town is almost nonexistent, leading me to acquire your expertise on the action of which I am inclined to do once Mrs. Beagle returns from her monthly disappearance.

Will it be against the law if we put her in a little cage during the evenings?

Yours,

Margaret Everard

Crumpling the paper in one hand, Cole came to his feet.

Whatever game she wished to play, he was not taking part in it. He could resist her.

But, of course, Margaret Everard would soon prove him wrong.

XV. A Drive Home

Ysabella and Emma were overjoyed that Levi had finally come to his senses and eloped with Tori. The pair could hardly talk about other things apart from their brother’s trip to Tiny Town, Nicholas’ daunting situation as an unwilling witness, and the scandal their family was facing (again!), so much so that Margaret was surprised they even mentioned Faye at all.

“Margaret, when did we start taking in servant children?” Ysabella asked during afternoon tea.

She was in the process of composing a letter to their mother who was still in Devonshire with Benedict and Agatha. The purpose of which was to provide the dear woman an explanation to the recent scandal that involved another of her sons.

At her sister’s question, she looked up and asked, “Do you mean Faye?”

“Is that her name? The girl who follows one of the lady maids around?”

“Yes.” She bent her head to continue writing.

“Well? Is she a servant?”

“She is currently being trained to be a lady’s maid,” she murmured in response.

“How did she come to be under our employ?” asked Emma who was reading a book.

“She came to our doors asking for help.” She paused and assessed her sisters. “Why?”

“Do we intend to pay her?” Emma asked. “Will she be receiving the same benefits as the rest?”

“Of course.”

“Did she come here willingly?”

“As far as I’m aware, Emma, yes.”

“Where did she come from, Maggie?” Ysabella asked.

“I do not know.” She placed her dipping pen down and gave her sisters a serious look. “And I wish that you do not speak her name or mention her to any of your acquaintances.”

“Why so?”

“Because I believe she escaped a very dangerous place. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to help her and I would appreciate if the two of you can help by keeping her presence in the household a secret. Also, please do not quiz her about things she doesn’t want to talk about.”

Emma’s eyes were filled with curiosity while Ysabella merely nodded.

“I’ll be out to run some important errands this afternoon. Do not go out of the estate. Max is at Ralph’s in Dosett Street,” she told them, returning to the letter. “Should you need anything, call for them. But dare not go there yourselves. You know how they hate if you barge in unannounced.”

“You are always out,” Ysabella commented. “You do not tell us where you go.”

At that moment, Margaret happened to turn to the window. That’s when she noticed the man. He was standing across the street. She would not have thought anything about it because he looked like any normal passersby. However, she had also spotted him two days ago in that same spot. “I’m seeing friends,” she absently replied to her sisters.

“You do not have so many friends and the only one closest to you has eloped to Tiny Town,” Emma pointed out.

“When you reach my age, ladies, you may understand that not everything is being shared,” she said with a wink. “Including friends.” She finished the letter and neatly folded it. “Do not wait for me for supper. I may come home late.”

“It’s not fair, you know,” said Emma. “You are a lady of status and you go about Wickhurst as though you’re a married one.”

“I’m considered a spinster by many. With that comes specific privileges, freedom to walk about without a companion being one of them.”

Ysabella sighed while shaking her head. “See, Em? See how long you will have to wait to gain your freedom?”

“And you believe that marriage will give you that?” retorted Emma.

“Why would you match people together if you believe the opposite for yourself?”

“Because scheming is fun.”

“But if you’re with the right man, you’ll be free. Mother said so.”

“I seek a different kind of freedom, Ysa.”

“And what kind is that?”

“The kind Margaret enjoys, of course! No husband to answer to, no children to tolerate!”

Margaret left the two bantering loudly about marriage with a shake of her head.

---

After she secured the delivery of the letter to Devonshire, Margaret directed her carriage driver to go straight to the men of Courts. She stared out the small gap in the curtain window of the carriage to see what the folks in Wickhurst were up to. Many of them held copies of the recent Herald and she smiled to herself as she remembered the article about Tori and Levi that morning.

The fact that Samuel Theobald very rarely wrote for the gossip section gave his favor an even heavier weight. And that deserved a reward. That morning, she paid Grey’s manager a visit. It did not take long, for the man did not need a lot of convincing. He knew that losing one Everard and a Theobald may have consequences. He only needed Ralph and Samuel to learn their lessons. And so, they shall be banned from Grey’s for only a fortnight.

Closing the curtain fully, Margaret leaned back. Tori’s problem was over despite the scandal they stirred. Now, Margaret was left with only one task and it seemed to be the hardest she had to face yet.

But now I can focus, she thought to herself. No more crazy balls to consider, no evil stepmothers to outwit, and hopefully no more windows to climb.

No climbing, just chasing.

Chasing a man determined to maintain a good distance between them, she thought with a sigh.

---

“Good afternoon, my lady,” the same young man greeted.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “I wish to see Lord Ashmore.”

The young man gave her an awkward smile. “Did you set an appointment, my lady?”

“Do I need to? We are friends.”

The man blinked, apparently confused.

“I have a very sensitive issue I wish to discuss with him.”

“You may set an appointment for some other day, my lady. And if Lord Ashmore agrees to meet, we can arrange for a more specific time.”

Margaret sighed. “Who is your immediate superior?”

The young man must have taken her words an attack to his work and he squared his shoulders before he saying, “If you have a case to present now for us to review or act upon, I believe Lord Ashmore does not have to be the one to look into it. He is quite a busy man, my lady.”

“Then may I look into cases that may be similar to my concern?”

“And what case may that be?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Then I cannot help you.”

“But I am a citizen of the Town. I have the right to know every crime that our society is facing.”

“I am very aware of the law, my lady, and I assure you that no one—not even my immediate superior—can provide you with the answer that you seek.”

This was not working. This man was doing his job better than she had anticipated. “Very well,” she snapped, trying to save face. She should at least get something while she was here. “Perhaps you can help me with another concern. I wish to inquire about requirements to acquire papers for a servant who does not have them.”

“What sort of papers are you speaking of, my lady?” asked the man, obviously relieved that the topic had changed.

“Identity papers. She came with none.”

The man nodded and started writing down notes. When he looked up, he gave Margaret a curt smile and said, “I’m afraid we will have to prepare everything first given that this particular servant does not have any paper in hand.”

Margaret sighed. “Very well. How many days will it take you?”

“I cannot assure, my lady. I will have to pass your request to the right agency. And you ought to bring the servant with you the next time you come by. We will send word.”

“It will be that easy?”

“If the servant has any family to testify to her identity and birth, it would make the process easier and shorter.”

“The servant does not have any family left.”

The man stared at her as though he finally pieced together everything, but Margaret was no fool as to admit that her servant was connected to a slavery case. Many evil men had connection everywhere and Faye’s case was quite delicate.

“Then the servant will have to do, my lady. The process will take very long, I’m afraid.”

“We are not in haste,” she retorted, feeling the conversation was coming to an end. “Is Lord Ashmore about?”

“No, my lady, he is currently in a meeting. And no, you truly cannot see him.”

“With whom?”

“I cannot say, my lady.”

Margaret shook her head. “And when will this meeting end?”

“I cannot tell, my lady.”

“Very well, then, thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, my lady.”

She stared at him for a while before she nodded and turned away.

Walking out of the building, Margaret paused at the top of the steps, studied the carriages parked near the driveway and groaned. She could not believe she had to resort to something crazy.

Coming back to her own carriage, she said to the coachman, “You may go ahead. I have already secured a ride home.” As the carriage drove away, revealing the building across the street, she saw him again. His face was hidden under his bowler hat just like many other gentlemen. He stood out, however, by the size of his coat. It was too large for him. When he saw her looking, he nonchalantly turned and walked away.

---

The man behind the desk in the hallway of the Men of Courts stood up as he hurriedly passed by. “My lord, Lady—” he started, but Cole held up his hand to stop him, saying, “Tomorrow.”

Walking out of the building, he did not wait for his carriage and walked toward it, his mind filled with the cases he was buried in.

He must have been too deep in his thoughts that he did not notice someone standing in his way until she spoke. “Hello, Cole.”

Cole stopped and sighed.

“You did not reply to my query.”

“Your query was entirely unimportant.” He stepped to the side and walked past her. “And I did send you a note.”

“You did?” she asked behind him.

“Yes. I asked that you stop this at once.”

He did not hear her response and although he wanted to look back, he dared not. He walked on to where his carriage was, pulled the door open and climbed inside. But when he reached out for the door to close it again, Margaret squeezed through the opening and scrambled inside to sit across from him.

As Cole opened his mouth, she crossed to the other side and settled beside him, her blue skirts covering one of his legs.

“Please, stop,” he said under a controlled, cold voice. “Stop.” His eyes did not meet hers. The door was left open as he waited for her to move.

“I came by the Men of Courts to make inquiries and when I walked out, my carriage is not there.” She leaned over his lap, reaching for the door. She pulled it close and settled beside him with a huff. “I’m giving you liberty to drive me to your estate.”

“My estate. You are insane if you think I would be that stupid.” He finally turned to face her, and the strong resolve he mustered seconds ago started to wither. Her green globes were enough to remind him of the best days of his life and the nightmares.

“And you must be equally insane if you think I’d simply give up knowing you’re the only person I can trust to help me,” she countered back. It was only then that he realized she may actually be serious about her problem.

Cole swallowed and briefly shut his eyes to block her face from his mind along with everything that came with it—the past, the passion, the joy. And the pain.

“Margaret,” he started, calling her by her given name to relay his frustration. “Whatever it is, I don’t think I can help you. I’ll find someone who can.”

“But did you not hear me? You’re the only one I can trust .”

He drew in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was suddenly aching.

“You must be hating me. Instead, you are throwing yourself at me. Why?”

“Why would I hate you? I have tried, but soon saw no reason for it. I want you still.” His eyes flew open at her words. “As a friend.”

He scoffed and shook his head. Margaret knocked on the roof of the carriage and it started to move.

As Cole made a motion to shout an order at the coachman, Margaret grabbed his upper arm and said, “Cole, please. I need your help.”

“Your brothers will kill me if they as much as learn we’re sharing the same air.”

“They will have to kill me too, then, for I’d rather be dead than let them take my freedom away from me. They can’t choose my friends as much as I can’t choose who they play their cards with.”

He quietly looked at her for a while. She was too close. And while she offered friendship, he was thinking of other things.

Was this the best they could have? Friendship? Would he even survive it?

No, he would not. He knew now he would not. So, he shook his head. “I’ll hear what you have to say, but I can’t promise anything. And once you’re done, I’ll decide where the carriage leads us.”

She did not waste time. “I believe that my new servant is a victim of a slave trade and I’m afraid there may be other children and women trapped somewhere.”

Cole stiffened.

Margaret read the look on his face and smiled. “Well? Are you going to help me? Should we head to your place now? I’m quite sure you have tea.”

XVI. A Deal

She was surprised that he chose to stay in the same villa. It had not changed. It seemed that it was only yesterday that she had been here. Those were perhaps her happiest days—back when they were ignorant of the future.

“If you do not mind, I prefer to talk in your study,” she said, walking straight up the stairs.

He sighed behind her but said not a word and followed. The days when she walked through the same corridors, their conversations and laughter echoing down its path, flew past with each step. Her eyes landed on his bedchamber door as she walked by and she wondered if it still looked the same.

His study was right next door. Stepping inside, she stopped and looked around while he walked past her and settled behind his large desk, face impassive.

Margaret realized she was barely breathing. The walls of the library seemed to be closing in on her, its memories milking her lungs of air.

“I see you did not bother to change anything,” she forced out, walking toward the chair. As she sat, she realized how heavy she felt. How this felt so wrong.

The wall of books behind him reminded her of one particular night. It was fresh in her mind—the touch of his hands, his lips. The sound of the books falling on the floor, his breath that tingled her skin. The burning.

Her gaze flickered away from the memory and back to search his gaze. She didn’t know which felt worse. The memories or the blank look in his eyes.

Clearing her throat, Margaret gathered her wits.

“What makes you believe your servant is a victim of a slave trade?” he asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“She told me she was held captive among other women in a manor. However, she couldn’t say where.”

“She escaped?”

She nodded. “To this day, I have not yet prodded for more information. She is very much in fear. My main concern is her safety.”

“By providing her with the right papers.”

“She wishes to change her name and I agree. A new identity shall offer security.”

“Do you have reasons to believe she is being sought out?”

“If she is speaking the truth, yes.” She hesitated for a moment. “Someone may have already found her.”

His brow furrowed. “Found her?”

She nodded. “I’ve noticed someone following me.” Anger was not the reaction she expected. His nostrils flared and his eyes pierced at her. “What?”

“You’re being followed?”

“I think I am. I’m not certain.”

“Since when?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I first saw him a few days ago outside the manor.”

“And yet you go around without companion?” he gritted out.

She rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself, my lord.”

“Don’t be foolish, Margaret. You’re in danger.”

“I’m always in danger. Women always are,” she snapped. “We walk the streets covered from head to toe and yet we are still being subjected to men’s unsolicited attention. What would you rather I do? Lock myself and my new servant at home and wait for someone to rescue us?”

“You could take precautions.”

“I do.”

“Do not take this lightly,” he said, growling through his teeth. “If this girl is indeed a victim of a slave trade, you are looking into powerful enemies.”

“I know. Why do you think I’m here? I’m looking for help and you make it quite difficult by judging my foolish moves.”

“Because you don’t give regard to your safety!”

“Why are you getting angry? I told you I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t see how you can do that if someone gets the opportunity to harm you.”

She smiled. “They can try.”

“This is no laughing matter.”

“I’m very aware of that. I’m just strangely amused how very little you know me.”

“I know you can be quite impetuous.”

“I’m also quite good with guns and swords. And daggers.”

He scoffed. “Of course, you are.”

“Now, back to my concern—” She stopped and blinked in alarm.

“What is it?” he asked, brows fused in a frown.

She looked around. “Do you have…” She shifted in her seat with a grimace. “May I use your chamber to address some private concerns?”

He looked confused, brows dipping lower.

“Very private concern,” she said, shifting in her seat for emphasis. “Please.”

He sighed with resignation and nodded.

She jumped to her feet and scurried to the door. “Thank you.”

Walking out, she went straight to his chamber. For a moment, she just looked around the familiar room, his smell intoxicating her senses as the interior overwhelmed her with distant sounds of laughter and paltry conversations of the past.

Blinking against the burn at the back of her eyes, Margaret walked toward one drawer. It was filled with fresh cravats. She closed it and moved to the next one. A cold feeling of dread came over her when she saw the neat display of round gold brooches inside. They were arranged in so perfect a manner, all of them bearing the Ashmore family crest. The emblem of a bird with its wings spread wide, claws on top of the letter ’ A ’ on each piece reminded her of the evidence that linked Cole to the murder of Osmond Trilby.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the brooches and widened when they spotted the only one that was different from the rest. Her fingers shook as she reached inside to pick up the round, golden piece. Her eyes watered while she ran a finger over the amethyst stone in the middle.

He kept it, she thought in wonder.

Margaret returned the brooch inside the drawer and shut it close. She would not find anything that would implicate him to the murder here. He was too wise for that.

Yet he left a piece in Osmond Trilby’s room, a voice whispered in her mind.

---

By the time she returned, Cole had managed to master himself. Margaret’s presence in this place was waking up demons he would rather forget. Every corner of this library had a memory of them . Together. Young. Passionate. In love.

Happy.

“I shall aid you with this servant’s papers,” he told her. “She needs a new name and a sponsor.”

“That would be me, of course.”

He stiffly shook his head. “I do not suggest it. It will only put you in danger.”

“I do not care.”

It took all his control to not reach out and shake her to her senses. Could she not imagine the power of the people behind the trade? One word from them and they could make her disappear as easily as everyone else.

“Margaret, I’m serious. The slave trade is a dangerous business. The moment you dip your toes in it, you’ll be swallowed whole.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I simply do.”

“How?”

His jaw tightened.

“Are you investigating it?” she guessed correctly. When he did not reply, her eyes narrowed. “You seem to already have enough knowledge about it.”

“I’m a head of the Men of Courts. Of course, I do have knowledge about it.”

She stared at him for a long time as if she was leafing through pages of a book for a phrase she could not remember. And by the time she blinked and looked away, Cole was almost certain that she discovered his secret. “If you say so,” she said with a shrug, running her fingers through her hair before fixing her attention on a long line of books to her left. His entire body tensed at the movement, giving him glimpses of her doing the same just moments after waking up in his bed.

“The moment we settle Faye’s papers, I intend to find help for the others.”

If there was anything that could inflame him more than the thought of her in his bed, it was that last statement. “No, you would not.”

Her strong emerald eyes flew back to him. “I don’t intend to sit in my comfortable home while I know there are others suffering such terrible fate.”

“That is not a job for you to take.”

She lifted her chin haughtily. “Well, if the people whose job it is to do so would not do something about it, who shall?” She looked him up and down. “You said it yourself. You know about the slave trade. I wonder how you ever sleep in peace with that.”

He held her gaze strongly. “I don’t. Not for a long time.”

His words arrested her and for a long moment, they just stared at each other, probably thinking of the same thing. The sleepless nights, the restless longing. She blinked away first. “Then maybe you don’t have enough demons to sleep with,” she said.

“Please, tell me. However have you made such judgement?”

She smiled. “You would not be this angry. Or furious.” She leaned over. “You would have nothing left but a smile to fool the rest of the world. Smiling is the easiest to conjure, you know, when you’re left with nothing after the demons consume everything inside you at night. Thus, anger, takes so much energy to summon.”

“You can’t judge my nights by how I choose to wield my weapons, Margaret. The anger is nothing but a clear reflection of the current situation. I keep my demons where they should be.”

She sighed. “Oh well,” she said with a shrug. “I must be wrong then. Perhaps you are the expert. I’ve only been dealing with one for years, after all,” she said with an empty smile.

His face hardened. His strength was focused on keeping still as pain flashed before her eyes. He held his breath, watching as Margaret regained her composure, covering her staggering confidence with that empty smile as she squared her shoulders. “Good day, my lord.”

“I’ll take the bloody case.” The words rolled out of his tongue faster than his mind could stop him. She stopped and turned to face him again. “Don’t take it anywhere else. You don’t know the connections these people have.”

“And how do I know you will not report it to someone who may be involved?”

“You came for help, Margaret.”

She considered his words. “I intend to be a part of this.”

“No.”

“Well, then, I wish you the best of luck on your case while I work to build my own.”

“You do not have the resources.”

“Please, do not underestimate my capabilities, my lord.”

“This is not a game, woman.”

“I’m old enough to know it isn’t.” She took a step toward him. “I will be a part of this, or I will not. Faye shall provide us with valuable information to start with, but I shall not share them with you if I won’t know how or where you intend to use them.” Before he could brush her off, she added, “Unless you think the past shall be a hindrance?”

“Of course, not,” he spat out.

A beautiful smile broke her face. “Do we have a deal, then?” When he refused to answer, her brows cocked high. “My lord?”

This would be the first real witness he would have for the slave trade. He could not let it go. Thus, he stiffly nodded.

“I would appreciate you give me your world.”

He glared. “We have a deal.”

“Splendid!” she said. “Call for me if you are ready.”

Long after she was gone, Cole stared blankly in space.

Then he blinked and cursed under his breath.

What in the devil had he gotten himself into now?

XVII. Brothers

Cole had not sent for her, nor had he ever made any indication that he would. Did he simply say yes because he needed her to leave him alone? Did he not care about the slave trade at all?

Apparently, yes.

Why then, did he act so concerned for her safety? Why bother discourage her into getting involved?

He might be a part of it.

She paced around the room, arms crossed, eyes closed.

Finally, she gave in and groaned.

Walking behind her desk, she reached for her dipping pen. She must write a short missive to Calan Haverston. This was not working.

Dear…

Her hand stilled. Mayhap she had not tried hard enough.

“Ah, bloody hell,” she murmured and continued writing.

Dear Lord Ashmore…

---

The young man in the hallway of the Men of Courts jumped to his feet as Cole approached. “Bring me everything necessary for a registry application.”

“Registry application, my lord?”

“You heard correctly. I need everything before the day ends.”

“Right away, my lord.”

Without another word, Cole proceeded to his office where two letters were already waiting.

One from his mother which he immediately set aside, and the other was from Edmund Trilby. He had instructed the young man to address future missives to the Men of Courts because no man was ever safe in their own households. With the number of letters being delivered to their building, they would be safe. As long as Edmund Trilby was careful with his words.

After reading, Cole sighed and crumpled the note in a fist. He reached for his pen and scribbled a fast reply.

I have trusted eyes watching her. Stop sending unnecessary notes and stop fretting.

Another note arrived shortly after.

Dear Lord Ashmore,

Will you be attending the Seymour ball?

Yours,

Margaret Everard

Jaw tight, he reached for his pen.

No.

-Cole Devitt

A reply returned in less than an hour, delivered by her footman. “Stay,” he ordered the man as he read.

Why?

-Margaret

The footman stood from across the table as he wrote.

Simply no.

-Cole Devitt

The same footman was breathless when he returned.

Did you only say yes the other day to be rid of me? Otherwise, tell me when we should meet.

-Margaret

He glared at the sweaty footman before him. “Stand back,” he ordered. The man took a step back. Cole covered his reply with the other hand.

Stop this nonsense. I will call for you at the right time.

-Cole

The footman arrived later as expected looking as though he traveled to Willowfair and back on foot. Fearful that her reply would reveal more details for the footman to see, Cole read the note on his lap under the table.

The Seymour Ball shall be the perfect time. If you do not meet me there, then I’m afraid I will have to move on with other options. Lives are at stake here, my lord. Suffering do not have the luxury of a ‘right time’.

-Margaret

Cole bared his teeth at the footman, his anger obviously directed at the wrong person. “Go. Tell your mistress I’m busy to write a reply.”

The relief on the man’s face was evident as he bowed and left.

---

“Why are you here?” Margaret heard Emma ask as she entered the parlor.

The twins were standing in the middle of the room, staring at Maxwell, Nicholas, and Ralph with a frown.

“We are having dinner with you lot,” Nicholas replied dryly as he munched on a sandwich. “Would you care to tell the cook we need another platter?”

“My cook cannot make the same sandwiches,” Ralph said as he grabbed the last piece before Nicholas could.

“Why are you here?” Margaret repeated the question.

Maxwell, looking bored, answered, “Mother is arriving anytime.”

“Why?” the three ladies asked in unison.

Nicholas, cheek still bulging with food, replied, “Because our dear brother eloped with Tori, of course. And by the by, no one has asked how my journey as the witness to the wedding went. It went well, thank you, very much. I was an astounding witness.”

Ignoring him, the twins turned to Margaret. “Mother will be devastated.”

“I wager my money that she is nothing but ecstatic,” Maxwell wryly replied.

“How certain are you?” Ysabella asked, hopeful.

“Because Alice Everard is the Alice Everard, Ysa,” Ralph replied. “She welcomes scandal like she does the Herald every morning. Do you ever notice the evil glow in her eyes every time we manage to survive a scandal? She tries to hide it with a scowl, but we know it’s all masked pride.”

Margaret sat beside Maxwell and told the twins, “Tell Charlotte to prepare mother’s chambers. And Ben’s and Agatha’s as well.”

“Ben and Agatha?”

“Mother would oblige them to come. Go, tell Charlotte.”

Ysabella and Emma left the parlor with excited steps.

“And the sandwiches!” Ralph cried after them.

“Ring for them yourself!” was Ysabella’s fast reply.

“Say, Margaret,” Nicholas said, swallowing his food and clearing his throat. He gave Maxwell and Ralph a look as though looking for help but both brothers chose to deliberately ignore him. Margaret instantly knew Nicholas was voted to do the task when they all decided they needed a word with her. “Say, Margaret,” he started again, giving her a curt smile, “We heard your recent activities had been requiring you to be out of the estate more often than before.”

“And where did you hear that?” she asked, feigning indifference.

“The twins.”

She waved her hand. “It is for a case. The twins do not know about the League and are obviously curious what I’m up to. Do not fret over it.”

“And do you have to be out so late at night?”

“Who told you?”

“Jefferson.”

“Of course. Do not question my activities, brothers, as I do not question yours.”

She caught the secret glance her brothers shared.

Could they know about Cole Devitt?

Surely not. If they did, Maxwell and Nicholas would be the first to run after Cole with a either swords or pistols.

Her question remained unanswered for the duration of the day because their mother, as the brothers had said, did arrive with Benedict and Agatha.

“Where are the newlyweds, dear?” was Lady Alice’s first question.

“They are not back yet, Mother,” Margaret replied.

“She had been quite worried Lady Ashdown ran after Tori and Levi and stopped the wedding,” Agatha whispered to Margaret as they both walked behind the woman.

Margaret could not help but chuckle.

“How did it happen, really?” Benedict asked. If there was anyone who was disappointed with the recent events, it must be him. The scars on his face looked deeper than they usually were. And his hands were on his hips.

“I also demand that you tell me everything,” her mother asked before entering the parlor where Maxwell, Nicholas, and Ralph were already waiting. Benedict followed inside with Agatha and settled in a chaise, ready for the tale as Lady Alice continued, “And dare not miss a single detail, Margaret, for I do not wish to appear so ignorant in front of my friends should they come calling. This is a scandal! And one must be very detailed with scandals. And where are the twins? Is it true they helped with the elopement? And why did Levi not bring a ladder when he knew Tori would be climbing out the window!”

“Ah, sandwiches,” Nicholas said as the servant delivered fresh food and drinks. “Perfect for tea.”

Margaret spent the next hour explaining to her mother how she could not properly explain everything because even she did not know that Levi and Tori had feelings for one another, saying she had been too focused on finding her friend a different husband when her brother had been seducing the woman all along.

The next hour was spent arguing about the non-existent ladder and how it should have been existent .

---

Later that afternoon, as the entire family, save for Levi and Tori, were having tea in the parlor, Margaret excused herself.

“Where are you going?” Ysabella asked.

“It has passed my mind that I have a few errands to run,” was her only reply. “Do carry on. I shall not be long.”

“Bring a parasol, sister, it might rain,” Ralph joked, eliciting a fit of laughter from Nicholas.

“You never know, brother, when the ground above you shall break down and you’ll find yourself buried in rubbles,” Emma snapped at Ralph. “Bring a parasol. What an old joke.”

“Still worthy of a laugh,” Nicholas countered.

“Stop it,” Margaret heard Benedict’s famous words, stopping another round of banter before it erupted, as she walked away from the parlor.

Not an hour later, she was standing outside Cole Devitt’s estate, having left the carriage and the driver by the park to avoid suspicion. The door opened and the same butler faced her.

“I wish to talk to your master,” she said to the man.

“Lord Ashmore is not receiving callers today, my lady,” the butler replied.

“Well, then, tell him it is a matter of great importance.”

“He gave specific instructions on who I must adamantly refuse should they call upon him.” The butler said, giving her a hard look.

“You will never let me in?”

“Not today, my lady, I regret to say.”

She narrowed her eyes at the man. “Then will you be so kind to relay my message to your very good master?” She laced her voice with as much acerbity she could muster.

“I also received instructions not to receive any messages of any form from specific individuals, my lady.”

Margaret stared at the man incredulously. “Are you quite certain I am on that list of individuals?”

“There was only one person on the list today, my lady.”

“Very well, then, I must still say my piece,” she said, lifting her chin. “Tell Lord Ashmore that I intend to stay true to my last note.”

The butler sighed. “I shall try to relay the message if his lordship will hear it, my lady.”

“I am certain he will as I am certain he is listening now!” she said, raising her voice at the last word while craning her neck to shout through the open gap of the door the butler allowed. “Good day, then.”

Margaret walked away, keeping her head bent.

She was acting childish with her stalking, but it was the only way she knew how to get his attention. He had ceased to reply to their chain of notes earlier and she was getting quite frustrated. Perhaps it is time to spy on the man the same way she was trained: silently and invisibly.

She crossed the street to where her carriage was waiting. As she rounded to the other side, Margaret stilled and then she went pale.

Someone was leaning against the carriage waiting for her.

“How long have you been meeting with Cole Devitt, Margaret?” Benedict asked.

XVIII. Seymour Surrender

Benedict’s scarred face was bare of any emotion, save for the curious rise of one eyebrow.

“He is the head of the Men of Courts and I’m a spy for the League,” she finally brought herself to speak in a practiced, calm voice. “My interaction with Cole Devitt is purely professional, although you appear to not believe it.”

“As a matter of fact,” Benedict said, pushing away from the carriage door, opened it and gestured for her to climb inside as he continued, “You are correct. I do not believe you.”

“Of course,” she said with a sigh. “And as much as I would love to explain my mission, Benedict, I’m afraid I cannot. You must understand.”

Benedict climbed inside and closed the carriage door. The carriage drove them away from the park, the silence growing as the distance to the estate drew closer.

She focused her attention on the passing view outside, mindful of any stranger following her. Her head snapped when her brother finally spoke. “I’m sorry for what happened in the past, Maggie.”

She rapidly blinked her eyes, as if fighting back tears, but really, there was none because she’d spent them all years ago. She set her teeth together and squared her shoulders. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak but found she could not think of a word.

They never brought up the past, but Margaret ever blamed her brother. If she lost Cole and their father in that distant past, Benedict lost a father, his child, and its mother. And his best friend.

“You did nothing wrong, Ben,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly strong. “We have all been victims of ill fate.”

Benedict’s green eyes stared at her, his eyes assessing hers like Cole would. He was very much like his former friend, really, both of them too good at reading her.

“If what you say is true and you’re merely on a mission, Maggie,” he said, breaking the silence, “I suggest that you be careful.” Before she could offer a rejoinder, he added, “You cannot allow him to hurt you again.”

His words were laced with warning only a brother could muster. He would not say more. That’s how Benedict was. His very words were always considered law, although he never meant them to be.

She had heard him say the same words when Cole asked for her hand. That time it had been very different. Cole still considered Benedict his best friend by then and her brother had not acquired his scars yet.

Margaret bit her lips, wishing to tell Benedict that it might be she who would end up hurting Cole Devitt if she succeeded with her plans and he turned out to be innocent.

---

The day of Levi and Tori’s return as a married couple finally came and the Everards were once more the topic of every gossipmonger in town.

Yet it was not to be missed that the newlyweds cared not for the scandal they had caused. That gossip would soon fade because Levi and Tori did not intend to stay long. They shall reside in Standbury and would never be seen by most of the people in Wickhurst again anytime soon, as Levi had put it.

Still, they had to agree to attend the Seymour Ball as a family.

Margaret wanted to tell her friend about Cole Devitt, but she knew Tori would merely be concerned. Her friend witnessed how she suffered years ago. It was Tori who dragged her out of her bedchambers and suffered balls after balls, musicales after musicales, with her until she was strong enough to regain a semblance of normalcy. And it was Tori who slapped her when she voiced her thoughts of ending it all.

Margaret cleared her mind of Cole as Tori walked the side of the ballroom with Levi beside her, both of them looking as though they were suffering the ball. The guests were gawking at the pair as if they were a piece of confusing artwork. Questions were being whispered around.

When had it even began?

Did he compromise her?

Did she seduce him?

But they were supposed to be just friends!

Tearing her eyes away from the couple, Margaret searched for Cole. There was no sign of him. She decided to spend her time with her mother who was adamant to those willing to listen that Tori and Levi had always been in love and that it was almost too late for the two when they realized it.

“My son may be a charmer, but he is a fool like most men. He realized he wants her almost too late.”

Margaret chuckled with the other ladies and as her eyes raked the ballroom once more, she finally saw him standing in one corner talking with Lord Seymour.

She moistened her lips in anticipation as she thought of a way to get his attention.

“Excuse me, Mother. I see one of the twins about to make a fool of herself,” she whispered in her mother’s ear before she sauntered away to go straight to Ysabella who was blocking Lord Wakefield’s path.

“—and I’m asking, my lord, why you refuse to have this dance with me,” Ysabella was demanding when Margaret arrived. Wakefield’s handsome face looked like he was praying he was in some other place than this ball.

“Because, my dear, sister,” Margaret said, standing beside Wakefield, “he has promised this dance with me.”

Ysabella looked outraged. “He did?” She shot the startled Wakefield an accusing glare. “You did?”

“I—I… Well,” Wakefield stammered before he finally recovered and smiled. “I did, did I not, Margaret?”

“You did,” she said, giving Wakefield her hand. “Go find Emma, Ysa. Mother is looking for the both of you,” she lied as Wakefield led her to the middle of the ballroom. “And you owe me,” she whispered to him.

“Thank you,” he said with relief, looking over his shoulder at Ysabella’s retreating form.

“She can be very persistent, but I’m quite certain she’ll get over you faster than she could steal a pie from the kitchen,” she assured him.

“Steal pies?” Wakefield asked as he positioned her in front of him for the waltz.

“Yes. She keeps them in her bedchamber. She often wakes up in the middle of the night hungry.”

Wakefield chuckled. “That’s rather odd.”

“Quite,” she murmured absently as her eyes searched for Cole. And when she spotted him, she realized he saw her first and his eyes met hers from across the room. Without warning, Margaret laughed, startling Wakefield.

“Did I miss a joke?” Wakefield asked.

“No, no, I was…” She grimaced as she tried to think of something. “I just remembered the story of Ysabella and Emma climbing a tree in the woods.”

“What of it?”

Margaret turned her head to look at Wakefield in the eyes, as though her entire world depended on him, all the while aware that Cole was watching. “They climbed, intending for one of them to jump and acquire an injury so they could summon for Doctor Johannes.”

“Why would they want to summon for the doctor?”

“They wanted for the doctor to meet Agatha.”

“Benedict’s Agatha?”

“She was still their governess then and they were planning to match her with the doctor,” she explained. “Well, let me tell you about the tree.”

“Please, amuse me,” Wakefield said with a smile.

“You see, they climbed and were fighting who should sacrifice herself for their plan, but Benedict and Agatha saw them before they could execute. Finally, they admitted to themselves they could not go through with it and wished to climb down.”

Wakefield’s brows rose with increasing amusement.

“But they couldn’t! They knew how to climb up but were too afraid to climb down. Benedict had to help them and ended up injuring himself instead.” And as Wakefield broke into a fit of laughter, Margaret laughingly added, “And the doctor was summoned.”

“Did that truly happen?” Wakefield asked.

“It did! Oh, my lord, you would not wish to hear the rest of their misdeeds, truly.”

“I’m afraid you’ve simply made me want to hear more.”

And for the duration of the dance, she told him of how the twins managed to match many of their servants. Wakefield seemed amused and wanted to hear more even as the dance was ending.

“Ah, mayhap some other time,” she said, taking note of the music.

Wakefield let out an exaggerated sigh. They both slowed to a stop with the other dancers before them. He led her to the side of the dance floor and bowed, giving her gloved hand a kiss. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Margaret. And for saving me from your mischievous sister.”

“You’re welcome, my lord. Although next time I might not be around to do so again. Be safe from my sister,” she said before turning to walk away.

She was smiling and chuckling at Wakefield’s horrified look when suddenly a voice whispered beside her, “Garden.”

A shiver ran through her as Cole rushed past her and disappeared into the crowd of evening suits and gowns. She looked over her shoulders and found her family scattered around the ballroom, all preoccupied with something or someone. Without thinking, Margaret rushed to the garden without notice.

---

As the ball had merely started, there were nearly no guests around. Margaret did not know where Cole wished to meet, but in the past, he always found her.

And he did. And without much of a greeting, he asked, “Tell me the truth. Why do you truly want to be in this case?”

His brooding look did not make him any less criminally handsome in black evening clothes. She smiled. “I believe I told you my reason. I want to save the rest.”

“If we work on this—once we start this—you may not just be putting yourself in danger, but also your family.”

“I know of the consequences,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And my mind is already made up. Now, did I pass your test? Do you have more questions before we can proceed to the actual work?”

He seemed to struggle for a moment before he finally said, “There is nothing more.”

Margaret cocked an eyebrow. “And so now what, my lord? How should we proceed?”

His jaw tightened. “Your servant’s papers will be ready soon. We need her new name.”

“I will ask her what she wants. And?”

“And what?”

“What else is there to do about this case? Do you need to question Faye?”

He shook his head. “We need to know who is following you first.”

She stiffened. “I have not seen the man again.”

“Maybe because he discovered you found him and now someone else is following you.” He was not looking so happy the longer he talked.

“Well, if he is intent on following me, then I may not spot him easily this time. But maybe you can.”

His lips pursed.

“From a distance, of course.”

“I can hire someone else.”

“If you wish it to be so.” She smiled again. “This means we are working together, yes?”

He stiffly nodded.

“Good. And once we learn more about the person following me, we might have a lead, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall make certain I am always out and about so you—or your men—can spy on my spy.”

His jaw tightened as he took a long breath. There was no question he still hated the idea of working together.

“Is there more?”

Cole’s eyes hovered over hers for a while before they traveled down to her lips. It was clearly painted on his face what he wanted. The question was: how long would it take him to lose the battle?

But, of course, he was the one with his wits still intact and he stepped back.

“You did not reply to my last note,” she said, not yet willing to let him leave.

“It was a pathetic note,” he murmured under his breath.

“You ordered your butler to ban me from your estate,” she accused.

“Rightly so,” he said, lips pursed, fighting a smile. Shaking his head, he looked around the garden before his gaze locked on hers. His brown eyes were no longer rebellious. They were mellow, as a matter of fact, and he said, “You ought to be finding yourself a husband inside that ballroom instead of trying to save the world with me.”

Margaret prayed the pain brought by his words did not show in her eyes. She forced a smile on her lips. “I do not need a husband as much as you do not need a wife. Am I correct?”

His hands slipped deep into the pockets of his trousers. He bent his head, as if waiting for a miracle to sprout from the ground. “If we do this,” he said, voice grave as he looked up to find her gaze again. “If we do this, Meg, know that nothing can happen. Nothing.” He sounded desperate.

The pain radiated to the tips of her fingers. “Of course,” she said with an empty smile. “Nothing.”

XIX. Changes

“You are certain of this?” he asked, stepping away and ready to leave. His question was giving her one last chance to change her mind.

“I’m certain. Do tell your butler to scratch me off the list.”

He scoffed, the closest to a laugh he could muster. “I’ll go on ahead.”

“Can I dance with whomever I please now?”

“I never said and cannot say you cannot. I do not own you, my lady.”

“I never insinuated that you do, my lord.”

“Good,” he said, looking into her eyes. “We both know the dangers of having claimed all.”

Margaret knew she must revel in her success as she watched Cole make a turn and finally disappear. How could it be that her heart felt frozen and numb, yet still ached?

“You made it to the door, Maggie. Now, you just have to push through it,” she said to herself as she righted herself. She must return to her family and put up an act, not simply for the guests and her family, but also for Cole. He must only see the new Margaret Everard.

Her thoughts came to a halt when she stumbled upon the last person she expected to see in the garden alone. Tori was facing toward the exit of the garden with a frown.

“Tori? What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

Tori turned to face her, eyes looking curious. Her friend looked back at the pathway behind her. At that moment, Margaret knew her friend ran into Cole merely moments ago.

Margaret prepared herself for Tori’s reaction, her mind already racing to the best response she could give. “Margaret,” Tori slowly started, walking toward her, blond tresses swaying beside her face as she did so. “Do be honest with me, please. Were you with Cole Devitt just now?”

Margaret blinked and nodded. “Yes, I was.”

Tori’s eyes rapidly blinked in disbelief and surprise. “You were with Cole Devitt.”

“Yes, Tori, I was.”

Her friend’s mouth hung open and her eyes went wide. “Are you insane?” Tori hissed.

She smiled. There was nothing else to do, really. “Let us not talk about this.” Tori opened her mouth but words failed her. Margaret snatched her friend’s hands into hers. “Tori, please, this is not what you think it is.”

Tori frowned. “Not what I think it is? What did you expect me to think, Maggie? You meeting the same man who gave your brother his scars? Who broke your heart?”

Trying her best to remain calm, Margaret said, “Just trust that I know what I am doing this time, Tori.”

Tori’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “Maggie, he left you.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, Margaret thought the tears would finally come this time now that she was facing someone who had seen her in her worst. “I know.”

“I do not understand.” Tori could only shake her head.

“I cannot explain. Just trust me, Tori. I know what I am doing.” Inside, she was praying her friend would let this pass.

Her prayer was answered. Tori eventually nodded and sighed. “You know what you are doing, yes? You are a stronger woman now, Maggie. It would shatter me to see you too broken once again. And I honestly feel that he could break you anytime.” Tori pulled her for an embrace. “Very well,” her friend whispered in her ear. “Is this a mission?”

Margaret could only chuckle.

---

After the Seymour Ball, the Everards spent most of their days preparing for the grand wedding of their very own Levi Everard.

The twins were quite useful with the necessary things they all had to do, which was a lot—humongous, even—considering that Tori did not have any family to help, her stepmother being out of the picture, of course.

Agatha, Tori, and Margaret were always out and about, choosing fabrics and finishing all necessary fittings, while Lady Alice supervised the twins in writing the invitations, choosing the right wines and food among others.

The men, however, had their own business to attend to. They did what most men were best at during such affairs: sit around and play cards. As a matter of fact, they were utterly useless that even Ralph, who was training as a new recruit of the Town Guards, was not so missed.

It was fortunate that Levi did not want to wait long for a church wedding. He and Tori were already married in Tiny Town. “We are all merely fooling ourselves,” he complained one day, eager to go back to Standbury, but later added, “The only thing giving me the resolve to do this is not the opinion of Wickhurst, but that I wish for my wife to have the grand wedding she deserves.” The statement, of course, elicited a dreamy sigh from the twins and a blush from Tori.

And when the wedding finally came, one could say that the Everards were once again back in the good light of the ever genuine, understanding and utterly welcoming society.

Almost half of Wickhurst was present for the wedding, eschewing the boring social season in Sheills. Prominent guests including the Haverstons from Willowfair were also present, but Calan Haverston gave her a look that told her they could not discuss the case there. She was all fine with that, really, because she did not think she had something substantial to provide at this point.

The grand wedding would have been considered a success if not for what Ysabella did during the party held in the Everard House.

Her sister, who had been chasing after Levi’s friend for…

Now that she thought of it, Margaret could not quite point out when Ysabella started to fancy herself in love with Wakefield. Everyone simply woke up one day with the knowledge that Ysabella was intent on marrying the most elusive and notorious rake of Wickhurst. The brothers never thought it alarming. In fact, they found it entertaining to watch their friend suffer their sister’s advantage. And as their friend, they trusted Wakefield to know his place.

However, Ysabella could not. It was not entirely a surprise when she caused quite a stir on what everyone hoped to be a gay affair devoid of scandal.

Her sister came up to Wakefield, asking him, in a voice loud enough for a number to hear, when he was planning to marry, to which Wakefield replied he had not thought of the matter and would not consider until he was quite ready.

“Whyever not?” Ysabella was heard asking.

“Let us simply say, little one, that I’m still enjoying un-marital bliss.”

“Did you just address me as little one , my lord?”

“Yes, as you are my friend’s little sister,” he tersely replied.

“But I am eighteen and out to find a husband.”

“Ah, lucky fellow he would be, then,” was Wakefield’s very wrong reply.

“You are correct to consider yourself lucky indeed, my lord. I could charm your life like no one else ever could.”

Wakefield blanched, realizing his mistake. He looked around at the guests, at least those who were within earshot, who were gazing at them with amusement. “This is not the time for such games, little one,” he was heard murmuring to Ysabella.

“But it is true, you know,” Ysabella replied, lifting her chin as she stared at Wakefield with such great resolve. “You shall soon find yourself leg-shackled, my lord. Would you wish for Everard jewels encrusted on the shackles for a more personal touch?”

Wakefield was obviously losing the battle as his face grew paler by the second, his gaze erratically searching for a way out. “Ah, I see Levi. If you must excuse me, I would like to extend my felicitations to your brother.”

Wakefield dashed away, but Ysabella said after him, “Wait and see, Lord Wakefield! We are soon to be married! Ask Levi how it feels to be and you might just be inspired!”

Her statement was met with loud laughter from those who heard and their exchange soon reached those who were unlucky enough to be entertained.

“They think I was jesting!” Ysabella was heard saying moments later, her voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

Margaret was still waiting for the Herald to tell the tale of Ysabella’s little scandal the following day when Benedict and Agatha set out to go home to Devonshire.

Her brother gave her a look of concern before he climbed into the carriage, yet only said, “Do take care of yourself, Margaret. Remember what I said.”

More days later, after the big wedding of Levi and Tori, Margaret began to feel the changes marriage had brought to their family. Benedict was rarely in Wickhurst, and Ralph had been staying more often in his own estate in Dosett street, while Maxwell and Nicholas went on with their lives working on the Everard jewelries in their respective homes, going back and forth from their estates outside Wickhurst and their bachelor apartments near Ralph’s.

Levi was on his way to Standbury with his new wife, who also happened to be her best friend, the one person who spent most days with her. She was happy for Tori, of course, and her brother, but she did not expect to feel so robbed.

The house, apart from the twins and their mother, was starting to feel quite lonely.

The same thoughts were running inside her head after she knocked on Cole’s door. Once the twins found themselves husbands, who would be there for their mother?

I would, she thought.

But would she ever fill the house with laughter? No, certainly not. She had lost that gift long ago. She was just one, boring lady on a shelf.

The door opened, drawing her away from her thoughts, and the butler immediately let her in without a word, giving Margaret a quiet sense of relief.

Cole walked out of the parlor, his face calm and composed. “I was beginning to hope you had forgotten about me, but then I cannot deny I’m not surprised to see you,” he said with a tight smile. She longed to see the old smile he used to wear whenever she came into view, but it seemed a farfetched dream now.

The pain and longing for the past mingled with the delight of seeing him once again. And she should not even be delighted, because the circumstances that brought them together were everything but romantic.

At that moment, while she watched him walk up to her, his eyes were mild and calm. As he drew nearer, Margaret’s throat tightened from everything old and raw that she felt for him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and she realized he was holding papers. And he was not walking toward her but to the door to close it.

Now that she was here, working on a case with him with every intention to spy on him, she was starting to question her own judgement again. Despite everything, she wanted the truth from him.

She wanted the glimmer of love be rekindled in his eyes, the unrestrained laughter that gave life to all her dreams. She wanted him to be innocent. To prove to her that everyone else was wrong. That he was still the man she once loved.

Or love.

She could not tell, really. How could one ever tell if they stopped loving someone?

“You have been quite busy,” he said, eyes on her.

“I have been, yes,” she said.

“And you were right.”

Momentarily confused, she blinked and asked. “Right?”

He nodded. “Someone has been spying on you.”

XX. Surprise Visit

“My men spotted two different individuals following you around.”

“Did you manage to identify them?”

“No.”

“Did you attempt to follow?”

The corner of his lips twitched into a smile. “Of course.”

“And?”

“They have a lodging in Haram.”

Her eyes rolled. “Of course. Naturally.” She frowned when he just looked at her with an expression that was close to amusement. “What?”

“You seem to be familiar with these types of work. For a lady of your status, it is quite uncommon.”

“I’m an Everard,” she easily dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I know many things. And I told you I’m a secret member of Grey’s. A fact you still do not believe.”

“Because I find it hard to believe.”

“Someday, I’ll prove it to you.” Her words snapped them back to reality and she said, “And of Faye’s papers?”

He nodded, pushing a document in her direction. “The moment she picks a name, you have to fill this in. Once it is done, it will be processed.”

“That’s all?” she asked, awed.

“For common people, that’s not all. They have to wait for months—even years—for this.”

She smiled. “You just made me feel guilty.”

“I’m glad you are.” He leaned back into his chair. “Faye—That’s her name for now?”

“That’s what we call her for now.”

“Has she said anything more about where she came from? The place she escaped from?”

“All she’s willing to say it that it’s a manor.”

“We need more than that.”

“I’ll try again.”

“Her parents?”

“None. The ladies imprisoned with her raised her.”

He frowned at her. “You mean she has never been anywhere?”

“If her story is true, yes.”

“We need to know who this manor belongs to,” he said, standing up to stand beside the window.

“We might if I can ask her to retrace her steps from when she escaped.”

He slowly nodded, hands in his pockets, shoulder against the windowpane. He was almost a silhouette. “You truly care about her.”

“I would not be here if I don’t.” His brows twitched in what seemed like amusement. “I mean I would not be forcing myself in your home if I don’t.” That did not sound right either. “I’m not saying I abhor being here. It’s just that…” She sighed. “You know what I mean.”

Cole slowly nodded. “Meg, if this is difficult for you—”

“It’s nothing,” she snapped. “ This is nothing. You said so yourself.“

“I don’t believe that’s what I said.”

“You said nothing can happen. Nothing is happening. Not even a progress to this case, see?”

He was about to smile, but he stopped himself and shook his head. “I will find out who is spying on you.”

“And you will inform me once you do?”

He nodded.

“Good. Because I hate being spied on.” That’s my job , she added to herself as she stood. “Do not bother for tea. I’m leaving. Thank you for the papers. I will return them once I can.”

---

When she saw Maxwell and Nicholas in the parlor upon her arrival, she had an inkling why they were there, and when their eyes immediately assessed her as she sashayed into the room, she knew they had been talking about her. Perhaps for quite some time now.

It had been more than a week since Levi and Tori’s wedding, but Maxwell and Nicholas nearly never missed an afternoon of tea in the Everard House.

They were curious, she concluded, as she took a seat beside Maxwell. “I was thinking it is about time for your yearly hunting trip,” she conversationally started.

Nicholas cocked his brows. “Eager to see us go, sister?”

“No, merely trying to have a nice chat.”

“Where have you been to?”

“Lady Archibald,” she easily lied. “You see, although her son is distasteful, I do quite enjoy the old lady’s company. Poor woman was heartbroken after she learned that Tori did not accept her son’s hand for marriage.”

The look they gave her was filled with doubt, but as they always did, they remained silent and decided to engage in the topic of hunting instead.

Her brothers were not the only cause of concern, of course. There were also the twins. They had always been nosy, but this time she knew they were out of worry. The occasional look of concern they threw her when they thought she was not looking was not settling well with her.

Fortunately, Faye could be considered a distraction for the entire household, even for her mother. Ysabella and Emma had been busy teaching the girl how to read and write. Ysabella and Emma said that it was Agatha who gave them the idea before she left for Devonshire.

“We must have a name for her,” said Emma that evening.

“Let’s give Faye the freedom to choose her new name,” she told them. “I would not want to hear the both of you suggesting anything to her unless she asks.”

“We have not suggested anything to her,” Ysabella countered. “She is quite resolved to choosing one for herself, if you must know.”

“How is she faring?” she asked.

“Quite good, actually,” Emma said. “She’s a good learner.”

“I’m glad she has the willingness we never had,” Ysabella said with a laugh.

“Very good, then,” Margaret said with approval. “Mother is quite glad you are using your free time to good use.” She gave her last sentence a meaningful tone but whether or not the twins got the hint, she could not tell as they both went on to talk about Faye’s progress and Ysabella’s recent frustrations on the unanswered letters she sent to Wakefield.

Margaret let them talk as she found it best to entertain them with their own stories.

When everyone was ready to go to bed, Margaret called for Faye. The girl looked beautiful, her hair tied in a ribbon. Certainly Ysabella’s touch, Margaret fondly noted.

“I hope it’s okay with you, Faye,” she said, “that I called for you. I know it’s your bedtime.”

“I’m not sleepy at all, my lady.”

She approached Faye and sat across from her. “Do you remember when I told you the other day that I may ask you some difficult questions?”

The girl nodded, eyes beginning to get restless.

Margaret covered her hand with hers. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not ready.”

Again, Faye nodded.

“Can you tell me anything about the manor? Anything at all? Do you remember any detail?”

Faye shifted in her seat, her brow furrowed as she tried to think. She blinked a few times, and Margaret could imagine her mind rushing through memories. “We’re rarely allowed outside, but when we are, it’s beautiful.”

“The manor?” Margaret eagerly asked.

Faye nodded. “It’s magnificent.”

“What else?”

At the question, Faye stiffened. Her hands went cold.

“Faye?”

The girl’s eyes looked distant now, as if she was back where she came from. “It’s cold. But beautiful, too.”

“Is it dark?”

Faye’s frown deepened. “No. Only at night. When the sun comes down.”

Margaret stiffened. “The sun? Does the estate sit under a hole?”

“No. There are no holes.” As Margaret continued to look at her with confusion, Faye’s eyes scanned the room. “There’s just sky,” the girl murmured. “And a cliff overlooking the bluest of oceans.”

---

Margaret was waiting in his study. He never called for her, and they had not agreed to meet. He would rather they do so only when very necessary, and only on prearranged times, but when she told his butler that she had important new information to share, he had to see her.

As he was leaving his bedchamber, however, Hugh came in and said, “My lord, this letter arrived minutes ago. The footman who took it here insisted that you read it at once.”

Cole frowned. A footman?

He stared at the letter. It was from Edmund Trilby.

“Send fresh tea to the study. Lady Margaret must also be in need of sandwiches,” he ordered the butler.

As soon as the door closed, he opened the letter.

I just recently confirmed it. The League is investigating you for the murder. As my source is a reliable one, I’m afraid this is true. They also have evidence against you and I was told it’s quite a strong one. What I fear has finally been confirmed. Please send advice as soon as you can.

Please be wary. Tell her what you must, but never let her control you.

---

While waiting, Margaret looked into the drawers of the cabinet in the corner, checking its contents while acting nonchalant, although she knew she would not find anything there.

Nothing’s here. She had to find a way to go to his Ashdown estate.

Or maybe there is simply nothing to be found, she thought as she closed the last drawer.

She wanted to tell her mentor to go to hell and find a better suspect, but that would be very unprofessional.

“My lady, I don’t think his lordship will appreciate this,” an anxious voice said before the study door opened. Margaret turned just in time for her heart to stop. The footman was looking utterly distraught and the reason for such expression was right in front of him.

Ida Devitt, Cole’s mother, stood in the doorway, looking straight at her with horror and murder in her eyes.

XXI. Opera Night

It was his valet, Eli, who rushed to Cole in panic, informing him of his mother’s arrival.

He cursed under his breath and crumpled the paper in his hand. Throwing it in the fire, he rushed out of the study to follow his valet, Hugh striding right beside him. Eli skidded to a stop outside the open doorway of the study and so did Hugh.

Cole pushed his way between the two servants. He quickly assessed the situation and his eyes landed on Margaret, her face void of emotions, as if she was not there. As if she had retreated into a different place. And her right cheek was scarlet.

A surge of wrath ran to the tips of Cole’s fingers.

The first and last time he ever saw that look, it was because of him. It haunted him to this day. Now, to see her in the same way because of his mother equaled the rage he felt toward himself.

“Remove yourself from here, you despicable witch! How dare you come here and—”

“Stop.” One word, but it was loud and clear, laced with severe fury, enough to make his mother pause with a start and sharply turn. The surprise turned into a look of betrayal. Before the woman could summon tears to her advantage, Cole spoke again. “Lady Margaret is here upon my invitation,” he bit out, glaring at his mother as he strode into the room. Ida Devitt opened her mouth, and it remained open as Cole walked past her and straight to Margaret.

He saw Margaret’s gaze falter as she blinked at him. But she was not showing enough. He wanted her to scowl—to be angry. Yet she just stood there. Something inside him, right in his chest, wrenched. He gritted his teeth as he lightly palmed her reddened cheek. She turned her face away, jaw twitching. He let her, lowering his hand.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I came here to tell you something important,” she said instead, eyes not meetings his.

“Margaret,” he said, tone serious.

“I’m fine,” she nearly hissed. In a blink, she summoned a smile. “I will just—This is not the perfect time, is it?”

He frowned down at her. She was trying her best to seem unperturbed. The words at the back of his mind were suddenly useless and lacking at the moment, so he simply tucked the stray dark hair behind her ear, took her hand in his, and led her to the doorway without sparing his mother a glance.

“Cole!” his mother called after him.

He slammed the door behind them and led Margaret to the hallway.

“I can return at a better time—” she started to say but he stopped her, turning to Hugh who had followed them.

“Escort Lady Margaret back to her carriage.” He turned to Margaret and paused. And he just looked at her, wishing he could say more. Could do more. With a sigh, he said, “I will find you later.”

Her lips hardened into a smile. Nodding stiffly, she started to walk away.

“Meg,” he called. She stopped with an innocent small smile on her lips, brows arched in question, almost hopeful. “I’m sorry.”

Her smile faltered slightly. “I’m fine, my lord.”

As soon as she was gone, he turned to Eli. “See to it that she arrives home safely. Go, take my horse.” He then stalked back to the direction of his study where he found his mother still standing where he had left her.

At his entry, Ida Devitt glared at him with tears in her eyes. He had seen her at her worst acting, of course, and this one did make him cringe as much.

“How dare you have that woman here!” she hissed. “You’re not honoring your sister’s memory welcoming that wench into your household! I come here after not having received any replies from you only to find the reason for it. You have been committing a sin against your sister’s memory by bedding her! I would rather have a scullery maid be your mistress than that Everard woman. She and her family deserve to burn in hell for what they have done to us.”

It was a miracle that Cole was even able to hold himself in one place, to stay intact and not burst. But every fiber of his being was threatening to do so. Just once. Just this one time. But he would not give his mother the luxury of a childish display. Rather, he wanted her to finally realize that she was no longer facing an ignorant son.

He stepped toward her. One, two. Three steps. His gaze held hers as his icy voice sliced through the space between them. “I’ve always wondered how long you’re going to pretend that what happened to Leah was not your fault.”

His mother stiffened but quickly recovered. “Whatever do you mean? Your sister killed herself because of Benedict Everard.”

Cole smiled and stepped closer, and whatever his mother saw on his face made her step back in alarm. He followed with another step and whispered under his breath, “I know what you did to my sister.”

Ida Devitt shook her head. Whatever it was he was trying to say, she was ready to deny it. “You’re talking nonsense.”

Cole nodded. “The only reason you’re still free is because I will it. The very fact that I still allow you to remain free of my sister’s murder plagues me.” Her eyes shook as he spoke, her head shaking, her words failing her. “And God help me if you remove yourself from my house, I’ll ruin us both now and for all.”

“I—I never did anything—”

“Yes, I know,” he said, stepping closer so he was whispering in her ear. He could feel her shaking, and he did not care. She should be frightened. She should live in as much fear as Leah did before her death. “I know you did nothing. You just let things happen, didn’t you, Mother? You let them take her. Father wasn’t able to live with the guilt and killed himself. You, on the other hand, blame it on others and I’m sick of it.” Without giving her a chance, Cole stepped back and ordered, “Go back to Tiny Town. I don’t want to see you here.”

His mother’s eyes were wide in horror, shaking in fear.

“I do not want you touching Margaret Everard again. Even the slightest brush of your clothes against hers, or the least sign of your shadow coming close to hers.”

Cole turned and left the study.

---

Margaret was shaking by the time she reached her bedchamber, locking the door before she walked to her private study. Only then did she allow herself to drop to the floor and finally, the tears came hot and vengeful.

Ida Devitt’s wrathful look haunted her even as she closed her eyes. With shaking hands, Margaret covered her face. The tears were that of unspent fury. She should have said something. She should have struck back. When would she and Benedict ever be free of the past? When would Cole?

Maybe never. As long as someone like Ida Devitt lived with the memory, the pain of the past would always linger, like iron claws eagerly waiting to be stepped on. There would never be a day when she they would not tread with fear, breathlessly anticipating the day it would snap.

After what seemed like hours, Margaret collected herself and walked to her table, swallowing hard. She had much to do.

“So much to do,” she whispered as she scanned her table with a shaky breath. Opening the top drawer to her right, Margaret found what she was looking for.

She picked up the round brooch she stole from Cole at the Theobald party.

Her face hardened as she looked at it.

---

He did not come to find her when he said he would. Not in the next few days, anyway.

And while she tried to gather her thoughts about the case and the information Faye gave her, Margaret occupied her time with matters of the household. She went shopping with the twins, spent a few game of cards with her brothers, and even went to tea parties with her mother.

Five days since meeting Ida Devitt in Cole’s study, her mother asked for her company to an opera. She readily said yes for a number of reasons. One, she liked the opera. Two, she needed time for herself. Calan Haverston would have to wait, she thought. Osmond Trilby would never come back to life. Whoever murdered him was being careful. And three, she needed to test if someone was still following her. She had not noticed anyone in recent days. Did they give up? Or did they simply become wiser?

The twins were not allowed to go. Their mother learned that Wakefield was attending the said opera and Lady Alice had openly expressed her disapproval of Ysabella’s obsession over the poor rake.

The opera was attended by many of her mother’s acquaintances and friends, people Margaret also knew. The dimly lit hall was abuzz with excitement for the new show that many considered to be phenomenal. Many had said that the singers were amongst the most sought-after personalities in the world of the stage. They were seated beside Lord and Lady Lettice, her mother’s best friend, and her daughter-in-law, Lady Langworthy. Lord and Lady Theobald were seated not far away.

Langworthy was once her mother’s beloved home, one she lost to her father’s distant relative, who went on to become Lord Lettice when he inherited the bigger title. When he bore a son, he passed the Langworthy title to him. There was much history between her mother and Lady Lettice, the former Lady Langworthy. Margaret was aware of how her mother tried her best to keep Langworthy, and how it must have devastated her to see it go. Growing up, she heard the story from their father. How, if he had been any more of a fool, he would have lost the woman he loved to his best friend, Lord Lettice. But things worked out. Or as he once said, love worked out.

Even until now, as her mother’s friends get together, Margaret would look at her mother and wonder how the woman felt, seeing everyone present except for her husband. In her younger years, Margaret was witness to how their friendship thrived. Without them, Lady Alice may have not come out stronger than she did when she lost Harold Everard.

Tearing her eyes from her mother and her friends, Margaret looked down their box at the empty stage below. For a moment, she was transported back to time. She was in the same box, her siblings all over the place, her mother and father seated in the middle with no care of the ruckus. Going to the opera was amongst their family’s favorite things to do. Her brothers would try to sneak out in the middle of the show to venture into the different drawing rooms in the back, while their parents would try to act frustrated, and then actually be devastated whenever they got in trouble. Their mother would be in near hysterics, and their father would quietly scold the boys. After, he would take his wife’s hand, give it a squeeze, and whisper something in her ear. It would always calm Lady Alice down. Once, Margaret asked the man what he whispered to his wife, and Harold Everard bent down to say, “I remind her of how she used to be.” He winked after, taking her hand to say, “Did you enjoy the opera, my darling?”

Suddenly missing her father, Margaret swallowed back the tears. He was taken away from them too soon. He was half the comfort of the household, half the strength and half the joy. And when they lost him, they lost that other half.

Lady Alice’s hand covered Margaret’s and squeezed. Just like how her father would have done. She met her mother’s gentle gaze and they shared a secret smile.

When the show was about to start, the entire hall went dark for a moment before the stage lit up, causing excited whispers all around. Her mother withdrew her hand and leaned closer to her friends to listen in on a whispered conversation.

Claps echoed as the show began, and when they were replaced by the singers and the silent awe of the audience, Margaret allowed herself to enjoy the show. No one was looking at her now, she thought, taking the time for herself. She focused on the performance, on the music and the story until a familiar voice whispered behind her.

“Come.” She nearly yelped in surprise.

When she looked back, he was no longer there. Leaning toward her mother, Margaret made a quick excuse to go to the water closet.

“Do you wish me to accompany you?” her mother asked.

“No. Tell me what I missed?”

“Of course.”

Her heart was beating fast before she even emerged out of their box and into the back corridor. Cole was already waiting, and he did not waste time. He grabbed her hand and led her away. If anyone was remotely curious and looked behind their boxes as they passed, they would not have recognized the man and woman rushing off somewhere far from the show itself. And although she could not see him clearly, she was certain it was him.

It was the smell, the way his hand gripped hers, and the sound of his footsteps. Margaret kept looking behind them, anxious to be seen.

They found a door that led to a closet under the stairs, entered it and blocked everyone and the noise outside. It was totally dark and silent, their breathing the only sound she could hear. She did not know how large the closet was, or what it contained. But it felt familiar. How many times had she also sneaked out of the opera, leaving her parents, to meet him inside a dark closet? She had lost count, really.

Unlike before, however, they were not here for a tryst.

“You should know this is very uncomfortable,” she laughingly said, inching away from him. He towered over her, the space too small for the two of them. She shivered when she felt his breath brush the side of her neck.

“Did she hurt you?” were the first words he asked.

“No,” she lied, clearing her throat, stepping to the side and jerking in alarm when a wooden rod fell against her.

He clucked his tongue and grabbed the thing out of the way, carefully leaning it against the side wall.

“Do not worry about her,” he said, his voice a little farther than before.

“I do not care about your mother,” she whispered, looking away even though she knew he could barely see her face. “Why are we here?” she asked, shaking her mind off the memories of his body pressing her against this very same closet door. Those days and nights when stolen moments could barely satiate the hunger.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to deliver the message.”

Margaret pressed further into the door, growing uncomfortable with each word. She scoffed at herself as she shook away the distant sounds of their breaths within the four corners of this tiny space. “This is stupid.”

“What?” he asked.

In her mind, she could feel his hand, the strain of the fabric of her dress, the wet trail of his mouth down her neck. Now, standing fully clothed in the same place where she used to leave all sense of shame and propriety outside the door, she felt utterly stupid. And embarrassed to ever be thinking about those memories when, clearly, she was the only one reliving them.

Pitiful. That’s what she was.

“It’s drafty in here. Say what you need to say, my lord,” she whispered.

He remained quite for a moment and she was guessing he was trying to read her in the dark. Well, she hoped he could read that she was uncomfortable here more than anywhere with him.

“The men following you are no longer in Wickhurst.”

“They escaped?”

“Maybe.”

She sighed. “You could not have captured them. If you did, they would know you and I are working together.”

“That’s not my concern.”

“And what’s your concern?”

She felt him step closer. “Anyone could still be following you. And this time, they may be more careful.”

“I’ve already figured that out.” She reached for the door handle. “Is that all? I don’t want my mother to get curious.”

He was standing too close now. “You said you have something to tell me.”

“And I refuse to discuss it here,” she sternly said. “I really have to go.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Meet me outside your manor tonight.”

“Can’t I just go back to your villa? I’ll be tired tonight.”

His hand caught hers when she turned the handle. “Meg—”

“What?” she snapped, harshly pulling away from his touch.

“Why are you mad?”

“Because you dragged me here,” she honestly said. “Of all places, Cole.”

He must have realized what she meant and he nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside your manor.”

She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Remember. It was you who wanted my help.”

Margaret could not help but let out a soft, sarcastic chuckle. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord. How ungrateful of me. I’m sorry that you have to go to the trouble of finding me here and dragging me inside a closet.”

When she reached for the door this time, he did not stop her. But as she was about to slip out, he said, “Wait.”

He squeezed himself between her and the door and poked his head out. Margaret swallowed, her mind restless as his body brushed against hers. And when he turned, his face was just a hairsbreadth away. He was just tall enough that she felt the light touch of his lips against her forehead. And she almost tilted her head back, which she didn’t, because she was not that foolish. “It’s safe,” he whispered above her.

Without a word, she slipped past him and the door. When she returned to their box, she was shaking. She could no longer find the show interesting, her mind already wandering to their meeting tonight.

Yes, the details Faye gave her were astounding and needed attention, but she also had questions for him. One of which was something she saw on his mother that day in his study.

Ida Devitt had been wearing an oval golden brooch with the Ashmore family crest almost identical to the ones Cole owned.

XXII. Into the Woods

As Margaret studied the round golden brooch, her thoughts drifted to many possibilities.

Ida Devitt’s brooch was oval. Cole’s was round. Who else could have the same brooch? His father was dead, but if he had a connection with Osmond Trilby in the past, it was possible that the brooch found in Trilby’s room belonged to him.

She stood by her window, gazing out into the quiet garden outside.

Proof.

The brooch was not enough. She already sent Calan Haverston a letter, inquiring more details on the brooch they found in the crime scene. Oval or round, it would lead her somewhere.

She drew a deep breath and turned toward the door. Night had come aboveground and the entire household had gone to bed. She grabbed her coat and silently crept out of her room.

Cole was waiting outside the side entrance of the Everard estate. He was older now, but she could still see the young man from a decade ago waiting for her in the same spot. He leaned away when Margaret emerged clad in a dark coat.

“You’re wearing breeches again,” he said as she stopped before him.

“Are we going somewhere else?” she asked instead.

His face tightened, perhaps at how proper she sounded. “The woods.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you mean the cabin?”

“Yes,” he said, leading the way to an unmarked carriage. “The last place we should be is the last place anyone following you will think of.”

Margaret did not say another word. Careful no one was watching, they entered the carriage. Then, his coachman led them away from the manor in a steady pace.

She realized the closet in the opera was not the worst place she could ever be with Cole Devitt at this time. It was the cabin in the woods.

The moonlight shone through the holes above them, touching the trees and the ground like the lights in a theatre. It was almost magical, Margaret thought. She could almost hear the moonlight singing a fine tune.

After he ordered the coachman to wait, he turned to her, perhaps intending to take her hand, but she jumped off the carriage and walked to the direction of the trees. She could be blindfolded and she would still find her way to the cabin.

“How long had it been since you’ve been here?” she asked over her shoulder as she led the way.

“Long.” His response was enough. He had not been here since he left.

“Not a lot has changed. It’s still the same.”

“As I hoped.”

“Do be careful,” she warned as they traversed down a slope. “Frances Highmore had quite an accident here,” she said, smiling at the memory.

“Frances Highmore?”

“Mind not,” she said with a wave of her hand. Frances Highmore was Benedict’s fiancée before he married Agatha. Talking about her would mean talking about her brother to Cole. At this point, she would rather not.

“There is a natural stream around here somewhere,” he said to her.

“I know,” she said.

He said nothing after that. Neither of them talked as the familiar path led them to the cabin. It was not owned by anyone, just as many other cabins were in the Wickhurst woods. They were built for refuge to hunters. But when hunting season was off, they were mainly forgotten, especially this cabin. Situated against a wall of earth, it was mostly ignored. It was too far away from the hunting game.

He quickened his pace and reached the door first. She entered and stopped in the middle of the quiet room. As the rest of the cabins here, there was only one cot. There was a place for fire in the corner, a stove for cooking, and shelves with various things hunters left behind.

At the sound of the door firmly closing, and when his footsteps echoed in the room, Margaret faced Cole and started talking. “I believe Faye came from aboveground.”

That gave him pause. It was clearly painted on his face that the information surprised him.

“She told me about a manor sitting on top of a cliff. It overlooks the ocean. You know what it is, yes?”

He nodded, looking bewildered.

“She described the sky and how it would turn in different colors. She talked about the wind.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “They could be fantasies fed to her.”

“Yes, I know. But the details she gave me are too specific to be brushed off.”

“And who owns this manor?”

“She doesn’t know. She and other women work in the background, only coming out to clean and return to their quarters belowstairs where they’re locked until the next day.” She walked closer to him. “She says there are other ladies who stay in bedchambers. They call them the favorites . They are the ones who receive the guests.”

“Guests?”

Margaret nodded. “Guests from the Town. And guests from people aboveground.”

Cole blinked, slowly shaking his head again. “That’s… Meg, you can’t expect me to believe this.”

“Cole, you know there are passages out of the Town.”

“They are heavily guarded. No one can pass through them.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

His jaw tightened. “And not all passages are registered.”

He scoffed, frowning at her. “How do you know all of this?”

“I’m a woman. I hear things around others,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Rumors. Men talk when they think they’re safe with friends at Grey’s. A few glasses of spirits and their tongues loosen.”

“If what you say is true, then someone can freely go aboveground, build a manor, and what—take slaves and turn them into prostitutes?”

“Yes.” When he remained standing there without a word, looking baffled, she asked, “What do we do next?”

“Nothing,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You don’t do anything.”

“I’m already a part of this. We agreed.”

“I have to look into it.”

“Until when?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t even know if I believe this.”

Margaret nodded. “I understand.” She stepped back and looked around the cabin before she focused her eyes on him again. “If you find anything—”

“I will tell you.”

“Good.”

Then she waited for what would happen next. What he would say, or suggest. But he was not saying a word. He just stood there, looking at her. Breaking contact, Margaret turned and murmured, “It’s too dark in here.”

He went to the shelf and lit a gaslight. Placing it on the small square table in the corner, he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think we are dealing with a group of individuals? Men who have enough power to make these slaves disappear without a trace?”

He nodded.

“Where will you start? Do you have connections?”

Cole shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I’ll ask Faye where she emerged. She must have had a way into the Town.”

Again, he just nodded.

With nothing else to say, she watched him think. And as she did, she saw the small brooch on his collar. Looking away, Margaret asked, “Can I leave now? Unless you have more to say?”

He turned to her. The fire danced on his face as it did around the cabin. Leaning against the wall, he asked, “Tell me why you’re acting this way.”

“What way?”

“This,” he said, motioning his head at her. “You literally chased me around for help, Meg. And now, you seem too eager to get away since your encounter with my mother. What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about your mother right now.”

“Whatever it is, don’t believe it.”

“She didn’t say anything. At least nothing we both don’t know. Benedict killed Leah and her death ruined your family.”

“That’s not true.”

“That’s not what I heard from you ten years ago.”

Cole let out a harsh sigh and for a moment she thought he would not speak again. “There was more to what happened ten years ago.”

Margaret’s first instinct was to walk out and never discuss the past again. But his gaze kept her rooted where she stood.

“After the duel, I went home to my villa in Wickhurst and found Leah’s letters.” He moistened his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “The letters spoke not of a woman in distress, but of someone hopeful. She was certain Benedict would come for her.”

“But he couldn’t. He was trapped in the mines.”

Cole nodded. “He couldn’t.” He drew a long breath, his eyes looking straight at her. “Then, two years ago after my father’s death, I inherited his title. Along with that is the estate. As I settled in, looking through everything in his study, I found more letters from Leah from ten years ago. They were addressed to me, but I never got them.”

As he talked, Margaret grew more curious. “What did the letters say?”

“After she learned she was pregnant, she was forced to hide in the estate and wait for Benedict to come for her. She waited two weeks. And in those two weeks, she sent me letters every day. The last five days of her life, I found out Leah was frightened.”

“About what?”

“She never wrote it down. But in the last letter she penned, she begged me to come and take her to Benedict. And if he would not have her, she wanted me to take her far away so she could raise her child on her own.” Cole swallowed as he held her gaze. “Leah did not kill herself, Meg.”

Her mouth hung open in disbelief.

“I discovered more things in my father’s belongings that led me to believe he was involved in illegal activities. At this point, the only conclusion I have is that Leah may have witnessed something she should not have.”

“And she was killed for it?” she incredulously asked.

“I believe so, yes.”

“They killed her to silence her?”

“I cannot be certain. I’m still looking for more proof of that.”

It was her time to shake her head in disbelief. “Does your mother know about this?”

“She would rather die than ever admit to anything. She is more comfortable blaming everyone else.”

Her lips quivered and her eyes welled with tears. “Then Ben is…” She choked in her own words. “You do not have the least knowledge of how my brother suffered all these years. How he blamed himself for Leah’s death.”

“I know.” He slowly nodded. “I intend to come to him after I have proof of everything. There is nothing to forgive Benedict for. Leah was waiting for him. She wanted to go to him. And he would have come for her after the accident.” Margaret stumbled back, overwhelmed by all of it. “If there is anyone who has to grovel, that would be me.”

She shook her head, the tears streaming down her face. “You should have told me. Or Benedict at the very least.”

“I know. And I will.” He paused to let the silence linger a while. “I could not tell anyone then. What I discovered about my father made me see just how powerful his friends were. I have nothing but letters passed between him and his friends that alludes to the slave trade, but they’re not enough to throw anyone in jail. They didn’t use names, and they used codes. The only thing I’m certain is that my mother might have had an affair with one of my father’s friends. I know because my father was aware of it. He intercepted letters between her and a lover.”

Her brow furrowed.

“My mother’s anger is not because of you and your family. Her hatred is upon herself and she will never admit it,” he said, his eyes keeping hers prisoner. “Know that you no longer have to restrain your hatred toward me. Do not hide behind your empty smiles. Show it. I deserve it.”

“But that’s the point,” she quietly said. “I could not hate you.”

An acrid smile curled his lips. “Why do I find it hard to believe?”

“I’m angry and disappointed because you kept this from me and Benedict all these years. But I also understand why you have to keep it to yourself, why you think it’s dangerous to tell anyone. How could I hate you for that?”

“Hate me for leaving you.”

His words brought back the wrenching pain. Mayhap he was right. Mayhap the pain was the hatred he was talking about.

“You were hurting.”

He was silent for a very long moment, a lonely man standing there leaning against a wall. She did not like that he allowed her and her family to bear the burden of Leah’s death, but it must also be hard to have kept it all to himself all these years. He had been alone.

Margaret took a step forward, then another. “All these years, I thought you despised us.” A tear fell from her eyes, hot new ones brimming her eyes. Two more steps toward him. She reached him, standing just near enough to look up into his eyes.

Cole took a long breath, slowly shaking his head as he looked into her eyes. For a split second, Margaret saw something flash in his eyes. Longing. And instead of taking one more step closer, she backed off.

Wiping her tears, she bit her lips. Too much had changed between them. Too many things had happened. And even until now, when they were finally open about the past, there were still things they could not tell each other.

“I should return home,” she murmured and heard no reply. “I think we’ve said what we need to say tonight.”

He remained quiet.

Swallowing hard, Margaret veered her eyes back to his and froze. He was staring at her openly, his stance unguarded. He looked helpless, but the longing in his eyes was there and she knew it reflected in hers.

Her gaze went to his lips.

Suddenly she forgot what she had been planning to say and the only thought left was how close she was to kissing him because she knew he would not dare do it. This was Cole she was facing. He had a will stronger than any.

So, she did it. She crossed the distance between them and did it. She kiss him. She did because it had been too long and she wanted to know if it still felt the same. For years, the pain had numbed the yearning. Or mayhap it was the other way around.

The kiss was not explosive at first. He was stiff against her and she was on her toes, her hands anchored on his shoulders. One sway and she would have fallen on the ground.

Disappointed, her wits started to come back and she waited for it to scream profanities at her stupidity. Perhaps she read him wrong. Maybe he had forgotten this after all. Mayhap she had been the only one living in hell all these years.

There was still time to save herself, she thought.

She started to tear her lips off his unmoving ones but before she could completely step away, she heard a sound that was close to a groan and a growl. And the immobile form she was kissing seconds before was suddenly moving, gripped her upper arm and pulled, turning her around and press her against the wall. The unmoving lips opened, crushing against hers, sending her head to bump into wooden wall.

Margaret wound her arms around his shoulders, rumpling his dark brown hair with her hands and fingers.

A lump was forming in her throat as pictures of the Cole and Margaret of the past flashed behind her closed lids, as sounds from outside the cabin were replaced by distant memories of his laughter and teasing. Words from the past erupted here and there, ones spoken by him and her.

And she blocked them all.

Her mind and body wished to be filled with the present moment, with his lips hungrily devouring her, his teeth nipping at her lower lip as he took a breath, his tongue joining hers in a dance they had both mastered so well long ago.

His upper body pinned her to the wall. One hand drew her hips closer to his, the other cradling her head, deepening the kiss.

And all of a sudden it was over.

He stepped away. Too far away, in fact. Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Margaret was still pressed to the wall, and fortunately so. She did not know if she had the strength to stand on her own at the moment. “Why?”

He blinked at her in confusion, still breathless from the kiss. “What?”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I honestly do not,” she said, honestly confused.

He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. “You ought to be out there with someone who would not callously attack you the way I did. I knew this was a wrong idea from the start.”

“Well, good for you. I did not!”

He shook his head in frustration. “You should not even be here in the first place.”

“Where else should I be? With another man?”

“Yes—No. I mean, no. You should be home.”

She smiled at his frustration. “I do not seem to understand what you mean, Cole.”

“Good Lord, woman,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair again. “What I mean is that you should not be here in the first place. You should not even be home in the Everard House. You ought to be home somewhere with a husband and children and everything else a wife relishes.”

His words caused her to stiffen. “I shall find myself a husband at the time and day I wish,” she snapped. “If you have nothing else better to say after what we shared, I would prefer that you give us both the silence we deserve. I could literally still smell you in my sleeves, for heaven’s sake. So, please, stand there as far away from me as you must while I gather myself together in silence. Five minutes and I’d be ready to leave.”

His jaw tightened, but he did as she asked. He closed his mouth and placed his hands on his hips. His hair was tousled, his shirt, with two buttons popped, was in disarray. Did she do that? Well, hell. She could not remember.

She rolled her eyes and stared at one corner of the room as she waited for her breath to return to her, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Stop staring, my lord.” When he did not comply, her jaw tightened. “Stop staring,” she bit out as she straightened against the wall.

“I can’t.”

She rolled her head to look at him. There was not enough distance between them, she thought. She did not know how it was even possible to shed more tears, but she did. “Has it always been this easy for you?” she asked, harshly wiping the tears with the back of her hand. “Brushing things aside for honor?”

His face hardened, and his eyes shook with alarm at her words. He took a half-step toward her, then stopped.

She chuckled bitterly, sniffled. “I’ve never regretted anything despite the past. But now you’re giving me so many reasons to wish everything never happened—”

As she talked, he saw his face harden with intent as he stalked toward her. And before she could finish, the words were gone, replaced by his breath as he claimed her mouth. Or as he stole hers.

Before he came back to his senses, Margaret worked on the buttons of her dress shirt. She heard his breath hitch and the sound that was almost close to a growl rolled out of his throat as he brushed her hands aside to work on the buttons himself. Shivers ran through her spine when he kissed her bare shoulders as he tugged the shirt lower along with her coat, until the sleeves slithered down her arms.

Memories of the same act flashed before her eyes.

This was supposed to be different, she thought to herself.

Her coat and shirt dropped and pooled around her feet. In nothing but he chemise and breeches, heart pounding hard against her chest, Margaret swallowed.

When he took off his coat, she knew then that he would not stop.

She reached out to help with his shirt as his hands expertly popped the buttons of her breeches, leaving it loose around her hips before stepping closer.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as his hand slipped inside. She rose on her toes, closing her eyes and she burying her face in his neck as she rode on the old sensations only he could give her. She bit her lips when a whimper escaped her as he fed the fire at her core. Her hands clasped his shoulders, silently begging, lost in something familiar because it had been too long. Then he slowed, bending and seeking her mouth for a thorough kiss.

Margaret moistened her lips, swallowing the anxiety and excitement raging inside her. She did not speak. Could not speak. She was afraid to because then it might just break the thin barrier between sense and fantasy. His hands freed her hair from its restraints. Running his fingers through the silky strands, his eyes forced hers to look into his.

Spoken words were not needed for the kiss that followed.

His muscles tightened as her palms ran up his chest to his shoulders.

The sounds of the woods outside mingled with their breaths, and the sound of fabric and buttons, of the aimless drag of footsteps across the room. Gray, translucent shadows danced on the walls, the steady dance of the gaslight a contrast to the flames that erupted between them.

They fell and tumbled on the cot and in one swift motion, her breeches were gone and her chemise was pulled over her hips.

She chuckled when he cursed his own boots, and then his trousers.

Everything that had anything to do with her mission for the League was stripped off with every fabric thrown to the floor. And when the last piece laid her bare under him, Margaret new things had changed and there would be consequences.

And like the typical fool, she thought she would deal with that later.

She arched when his right hand traced up and down her curves and paused over her breast. Her muscles, remembering his touch, tightened in anticipation as he followed the trail with his mouth, stopping just where she ached for him, covering the tip of one breast as his hand retraced its journey down to her waist, her hips, cruising through folds and creases with complete familiarity as if a decade had not passed.

She was lost in sensations both old and new, silently begging for more. Never, not even once, had she ever begged him for anything save for that night she asked him to spare Benedict’s life. And when he left, even if she wanted to, she did not ask him to come back.

Now, she knew why. It was fear that held her back. If she begged him to come back those years ago, he might have not. If she begged him now, he may snap to his senses and leave.

All she could do was hang on to what he was willing to yield. Her fingers dug into skin, her breaths whispered the need, her restless body arched and stretched. A language old as time they both understood.

Rising over her, breath dancing with her own, Cole rested his forehead against hers. She met his eyes for a long moment, their conversation silent. Clasping her hands behind his neck, she pulled him in for a kiss. A groan escaped them as the kiss turned urgent, the fire building faster. His teeth grazed her jaw as his hand pushed her knee to her breast, and he settled between her thighs.

Heat was too weak a word to describe the burning. Her hands tugged at his hair, leading him to places that yearned for his mouth, gasping with each suckle, each sensual bite.

His mouth traveled back up to her throat where it lingered, tracing her hairline, nipping at her jaw, and moistening the throbbing pulse. All the while his hands left no part untouched.

Everything from then on was a blur for her mind seemed to have completely drowned in sensations that rushed through her veins. Yet what her mind may not remember, her body did, because hours later, Margaret would still feel how he claimed her in a manner so slow that it was almost vengeful, how his slick body moved above hers and with her; his mouth claiming hers as his body did, sending her to that place she almost forgot existed. The sound of his muffled cry of release would always vibrate through the skin of her neck, his hot breaths imprinted there. Her fingers would still feel the strands of his hair between them for hours the next day, and her heart would always carry the weight of his heaving chest against hers.

Her mind may have been in a frenzy, reason and logic pushed to a corner, but she knew the moment they regained control of their wits. As blood slowed down, as his breaths in her neck evened, and as the sounds of the woods outside grew louder, seeping into what was an impenetrable space mere moments earlier, Margaret swallowed hard, realizing what they had done.

How frail she had been.

This was not supposed to happen, she thought, but she could not yet move because it felt wonderful to be wrapped in his arms, to feel his hands wander mindlessly down her waist and hips as he caught his breath, his head buried in the crook of her neck, lips pressed on her skin. The marks of his mouth would be present there as well as everywhere else.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured into her skin. His breath was in her ear where he softly whispered, “Meg.”

Margaret blinked a few times up at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do next. But it was impossible with him this close, with his body pressed against her.

Hoping she would not regret it she gently pushed him away and turned to search for her chemise.

“What are you doing?” he asked almost angrily behind her as she hastily put on her clothes.

She stumbled her way to her boot. “I have to leave,” she said over her shoulder.

“I will take you home.” He was reaching for his clothes, too.

“No. I can find a hackney.”

He threw her an incredulous look as his head popped out of his shirt. She was motionless for a moment, seeing his state of undress. Oh, good Lord, what had they done?

“In the middle of the woods?”

“Well, then, I can walk.” She knew she was being unreasonable. But there was nothing reasonable to what they just did. She should have known better.

This was not part of her mission—and he was her mission!

“Meg, can you stop for one bloody second and look at me?” he asked as she restlessly tied her boots.

Brushing her fingers through her hair, she snapped. “It’s late. I need to go home before anyone finds out I’m gone.”

Seeing his state of confusion, Margaret’s guilt built heavier upon her. He looked around, at the little signs of what had just transpired, before he glowered. “Why do I feel I’ve just been used?”

“Do not be stupid. We both enjoyed it, but now that it lasted, I need to go.” She sprang to her feet, heaving and wide-eyed.

“We need to talk about this,” he sternly said, pulling his trousers over his hip.

“Not tonight.” She picked up his coat and threw it at him.

“Margaret—”

“Cole, please. Not tonight.” She gathered her hair to one side and shrugged into her own coat. “I can’t think.”

His face hardened. “But we will discuss this.”

She nodded. No, she did not think she could. This was a mistake. If he found out why she was even with him, why she even dared approach him in the first place, he would hate her for it. And what if he was guilty? What if he was the one using her? Could she appear any more of a fool in front of the League?

As he put on his coat, he caught her gaze. “I have to travel to Ashmore, but we shall talk the very moment I return.”

“Very well—” She froze and frowned at him. “Ashmore?”

He nodded. “I have matters to attend to, but I will not be there long.”

“When are you leaving?”

“On the morrow.” Fully dressed, he stood before her, his brown hair tousled. “That’s why I invited you here tonight. I needed to know what you had to say before I left.”

“Apparently too much,” she murmured under her breath.

“What was that?”

She absently brushing her hair off her face. “I said we’ll talk upon your return.”

He nodded and she did as well. For what seemed like eternity, they stood a good three feet away from each other as if they had not breached the line of propriety moments ago. She could still feel him in her, every stroke and heat and friction, the moist glide, the rough trails of his touch. She needed it again, needed him one more time. Or even more. His eyes told her he wanted the same thing.

It was just as it was ten years ago. The hunger was not easy to tame. They struggled to not be too close whenever they were together, to not find a secret place and disappear from everyone else so they could lose themselves into each other.

The good thing was that they both knew better now. If ten years ago, they knew they were in love with a promising future, now they were just lost in the pain of the past and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

He could be a murderer, and she was a spy trying to prove it.

Taking a step back, Margaret said, “Please, I need to go home.”

Cole tore his eyes off her, jaw tight. “Very well.”

---

Cole would not leave Wickhurst if Ashmore did not need him. The estate had been missing a master for months and there were matters he must do that he could not do in Wickhurst. So, mere hours after he took Margaret home, he prepared to leave.

The risk was too great, especially now that he had managed to gathered promising information on the slavery case, which he knew would ultimately help solve Leah’s murder. However, he could not do everything in Wickhurst because it was not safe for secrets.

He would begin to piece everything he had gathered so far in Ashmore while he attended to other important matters of the estate.

In the carriage, Cole pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling weary. He had not gotten a blink of sleep and it was all because of Margaret Everard. He knew what he wanted from her, but there were things more important he had to deal with. There was Leah’s death, and then there was the problem with Edmund Trilby.

Once he came up with a good plan, he would go back to Wickhurst and talk to Margaret. It was time that he be fair to himself and her.

---

She must be there.

This might be her only chance. If there was anything to discover, it would be in Ashmore.

So, while her brothers, Maxwell, Nicholas and Ralph were openly talking about Rock’oles, a very exclusive brothel just outside of Wickhurst, Margaret wrote Tori a letter.

Dear Tori,

I hope my letter finds you well.

I shall go straight to the point. I wish to ask you for a big favor.

Please do send me an invite to visit Standbury. But know I will be going somewhere else instead. This is a very important matter only you can be an aid of.

Please.

Yours,

Margaret

“I heard that their time are quite expensive,” Ralph was saying as Margaret folded the letter.

“Is Rock’oles the brothel carved into a massive rock?” she asked, curious. “I wonder how the ventilation is in that place?”

“Rock’oles is not a place a lady such as you should discuss so openly, Maggie,” Nicholas said.

“I’m sorry, brother, but you have been talking about it for almost an hour now. Since I’m here and you very well know I’m here, I assumed I can talk freely about the place,” she wryly retorted. “Well? Are you not going to answer me? Is the ventilation of that place any good?”

They suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“You have been there, yes? Acquired their services? Are the chambers truly decorated with elaborate stone carvings?”

They all shifted in their seats, but offered no reply.

“Really, I do not mind that you frequent the place. You spend your nights at Grey’s. It wouldn’t be a surprise to know if you come to Rock’oles at all.”

“Maggie, stop,” said Maxwell, standing up. “But to answer your question, yes, the place is quite magnificent.”

“It’s not everywhere that you find an entire edifice carved instead of built,” Ralph added.

Maxwell started for the door and said over his shoulder, “Who would care for a game of cards in the drawing room?”

Nicholas and Ralph jumped to their feet to follow, eager to leave Margaret’s presence. “Do not tell the twins!” Ralph told her before he disappeared from the room.

Shaking her head, Margaret rang for Jefferson and gave specific instructions for the letter. Once she was alone again, Margaret mentally prepared herself for her journey to Ashmore.

XXIII. Road to Ashmore

“Where is Faye?” asked Ysabella.

“With the cook, I assume,” answered Emma with Mrs. Beagle in her arms. “This cat just came home covered in soot.”

Ysabella narrowed her eyes at the feline. “Not very lady-like to disappear and return looking harassed, Mrs. Beagle,” she scolded with one finger. “Wait until your cage is done and you shall never step on a single cobblestone for the rest of your animal years ever again.”

“Mrs. Beagle shall remain free, Ysa,” Emma said, petting Mrs. Beagle’s black furs. She turned into the corridor. “By the by, the brothers are here.”

“And Ralph?” Ysabella asked, falling into steps beside her. “I must admit I do miss that rascal.”

“He’s here. The arrogance stenches the air, I tell you, sister. He talks about nothing but his training and how he endures it while others have already packed their bags and went home.”

“Mayhap he needs a little reminder of how he can easily be thrown on his arse by two young ladies.”

Emma laughed and led the way to the drawing room where the brothers were but they both stopped when they heard voices coming through the closed door. They were just about to press their ears against the wood when Margaret finally broke her silence by clearing her throat.

Both younger ladies jumped in surprise, eyes wide when they saw Margaret and their mother just right behind them.

“Do you have any business with the brothers?” asked Margaret, brows arched in question, mouth curled with amusement.

“None,” said Emma, stiffly turning away.

“We’re looking for Faye,” replied Ysabella. “I’ll look for her in the kitchen.”

When they disappeared, Margaret and Lady Alice shook their heads. As she pushed the door open, Nicholas, Maxwell, and Ralph immediately stopped talking.

“I’ll be going away to Standbury to visit Levi and Tory,” she announced with a smile. Lady Alice sauntered to her favorite settee, one Ralph immediately vacated while frowning at Margaret.

“Why?” her youngest brother asked.

“She claims she misses me,” she nonchalantly said, squeezing between Maxwell and Nicholas. “And maybe we’ll finally put our plans into action.”

“What plan?”

“Killing our dear brother,” she retorted with a laugh.

“But why take the hackney?” asked their mother.

“You’re taking a hackney?” Nicholas asked with a scowl.

“This is not the first time I’m taking a hackney. And it’s in my best opinion that it’s the safer,” she said. “Bandits rarely block hackneys than private carriages. They know that most people who travel in hackneys barely have townsends to give.”

Knowing Cole had already left Wickhurst two days ago, Margaret hired the hackney in full so they did not have to take another passenger and so she could reach Ashmore faster. Taking one of their carriages would mean their footman and coachman would know she was not headed to Standbury.

“Nicholas will go with you,” Maxwell said.

Nicholas snapped beside Margaret and leaned over to glare at Maxwell. “Why me? Do I have to remind everyone that I’ve been the one tasked to travel to Tiny Town to serve as witness to our brother’s wedding? I’m done traveling.”

“I’m still currently on training,” Ralph spilled out before anyone could turn to him.

“You always sit out,” Nicholas told Maxwell. “You go with Maggie.”

“No one shall go with me,” Margaret said with finality. “You all have to be here with the twins and Mother.”

“Standbury is far, Maggie,” said Nicholas.

Maxwell turned to their mother. “You cannot possibly allow her to go alone.”

Their mother shrugged. “I’ve traveled both ends of the Town many times on my own in the past. If Margaret wishes to do the same, she can most definitely do so.”

“The roads are more dangerous now than they were before, Mother,” said Ralph. “That’s the one thing I’ve learned from my training.”

“I’ll be safe,” said Margaret, leaning over to steal Nicholas’ tea. “I wasn’t asking for anyone’s permission.”

“Did you asked Ben’s?”

“Ben’s words may be law, but Mother’s is the universal truth,” she said with a wink.

Lady Alice chuckled. “Quite true.” And to end the argument, she turned to her three sons. “How is Grey’s nowadays, my boys? Is it still such a bore?”

Ashmore was merely two days away from Wickhurst, almost the same amount of time it would take to reach Devonshire. It was between Theobald and Gilford, and quite near Devonshire, which was Benedict’s estate. In most cases, the servants from all estates could be related to each other, and if her presence in Ashmore were to be known, words could easily be passed on to Benedict.

But Ashmore was also quite near Calan Haverston’s estate, Easton. If Benedict were to question her, she could just plainly say she was on her way to Easton and not Ashmore.

She brushed the worries aside, leaning against the seat of the hackney. She had given the coachman instructions to make only one stop and they had just left the said stop. It would take hours to get to Ashmore, just before night fell aboveground, she thought, looking out into the high stone formations outside her window.

Her mind was formulating words she’d say to Cole once she arrived when all of a sudden, the hackney skidded to a stop, sending her across the opposite seat. The panic of the horses outside was enough indication that there was a problem.

“Oi, mon, calm down!” Margaret heard a voice say from outside. That did not sound like the coachman.

Bandits .

One man poked his head through the open window. “Who do we have here?” he asked with a grin. “A lady, Ned! And she’s alone!”

“A lady?” the voice from outside the carriage asked.

Margaret straightened in her seat to glare back at the man. As she studied him closer, he may be as young as Ralph. “How much do you want?” she asked, already fumbling for her purse.

“Oi, Ned! She’s rich!” the young man said, eyes wide at the purse.

“I would like to go on my way,” Margaret explained, opening her purse.

“Nae, nae, lady,” said another voice. This time, it came from her side of the window. Margaret jumped in her seat and scooted to the center, eyes rounding in surprise.

“Hello, there, Miss,” greeted the young woman, poking her head through the window, her bushy black hair blocking the entire frame. “’Tis a lucky night, ain’t it, Barto?”

“Sure is, Alex,” answered the man from the opposite window.

“You’re a woman,” Margaret absently said, loss for words. How naïve of her to think bandits were only made up of men. Of course, there would be women.

“’Cors I am, Miss,” the young lady said with a wink. “What’s yer name?”

Margaret blinked. “Why would you want to know?”

Alex shrugged, resting her chin on her hand with a curious frown. “Ye look vaguely familiar, is all. Have ye been a victim by us before?”

She shook her head no.

“Very well, then, since yer such a nice lady, would ye please give us yer purse, Miss? Let’s not delay us all, ye know.”

Margaret nodded, handing the woman her purse. “That’s all I have.”

“But I see somethin’ glitterin’ ’round yer neck, Miss,” said Barto.

Margaret sighed and reached behind her neck to unhook her necklace.

Alex watched Margaret take off her jewelry. “She looks really familiar, doesn’t she, Barto?” she asked, her black, curly hair moving as she tilted her head to study Margaret closer with striking grey eyes.

“Aye, she does,” Barto said, leaning forward into the carriage and only tore his eyes off Margaret when she handed him the necklace. “’Tis an Everard!” he cried out.

“It is?” the girl asked excitedly. Then she turned to Margaret and asked, “Are ye one?”

“I am what?” Margaret asked.

“An Everard.”

She knew it was very stupid to say yes but she nodded her head anyway. Alex was not like the sort of bandit she had always expected. Neither was Barto, and even Ned, the bloke she could not see. The man was now having a nice chat with the coachman, giving him tips on where to pass to avoid other bandits!

“Ye live in Standbury?” Alex inquired further.

Margaret frowned. It was an odd question. Had they, by chance, robbed off Levi as well? “No,” she replied. “It’s my brother who lives there with his wife.”

“Wife?”

“He recently married,” she replied. Why was she even having this conversation with these bandits?

“Who?”

“Lady Victoria.” She should really shut up, but the interest in Alex’s eyes was genuine and innocent.

“Ah, so they married after all,” Alex said with a laugh. She turned to look at Barto. “Hand the lady back her necklace, Barto.”

“But—”

“She’s one of ’em Everards,” said Alex, motioning her head at Margaret. “Give it back.”

“But—”

“We don’t steal from friends,” Alex said, throwing the purse back to Margaret. She jumped away from the window. “Oi, Ned, let’s go.”

“Alex!” Barto whined, stared at the necklace with longing, and then threw it back to Margaret. “I swear we shouldn’t have made friends with ’em!” he murmured before he jumped away from the window as well and disappeared.

“So long, Lady Everard!” Alex said seconds later from atop her horse.

Margaret did not realize her mouth was open until the hackney started rolling down the road again.

What in the bloody hell just happened?

---

Cole was in his private study, staring blankly at the mountain of papers on his desk. They were everything he had gathered from his father’s effects, Leah’s letters, and the secret searches in Wickhurst.

And he could not quite decide where to start.

Should he make a map? Trace where everything started? But where to start? Leah’s death? Her first letter? Something told him it went far before that—years of his father’s secret business with his friends .

What he was certain of was that he could not be too careless.

And he had to settle the business he started with Edmund Trilby.

The League was investigating him and he was not certain how strong their evidence was against him. If they ever found enough to implicate him, Cole might find himself in prison. If that happened, all of this would go to waste.

All of it.

A sense of dread washed over him.

Lives were at stake here, he thought, coming to his feet to pace around the room. Leah would never get justice.

A knock came to his door and he turned as the butler walked in.

“My lord, someone is at the door insisting to see you.”

“If it is my mother—”

“No, my lord, it’s not,” said the man, face stern.

“Then who is it?”

“A woman, my lord—a lady.”

“A lady?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Who?”

“She would not reveal her name.”

“Then send her away.”

“I tried, my lord, but she threatened to file a case against me.”

“File a case against you? For what?”

“I believe she used the phrase, ‘obstruction of private affairs’, my lord.”

Cole was momentarily stunned, but understanding soon dawned. “Bloody hell,” he said, striding toward the door, his anger rising with each step. “Keep the third landing clear,” he ordered over his shoulder as he climbed down the stairs.

Going straight to the hallway and to the main doors, Cole ordered the footman to go away and reached for the doors himself.

The last time he saw her, she was eager to put as much distance between them. She refused to talk. But now…

He swung them open and there she was.

Standing in all her glory, smiling at him. Something inside him, probably his heart, leaped at the sight of her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

XXIV. Third Landing

Margaret looked around the parlor. She had been to Ashmore, but only during visits with his brothers. Back then, she was just the innocent sister they wanted to show around.

Cole sat opposite her in a settee, and she could feel his eyes on her as she carefully sipped her tea. She leaned over and replaced the teacup on the table between them. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

“I was stopped by bandits on my way here—”

“What?” he asked, leaning forward with a scowl.

“I forgot how many holes you have in your plantation. Is there just one?”

“Two,” he replied, leaning back, the scowl still imprinted on his face. “What bandits are you talking about? Where?”

“Somewhere a mile away from here. I was on my way to Devonshire,” she lied with a shrug.

Eyes narrowing, he assessed her entire form. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did they take your carriage? Is that why you took a hackney?”

“No. I was traveling in a hackney—”

“Bloody hell, woman!” he erupted and she blinked in surprise. “A hackney!”

“I thought it would be safer than one of our marked carriages.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“The roads are closed, by the way,” she said. “Because of said bandit activities. I’m afraid I’m not the only victim this week.”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Truly?”

She eagerly nodded. “And I’m afraid I was being followed on my way here.”

That caused him to stiffen.

“I would appreciate if you do not throw me out,” she hastily added. “I could stay in Theobald, but I’d hate to impose on family friends.”

“But not me.”

She let out a guilty smile. “Not you.” She held his breath as he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “Before you left, you said you wanted to talk. Perhaps we can do so now?”

He froze and Margaret moistened her lips as her mind reeled for more reasons to stay. She looked away when his eyes assessed hers.

“But I’m quite tired. Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow,” she faintly suggested.

His jaw clenched. “Very well.” He stood and rang the bell. When the butler reappeared, he ordered, “Please prepare a room for Lady Margaret. She’s staying the night.” He stiffly faced her, but she could sense that he was at a loss. Maybe he might even still be surprised that she was here. “I’ll join you for supper later.”

Margaret stared at the doorway speechless after his departure.

“My lady?” the butler asked with a motion of his hand.

She followed the man upstairs to the same guest bedchamber given to her in her past visits with her brothers. She had to hide a smile, knowing Cole was situated in the opposite wing.

“Do you need anything else, my lady?” the butler asked.

“None,” she said, looking around the room. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Very good. His lordship will join you for supper. I’ll send someone to help you prepare.”

As soon as the door closed, Margaret counted in her head. She considered the time and hesitated. Pulling the door open, she poked her head out. There was a long corridor on either side, both empty. With a sigh, she stepped back and closed the door. She could wait until tonight, when everyone else was asleep.

She just had to pray one night would suffice because there was no guarantee that Cole would let her stay longer.

---

“Where is she?” Cole asked the butler.

“In her chamber, my lord.”

Cole nodded. “You know what to do.”

“She is told not to wander out, my lord,” said the butler.

“Good.”

Once alone, Cole glared at the papers before him.

His jaw tightened.

Margaret’s presence was not a good thing. It was too risky, he thought. He had kept his estate in Wickhurst free of anything that would give away his secret. Even his private office in the Men of Courts was clear.

Everything was here. And Margaret Everard was here.

Perhaps she would understand , a part of him suggested.

Cole shook his head. It was enough that he told her about Leah. Anything more would compromise everything.

An hour later, he found her already in the dining room.

“Good evening,” she greeted with a small smile.

Cole sat at the end of the table. The only thing he could manage was a tight smile. Yes, he did plan to talk to her, but it was not supposed to be tonight. It was not supposed to be here.

She looked beautiful in a cream dress. Margaret Everard always looked good in anything. And as he was reminded just a few nights ago, she was just as magnificent wrapped in him.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said from across the table, pulling him back from the night at the cabin.

“I’ll have someone look into the roads first thing on the morrow,” he said with a curt nod.

“Thank you. You can be assured that my stay here shall remain a secret.”

“That’s not my concern, Meg.”

She blinked at him from across the room, her face innocent but knowing at the same time. “It isn’t?”

“No.”

Their food arrived and for a few minutes they ate quietly, the tension across the table palpable. They were fooling themselves, he thought. They knew what was happening here, and yet they’d rather play the ignorant fools.

When their food was cleared, Cole offered, “I’ll escort you to your room.”

“No tea?”

“I’m afraid I have more work to do. If you wish, you may enjoy a cup in your room.”

He noted the disappointment before she turned to climb up the stairs. The trip to her room was quiet, their footsteps muffled by the long carpet. Her smell intoxicated the air and Cole lost count how many times he closed his hand into a fist, or the number of times she cleared her throat to break the awkward silence.

With each step, their breaths were being pulled from them. The longer they took the journey, the closer they were to ending the night. He mimicked her pace, quickened when she seemed determined to reach their destination fast, then slowed when she faltered in hesitant steps. He stole her a glance now and then, and glimpsed the same struggle he was having.

When they finally reached her door, Cole stopped and waited. He did not reach for the handle. He thought he could not. However, she did, and his breath caught when her hand stilled, her head bent as if her life depended on what she would do the moment it opened.

His eyes were glued on her shadowed face, her throat when she swallowed hard. All the while, his hands were clasped tightly behind him. Half of him was silently urging her to twist her hand and push the door open and leave him alone outside. The other was wishing she would look up and give him one foolish reason to do something stupid.

She turned the knob and he began to relax. Just as his mind started to plan a night alone in his study, persuading himself that it was for the best, she pushed her door open and the same sane mind froze, overcome by acute panic.

She murmured something, perhaps another thank you, before taking one foot into the doorway.

He should have just stepped back and waited until she was out of sight. “There are no blocked roads, are there?” The question shattered the debilitating quiet.

He caught the tiny smile at the corner of her lips. “No.”

His muscles tightened when she swallowed and turned ever so slightly to look up at him. “No one chasing you either.”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

Cole looked away and took a deep breath, pushing his hands deep in his pockets. “You said we are just to be friends.”

Her smile did not reach her eyes. Her hand was still around the door handle, her foot one step away into the room. “It was an offer and you refused. We are not friends, Cole.”

He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Very well.” He stepped forward. “Good night.”

A faint smile played on her lips. “Is that all?”

Another step closer, holding her gaze, his heart pounding hard against his chest. “For now.”

She nodded as he bent his head. “Very well.”

Stepping into the bedchamber was like a graceful dance. He arm wrapped around her, turned her around as they crossed the threshold. Blindly closing the door, Cole sought her lips as her arms wound around his neck.

There was more to talk about, but words seemed to be a curse between them, threatening to shatter the magic of the moment. They only needed each other’s touch and sighs, the silence of the night a cocoon from the fears that held them back from the reality that could shatter them all over again.

There was no talk of what would happen next, or where they would go from here. As they stripped each other, the thick layers of truths and secrets were also pushed aside. She lay in the middle of the bed, glorious in her natural beauty, her dark hair spread on the sheets, and her emerald eyes, as he hovered above her, spoke not of the past but of the longing of now. One naked truth passed between them; one they knew for so long.

Resting on his elbow, Cole cupped her face, ran his thumb over her cheek, tracing her brow. He smiled, lightly kissing her nose. Her hand wormed over his shoulder, behind his neck as she smiled back, her beautiful eyes searching his face with wonder.

His finger traced her nose, parted her lips, traveled across her jaw and down her neck where he felt her swallow in anticipation. His lips worried hers, pulled back when she arched for more. He wanted to savor it this time.

Twisting his wrist, he ran his knuckles over her clavicle, caressing the skin as they trailed down to her breast where it lingered, lightly teasing its peak. Her harsh breath fanned his face, followed by a whimpered plea. With a soft growl, he opened his mouth over hers as her breath hitched, the hand behind his neck following the rhythm of his own as it opened and kneaded her breast.

It was madness, he thought. Just moments ago, there was naught but calm will to make this slow, to take his time. But that was gone now as savage sensations overcame them. He gruffly murmured into her skin as she arched in his touch, and she answered with gasps of plea, her hands restlessly wandering, digging into his skin, deep into flesh.

Claiming her mouth with a moan, he grasped her hands, holding both over her head, their breaths one and the same as he slowly claimed her. Their eyes closed to feel the slide and a shiver ran through them, one that of momentary relief and pleasure when he was finally deep inside her warmth.

His palms opened over her hands, interlacing their fingers before closing in a tight grip. And he started to move, each thrust careful, each draw sending waves of sensations they should have relished that night in the cabin.

The sounds of their lovemaking slowly floated through pillows and sheets, the walls, and the very air they gasped in.

Seeing her face flushed, her mouth open in a silent cry, Cole hastened to chase her to the edge. He wiped her hair off her damp face, his heart racing not because of the moment, but because it was overwhelmed and it was afraid.

She buried her face in her neck and it did not take too long before they raptured together. He held her closer, fingers digging into her skin, not willing to let go.

Margaret tilted her head and kissed his jaw, her fingers wandering along his side. He caught it and brought it to his lips. “You are not running away again, are you?” he asked against her knuckles.

She smiled. “Do they have hackneys at this time of night?”

Picking the damp strands of hair stuck to her face, he allowed a soft smile. “Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered, suddenly tired. No, he was not exhausted from what they just did, but from everything else—the secrets, the danger, the guilt… the fear. And he was tired of not having her in his life.

How lonely the battle had been.

He closed his eyes against the moisture of tears. “Not yet.”

“Can I sleep?” she laughingly asked.

He silently chuckled. “No.”

---

Sleep would not come to her. Her mind was racing to many things. What would Cole do tomorrow? Would he insist that she go home in his carriage with footmen to protect her? Or would he let her stay here?

The sound of running faint footsteps from outside in the corridor made her freeze and close her eyes because Cole’s hold suddenly loosened and eventually disappeared. She felt him climb out of bed quietly. Margaret kept her eyes closed, holding her breath as she listened to him dress. His footsteps were quiet, and his exit equally so.

Her eyes flew open the moment she knew he was gone. Weakly, she pushed herself to sit on the bed. His side was still warm, she sadly noted.

As she waited, Margaret sighed. Guilt was a horrid thing, but so was her mission. She had sworn to give her life—her loyalty, her service—to the League of Founders.

And here she was, incapable of slipping out of bed to fulfill it. Why? Because she just made love to the man suspected of murder? Because she was betraying his trust?

As she contemplated on what to do next, if she should go out and follow him, to risk everything, the faint noise returned. This time she was certain they were footsteps. And that they were not Cole’s.

The Leaguer in her finally prevailed and Margaret hastily dressed.

The corridor was empty, but the footsteps guided her. When she reached the end, she stopped, seeing light moving up the stairs to the third landing.

Her heart began to race as she waited. The footsteps above sounded again. And then they stopped. A long while later, Margaret saw Cole’s shadow climbing back down the stairs and she ran back to her room, her heartbeat reverberating to her ears.

She slipped out of her dress and climbed back to bed where she waited with bated breath. He did not return. Wherever he was going, it was not back to her.

She waited another five more minutes. Then, she dressed and slipped into the corridor.

If she was found out, she’d simply say she was awakened by the noise above.

There were at least ten doors that she had to go through on the third landing. Setting out quickly, she went to the first one and pushed it open. It was dark and empty. She closed it and moved to the next one. That too was empty.

She opened three more doors before she went to the fifth one, the one in the middle. At first she thought it was like the previous ones until she noticed that a lamp was lit in one corner and the bed was not empty.

She froze, her eyes growing wide with surprise at the sight that greeted her.

In the middle of the bed was a sleeping child.

XXV. Sleeping Child

Since he could not sleep, and he did not want to disturb Margaret’s slumber, he decided to work in his study. Before sunrise, he gave up and returned to the third landing. When he poked his head inside, the three-year-old little girl was already awake looking at a picture book he brought from Wickhurst.

“How was your sleep?” he asked, sitting at the foot of her bed.

She did not answer. Instead, she asked, “Will you tell the lady about me?”

“Was that why you were wandering around last night? You were curious?”

She shrugged, giving him an innocent look. “I was dreaming.” She placed her book on her lap and asked again, “Will she be my friend?”

“Would you like her to be your friend?”

“Only if you want to.”

She had always been perceptive, he thought with amusement. Always acted older than her age. He stood with a loud sigh. “Do be quiet today, please.”

She pouted, shoulders sagging with disappointment. “It’s lonely here.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I know, darling, but we have to be very careful. Remember what I told you about the bad men?”

Her round eyes flew to him and she nodded. “Bad men.”

“They’ll be gone soon.”

“Then I can play? Outside?”

“Yes.”

---

She stirred at the feel of arms wrapping around her. At the sound of her sleepy moan and the turn of her head, he moved over her and nipped at the corners of her mouth. She sighed softly as his hands wormed their way under her night dress, peeling it off her and throwing it to the side.

Margaret bit her lip and smiled while his hands found hers and slid them over her head, interlacing their fingers. Her mind slowly woke up as Cole’s mouth trailed down her neck, and when it finally dawned on her that this was not a dream, she stiffened.

He felt it and he against her neck. “Good morning,” he whispered, hands running down her arms and sides.

And suddenly, last night fell upon her.

“Meg,” he whispered in her ear, hands digging in her hips. “You’re thinking.”

“I’m just…” She closed her eyes, swallowed, sensations clouding her thoughts.

She whimpered when his hips settled between her thighs in so natural a manner, but by some miracle, she managed to stop him, cupping his face, saying, “I’m hungry.”

He stilled and blinked down at her. “For food?”

“Yes.”

He sighed and rolled away from her. “Food.”

Within minutes, breakfast was delivered to her room. He was dressed, and so was she, as the servants laid out hot meal and tea. Once they were gone, they ate, expertly averting topics they could not yet discuss, and chose to talk about those they could. But as they finished, Cole stilled and frowned at her from across the small round table. “Where, pray tell, does your family think you really are?”

Margaret nearly sputtered in her teacup. “Standbury.”

“And do the people in Standbury know where you actually are?” he carefully asked.

She bit her lip. “Not really, no.”

“Meg,” he said with a sigh of frustration.

“They will not find out,” she promised. “If that’s what you fear.”

He closed his eyes to summon control, and at that moment, Margaret realized he might be thinking it was the best time to talk about them. Where this was leading, or where it had to end. She was not yet ready to talk about that. In fact, she would rather they forget about everything for now.

What he had in mind might not be what she wanted. And after everything, she could not blame him if this was all he could offer.

She was not in the perfect state to wake up and realize she was being stupid. And sooner or later, if she grew to believe that she could live with this sort of life—of having him only in stolen moments like this—she would grow to hate herself and eventually despise him as well.

Margaret could not have that. She knew she deserved more. But she could not demand for more if the very man who could give her that may be guilty of a crime. Or if he wasn’t, was living a secret life.

There were things far more important than her heart here. There was a child upstairs in his manor.

And she, Margaret, was a spy for the Town. She used their connection to get close to him and to dig into his secrets. If there was anything to discuss at all, it would not be about the two of them.

But whatever he had to say was momentarily forgotten when he looked at her again. “You are looking at me as if I’m one of the dandies who tried to dance with you in the past,” he said with a reluctant smile. “Which reminds me, you have me to thank for.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I saved you from them.”

“No, you did not. You were furiously jealous and purposely tripped one of them, accidentally poured wine on one, spread rumor about at least three of them, and let’s see… Was it you who stole the shoe of that poor gentleman?”

He chuckled, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I believe I had help from one of your brothers.”

When she simply stared at him with a weak smile, his expression straightened and he frowned. “Something bothers you.”

“Who is the little girl on the third landing?” she burst out without warning.

He froze in his seat, and his jaw set tightly.

“Is she your daughter? A ward?” She reached for her cup and sipped while he sat quietly across from her. “I…” She stole him a look and guiltily looked away. “I woke up last night and you were gone. I heard footsteps and followed it. And I saw her in one of the rooms.” Pausing, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Who is the girl, Cole?” She frowned when a smile formed on his face. “What’s funny?”

His brown eyes searched hers. “She is not my daughter.”

Then perhaps her second theory was correct. The child was a slave. “Then who is she? What is she doing here? Are you hiding her here? If you weren’t, I’m quite certain you would have at least made introductions—”

“I’m hiding her, yes,” he said, his face serious. “For her safety.”

Margaret mentally counted to calm herself, to stop the questions from spilling all at once. “Then who is she?”

He stared at her for a long time and she saw the apprehension in his gaze, the uncertainty and doubt. Well, he should have a reason to feel that way. She was spying on him, she thought with a bitter taste of guilt. Whatever his secret was, if it was relevant to her mission, she could not keep it to herself. A small part of her wanted him to be angry and throw her out for being too nosy.

“Fiona,” he replied. “Her name is Fiona.”

XXVI. Fiona

At first he sounded reluctant. “Promise me you will not repeat this to anyone. Not for me, but for Fiona and her safety.”

Margaret nodded, all the while telling herself she was bound to go to hell.

Cole started sharing his story. “The same time I discovered Leah’s unsent letters, I stumbled upon five slavery cases that have been rejected by a member of the Men of Courts. There were attempts to bury any evidence and claims. I was confused by Leah’s letters at first, but the more I dug into my father’s effects, I realized her fears were real. When I saw other evidence of communication between my father and his friends, it eventually became clear.

“Leah’s letters were intercepted by my father for a reason. He knew I would have come for her and if that happened, his secrets would be exposed.”

“But why keep Leah’s letters? Why keep the evidence of transactions with his so-called friends?”

“Proof, of course. They are evidence against his friends as much as they were against him. If things go wrong. Based on what I discovered, my father was already in too deep. There was no way out of it even if he wanted to. He might have resorted to collecting their transactions to protect himself.”

“And you discovered everything?”

“Not all. I’m still looking, but I don’t think there’s more in this estate. When Leah died, my father was never the same. He lived the rest of his life afraid. And maybe also in guilt.”

Margaret watched as he took a deep breath and shook his head. “You know who his friends were. You know who might have killed your sister.”

He slowly nodded. “Not all, but I know one man who would have done anything to protect his own name—Osmond Trilby.”

Margaret’s eyes widened.

“Among others. As I told you, they use codes for names and transactions,” he added with a scoff. “They know what they’re doing.”

“The previous Prime Minister is a part of this?”

He nodded, looking blankly in the air. “But there’s something strange about the case. The disappearance of the women and children don’t seem to be random. In one way or another, they have a connection to the men in my father’s circle.”

Margaret frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Some are their own servants, or related to their servants. Some, I believe, are even their own flesh and blood.”

Margaret blinked in disbelief. “They sell their own flesh and blood?”

“I’m not certain, but that is what the evidence tells me.” He sighed. “There is still much to do, Meg. At the moment, my study is stacked with papers and I don’t even know where to begin. Someone had gotten wind of what I had been doing and found a way to get everything from me. They transferred me to Wickhurst, everything I’ve been working on in my previous post now gone. The only things I can work on with are my father’s documents. I had to start from scratch to further my investigation. As soon as I arrived in Wickhurst, I received a threat. Subtle but clear.”

“What did you do then? After you received the threat?”

“While in Wickhurst, they threw me as many cases as they could that did not have anything to do with what I was working on. One of them, of course, was the case of your sister-in-law, Agatha Blair. They meant to distract me with unnecessary cases.”

Margaret smiled. “But you never stopped.”

He returned her smile. “I started to secretly investigate the cases of servants in Wickhurst as well and realized that the same slavery complaints were dismissed. And like the previous ones, I could not find any witnesses or complainants. I had no other choice but to seek out one of the two men I knew was connected to the case. The first one, of course, was my father, but he was already dead. The second one was someone who had too much to lose if I exposed him, and that was Osmond Trilby.

“I traveled to Willowfair to see him and the moment I did, I told him a bluff. I said I had enough evidence to expose his illegal activities. I told him I have a list of his friends, and that I also have acquired the cooperation of some of them. I asked the same from him. All he had to do is tell me everything I needed to know about the trade, the location of the slaves, and who was really behind everything.”

“He refused, didn’t he?”

Cole nodded. “With a threat that he shall strip me of my name if I pursue the matter. He was, after all, the Prime Minister. And I left with a promise to bring him down.”

It took Margaret a moment to digest what he just said. “You left?”

“I had nothing to discuss with the man. I returned to my rented apartment after that visit and started making plans before he could do something. The first and obvious plan, of course, was to escape. As I was leaving, a knock came to my door.”

Margaret’s heart started to race. She did not know why but she guessed what happened next.

“Osmond Trilby’s son, Edmund Trilby, the young man you saw me talking with in the Theobald party, came to my door and with him was Fiona. At first, I did not understand why they were there, but both of them looked as though they have been through the toughest nights of their lives. Edmund told me that Fiona is the daughter of one of their servants and needed my help. He claimed that men were trying to take Fiona away because she witnessed something.

“Edmund was insistent that I was the only person he could trust. Understandably, I was hesitant to take a child in, most especially from a Trilby. I was not even sure if I could trust Edmund. But he told me he knew why I visited his father and that he would try to help me with the case. And he told me what I needed to hear.”

“Which was?”

“Fiona told him that she heard Osmond Trilby talking with men about taking people away. We assume they were planning to transfer the slaves.”

“She heard them talking.”

“Planning, I guess,” he corrected. “I suppose that after my visit, Osmond Trilby must have gathered his friends. “

“So you took her.”

“I did,” he answered with a nod. “She was—is—a witness. We drove out of Willowfair that very same night. She had been with me ever since. But just recently, Fiona started to remember more and now I’m inclined to believe that she witnessed something even more horrible.”

Margaret let out a shaky breath, a part of her finding his story unbelievable. But it all made sense. It explained why he was in Trilby’s estate hours before the man died, his connection with Edmund Trilby, and why he had a little girl hidden in Ashmore. “What else could she have witnessed that night, Cole?”

Cole looked into her eyes. “I believe she witnessed Osmond Trilby’s murder.” Somehow, a part of her knew it was coming, but hearing it from him still sent shivers up her spine. “Recently, Fiona remembers something from that night,” Cole continued, his face tight. “Blood. She remembers so much blood.”

XXVII. Nightmares

Margaret did not know what to say. Her mind rushed to different possibilities. One of them, of course, was that Cole was merely making it all up.

“As we speak, the League believes I killed Osmond Trilby.”

Margaret swallowed hard. “What makes you believe so?”

“I was with the man before he died and our meeting did not end cordially. The only reason I have not yet been arrested is because they may not have enough proof.”

“But you didn’t do it, did you?”

A wry smile curled his lips. “Anyone with enough power can make anything possible. Putting the blame on me shall make things convenient for these men because by prosecuting me, they shall also be putting a stop to the investigation on their illegal trade.” He smiled when she merely kept quiet. “Do you think I did it?”

Margaret opened her mouth to speak, but it took a moment before she managed to say, “I believe you would not intentionally cause anyone harm, Cole. And I cannot judge you now. My head is still reeling with everything you’ve just shared.”

Her answer must have satisfied him because he nodded and apologized. “I do not mean to lobby for your support. I only told you everything because I know you would want to have reasons to keep this a secret.”

“Of course.”

“No one can know about Fiona, Meg.”

She nodded.

Bloody tarnation. What was she supposed to do now? Margaret was not merely feeling guilty. She was feeling quite miserable because of it as well.

How would she ever tell him? How would he take it?

He doesn’t have to know , a part of her said. This was a League matter. She was bound to her oath.

Then what would she tell Calan Haverston?

“How long did you tell your family you would be in Standbury?”

Cole’s question drew her from her thoughts. “A fortnight,” she replied.

He slowly nodded in that way of his that indicated he was thinking things through and that a plan was being formed. “If you wish to stay—”

“Yes,” she eagerly interjected. Then she blinked. “I mean… I mean if you do not mind.”

The smile he gave her told her he definitely had a plan in mind. She thought he would reveal it now, but instead he said, “Then you may want a proper introduction.”

“To Fiona?”

Cole shrugged. “There is no use keeping her sequestered away from you now that you know of her presence. She had not been around anyone else but the household staff and I since her arrival and it has been making her a little restless. I believe you would be a breath of fresh air for the child.”

She searched his face for a sign of a hidden agenda. She found none. “You do not know how to handle her, do you?”

Cole’s face grimly nodded. “I have to admit it has been quite challenging. She is merely three but can be quite manipulative. And I’m afraid I do not have the experience to deal with it all.”

Her eyes widened. “And you think I do?”

“You have the twins,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but this child is a different matter. She is like a delicate vase I would loathe to break.”

“The very mere fact that you are aware of her delicate situation makes you a perfect companion.”

She sighed. “This was not what I had in mind when I came here.” As he laughed, Margaret reached for her drink and emptied her cup. “I have one question. Why does Edmund Trilby care so much for this girl?”

“Because she is a child, Meg.”

“Yes, I understand that. But why go to great lengths to protect her?”

“He has his reasons.” His gaze seemed distant as he considered his thoughts. “We do not choose the family we are born into, Meg. For some of us like Edmund Trilby, we learn to tolerate things in our families.” When his eyes locked with hers, they were clear, almost angry. “Until we realize we have limitations.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I do.”

“Truly? Or do you just want progress on your case?” When he just sighed, she added, “It could be a ruse to frame you further. He is, after all, his father’s son.”

“You might be right,” he said, “Which is why I keep records of all our correspondence.”

Margaret nodded, biting her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m merely concerned.”

“You need not. I know what I’m doing. I’m being thoroughly careful.”

Not enough , she thought. Because you just invited me to extend my stay. And you shouldn’t have.

---

Margaret stared at the black-haired girl before her. Her deep blue eyes looking at her with utter curiosity.

“Hello,” Margaret said with a smile.

Fiona seemed lost as she turned her head to look at Cole. He gave the child a nod. Encouraged, Fiona waved at her shyly.

For a moment, Margaret thought that the child reminded her of someone but she could not point out who. “I see Lord Ashmore has finally allowed us both to meet,” she brightly said.

The child nodded, biting off a smile. And then, without warning, Fiona asked, “Are you also friends with Edmund?”

“I know of him,” she said, “But I cannot honestly say we are friends.”

“We play games together.”

“Would you like to play then?” When Fiona just blinked at her with reservation, she chuckled. “I assure you, dear, that I know how to play.” She bent on her knees and added, “I have many siblings and we all played a lot.”

Fiona’s eyes turned bright and a small smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Hide and seek?”

“I’m a master at it,” she said. “What say you to a game of hide and seek this afternoon while Lord Ashmore bores himself in his study?”

Fiona’s face revealed a true beauty as she finally broke into a smile and nodded. Then, she stopped, looking over her shoulder at Cole.

“You do not have to ask for my permission every single time, Fiona,” he gently said.

“That’s settled then.” Margaret straightened and held out her hand to the child. “Now, we have a ton to talk about the many strategies of hide and seek.”

With an excited giggle, Fiona eagerly took her hand and never ceased talking until it was time for the game.

That afternoon, Margaret tired herself in the garden playing with a three-year-old, even went on a slight panic when she could not find the girl. The gardener later found her behind the bushes sleeping.

When evening came and the lights outside the Ashmore estate dimmed, Cole visited her bedchamber.

Their lovemaking was slow and gentle, almost reverent. But the passion was just the same. They explored it with delicious and agonizing patience. While whispered words of desire echoed in the room, there was no talk of the future. Or of what would happen next.

Hours later they faced each other in the tub, sated and soaking in silence.

He was mindlessly rubbing her knee with a small smile, running his thumb over a small white scar. He knew the story behind it—how she stumbled and fell on a potted plant while running away from the frogs Nicholas wanted her to see.

“I remember Nicholas was banned to stay in the same room as you for days,” he said with a grin.

Her shoulders shook with a silent chuckle. “Yes. Father was quite angry.”

He leaned over the scar and kissed it, his hand sliding down her thigh. His lips stayed there for a while. When her hand came to rest on the back of his neck, he lifted his head. Her brow furrowed at the look in his eyes. He looked like he was trying to tell her something, but was afraid to.

“What is it?” she asked.

He did not reply and proceeded to rinse them both with fresh water. “Come,” he said, pulling her out of the tub to wrap a bath towel around her. He led her back to her bed. They went to sleep without him giving her an answer.

Hours later, Margaret opened her eyes. Making sure he was asleep, she slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in a robe.

She sneaked into his study for the third time since she arrived. And like before, she found the same things. Papers and more papers. It would take her months to make sense of it all, but Cole’s notes in his notebook gave her a grasp of everything. Even after looking through it for the third time, it was clear that he was working on nothing but the slave trade.

Of course, she had searched other parts of the manor. She looked into all drawers in his study, the library, and even his bedchamber. Unless he, too, had a secret study, Margaret regretfully found nothing that would prove he was Osmond Trilby’s murderer.

She should just go home, she thought much later as she quietly returned to bed. There was nothing here to discover other than the fact that Osmond Trilby’s death was more complicated than the League suspected.

She studied Cole’s sleeping face as she waited for slumber. If he was telling the truth, the League could help him. But knowing Cole, he would not easily trust the League.

---

“Fiona?”

Margaret’s concerned voice stirred Cole from his sleep. He rose to his elbow in alarm when he saw the child huddled against Margaret, her entire body shaking.

Margaret threw him a worried look as she whispered soothing words in Fiona’s ears. The girl was in her nightdress and had found her way to Margaret’s bedchamber.

“What is it, dear?” Margaret asked, signaling for Cole for her robe. In his haste, he nearly trampled to the floor, his bare leg caught in a tangle of blankets. Margaret shot his groin a murderous look and it was only then that he realized he was naked. Wrapping the top cover around his waist, he strained his entire form to reach for Margaret’s robe hanging on the side of the bed. Finally, he managed to get a hold of it and he immediately returned to her side to wrap it around her shoulders. She momentarily let go of Fiona to slip her arms into the sleeves and cover herself.

“Fiona, dear, what is it? Tell me,” Margaret said one more time, gathering Fiona closer in her arms, tucking the child’s face in her chest to give Cole time to cover himself. He found his own robe and quickly returned under the covers.

Finally, both of them decent, Margaret lay the child between them in bed. “Bad dream,” Fiona murmured with a shudder. “Bad, bad.”

Cole’s jaw tightened as he looked at the child.

“Bad, bad…,” Fiona whimpered, turning to Margaret, burying her face in her bosom. “Bad man.”

Cole shared a surprised look with Margaret.

“What bad man, darling?” Margaret whispered.

“Hurting him. Bad man… He’s hurting him.”

“Hush, Fiona,” Margaret whispered in her ear, caressing her dark hair. “It was only a dream. Sleep now. You’re safe.”

“I want Eddie,” Fiona choked.

Margaret met Cole’s eyes, both of them speechless.

“Shh… Edmund will come soon,” Margaret soothed.

Cole lay motionless as they waited for Fiona to drift into sleep. He slowly slipped out of bed when Margaret pulled the covers over herself and Fiona. Circling to her side, he bent over her to whisper in her ear, “I shall return to my chamber.”

She nodded, tightening her arms around the child.

---

Three days later, Fiona seemed better.

The child started to open up more, telling them memories with her mother and other women she lived with, many of them Trilby servants. But most of her stories centered on Edmund.

“He built toys!” Fiona was telling Margaret, her small arms moving over her head and around. “And he built ’em big! Big!”

“He did, didn’t he?”

The girl’s face fell as she remembered something else. “But he stopped.”

“Why is that so?”

“He had to go to school. I hate school.”

“You were sad when he left.”

“I also cried a lot before I met Eddie,” she said instead. “Many times. I was lonely. I only stopped when Mama said we’ll drown.”

Margaret smiled. “You must have been very sad, then. I haven’t seen anyone cry so much that they’ll drown in their own tears.”

“I did! I cried as much as the sea!”

Margaret stiffened. “The sea?”

Fiona nodded. “Mama says a goddess cried so much and her tears turned to sea. It drowned people and animals. She only stopped because her tears can’t reach the manor.”

Cold washed over Margaret. “Why?” she asked, barely a whisper.

Fiona was quiet for a long time and she thought maybe the child would never answer. But she leaned closer and whispered in Margaret’s ear. “No one can cry in the manor.” As a shiver ran through Margaret, Fiona turned away and picked up a picture book and began talking about it as if nothing happened.

“Eddie said I should learn to read.” Without an answer from Margaret, she smiled. “If I’m smart enough, the bad man won’t find me anymore.”

Margaret looked around the schoolroom and forced a smile. “If you become truly smart, Fiona, you will be able to protect yourself from any bad man.” She gave Fiona’s forehead a kiss. “How does it feel to be away from the manor, Fiona?”

Fiona shrugged. “Scary.”

“Ashmore is scary?”

Fiona giggled. “Silly, Maggie. No. Eddie’s house is scary.”

Margaret nodded. “Oh, silly of me indeed. I forgot that’s where you went first after you left the manor.”

Again, the child giggled. “Yes. That’s where I met Eddie and we became friends! And he built me toys!” Her face fell and she sighed. “But Eddie left me for school. And he took me here.”

Restless now, Margaret smoothed the child’s hair. “You will see him again.”

Fiona’s smile returned. “I know. Eddie keeps his promise.”

Giving Fiona another kiss, Margaret stood and wiped her palms on her skirts. “I’ll be back,” she absently said to the maid sitting in one corner.

She rushed down the corridor, mind reeling. When she was far enough from the schoolroom, she stopped and took a deep, shaky breath. “Oh God,” she whispered in disbelief. “Bloody hell.”

XXVIII. Across the Doorway

They sat in their chairs watching Fiona play with her nanny and one footman. Fixed on his face was a slight frown.

“You can hardly believe it, can you?” asked Margaret beside him. “What are the odds that we both receive two children who came from the same place?”

He had no answer because it seemed too coincidental. And that fact that it was caused his head to spin. Unless this was an elaborate plan by someone, Cole had to know more about this manor both children talked about.

“Are there no clues of this place at all in your father’s documents? In any of your research?”

He shook his head, grateful to have another mind working because his was still having trouble wrapping around the idea of a place aboveground.

“You know what this mystery provides?”

He turned to Margaret and almost smiled. Her brows were knitted together, her eyes focused on her thoughts. “Edmund Trilby did not tell you everything.”

His jaw tightened. “It seems so.”

“He was somewhere before they took her to his home. I don’t believe he doesn’t know anything.” She gripped his hand. “He has the answer. If we find this place where Faye and Fiona came from—”

“I will talk to Edmund,” he interjected firmly. “He’s willing to work with me. At least as far as I know. But you can’t be a part of this, Meg.”

Her hand pulled away and she scowled. “We already had this discussion. Faye is under my protection. I brought you her case. And she is our case.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Meg, you’re being followed. Fiona and Faye are both being hunted. I’m not powerful enough to protect all of you.”

“I’m not asking you to protect me.”

“Yes, but you can’t expect me to do nothing either.” He sighed, shaking his head. “This trade is far bigger than you and I.”

She looked away, her jaw set tight, her eyes on Fiona. “Don’t underestimate me. I have connections. I have ways to protect myself.”

He scoffed. “What connections? Yes, I understand you’re an Everard. You have resources. But how far will that take you? Your—”

When he stopped, she turned to him with a frown. “My what?” Cole shook his head. “It is nothing.”

“It is not nothing, Cole Devitt. What is it?”

“Bloody hell,” Cole cursed under his breath.

“Cole.” Her voice was filled with warning now.

He sighed. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because it is something I need to tell Benedict myself. Please, I would appreciate it if you do not push.”

“I won’t.”

“But I see that you’re angry.”

“I’m angry when I don’t understand anything.”

He smiled. “I know.” His eyes returned to Fiona. “I will have to set up a meeting with Edmund Trilby soon. I may not be able to return to Wickhurst, but you have to.”

She turned to him with narrowed eyes. “You’re getting rid of me.”

“Surely you understand. You cannot meet with him. He will not appreciate it. It’s enough that I betrayed his trust by telling you.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “And what of Fiona? Who will keep her company here?”

“The estate is guarded. She’s safe here.”

“And when will you arrive in Wickhurst?”

“I do not know.”

Her lips pursed, eyes fixed on Fiona. “Very well. I’ll leave on the morrow.”

Much later that evening, however, Cole paced outside her door, hands on his hips, scowling at the floor. Earlier, she had already said her goodbyes to Fiona, who promised to wake up early to send her off. Her things were packed as well and he knew because she made certain he knew. Earlier during supper, they argued about her mode of transportation. She finished her meal in haste and he never saw her since then.

His pacing came to a sudden halt when her door swung open and her beautiful stoic face appeared. “You know that I can see your shadow under the door,” she pointed out. “If you don’t intend to come in, please be so kind and continue your pacing elsewhere.”

Cole swallowed.

“If you’re here to insist that I take your carriage and accept the protection of your footmen, I accept. Is there more?” He was about to speak when she added, “Or are we finally having the talk?” she asked. “The one you said we’ll have upon your return to Wickhurst?”

Were they? Should they? By the look on her face, Cole did not think tonight was a good time.

“Well?”

He faced her, looked into her eyes. He could just take one step. Take more toward the bed. They could share her last night in Ashmore in passion. Then they would simply have to deal with the after later.

However, looking at her now, he wanted nothing but to protect her. He knew that the best thing to do was to keep her separate from his affairs. To return her to Wickhurst where she could be with her family. He could go on as he always had these past years: solving the mystery on his own, taking the risks alone.

But how could he push her away again? Live without her again? What kind of monster would he be to himself and her if he did that?

He knew the answer now more than ever.

And maybe this time it would be different.

“What?” she asked again, voice etched with irritation.

Cole moistened his lips with a small smile. “I remember how you looked that night you rode in the middle of the open field to stop the duel,” he said, surprising her.

“I do not remember anything amusing from that night, Cole. None at all.”

“You rode that horse in naught but your nightdress, your hair flying behind you,”

“Of course, I was in my nightdress. I don’t think it was the best time to find an astonishing gown when I was told that you and my brother were about to kill each other.”

He nodded, his smile waning. “You came up to me atop that horse and for a moment I thought you were about to trample me on the ground. Truly, I did think that for a moment and I feared for my life.”

“I hardly find that believable because earlier that day you went to tell me we can never to see each other again. Rather brave of you, really, to break my heart and then just disappear.” She tore her eyes from him. “You’ve spoiled my night now, my lord. Is there more you wish to discuss across this doorway?”

He did not answer for a long time as they both digested her words.

“I was not meaning to dampen your spirit when I touched the topic. I meant to tell you how beautiful you looked that night. And how brave you were.”

“I do not think of anything beautiful about that night. Nor did I feel brave. I was merely desperate.” She struggled for a while, her face tight as she fought not to cry. But then she did and in a split second, Cole realized just how much pain she had to have been carrying. Of course, he knew he hurt her. But seeing now just how much was debilitating.

He was suddenly in front of her, cupping her face with firm hands. “Meg,” he whispered, voice shaking above her.

“You left me,” she choked out, closing her eyes. “Just like that, you walked away.”

He pulled her closer and buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I waited for you,” she sobbed, shoulder shaking. “I waited.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly against the ever-constant pain.

“I’m tired,” she said, and those two words caused him to shake in tears. “I’m tired pretending it doesn’t hurt. That I’m strong. That I’ve overcome it all. That I could last longer doing so in front of you.”

Cupping her face, he pulled her away from his chest and rested his forehead on hers, his own tears seeping through his closed lids.

“If you wish to say that the night in the cabin, or the time we shared here in Ashmore can never be repeated, please do so now,” she said, voice a little more controlled with each word. “I’m not too frail for it. I’ve had enough practice.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, running his thumbs across her damp cheeks. “I don’t think I can do that. Not again.”

She sniffled and pushed away from him, her moist emerald eyes searching his bravely. “Then why are you here? What do you wish to say?”

Cole let out a shaky breath, wiped his face, and searched her eyes. “Marry me.”

XXIX. The Row to No

His face was hopeful as Margaret stood before him, completely stunned.

“Y-you are serious,” she stammered with a laugh, stepping away from him. She sniffled and wiped her tears with the pads of her fingers.

“Utterly serious,” Cole replied.

“But—” she started, shaking her head. “N-No.” This was getting quite difficult. No, not difficult. She only had to say yes. But things were complicated—at the moment, that is.

He went very still, confusion on his face. “No?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you do not want to? Or yes, you want to?”

“I do not—” She let out a frustrated breath. “I cannot. For many reasons.” She started to panic and she looked around as though there was a way out. “There are reasons I cannot say yes.”

“Is it my mother? Your family?”

“Yes! My brothers will hang you!” Her eyes narrowed at him. “And dare not suggest we go to Tiny Town like a pair of cowards. And I know you’re going to argue that Levi and Tori did the same. But their case is different from ours.”

He closed his eyes, his entire body stiff. She knew how this must have been difficult for him.

“Is there someone else?”

“No. Never.”

At the sound of certainty in her voice, his eyes flew open. “I can protect you from everyone as my wife.”

She frowned. “Then is that why you wish to marry? So you can guard me like you do Fiona?”

“It’s not like that.”

She shook her head, her eyes wandering to both ends of the corridor. “I need time.” Wait, she wanted to tell him. Wait until I’m done proving you’re innocent.

Wait until I am ready to tell the truth.

He slowly nodded, not asking the question she knew he wanted to ask. Until when would he have to wait? He would never dare ask because she just told him how she waited for him. And how long was that? Too long.

But it was not all about how long she had waited, or how much she wanted to say yes.

Guilt. Mission. Duty. Family.

Four simple words. But they were enough reason to stop her.

Her family she could deal with. The mission and her duty to the League she could immediately dispose of. The guilt, however, would be quite difficult for she was not merely guilty of what she had been doing, but also of what might happen due to what she was doing.

If it was not for her duty with the League, her answer would be simple. There would be no other strong reason not to because she loved this man. She never stopped loving him.

But what about him? Would she even gamble her love for something uncertain?

Cole stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands. He bent his head and planted his lips on her forehead. “Very well. I’ll wait.”

---

He wanted to give her the world. He might not have it all, but he hoped he would be enough. He hoped what they had would be ample for the future he wanted with her. And he knew they had enough. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she answered to his touch, how she would laugh at his pathetic words. He could feel it in his chest, how her pain mirrored his, how she consumed his thoughts.

Their past, the one before Leah’s death, was as fresh as the pain. All of it present to this day. There was no denying it now.

The struggle to this day had not been easy and to finally get to this point when nothing else mattered by taking her for his wife and be met by uncertainty was quite disheartening.

Doubt started to creep in, apprehension close behind.

What if he was wrong? What if she was merely feeding an adventurous streak that would soon wear off?

When he heard Fiona’s light steps bounding down the grand staircase, he turned. Of course, the little girl was holding her hand.

“Maggie will come visit soon,” Fiona told him, cheeks puffing as she grinned.

Cole’s brows arched high as he looked at Margaret. She was dressed for travel and already he wanted to stop her. “Is she?”

Her smile was not convincing enough, however. “Of course. Fiona and I are great friends, after all.”

The girl giggled and jumped off the last two steps to run up to Cole and wrap her arms around his leg. Looking up, she said, “Can I come with Maggie?”

He laughed. “Why?”

“Meet Ysa and Emma!”

Cole sighed and shook his head as Margaret reached them. “I don’t think it was wise to tell her about them.”

Under her breath, and without her smile breaking, she murmured, “I ran out of stories.” And louder, she said to Fiona, “What if I bring Ysa and Emma the next time I visit?”

Fiona’s eyes glowed at her words. “Yes!” Her head snapped back to Cole. “Can I tell Nanny?”

Cole nodded. “Of course.”

Fiona let go of his leg and whirled around. Her footsteps faded as she expertly navigated the corridors to find her nanny.

“You should not have told her that if you have no plans to return,” he said to Margaret.

“Oh, but I do,” she said. “Once everything is over and it’s safe.”

He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets. “It might take time.”

She nodded. “I know. But I also know you’re capable of it.”

He looked behind him at the open doorway. The carriage was already waiting for her. “I know it was my idea, but I don’t want you to leave now.”

She flashed him a knowing smile. “As much as I would like to stay, I also have matters to attend to back in Wickhurst.”

“Meg, please do not do anything while I’m away.”

She chuckled. “Fret not, my lord. Faye and the illegal trade are not my only concern. I have other things to deal with.”

“Such as thinking of an answer to a certain proposal?”

“Yes. Among others.”

He nodded and offered his hand. “Will you walk with me for a bit? The carriage can wait.”

He led her to the garden, holding her hand in his, their steps easy and without hurry. And as they did, Cole realized he wanted moments just like this—unhurried, unafraid of being seen by watchful eyes.

“Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, breaking the silence. “Apart from the protection you can provide.”

He squeezed her hand with a bitter smile. “Because I’m selfish. I left you once before, and I lost you once before. I do not think I could lose you again.”

“You do not sound like the man who insisted nothing can happen between us.”

“That was a man trying to make sense out of something that was already full of sense.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I was denying myself of something that had always been right.” He let go of her hand to cup her face with both of his. He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “Marry me, Meg. Everything I offered when I first proposed stands still. I don’t know how long I’ll work on this case. It don’t see it ending soon. And I’m not willing to wait until everything is over before I go to you.”

Her bitter smile brushed against his lips before she leaned back, shaking his head. “Cole, there are things that happened while we were apart. There were many changes in both our lives. We should talk about them more, learn more of each other,” she whispered. “I’m no longer the young woman I was ten years ago.”

She stepped away from him and he let her. “You are not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She laughed. “Because it shall not be easy for me either.” She raised on her toes and kissed his jaw. “I have secrets, Cole. And if I tell you about them, you may change your mind about everything.”

“Now you’re making me anxious. What secrets?”

Her smile widened. “Please, give me time. You’ll know about them when I’m ready to tell you.” He would have believed her if he did not see the flash of apprehension in her eyes. She, herself, was uncertain of her words. “I believe in you. I always have,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “Whatever happens, know that my stay here in Ashmore gave me more reasons to believe in you. What you’re doing with Fiona, and the risks you take investigating the slave trade have earned my respect.”

“Why is it that I’m both confused and alarmed by what you’re saying?”

She chuckled, turning away. “Don’t be. There shall be no cause of alarm as long as you let me help you.”

When they emerged out of the garden, a different scene caused them both great alarm.

Behind Cole’s carriage was another familiar one. And beside it stood two men, both looking furious when they turned and spotted her.

“Is that carriage for you, Maggie?” Nicholas asked through a tight smile, emerald eyes murderous. “Are you leaving?”

“Or getting away?” added Maxwell, tilting his head as he scowled at her and then at Cole.

“Getting away?” Nicholas dramatically gasped. “But we just got here!”

Cole lost the ability to breath as the two Everard brothers crossed the distance toward them with ferocious steps.

XXX. Dear Brothers

If her brothers were rescuing a maiden looking all too masculine and murderous as they were now, the said maiden would have swooned. Maxwell and his shoulder-length tousled hair and bristled jaw; Nicholas and his clean-shaven face and well-groomed hair. They were a pair of men in shining armor books talked about.

The big difference, however, was that they were not rescuing just any maiden. They were set to murder the man who broke their sister’s heart.

“You almost fooled us, Maggie,” Nicholas said, stopping before them, eyes fixed on Cole. “Step away from our sister, Devitt.”

Cole did no move, but Margaret did. She stepped between her brothers and Cole. “How did you—”

“Find you?” Maxwell droned, eyes wryly set on Cole. “Quite easily.” He shrugged.

“We went to Standbury and did not find you there,” Nicholas provided.

It was Maxwell who gave Margaret a level look, one that of disappointment and betrayal.

“I imposed on Tori to send me the invite.”

Nicholas scoffed. “Of course. Your friend was quite ready to defend you.” He took another step forward, shoulders slightly hunched as he continued to look at Cole. “Let us talk about that later, Maggie,” he said through his teeth. “After we kill him.”

Margaret nearly flinched in alarm when Cole stepped forward to stand beside her.

“What say you, Devitt? Are you ready for another duel?” asked Nicholas.

“Nick will come as my second,” Maxwell declared.

“No, you come as my second. I want to kill him myself,” Nicholas objected.

“I’m older.”

“I’m better with swords.”

“I’m the best with pistols,” Maxwell retorted, the corner of his mouth curling with amusement. “And I suggest we use pistols.”

Margaret finally had enough. “Stop this nonsense.” She pushed Cole to the side and forced her brothers to look at her. “No one is killing anyone.”

“Ah, look how she keeps defending the bloke, Max,” Nicholas mockingly said. “It’s quite sickening,” he added, nose flaring and eyes shooting daggers. “You step aside, Maggie.”

“I will not let violence be a part of this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Not again.”

“Ten years ago, you successfully stopped a duel to save this man’s life, Maggie,” Maxwell coldly said. “And he still left you. Or have you forgotten?” Maxwell rarely brought up the past, or even anything important. He would always be the one to sit in a corner in silent amusement while everyone argued and fought. While Ben always held the final word, Maxwell held the best argument and Ben would rely on it most of the time. He was the silent king as Ralph would claim, and everyone agreed, even their mother. Maxwell rarely gave words to his thoughts, but whenever he did, it would be the truest. And it would most probably sting.

“This is enough. You are both being unreasonable. I came here on my own volition. I was not invited. Lord Ashmore was kind enough to offer me a room when I insisted,” she stonily said, stepping closer to her brothers.

“Unreasonable, you say?” Nicholas asked with a sardonic laugh. His eyes veered back to Cole. “Have you any idea what you put her through? You don’t, do you? Why is that, you bastard? Ah, I remember!” He said, smiling dangerously. “You disappeared from her life, you bloody coward.”

Margaret pushed Nicholas back. “While we all try to remember what happened in the past,” she gritted out, her own eyes burning with anger and frustration, “let us also be reminded that Lord Ashmore lost his sister ten years ago.” Her words were spoken only for her brothers to hear. They both snapped their heads to glare at her. “He did only what any of you would have done if I was Leah,” she added under her breath. She gave them a look that told them there was more to this than they thought. “Now, stop this foolishness. I came here for a reason.” When they remained silent, she stepped back and squared her shoulders. “No fight shall ensue. You are both taking me home.” When they did not move, Margaret arched a brow. “Now.”

They fumed, but they did not contradict.

“My brothers shall not prolong their stay, Lord Ashmore,” she said, turning to Cole. Her eyes silently reminded him that Fiona was in the manor.

When he clamped his lips tightly, Margaret faced her brothers again. “I’m ready to leave.” She pushed them to the side to pass. “Transfer my things to your carriage, Nick.” When neither spoke, she stopped and turned on her heels in frustration.

Maxwell had stepped closer to Cole. “Stay away from her,” she heard him say. Cole, on the other hand, was too calm. But his jaw was tight. She knew he had things to say, but he was wise enough not to.

“Max,” she called as she pulled at Nicholas’ coat when he made a move to join Maxwell.

Nicholas shrugged away from her hold and righted his coat as he walked backward with a sneer. “We have been missing out on hunting trips of late, Devitt. Don’t make us lock on one prey this season.”

“That’s enough!” Margaret growled, pushing Nicholas to the side to grab Maxwell’s arm, pulling him away from Cole. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord,” she said through her teeth to Cole. “I and my brothers are most grateful.” Pulling harder at both brothers, she turned and pushed. “To the carriage now, please.”

---

“Who took her?” Fiona asked as she stared out the window. The carriage that took Margaret away was already gone, but the child watched the driveway as if hoping it would return.

“Her brothers,” he replied, leaning back against his chair.

“Will they return her?”

His lips tightened and a surge of panic rose up his throat. His brain told him to wait, but the better part of him was scared that if he did not go after her now, there may be no other chance.

Yet, there were things he had to settle first. He stood and Fiona turned away from the window, hopeful. “Are you going to her?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “I have to go elsewhere first.”

---

“This is not the way to Wickhurst,” Margaret noted with a frown.

“What is going on here, Maggie?” Maxwell demanded instead.

“I’m on a mission and I cannot tell you about it,” she said, satisfied with the look of surprise on their faces. “I’m working on a case with Cole Devitt.”

“Now, I find that hard to believe,” Nicholas said, crossing his arms. “You’ve rekindled your affair with that bastard, didn’t you?”

Her mouth pulled a taunting smile. “At this point, brothers, I don’t think I can ever tell you anything in fear that you will act like crazed men again.”

“We are your brothers, Margaret,” Nicholas slowly said, each word articulated strongly. “It’s our duty to protect you.”

“From Cole? He’s not capable of hurting me.”

Their faces contorted with disbelief. “Do you hear yourself now? Do you hear yourself?” Nicholas nearly roared. “We had to witness how you had to live like a corpse for years, Maggie! Years! And do not think we’re not aware you tried to kill yourself over that bastard! Mother and Tori might have kept it from us, but we are no fools.”

She flinched at his words. Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of her foolishness, and she winced at the shame that washed over her.

“We have to be constantly reminded of what that man did to you. He had clearly painted that on Benedict’s face!” Although Maxwell was silent, Margaret knew she had no ally here. “We nearly lost you as well, Maggie.”

“And because of that one reckless act, one very dark day where I was at my lowest, you now cannot trust me with anything? How do you suppose I should live my life? The same way you do? See the worst in men and change lovers as often as I do my dresses?” She looked at both brothers, tears rolling down her face. “Tell me then, my dear brothers—How do I live my life?”

Their faces were taut, their jaws twitching in control.

It was Maxwell who finally broke the tense silence. “You can do anything you want, Maggie—anything. But we cannot allow you to do it with that man,” he said, voice filled with authority.

Margaret just shook her head. She understood where they were coming from. They only knew their version of the truth. They may claim to know, but they did not know everything, and it was not even their fault. She could continue to argue, but she was tired. They had the right to be angry, and she had every right to her choices.

Her answer to Cole’s proposal shall not be reliant on her brothers’ wishes because if she were to make the biggest choice of her life, she would want it to be her own.

Once again, she turned to the window. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’re not going home to Wickhurst,” Nicholas said. “You’re going to Devonshire.”

---

That afternoon, he rode away from Ashmore to go to Willowfair. Many times during his stops, he had to fight himself from going straight to Wickhurst. But he had to trust Margaret to know what she was doing. She asked him to wait, and he shall.

Willowfair was just as how he left it months ago. Careful to not draw attention on himself, Cole rented a small villa near Adam’s School for Young Gentlemen. He waited a day before sending a letter to the school, and waited another for a reply to arrive in his doorsteps.

I can’t go out. They’re watching.

I’ll get to you when I can.

Is she well?

Cole sighed before he fed the paper to the fire and absently stared as it turned to ash. Edmund Trilby had not been fully honest with him. Whatever the young man was involved in, he had to learn to trust Cole with it.

You have not been honest with me.

I need the full story.

She is safe, but she will not be for long if you keep me in the dark.

After his reply was sent to Adam’s, Cole decided to leave Willowfair. He would spend a few more days to lose anyone who may be following him. Then, he would return to Wickhurst.

XXXI. Hoodwinked

For her brothers, Devonshire could be the very last place Cole would want to step into. It was, after all, Benedict’s home, and Benedict was the last person Cole would want to face.

They had thought this through, she wryly thought.

She needed to be in Wickhurst where a response from Calan Haverston might already be waiting. She needed to know whose brooch it was that the League found in Osmond Trilby’s room. And there was Faye. What if the child was still in danger? What if the men searching for her found her and Margaret was not there to protect her?

But then, again, staying in Devonshire might bring her good. She was the one being followed, not Faye. And if she could put some distance between herself and Wickhurst, the child would be safe. A stay in Devonshire would give her the perfect cover. All she had to do was send word for Calan Haverston and they could meet in Sheills where the social season was currently in full swing.

“I will stay in Devonshire, but I will have to leave soon,” she declared as they rolled into the driveway.

“If you do have work waiting for you, Maggie, have it sent here,” Nicholas said, looking out the window.

She glared at her brother. “Do you think that my work with the League is a joke, Nick?”

Nicholas sighed. “You can argue with Benedict.”

“I’m not some criminal you pass around for a verdict and then leave behind because you think you’ve done your duty. I have a serious case I’m working on.” She scowled at Maxwell. “This is more than my affair with Cole Devitt, or my heart being in potential danger. Lives are at stake here. Lives of women and children.”

Her brothers stiffened and shared a look.

“What do you mean?”

The carriage had stopped and instead of answering, Margaret reached for the door. “That’s all I’m willing to discuss with you.”

“Maggie—”

She did not let Nicholas finish. She jumped off the carriage. When the footman opened the door, Nicholas and Maxwell were right behind her.

“What do you mean with the lives of women and children, Maggie? What is this case about?”

“I’m in no liberty to say anything—” she was saying when suddenly, Benedict appeared in the hall, looking surprised.

A frown formed on his face as he started to assess the three of them. “You do not look like you’re here because you fancied a visit.”

“They dragged me here from Ashmore,” Margaret said, thinking there was no other way to say it. When her brother only arched his brows, she added, “Where I’ve been staying for a few days in relation to a case I’m working on.”

Benedict stood very still for a moment before he spoke. “Ashmore?”

“Yes,” she haughtily replied.

“For a case.”

“That and something else unexpected.”

Nicholas scoffed behind her. Benedict’s lips pursed.

“He also asked me to marry him.”

“What?!” Nicholas and Maxwell hissed out in unison.

“I have not yet given him an answer because my affair —” She paused to throw Nicholas and Maxwell a sharp look “—with him has made things a little complicated. Since I can’t reveal details about my mission, the only explanation I can give is that if he finds out what I’m doing, I might lose him again. And before that happens, I have to finish my mission.” Striding past Benedict, she added, “Which is why I need your office. I have letters to send.”

“Margaret,” Benedict said over Nicholas’ incredulous, “Lose him again? What in the bloody hell does that mean?”

Margaret ignored them, her steps quick as she made her way to Benedict’s office. She needed her letters from Wickhurst be sent here. And she needed to meet Calan Haverston as soon as possible.

---

Cole was surprised when the butler received him after a quick consult from inside the manor. If Jefferson was at all surprised to see him, he would not be alone. Even he was in disbelief that he came calling mere hours after he arrived in Wickhurst. What would he even say to her? She asked for time and here he was, mere days later, ready to beg.

Alone in the parlor, mulling over his thoughts, he scoffed at himself. Where was his practiced resolve? Gone. Vanished. And he did not even care if Margaret would think him insane now. If she wanted a proper courtship, he would give her that. If her brothers wanted to kill him, he’d let them try.

“What seems to be the problem now?” he heard a voice ask before two young women entered the room. One was frowning down at a piece of paper, the other frowning at the other. Neither seemed to notice his presence in the room.

Before he could stand and make it known that they were not alone, Ysabella Everard absently replied, “Wakefield.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Did he send the dance card back? Do you know what the brothers will do if they found out that you sent their friend a dance card asking him to fill the entire page with his name? They’ll hang you before you can say hello to your first Sheills Season, Ysa.”

Cole opened his mouth to speak, but Ysabella replied to his sister faster than he could summon a sound. “I did not send the dance cards, Em. I’m no bloody fool. It was merely an idea.”

“You didn’t? Then what is that?”

“He sent a reply.”

Emma looked down at the paper. “Reply to what?”

“I sent him a note.”

“What note?”

“A query note.” Ysabella snorted before she added, “About a missing cat.”

“And what is the reply?”

“He did not find a cat in his estate.”

“Then why were you frowning?”

Ysabella’s frown resurfaced. “Because… Well, I did not quite honestly tell him who I was.”

“You did what?!” Emma cried out. “But he addressed the letter here. He must know—”

Ysabella shook her head. “No. This note came from Buford.”

“Samuel’s estate?” Emma’s eyes lit up in understanding, and then horror. “What sort of agreement did you have with Samuel to have him be a part of this?”

“There is none, really,” Ysabella said. “I simply told him that a letter addressed to one Lady Weis might arrive in the post and that he should pick it up and send it to me.”

Emma gaped at her. “Ysa, do you realize what you have done?”

“It was not my idea! It was Samuel’s! We wagered the last he was here. He thought Wakefield would never pay me attention as long as I stay Ysabella Everard, sister of his friends. Of course, I told him I shall prove him wrong. He challenged me to send Wakefield a note under a different name. If he replied, it would prove his point.” Her shoulders sagged. “And now he did reply.”

“Oh, I would strangle Samuel!”

“I did not truly expect a reply. It was but a random note about a bloody cat!” Ysabella said, awed.

“So what do you do now?” Emma asked, looking at her sister. “Ysa, you cannot be seriously thinking that—”

At that point, Cole made the brave decision to clear his throat. The conversation had progressed beyond his comfort.

Startled, the two ladies jumped and faced him.

“Lord Ashmore!”

He allowed a small, awkward smile. “Good day, my ladies,” he greeted with a slight bow.

Ysabella belatedly hid the letter behind her.

“What—Why are you here?”

“Did you hear everything?” Ysabella asked over Emma’s question.

“I’m afraid I did,” he said, looking at Ysabella. “And I’m here to see your sister,” he said to Emma.

“Margaret?” Ysabella asked, blinking in confusion.

“But she’s not here,” said Emma, face tight as she regarded him up and down.

He frowned. “But Jefferson did not say. He invited me inside.”

Ysabella lifted her chin. “Jefferson is getting old. He must have forgotten.”

He could tell that the two sisters were not pleased to see him. Whatever happened years ago was no secret to the pair.

“Please, forgive us, my lord. Margaret is not here. Jefferson was mistaken.”

“No, he’s not,” another voice said in the doorway. Lady Alice walked in with a smile. “I told Jefferson to answer Lord Ashmore’s call.”

“My lady,” Cole said, bowing as Alice Everard sauntered toward a settee, leaving the two younger ladies by the door to watch with interest.

“Did Maxwell and Nicholas reach her in Ashmore?”

“Yes,” Cole said in nearly a whisper. “I came here hoping she would be here. And the brothers, of course.”

“Then you have to do it in Devonshire,” Lady Alice said with a wave of her hand. “Your quarrel is not with me—” She threw her daughters a reprimanding look, adding, “—or my daughters.”

“I—” Cole Devitt started, but stopped. “She’s in Devonshire?”

“If I heard my sons correctly, yes.” Lady Alice watched as he struggled, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Are you anxious to face Benedict to ask for his sister’s hand?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma and Ysabella walk closer.

Cole Devitt moistened his lips. “That is quite true. But I’m also…” His voice trailed as words failed him. He frowned at the woman. “Why?”

“Why I’m making it easy?” Lady Alice asked, amusement in her blue eyes. He slowly nodded, words drowning in the overwhelming feelings trapped in his chest. “Because I don’t hold my daughter’s heart, my boy,” the woman replied.

Emma and Ysabella stepped forward, and Lady Alice raised her hand to stop them, her eyes fixed on Cole.

“Love is about everything good and bad; of losses and claims. Don’t you agree, Lord Ashmore?” When Cole could not answer, Lady Alice looked at her daughters with a smile. “One should be careful how they interfere with the lives of others, for everything we do affect the possible future of people, as well and that of the people around them.” Turning to Cole again. “Love is an unstoppable force. It may not go well with the desires of those who witnessed the pain it caused in the past, but it is true to those who are still bound to it in the present.” She motioned her hand to her daughters. “Who are we to refuse it when the very people who had been stripped of it are finally reclaiming it?”

Cole’s jaw tightened as he swallowed against the tears. Never had he been met with open understanding, and to receive it from Alice Everard herself, Cole was at a loss. He should be grateful—and he was—but how could he when all he felt was guilt? Surely, what he did to Benedict and Margaret were unforgivable.

“I understand, Cole,” Lady Alice said, calling him just as how she used to call him in the past. “You had your reasons for the past. Fate had been cruel to you and my daughter. I shall not be that bad fate.”

“Thank you,” he managed to choke out. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

Lady Alice scoffed. “So long as you don’t whisk my daughter to Tiny Town, I shall receive your apology and gratitude,” she said, smile wide. As Cole blinked back the tears that burned at the back of his eyes, Lady Alice turned to her daughters. “And where is tea? I thought we’re having tea? Join us, Cole, before you travel to Devonshire. Lord knows my sons will not bother serving you one.”

---

It had been days since they had arrived in Devonshire and yet Maxwell and Nicholas were still there. When she told them of her plans to go to Sheills for a League business, they volunteered to take her. They did not question what she would do there, nor did they ask after her case again. They were just there, making sure she was where they wanted her to be.

“You know your brothers,” Agatha said one afternoon while Margaret gathered the things she had to take with her to Sheills.

“And you know me, Agatha. I hate being controlled.”

“You know that’s not what they’re doing although it may appear to be so,” her sister-in-law replied, eyes gentle and filled with understanding. “They have seen how Cole Devitt hurt you.”

Margaret sighed. “I just wish they can trust me with my own pain.”

Agatha’s brown topaz eyes shimmered as she smiled. She tucked a few strands of her auburn hair away from her face to meet Margaret’s gaze. “That’s what family does. They share your pain. And they will also want your joys.”

“I know.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched with a smile. “I shall try to talk to Benedict, but I cannot promise my husband to be cooperative.”

“I understand.”

“He loves you dearly, Margaret.”

Margaret took Agatha’s hand and squeezed. “I know that, too.”

---

“She will marry that bastard,” Nicholas said, swallowing the bitter taste of brandy.

“We cannot keep her here forever,” Maxwell muttered as he poured himself another glass.

Benedict remained silent as he stared outside the window of the drawing room. A carriage was approaching the driveway and he knew who it was. His entire body tensed as he prepared himself for the inevitable.

“Ben, are you listening?”

“I’m watching,” he replied to Nicholas. “Devitt is minutes away from my doors.”

His two brothers jumped to their feet to join him at the window.

“Bloody hell,” Nicholas said.

Maxwell stared at Benedict. “What do you plan to do, Ben?”

Benedict sighed and turned away. “Whatever I have to do.”

XXXII. Behind Closed Doors

Cole was not surprised when the footman opened the doors and stepped aside to allow him entrance. As he reached the grand hallway, the parlor door opened and Benedict stepped out.

Since that day he walked into the Everard estate after they took Agatha Blair from prison, he had not laid eyes on the man that had once been his best friend.

This was the man whom he shared most of his best school years in Adam’s with, the man who gave him permission to ask for his sister’s hand. They were brothers.

Every second of that night ten years ago flashed before his eyes—him and Benedict, standing in the middle of an open field, Margaret bounding toward them just in time.

Margaret had walked up to him and explained why Benedict failed to come to Leah on time. She told him about the accident in the mines and how they had to bury their father. It was the worst decision he had had to face. In anger, he brushed Margaret aside to pounce on Benedict, planting his fist against his friend’s face.

And then he drew his sword. The worst part was that Benedict allowed it.

“I will not kill you, but I could never forgive you either.” His own words rang in his ears . “I will not kill you, but I will bloody hell make sure you will forever be reminded of what you have done to my sister and her unborn child.”

He gave Benedict his scars and left.

And now he was back to reclaim someone he regretted to have left behind ten years ago—the woman who stopped him from doing what could have been the worst mistake of his life.

Benedict’s eyes did not give him any hint of what he might be feeling, nor did his former friend speak.

It was, on the other hand, Maxwell and Nicholas who stormed right past Benedict and straight to Cole, fists at the ready.

Like Benedict many years ago, Cole let the two brothers have their way with him. He received the first blow from Maxwell, the second from Nicholas. He stumbled but did not fight back.

Incongruous, really, to be beaten in front of the man who had once allowed himself be in the same position as he was now, Cole thought as he swallowed hard.

And before the commotion could reach anyone else, the two brothers dragged him into the parlor. He could hardly think. His vision was getting blurry as well, but he felt himself being pulled back up on his feet by strong hands.

Cole received another blow right in his gut and he bent over in pain. A grunt of pain finally escaped him. Another blow to the side of his mouth, another near his eye.

“Stop.”

Just one word.

Stop.

And it did.

The blows stopped, the pain didn’t. Not for a while.

Cole pulled his head up, blinked away the blurriness. Margaret was not in the room. It was not she who had said the word.

It was Benedict.

“You got what you wanted, brothers,” Benedict said, stepping forward. “Now, Margaret can do whatever she wants.”

“Bloody hell, Ben!” Nicholas roared, whirling around. “You, of all people should know what is best to do here.”

“Yes, quite right,” said Benedict, looking at Cole, his face free of the fury his brothers wore.

It was only then that Cole remembered Margaret’s words.

You do not have the least knowledge of how my brother suffered all these years. How he blamed himself for Leah’s death.

Yes, he could not deny that he had wanted that very thing to happen when he gave Benedict his scars. He had been filled with so much fury. He wanted to make Benedict believe it and suffer for it. And now he was seeing that in the man’s eyes—the guilt and the remorse.

“Leave us,” Benedict ordered. When his brothers hesitated, Benedict tore his eyes off Cole and repeated, “Leave us.”

Maxwell dropped Cole on the floor, saying he did not deserve a chair, and left the room with Nicholas. Before the door closed, Cole thought he heard Margaret’s voice asking what was happening. Nicholas’ reply was drowned by the locking of the door.

“I had to let them do it,” Benedict said.

Cole groaned as he pulled himself up from the ground to lean on his knees, breathing heavily.

“They deserve a moment to be brothers. They will never rest until they had their way with you,” Benedict continued as he walked near Cole. He did not offer a seat, but he did hand him a glass of brandy.

Cole stared at the glass for a moment. It was just a drink, but it was something more.

With a pained groan, Cole reached for the glass and gulped down its contents, wincing at the burning effect after.

Benedict was quiet as he watched Cole set the glass on the floor and gather himself.

Finally, Cole held up his head and his eyes met Benedict’s emerald green ones.

Memories of their antics in school, of the adventures they shared after they left Adam’s—All seemed to flash around the room, hoping to be given another chance.

Things would never be the same between them. Only children who had a petty fight could hope for something that it would. For them whose lives were changed, they would have to settle for what remained.

Respect.

Cole swallowed the remaining taste of the drink. Looking up at Benedict, he reached inside his coat and took out Leah’s letters. “Read them and I will answer all your questions. I will not ask that you forgive me, only that you will listen to my story.”

Benedict’s face remained passive until he opened the first letter and read the name at the bottom. Cole remained on the floor, tired and in pain, holding his breath now and then as Benedict read Leah’s letters.

The man’s scarred face showed interest, intrigue, and eventually guilt by the time he finished. Then contained anger when his gaze lifted from the last letter and landed back on Cole. His lips were set tightly, and the look of betrayal in his emerald eyes was strong.

Cole let out a shaky breath. “Those letters were intercepted by my father. They never reached me. I found them after his death.”

A long silence followed. He watched as Benedict carefully placed the letter on a table and proceeded to pour himself another drink. Cole waited until the glass was empty and Benedict refilled it.

“Why did you not give them to me sooner?” Benedict asked, breaking the silence.

Cole slowly stood, wincing at the pain. He wiped his face with his sleeves and leaned against the closest wall because if he didn’t, his body would choose to stay on the ground. Brushing his hair off his face, he proceeded to tell Benedict of his father’s crimes. Everything he told Margaret, he told her brother.

When everything was quiet again, Benedict slowly walked up to him, the fury in his scarred face palpable. “I deserved the truth, Cole.”

“I know,” he said under his breath. “I don’t…” He shook his head. “I was thinking only about the case. I should have told you.”

“That doesn’t free me from the guilt,” Benedict said, pointing at the letters. “Those only adds weight to what I had to carry all these years. I could have been there for her, but I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t know. We didn’t know.”

“And maybe she should have not as well,” Benedict growled. “If I only…” With a shaky breath, Benedict turned away, finished his drink. “I lost her, too, Cole. And I lost our child.”

A gust of air burst through Cole’s lips and the tears followed. His shoulders shook, his lungs gasping for air. Not a word was spoken until Cole’s sobs quieted and died, until he had no tears left, his eyes dry again, absently staring at the floor.

He heard Benedict’s footsteps return, saw his old friend’s feet before his. “She would not have wanted this.”

Swallowing hard, Cole nodded. “Nor did she deserve to die.” He raised his head and met Benedict’s gaze. “No one is to blame but my father and the people he worked with. And perhaps also my mother. I’ll deal with her when the time comes.”

Benedict stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. He took the letters back to Cole. “Keep them. You need them more than I do.” He watched as Cole returned the letters inside his coat. “Did you expect me to give you my sister’s hand by telling me this?” Benedict asked.

Cole scoffed. “No. I gave her my word that I’ll tell you. And I meant to tell you.”

“So, she knows.”

He nodded. “Not everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I also found Leah’s journals. There, she wrote what she knew about our father’s illegal business.” He pushed away from the wall, stumbled a little, then managed to find his balance. “The Trilbys are interested in your mines.”

Benedict’s brows rose in surprise.

“I’m not certain if they had anything to do with the accident, but Leah claimed in her journal that the Trilbys needed the mines for something else.”

“The accident was just as it was. An accident. I know because I was there.”

“It is farfetched, I know. But with these people, Benedict, anything is possible.”

Benedict’s jaw tightened. “You do realize that this is a serious claim.”

“I do. Thus I hope to keep it between us. I have much to work on in this case. I believe I barely scratched the surface.”

“And you’re putting yourself in danger by doing so.”

“Yes.”

“And despite that, you’re still hoping that I’ll be the fool to give you my sister’s hand and let her marry into the danger looming over you.”

Cole’s jaw tightened.

“But it will be her choice, not yours, nor mine,” Benedict resignedly added, pouring two more glasses of brandy. He handed one to Cole. “Do you remember my warning when you asked for her hand?” Benedict asked.

Cole nodded.

“I told you I will hang you upside down with the tip of a sword pointing at your head if you ever hurt her.”

His entire body tightened at the reminder of Margaret’s pain. “Yes,” he whispered, the broken promise heavy in his chest.

A long silence ensued.

“You can never hurt her again.” There was finality in the statement, a warning of a last chance.

Cole nodded.

Benedict’s eyes stayed on him for a long time before he nodded and gulped down his drink. He walked to a chair and dragged it to the center of the room. “Before he died, my father reminded me of a promise I made to him when I was younger. Of what I should do for my siblings. And our mother.” He went to Cole, grabbed his arm, and guided him to sit down. Looking down at him, Benedict’s eyes showed him many things. The hurt, the guilt, the anger. They were all there. But so was the hint of abandoned friendship, of understanding, and respect. “Today, I’m keeping that promise.” His old friend walked over to the bellpull. “I will give my sister her freedom to choose,” he added before pulling the bell.

The door burst open and Margaret rushed in, face frantic with worry, Maxwell and Nicholas right behind her. “Good God,” Margaret said as she carefully cupped Cole’s face.

“Well?” Nicholas asked, brows cocked high in question.

Benedict walked to the doorway, hands to his sides. Agatha was waiting for him at the door and he paused to cup her face for a reassuring caress, before he looked over his shoulder at his brothers. “Leave the room, gentlemen.”

“Not over our bloody—” Nicholas started but stopped when Benedict stared at him and Maxwell, tilting his head toward the door.

Maxwell started walking but not without saying to Cole, “You do not touch a strand of her hair. Not one.”

“Don’t step on her shadow,” Nicholas added, pointing at the ground.

“Nick. Max,” Benedict said at the door as he took his wife’s hand in his and walked out.

XXXIII. The Mentor

Margaret stared at Cole and sighed. That must have been the tenth time she did. “You are insane,” she said, running a thumb over a swollen cheek. “I told you to wait. Why did you come here?” His smile did not even look like a smile. His mouth was swollen as well. “Did you tell Benedict? About Leah?”

He nodded, took her hand in his. “I let him read her letters.”

“Oh, Cole,” Margaret said, bending down to level their gaze. She leaned her forehead against his. “You just made something easy so much difficult.”

“What do you mean?” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “What’s easy and why is it difficult?”

“Saying yes,” she said with a bleak smile.

“I don’t think that’s too difficult, Meg,” he said.

“It is when I have to leave for Sheills.”

He stiffened. “You’re leaving?”

She pulled away and stood. “Yes.”

“For the social season?”

“Yes,” she lied. Calan Haverston was waiting for her there. However, her next words were true. “With my brothers. My mother and sisters are also on their way.”

Again, she let out a heavy sigh. “You have to go home.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “Meg—”

“You have work to do.”

“Yes. And I’m working on it.”

“And Fiona needs you.”

He reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. “I also believe Fiona needs you.”

With a scoff, Margaret drew her hand away from his hold. “She needs a mother, Cole, and you are suggesting I become one. And although I do not find any problem with that, it’s rather unfair that you would use the situation to—”

“—And I need you more,” he continued, looking up at her with one eye swollen more than it was earlier. His one good eye desperately searched hers. “Do you know how many times I had saddled my horse in the past years? Multiple times, I even managed to pack a satchel or two. Every time with every intent to go to you. But then I would be a coward. Reason would tell me I could never have you back.”

Her heart seemed to have stopped inside her chest, her breath caught in her throat. And her face crumpled, her lips trembled with tears.

“Don’t cry, darling.” His voice was strained. His arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his forehead on her midriff. Then, his shoulders shook as he cried silently. Margaret cried with him. She ran her fingers through his hair, down his nape, his shoulders. “I’ll wait.”

Margaret freed herself from his hold and came down to cup his face in her hands, finding it wet with tears. She kissed his mouth lightly, her eyes closed.

“When you’re ready, I still have the special license I acquired ten years ago,” he whispered against her mouth.

Margaret’s heart swelled. Her chuckle mingled with her tears. “I don’t think it’s still valid, my lord,” she whispered.

His swollen lips allowed a small smile. “Don’t underestimate the Lord of Ashmore, Meg.”

“Then hold on to it,” she said. Forehead pressed against his, she closed her eyes. “Wait.”

His shoulders sagged as he let out a dramatic sigh of disappointment. “I’ll have to work for that yes, do I?”

Something flashed before her eyes that alarmed him, but she tearfully laughed it away. “I’ll have to make it difficult for you, too, my lord.”

---

Maxwell was massaging his knuckles as the three of them waited outside the study door. Nicholas was leaning against the wall, eyes at the ceiling.

Benedict was simply standing, staring blankly, his thoughts elsewhere.

“We’ve beaten the bloody hell out of the man,” Nicholas slowly said, “yet why do I feel like we lost?”

“I’ve never felt like this in my many nights losing at card games at Grey’s,” Maxwell wryly said.

“She is going to say yes, the fool,” Nicholas ground out. “If not today, soon.”

Benedict merely twitched the corners of his lips into a smile.

“Bloody tarnation,” Nicholas cursed.

“Prepare your money, Nick,” Maxwell said with a snort.

Slowly turning to his brothers, Benedict frowned. “Did you wager on this?”

“It was not my idea,” Nicholas answered too fast.

“Who?”

“Ralph. And he’s one lucky bastard.”

---

The Sheills Season was not particularly famous among those who preferred the Wickhurst Season. However, for ladies who dreamed of romance, it was the perfect one. While most scandalous unions happened during the Wickhurst Season, the most romantic ones would often rise in Sheills. Gentlemen who were serious in finding love matches were everywhere, and ladies who fantasized the same graced balls filled with hope.

“Boring, as always,” Nicholas droned as they walked around the ballroom. They had secured an entry into a soiree, but mostly because Margaret needed to be there. Her brothers would not be caught in such events if they could help it, but since they were on guard , they had no choice.

Cole had already gone home back to Ashmore, and had promised to meet her in Wickhurst. By then, she hoped he would have news from Edmund Trilby.

Margaret had been waiting, feeling a little uncomfortable. She rarely graced the Sheills Season and the crowd here was a little different. There were those from Wickhurst she was familiar with, but not many. However, when she saw a woman with brown hair wearing a gigantic rose dress approach her and her brothers, she smiled with familiarity.

“Easton is one lucky bastard,” Nicholas said under his breath. “But I wonder if he feels lucky. She looks like she has weapons under that dress. That smile is quite deceiving as well.”

“She’s a dangerous woman, brothers, I agree. But I don’t think Calan Haverston regrets having her as a wife.”

“I heard she left him once. That’s what rumors say.”

“And where did you hear that from?”

“His own brother, of course.”

“Which one?”

“Adrien Haverston. Who else?”

“And you believed him?” Maxwell asked, finally breaking his silence.

“Well,” Nicholas said, shifting uncomfortably. “He seemed quite sure.”

Margaret and Maxwell scoffed, but did not answer.

Cressida Haverston, Lady of Easton, was wearing a bright smile when she stopped in front of Margaret. “I always thought that you are the prettiest amongst the Everards, Lady Margaret,” the woman said without a greeting. “Have I ever told you that?” And then she straightened her face, saying, “Of course, I didn’t. My husband always takes your time. I think he merely takes me to these events as a cover.”

Margaret laughed. “Good evening, my lady. I assume you are not enjoying the party?”

Cressida rolled her eyes and they eventually landed on Nicholas and Maxwell. “My lords. I believe you’ve been talking about me just seconds earlier. What was it about?”

Nicholas sputtered and coughed. Maxwell simply remained motionless and quiet. “We weren’t,” Nicholas lied.

Cressida gave him a knowing smile. “May I borrow your sister?” Gently pulling Margaret away from her brothers, Cressida whispered, “There’s a very handsome man waiting for you upstairs. Second room to the right.”

Margaret chuckled. “Thank you.”

“If you can, please don’t take long. I hate it when gossips about our marriage arise every time they don’t see us together.”

“I promise to not keep him away from you too long, my lady.”

Cressida accompanied her up the stairs, but left just as immediately. Margaret found the second room to the right and entered. Locking he door behind her, she said, “You wife is quite a challenge, isn’t she?”

“Every bloody day,” Calan Haverston said with a sigh. “But I do love a challenge.”

He was seated in a chair, leg crossed over the other, brandy on the table beside him. They were in a small drawing room, one most probably never used during such occasions. She sauntered to the chair opposite his.

“I received your missive about the brooch.”

“I wondered why you inquired about its shape.”

She met her mentor’s gaze. “The one found in Osmond Trilby’s room was oval in shape. Cole Devitt only wears round brooches. I’ve checked his collection both in his Ashmore estate and the villa in Wickhurst.” Her jaw set before she added, “Lady Ida Devitt wears an oval brooch with the Ashmore crest.”

His brows cocked high. “And your conclusion?”

“That she may have had an affair with Osmond Trilby. And that you may have another suspect.”

“An affair?”

“Cole has spoken of her being unfaithful to her marriage. He doesn’t know who his mother had an affair with, but affair or not, it cannot fully support her guilt either. Unless we check her whereabouts on the time of the murder.”

Calan Haverston nodded. “It shall be done.” He tilted his head to the side with a small knowing smile curling the corner of his mouth. “That’s not the reason why you invited me here.”

She nodded. “I found nothing that connects Cole to the murder. In fact, I discovered something else.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

Margaret took a deep breath. This was difficult for her. Cole trusted her to keep his secrets. But she was a Leaguer, and the slavery case was larger than both of them. “I’m telling you this because I trust you, my lord.” He did not say anything, simply waited. “The late Lord Ashmore was involved in an illegal trade with powerful people.”

“What trade?”

“Slaves.”

At the word, Calan Haverston stiffened.

She told him everything Cole told her about the trade and supported it by sharing all information she gathered while looking through his father’s effects in Ashmore. All the while, Calan Haverston’s demeanor had relaxed, but quickly returned to alarm when she told him about Fiona and Faye. But it was the mention of the Manor that caused his face to tighten, his brow to furrow, and his hand restless under his chin.

When he shifted his position, Margaret realized something. A frown slowly formed on her face. “You know about this.”

Her mentor was quiet for a long moment, seemingly considering if he should tell her what he knew. “The League has known about it for years.”

Although she had guessed it, Margaret blinked in surprise. “How long?”

“Long enough,” Calan said.

“And you know about the Manor.”

He nodded. “It’s aboveground.”

Her eyes widened and she scoffed.

“I found it hard to believe at first,” he said. “But we have proven it to be true. We have a valuable witness.”

“Who?”

He smiled. “This is a case you’re not a part of, Margaret. I cannot tell you.”

“It is now. I stumbled on it.”

“I mean not officially.” Calan sighed, shaking his head. “Only some very trusted people are working on this. Even I cannot trust the entire League.”

“At the very least tell me what the Manor is all about. Who runs the place?”

“We don’t know. We have names, but like Cole Devitt, we cannot gather enough to get them. All we have is a guest book of members who visit the place.”

“Members. What is this place then? A club? A brothel?”

“All those things, I assume. They take people there to serve their paying guests. People from both the Town and aboveground.”

Her lips pursed. “They take children, too, my lord.”

“Yes, I know.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Could we agree then that Osmond Trilby’s death is connected to this case?”

“In theory, we can.”

“Cole Devitt can share his work with the League. All he has are code names, but he has evidence of their transactions. You have names, but nothing else. We can work together. We need only to talk to him.” Even as she said it, she felt uncertain. The thought of talking to Cole about everything made her stomach churn.

Calan slowly nodded. “I will need to talk to the people working on this case. We have to verify everything.”

“The verification you need is in his work. Bring your people and ask for permission to study everything he has.”

He smiled again. “This case involves other people the League do not conventionally work with.”

“Oh, balderdash. You still think he killed Trilby.”

“What I think, Margaret, is that I have to verify your claims. And his. Only then can I say what I think of Cole Devitt.”

She sighed and composed herself. Letting the silence linger for a while, Margaret thought of the next words to say. “I don’t think I can continue working on this case believing him to be innocent, my lord. My personal relationship with Cole Devitt hinders my ability as a Leaguer.”

“You mean you’re feeling guilty.”

“Of course, I am,” she said with a scoff. “I knew this would be an impossible mission.”

“You did well, Margaret.”

“I don’t think so if I can hardly sleep at night knowing I told his secrets to the League. He doesn’t trust anyone except me.”

Calan nodded in understanding. “Do you wish to be off the case?”

“Yes, because I don’t see why we have to dig further into Cole Devitt. If there is any proof of his involvement other than his visit to Osmond Trilby and the brooch, I should have already found them,” she said, lifting her chin. “And I want to be transferred to the League’s slavery case.”

Calan looked at her for a long time, his face bare of any clue of what he thought of her proposal.

“I shall arrange a meeting with Cole. As to the League, we have authority to demand for anything he may have on the case, but I don’t want us to take the case off his hands. I want us to work with him. He has his personal reasons for doing this and it’s more than enough to trust that he’ll be a valuable asset.”

“Not if he has outsmarted you and is in fact, not so innocent.”

A bitter smile crossed her lips. “He can never kill someone and the only worst sin he ever did was to walk away from love.”

Calan Haverston’s face was unreadable as it always was when he was thinking. “There are already too many people involved in this than I could wish for, Margaret. Adding another Leaguer and a man suspected of murder is not the most ideal.”

“Do what you think is best. As for me, I shall continue working on the slavery case with Cole Devitt because of Fiona and Fay.” She paused to raise her brows at him. “And I know you will want to talk to them. However, they have our protection. You have to go through us first if you wish to get more witnesses .”

Calan shook his head with a smile. He let out a resigned look. “I’ll send word in a week. I’ll have to discuss this with the others.”

“Splendid.” She stood and gave him a small curtsy. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Margaret,” Calan called as she walked to the door. “The Trilbys are quite cunning. Be careful with this Edmund bloke.”

“Thank you for the warning, my lord. And it’s we ,” she corrected. “I’m working on this case with Lord Ashmore.”

XXXIV. The Courtship

Margaret only meant to stay in Sheills for a week, but the arrival of her mother with the twins and Ralph changed her plans. Her brothers could not be more disappointed either. But the twins were ecstatic to join the social season, and because of the magic they could conjure, everyone agreed to extend their stay.

It was the arrival of Benedict and Agatha that made everyone curious. However, when Levi and Tori followed a day later, it was certain that this was a well-orchestrated Alice Everard Plot.

They stayed in Sheills’ largest hotel, and when their mother came down that evening in the dining hall, she smiled. “Ah, what a lovely sight,” Lady Alice said, settling in her seat. She looked around at her children. “What?”

The innocent look on her face did not convince them.

“You are planning something,” said Nicholas. “I can taste it in my wine, Mother.”

Lady Alice blinked her blue eyes at them. “Well, of course, I have a plan. In light of the recent events,” she said, emphasizing the word with eyes traveling from Nicholas to Maxwell, “I want to be assured that everyone has not yet killed each other.” She smiled at the rest. “And that you can still all stomach each other’s presence.”

“No one had a squabble, Mother,” Nicholas droned. “Is that not right, Maggie?”

Margaret sardonically smiled at her brother, but did not reply. Beside her, Ysabella whispered, “What happened?”

Her question was whispered to her by Emma, who got the answer from Ralph. Levi and Tori were left ignorant of everything until someone approached their long table. Nearly every person in the room gasped, including Margaret.

Not because of his face, but because of his very presence.

“What are you doing here?” Margaret’s question was drowned by her mother’s, “Oh, good Lord!” and Tori’s loud gasp and Levi’s, “What in the bloody hell.” Ysabella and Emma both cried in unison. “Lord Ashmore!”

Nicholas turned to Ralph and whispered, “We did that,” with pride.

Alice Everard clutched her chest as she stared at her sons with murder in her blue eyes. Maxwell looked away and Nicholas cleared his throat and loosened his cravat.

“What are you doing here?” Margaret repeated, standing.

“I had to come,” he said under his breath. “Your mother sent for me.”

Margaret groaned before she turned to her mother to force a smile.

“Let us talk later, dear,” Lady Alice said with a wave of her hand. “Ralph, make room for Cole.”

“Why me?” Ralph asked.

“Because you wagered with your brothers. Don’t think I don’t know,” snapped Lady Alice.

Fuming, Ralph stood and dragged his chair to the side while servers placed another setting for Cole.

“Very well, since you are here, you might as well eat,” Margaret said, pulling Cole by the arm. “Let’s just hope the food is not poisoned,” she added, slanting her eyes to her brothers.

Moments later, Margaret was the most uncomfortable as she stared at Cole across the table sitting between Nicholas and Ralph. Benedict had been quiet all throughout while Levi stole Cole a look every now and then with a grimace on his face, as if he could feel the pain of his injuries. Maxwell remained unbothered, attention on his food. The twins barely touched their theirs, and unlike Levi, they stared openly at Cole. Tori shot Margaret a look now and then, while Agatha entertained Lady Alice with stories of the school she and Benedict were building in Devonshire.

Other than the fact that his right eye was nearly the color of black and his left cheek a bit bigger than the other, he seemed to be doing quite well chewing his food.

“Mother,” Margaret said, breaking the silence, before their mother could announce whatever plan she may have. “You do know that I have not yet given my answer to Lord Ashmore, yes?”

“You cannot be serious,” Maxwell spoke for the first time. He frowned at her from across the table.

“There are matters I need to attend to first,” Margaret lied.

“No,” Nicholas said.

“But—”

“Remember where we found you, Maggie,” Nicholas interjected.

Margaret’s face flushed as she gaped at her brother. The twins cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

Lady Alice frowned at them. “What are you all talking about? We’re only here for dinner.”

Nicholas and Maxwell rolled their eyes. Ralph asked in a whisper, “I still won, right?”

Margaret saw Benedict giving her a quiet, knowing look. He knew why she was doing this.

“What?” Lady Alice asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Lord Ashmore is here for the social season. And no, Ralph, you have not yet won.” Winking at Margaret, she added, “I don’t know what wedding you’re all talking about.”

Relieved, Margaret smiled at her mother and ignored Nicholas’ glare.

---

When dinner was over, Margaret made her way to Cole. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes,” he replied. Checking where her brothers were and satisfied that they were occupied by Ysabella’s story, he looked down at her with a smile. “I missed you.”

She scoffed. “It has not even been a fortnight.”

“You know what I mean.” As she chuckled, he asked, “What have you been up to here?”

“Oh, not much,” she lied. “Boring balls.”

“You’re not being followed?”

“Not that I’m aware. I’m always surrounded by my brothers.”

“Have a glass of brandy before you leave, Devitt,” Nicholas said, squeezing himself between them. “I’m quite sure they can serve the worst kind here.”

Margaret scoffed in disbelief, watching her brothers lead the way to the drawing room of the hotel.

“Let them drink first,” she warned after Cole. “If they drop dead, run away.”

Ralph laughed, Maxwell scoffed, and Nicholas snickered.

“Does he know about the League?” Benedict asked beside her, both of them watching the group disappear into the drawing room.

She sighed. “No. Not yet.”

Benedict nodded. “I suggest you tell him before you say yes.”

“I intend to.”

“When?”

“Once I can.”

He did not ask more. Everything about the League could only be discussed vaguely and her brother respected that. He left her side to join Cole and the others.

“I don’t know how they can do it. It always baffles me,” Emma said, hooking her arm around Margaret’s.

“Do what?” Margaret asked as they followed their mother to another drawing room where tea was being served for the ladies.

“Share a room and drink, all the while wanting to kill each other.”

She laughed. “They’re men. And women do the same thing. Take our mother for example. She hates half of this room.”

“Well, you’re quite right,” Emma said. “But unlike her, I’m going to retire and spend the rest of my evening with a book.” Emma kissed her cheek and said, “Good night, Maggie. Know that whatever you choose to do, I’ll always support you.”

She smiled at Emma. “Thank you.”

As her sister escaped to the grand staircase of the hotel, another arm looped around hers. “Yes, Ysa?”

“Please, do not judge me,” Ysabella begged, warily stealing their mother, who was currently being kept occupied by Tori and Agatha, a glance.

“What is it?”

Ysabella’s fretful look morphed into a grimace. “I wrote Wakefield a letter.”

Margaret waited for her sister to continue without showing any reaction, but her steps slowed down. “And he replied.”

“But?”

Ysabella winced. “He doesn’t know it’s me.”

Margaret blinked in surprise but she did her best to keep her mouth shut.

“It started with a very silly note about a cat.”

“A cat.”

“Yes. A missing one.”

Margaret hid a smile.

“And I had told Emma that I would not be sending another letter as Lady Weis.”

“Lady Weis?”

“She is a character from a book I had been reading,” Ysabella explained. “I did break my word and wrote to him. See if he replies again.”

“How did you send the letter?”

“A friend picks it up from the post.”

Understanding that this friend’s identity had to be kept a secret, Margaret decided not to prod for now. “Continue,” she said.

“And he replied.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“A cage?” Ysabella said. “I asked him if he believes a cage is necessary for the cat.”

Margaret could not stop the snort that came out of her lips.

“It is silly, is it not? But he did reply. With amusement!”

Margaret stopped walking and stared at her sister for a long time, this time assuming a serious mien. “I would not go as far as judge you for your actions, Ysa, but I do believe that keeping a secret as this will merely tarnish your relationship with Lord Wakefield once everything is out in the open. I will also not go as far as forbid you to stop this infatuation, but I do strongly advise that you be careful. These silly exchanges with the man may indeed be exciting and fun, but it is still a form of deception. And deception eats at you, sister. No matter how big or small.”

Ysabella’s shoulders dropped and she sighed. “I know I must stop this nonsense. I mean the letters, of course, for I’m still quite resolved to the idea of marrying him in the future.”

Margaret could only smile. Her sister would get over the man in due time. “Do what you must, dear,” she said. “You are old enough to think for yourself. But I’m glad you shared this with me.”

Her sister nodded, clearly still fighting an internal battle. Ysabella let go of her hand and made a move toward their mother and sisters-in-law.

“What did he say? About the cage?” she could not help but ask.

Ysabella stopped at the threshold of the parlor to answer. “He did not like the idea. He said the cat might simply be lonely, thus the disappearances. Caging it, he said, would not take away the loneliness, but it would take away its freedom.”

“Wise man.”

Ysabella’s smile widened. “I know. And thank you, Maggie.”

Margaret smiled and watched her sister, hoping that Ysabella would find someone else other than Wakefield. She deserved someone who cared more about her than a man who had done naught but chase skirts.

Shaking her head, she joined the ladies in the parlor for tea.

---

There were many things her brothers were terrible at. One, of course, was getting foxed. Everyone else in the drawing room had retired, or went out to attend another ball, but the Everard men stayed. With Cole.

Her mother and Ysabella had long retired after tea. Margaret spent another hour or so with Agatha and Tori, catching up on things they had missed to share with each other since their succeeding marriages to her brothers. For once, Margaret was able to forget about the case. Shifting their drinks to sherry, they reminisced stories of the past they all shared. Back when Agatha still worked for them as a governess, and Tori when she was still in her stepmother’s clutches. They even recalled all couples the twins had matched, which included Agatha and Benedict, and Tori and Levi.

They were discussing the match between McKenzie Haverston and Belinda Carrington when a loud thud, followed by collective laughter from the drawing room reached their ears. All three of them stood and rushed to find all Everard men in terrible shape, except Benedict and Cole who were sitting across one another in one corner, playing chess.

Ralph was laughing at Nicholas, both of them on the floor. Maxwell was asleep on the settee. Levi was laughing at Nicholas as well, and somehow, he had landed on top of Maxwell, who was still sound asleep.

“Goodness, Levi,” Tori said, stalking toward her husband to pull him off Maxwell. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“No, I’m fine, Tori. Just tripped.”

“Fine,” Tori said, letting go. He landed back on Maxwell. “Find another room.”

“Tori,” Levi said, pushing off the settee to stumble after Tori with a grin. “See? I’m walking.”

“Then keep walking,” his wife hissed over her shoulder. Walking past Margaret and Agatha, she said, “We’re retiring.” She took Margaret’s hand and squeezed with a meaningful smile. “We had not had the chance to talk. But we shall, yes?”

She smiled at her best friend. “Of course.”

Tori rolled her eyes when Levi reached her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Tell me again why I didn’t choose Chattoway?”

“He left you in a bloody maze garden, darling,” Levi drunkenly droned. “Where I came running to rescue you.”

Tori smiled and rolled her eyes at Margaret. “Well, he did.”

As Tori whisked her stumbling husband away, Agatha tried to help Nicholas up her feet, but Benedict said, “Leave him, Blair.” To Cole, he added, “I’m retiring with my wife. We can continue this on the morrow.”

Margaret stepped over Ralph, who saw her and said, “Thank you for helping me regain my membership at Grey’s, Maggie. You’re the best!”

As she rang the bell, Benedict said, “Margaret, it’s time you retire.” He stood at the door where he was holding his wife’s hand.

“I will,” she said, waving her hand at the rest of their brothers. “After I’ve seen to their proper end.”

Benedict scoffed, his version of a laugh. His eyes landed on Cole for a moment, but he said nothing as he turned away. “Good night, Maggie. Good night, Lord Ashmore,” Agatha said.

“Good night,” they both murmured, waiting until the couple was gone. Cole stood beside her to look at her three brothers.

“The fools,” Margaret murmured just as a footman appeared. “I hope it’s not too much of a bother if you can assist my brothers to their rooms,” she said.

“No, of course not, my lady,” the footman said, gaze sweeping the floor. “I will go find help.”

“Splendid. Thank you.”

“Where are you going?” Cole asked when she crossed the room to the door, stepping over Ralph, then Nicholas.

“Upstairs, of course.”

“But—”

“They will be fine.” She tilted her head to the side with a smile. “Are you not escorting me to my room?”

He scoffed, chuckled softly, and he moved to follow her outside.

As they climbed the stairs, she asked, “You are not asking me for an answer. I wonder why.”

“I told you I’m willing to wait.” He stole her a look. “I hope you have accomplished what you came here to do.”

“I did, and I did not.” Smiling faintly, she added, “I will tell you once I can. How is Fiona?”

“Impatient, I believe. Remember—you promised to come back with the twins.”

Margaret laughed. “I did. And I will.”

He did not ask when and she appreciated that. They walked in silence and Margaret took his hand in hers when they reached her door. He grinned and cocked his brow. She laughed quietly, pushing the door open, and pulling him inside with her.

She pressed her back against the door, closing it. Cole followed, hand cupped around her face, the other at the small of her back to pull her into his length. The sound of the lock echoed around the bedchamber along with their soft chuckles before they fell quiet, their lips finding each other in the dark.

“It’s entirely possible we shall grace the Herald,” she said against his mouth. “Too many people saw you during dinner. The gossipmongers were feasting on your face more than they did their meals.

“Are you worried?” he asked, his eyes on his finger tracing her lips.

“No.” She let out a dramatic sigh as she worked on his cravat. “You know, I once fancied myself being on the gossip section with you.”

“You have always fancied many things.” His eyes glistened with a reminiscent smile. “If I do recall correctly, you fancied yourself a spy and acted as though you were one.” She stiffened but immediately hid it with a laugh. “And I believe your first mission was to know the source of the noise you often hear during the night.”

Margaret frowned. “I do not recall that one,” she said, kissing up his neck.

As he craned to give her access, the back of his hand teased her breast over her dress, almost mindlessly. “You invited me to investigate with you. I had to wait outside your house for you to come out in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping.”

“We did many things in the middle of the night.” She smiled into his skin. It was nice, she thought, that they could now talk about the better years of the past.

“Do you not really remember?” he asked, voice low. Margaret bit her lip when he cupped her breast. “Or are you simply trying to forget what we found out that night?”

She raked his hair, arching into his touch. “No, I honestly do not remember.”

His hand stilled and he leaned back just enough to cock his brows at her. “We went to the stables.”

At the mention of the stables, Margaret buried her laughter in his neck.

“You remember,” his chuckled, kissing her jaw.

“It was our footman and the maid.”

He pulled at his loose cravat. He nudged one leg between her thighs and Margaret moaned, biting her lip while his mouth opened on her neck and suckled. A shiver ran through her spine as she arched to help his hand find its way under her skirts, her drawers.

She buried her face in his neck, mouth open, her gasps hot on his skin. Her fingers grew restless, digging into flesh. His kindled a fire that had burned her too many times. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt the release surge to her center, and when it came, it was powerful.

Their clothes followed their trail to the bed where she lay, bare to him in complete abandon. Cole gathered her wrists in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asked, voice thick with passion.

Margaret swallowed and nodded.

With the cravat, Cole tied her wrists together, the feel of the fabric tightening around her skin sending shivers down her spine, an odd feeling of pleasure and anticipation. And wariness.

With brown eyes dark with passion, Cole tied her to the head of the bed.

“I don’t think I’ll enjoy this though,” she said as Cole trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his hands tracing her lines and slopes. She squirmed in his touch, the sensations heightened even more now that she could not touch him.

He just laughed when she gritted out, “Cole, I want to touch you.”

“Later, darling,” he said, kissing down her navel.

---

Margaret woke first. She twisted her wrists. They did not hurt, but she could still feel the cravat digging into her skin earlier, the cloth straining as she helplessly pulled while her body burned from his.

He set her free when she begged to touch him. As they drove each other to oblivion, he whispered how he missed her like this, how he burned for her every night since they last saw each other. He took her with such intensity that was both scary and overwhelming.

Yes, it scared her, this passion they had. It was too good, too real. And that’s the scary part. Because it was real and could be easily taken away again.

Margaret rolled to her side. He looked peaceful, she noted with a faint smile.

“You’re staring.” She started in surprise at the sound of his raspy voice.

She slapped his arm. “How long have you been awake?”

He opened one eye with a grin. “Long enough to see you check if your hands are still attached to your wrists.”

She laughed and pushed him away.

Laughing, he drew her closer to him and buried his face in her hair. Then he sighed. “I like waking up like this. I don’t have to think of other things when I have something warm and mine to delay my journey to the door.”

She chuckled. “Yours?”

He grinned. “You will be. I know you’ll give me the answer.”

“I will not argue for now, because I’m too tired.”

“I’m disappointed,” he said with a dramatic sigh, kneading her hip. “I was hoping to use the cravat one more time.”

She planted a lingering kiss on his mouth. His hand found hers and lifted it to his lips. She kissed his in return, the act bringing back more memories.

Her smile died as her secrets slowly made their way to the forefront of her mind. “What would you do if I turn out to be someone different? Someone you may potentially abhor?” He started to frown and she immediately wanted to erase it.

However, if he questioned her sudden inquiry, he did not voice it. Instead, he humored her and shrugged. “I would let you defend yourself, of course. That’s what I do as a man of the courts, is it not?”

She smiled against the back of his hand. Her eyes searched his face, the evidence of her brothers’ fists still clear. But she scowled when she noticed his good eye. “You have not been sleeping well.”

“You know the work I do in Ashmore. And there’s Fiona. And there’s you.” He grinned at the last word.

She smiled faintly, letting the quiet reign a little while longer. She broke it with a question. “Sometimes, do you wish you can just stop? Pass everything to someone else and move on? You’re going beyond the scope of your duty, risking your own reputation in the process. It must be exhausting.”

Cole was silent for a while as he stared at their hands. “As people who took a vow to serve everyone, we tell victims that our doors are open should they decide to come for help,” he started. “But rarely do we step outside of our own doors to seek out these victims. We show everyone our sense of morality; we let them hear of our strong convictions when we discuss it with friends in balls or in clubs.

“We make them believe that we care and all the while we all go around ballrooms wearing our fancy clothes and drinking wine, chatting about people we know, never talking about those we don’t—those who stay unknown simply because they’re not within our circle.”

Margaret kissed his hand as she listened.

“We speak strong words that justify our humane values, yet our actions are too frail to be felt by those who need them the most. We sit behind our desks, convincing ourselves we’re doing our duties, waiting for victims to come to our doors. But truly, how many of us actually realize that the door is not merely for the victims to enter, but also for us to step out, to go beyond the comforts of society and do the actual work?”

He squeezed her hand.

He kissed her hand. “These people, these slaves would never reach our doors for they are not capable. They can’t send me letters like Leah did. Do they even know how to write? They’re locked away somewhere and it’s our duty to stop wagging our tongues, making ourselves and others believe we are fighting for them, but in truth, we are merely waiting for them to escape and fight for their lives, if not for their rights.”

He paused to take a long breath, sighed. He leaned over to kiss her mouth. “It’s about time someone bloody shut up, go out there, and truly be there. The Guards and the League could only do so much, and what they cannot do I will do. I’ll make and support laws. I’ll bring justice.”

A tear rolled down her eye.

“Why are you crying?” he asked with a laugh.

She pulled her hand free from his hold and cupped his face. “I promise to work with you on this. You shall not find me in your way because I will be there with you,” she promised.

“And that’s even scarier, Meg. I want you safe.”

She smiled into his kiss. “You know you’ll lose this argument, yes?”

His arms wrapped around her and he rolled on his back, carrying her with him. Margaret bit her lip as she moved her hips and planted her knees on both sides of his hips. “I’m starting to love losing to you,” he said against her mouth.

XXXV. The Leaguer

They did not stay long in Sheills. Everyone knew the sole reason Alice Everard wanted to be there and when she finally accomplished her mission, she announced her desire to return home. Ysabella was perhaps the only one who was disappointed, claiming she had made friends during the social season.

“I’m yet to introduce my friend,” she whined the morning before their departure.

“Who?” Emma absently asked as she read her book over a cup of tea. “The one with the dark hair?”

“Yes. Aurora.” She turned to her brothers and grinned. “She’s actively looking for a husband. You should meet her.”

“Isn’t she a little too old to be your friend?”

“Oh, merely by a few years. We relate on many things. And again, she’s looking for a husband and I happen to be a part of the best matchmaking duo in Wickhurst! And I have three unmarried brothers!”

“Never,” Nicholas said, throwing his napkin on the table. “I’m ready to return home.”

“I was not thinking about you, anyway. Max?” Ysabella said, smiling sweetly at Maxwell. “Miss Aurora will be staying in Wickhurst next year.”

“No,” was Maxwell’s curt reply before he, too, followed Nicholas out of the breakfast room.

Ysabella sighed.

“I’m available,” Ralph said.

“No,” Ysabella said the same time Emma did, too.

“What? What’s wrong with me?”

“Everything,” the twins replied.

“Stop it,” Benedict ordered when Ralph opened his mouth. “Finish your breakfast.”

The day was spent mostly in the hotel and a short shopping trip for gloves and fabrics for future dresses.

By evening, Margaret slipped into Cole’s room.

They just had another long dinner, and like the five others before, it was chaotic. But it did not focus much on them. It seemed that her brothers had grown accustomed to the idea that Cole might someday be a part of the family. His presence was still met with hostility now and again, and each time, they would express their wish that Margaret would say no, but oddly enough, the hostility would wear off after a bottle of brandy where they would then express that there was no other way but for Margaret to marry Cole. They could live with the idea. Once, they even consulted him about legal matters concerning their estates.

Benedict, however, was a different matter. He was not as hostile as his brothers. It may be because he had a different understanding of the past, or maybe he was just keeping a promise to give his sister the freedom to make her own choices. He was always silent, and he seemed to enjoy playing chess with Cole. But they never finished any game. There was never a winner.

Hours after she entered his room, Margaret slipped out of bed. “I may not be able to return to Wickhurst soon,” Cole said while she dressed to return to her room before anyone found out she was missing.

“Are you going to try to talk to Edmund Trilby again?”

“Yes. He has not returned my missives.”

She slipped her arms into her dress with a frown. “You look worried.”

“He’s always said he’s afraid of his family.”

“You think they did something to him?”

“Maybe,” he replied, reaching for her and turning her around to button her dress.

Margaret looked over her shoulder. “Cole, he may be playing with you.”

“I know,” he said, planting a kiss on her back before he closed one button.

“I’m more worried about Fiona. She’s alone in Ashmore.” Finished, Cole turned her around and smiled up at her. She raked her fingers through his tousled hair. “I can go to Ashmore. I’ll take Faye and the twins with me.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

“I promised her.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re thinking the children may know each other.”

“If they’re from the same place, they might.” She bent and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. “We shall go to Ashmore if it is fine with you. If we’re welcome.”

“You are welcome there anytime. In fact, it’s waiting for you.”

She smiled as she climbed on the bed and straddled his lap, her arms around his shoulders.

“And I think you’re starting to get a little comfortable with this,” he said, carefully gathering her skirts and spreading it around them. Underneath, he gripped her thighs and pulled her closer. “Maybe I should consider depriving us until you say yes.”

Margaret bit her lower lip, eyes closing as their bodies awakened in new burning sensations. Her breath was hot and shaky in his ear as he slowly took her. “I’ll give you an answer soon. It will all depend on you.”

His hands stilled her hips. “What does that mean?” When she shook her head, he sighed. “Meg,” he whispered, gathering her face in his hand, pulling her away from his neck. She was flushed, streaks of hair sticking to her face. He brushed them away and kissed her mouth. “You must know this is a little alarming for me, yes?”

“I know,” she said, moistening her lips. “Please. Trust me. Hm?” She kissed him again, fingers digging into his flesh, grasping his hair as she unheeded his hold, moving slow against it, and faster when he yielded.

This woman would always render him helpless. She was his strength, but she was also his damnation. Since then up to now. It had taken him years to master himself, to go back to how he was before her. For a time, he thought he had convinced himself she never happened. But even his strong mind and will could not win against the memory of her.

So, even now, when he finally allowed himself this possibility of a future with her, and even when he knew she would say yes, he still could not feel he won. She had said it herself. So much had happened while they were apart. She had changed and so did he. Now, he wondered how much and how that would affect them.

---

Margaret did not meet any violet reaction when she announced her plans to stay in Ashmore with Faye, Ysabella, and Emma. Her brothers even offered to take them there, which was odd.

It was Emma who offered an explanation. She shared that while Margaret was out one afternoon, Alice Everard gathered Maxwell, Nicholas, and Ralph into her study where they stayed locked with her for nearly two hours.

“And what did she say to them?” Margaret asked her sister.

“I could not hear. And that tells us something, yes?”

“She locked the door and she spoke quietly,” Ysabella said, nodded. “I shiver at the very thought.”

Margaret knew what Ysabella meant. Their mother rarely resorted to such talks, but every time she did, they knew nothing could save them. She had a way with words and threats that could give them nightmares at night. Even Benedict would not want to experience that.

“They came out with their faces unreadable. Nick was sweating, his cravat loosened all the way,” Emma relayed with a chuckle, flipping a page of her book. “Is Ashmore a nice place, Maggie?”

“Yes,” Margaret said as they waited for Maxwell and Nicholas to join them in the carriage.

“Will Lord Ashmore be there?” asked Ysabella.

“Yes. He will wait for our arrival before leaving for Willowfair for business.” She looked at Faye sitting beside her. “How are you feeling, Faye?” she asked.

The girl smiled. “Excited.”

“Did you bring your books? We still have to practice reading,” Ysabella said to Faye.

“Yes. I packed them.”

The door to the carriage opened and Maxwell and Nicholas squeezed themselves in. “Shall we go?” asked Nicholas.

Margaret wanted to say no, but she had to.

Calan Haverston finally sent her a note a week ago. They were willing to work with Cole and Margaret on the slave trade. She could proceed to prepare him for the meeting, his letter said.

The instruction read so easily, as if he wrote the words with no concern. And maybe he was not concerned. Calan Haverston would not be bothered by how she did her task, or how hard it would be for her.

Calan would also arrive in Ashmore and she was the one to have to tell Cole to be ready. She could finally tell him her secret.

But the thing about secrets was that they could bring so much relief once shared. But that didn’t mean it would end up in the favor of the keeper.

---

Fiona was at first shy when they arrived days later. She hid behind Cole’s leg, her eyes on their new guests. The twins and Faye were told that Fiona was an orphan and that Cole had taken her in as his ward.

It was clear, however, that Faye did not believe it. Her eyes were locked on Fiona ever since they arrived without saying anything.

Maxwell and Nicholas were leaving and Cole escorted them out when they insisted. Knowing her brothers, it would take a while before Cole returned. The twins immediately took to Fiona, who started to warm up to them. But it was Faye the little girl was more interested in, maybe because she was closest in age. “I’ll show you my toys!” Fiona said to Faye, reaching out for her hand, but Faye stepped back and warily looked at Margaret.

The twins were fast to rescue, taking Fiona by the hand. “Where are you toys, Fiona? Let me look at them first before you show the others,” Emma said.

“But I want to see, too!” Ysabella dramatically whined, following Emma and Fiona to the door.

Margaret turned to Faye and asked, “What is the matter?”

“I know her,” the girl said.

“Do you mean Fiona?”

Faye nodded, frowning at the now empty doorway. “I can’t be certain, but I think it’s her. I saw her sometimes in the Manor, but she disappeared one day.”

Margaret carefully held Fiona by the arm and urged her to face her. “Where is this, Faye?”

The girl blinked, shaking her head. “I must be mistaken. She can’t be here. They liked her.”

“Who liked her?”

“Them. The people in the Manor. They liked that little girl. She was not like me.”

“What do you mean she’s not like you?”

“She didn’t do work. She just… played. She was free.” Again, Faye shook her head. “But that can’t be her.”

“What was this girl’s name?”

“I never found out. I wasn’t allowed to come near her. I just watched from afar.”

“I understand,” Margaret said. “You said they took her—the girl from the Manor. Do you know where?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes, they take people. They don’t always come back.”

“Who are they , Faye?”

“The guests,” Faye replied. She was starting to shake.

“Come here,” said Margaret, pulling the girl in an embrace. “We’ll not talk about this today. You can join Fiona and the twins in the playroom if you want.” Faye hesitated. Margaret smiled gently. “I’ll take you. If you will not enjoy the stay, you can join me for a walk in the garden.”

---

Later, Cole found Margaret alone in the garden, arms crossed and with a frown on her face.

“Your brothers are gone,” he said, stepping beside her.

She smiled. “I hope they did not add more injury to your face.”

“They were actually quite nice to me.”

She scoffed. “Do thank my mother for that.”

“And why the frown on your face?”

She told him about Faye and how the girl recognized Fiona. “This place—this Manor—wherever it is, it’s real, Cole.”

His face had gone tight. “I know. We’ll find it.” He took her hand to his arm and led the way back into the manor. “I’ll leave in three days. Do you think you can handle the girls alone?”

“I’m more worried about the twins, if I should be honest,” she said, eliciting a laugh from him. Her steps faltered then, and he stopped to study her face. Before he could ask, she said, “I invited someone to Ashmore. He wishes to make a negotiation with you before you leave for Willowfair.”

“That’s odd. And who is this person? I hope you have not been keeping another brother, Meg. My face is not quite ready for another fist.”

Her smile was weak and slowly died as she took a deep breath. “Calan Haverston.”

His face had gone serious. “The Lord of Easton?”

Nodding, Margaret said, “Yes.”

“And what negotiation is he going to have with me?” he asked, stepping away from her. And she could sense that he was starting to realize what this was all about. “Who is Calan Haverston to you? Why does he want to talk to me?”

She could delay this until later, but what’s the use? This was the sole reason she was here.

She met his gaze. For some reason, she wanted to laugh. Not because he looked funny, but because she was being pathetic. She had to stop about getting hurt or losing him. This was not about her.

Thinking about the case and how bigger it was than herself and Cole, Margaret squared her shoulders and answered, “Calan Haverston is my mentor.” As his brow furrowed in confusion, she added, “He trained me to be a member of the League of Founders.”

XXXVI. The Spy

His study was quiet. The door was locked and it seemed that nothing, not even a bloody fire, could make them leave the room. Cole was intent on keeping her there until she told him everything. He did not say so, but his gaze did.

Margaret drew a breath and let it out. She may be his lover, but she was also a Leaguer. And that’s how she must face him.

“Explain.”

A simple request, really, but it placed such great weight on Margaret. Her plans with Calan and her hope for their future relied greatly on this moment.

“I joined the League of Founders a few years ago. I have been working with them ever since.”

His jaw tightened, a fire of fury and betrayal shadowed his eyes. “Is that why you approached me? Made attempt to be friends ?”

Margaret paled and nodded. “I was given my mission after Osmond Trilby’s death. You were a suspect. You still are , I believe.”

“A mission,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “And you did not even try to reject it? Given our history? I could have fooled you. Could have used you.”

“I’m a Leaguer, Cole. Please don’t think me so daft. I would know if you were playing tricks on me.”

“Oh, truly?” he asked. “It wasn’t so hard to make you my lover again.”

She knew he was angry and he wanted to hurt her. “I know. Neither was it for me.”

His jaw tightened. His silence meant he was deliberating. Killing her? Throwing her out? She could not tell so instead she just shook her head. “Yes, mayhap I did doubt your innocence at first. The evidence was quite strong. There are witnesses during your visit and the argument that followed. You left Willowfair on the same night Trilby was murdered—”

“Because I had to take Fiona away.”

“I know that now.”

“Of course you do. You’re one good spy. You managed to creep into Ashmore.”

Ignoring his ire, Margaret continued. “When I learned about the slavery case you’re working on, I started to have doubts. Maybe you’re right. Maybe someone else killed Trilby. After I discovered Fiona and found nothing in your estate that bolster your connection to the murder, I talked with my mentor.”

“Calan Haverston. In Sheills.”

She nodded. The guilt was eating at her, but she had to keep her gaze steady. She had to look him in the eye and make him see that she was being honest. “I offered him the case.”

His eyes slowly narrowed and his jaw twitched. “You told him about the slavery case. My case.”

“No, not just yours. It’s also mine. I also have to protect Faye. I know I betrayed your trust, but I had a duty to fulfill. I had to make them understand why you could not have killed Trilby.”

“And now the League is on their way here? To take everything?”

The betrayal was clearly painted on his face. “No, of course, not,” she said. “They’re willing to work with us.”

“Us,” he said, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh. “You truly made sure this case is ours, didn’t you? So you can sell it to the people who could very well be working with the bloody trade!”

Margaret was awed that she did not flinch. His voice boomed in all corners of the room. “I also do have people I trust, Cole. It’s not just you. They’re the people who helped me be who I am today. And yes, I trusted them with your secrets. Because I had to.”

Again, he laughed. “To what? Save me from being convicted of murder? I know they suspect me, Margaret. And I know they don’t have enough and they will never have enough because I didn’t kill Trilby.”

“They know more about the Manor,” she said instead. She would take his blame and anger later, but for now, she had to have her wits with her while she still had control over them. At her words, he went still in his seat behind his desk and frowned. “It’s aboveground as we suspected. It is very exclusive. They keep the slaves there, but they have very little contact with each other apart from the guests, people from both aboveground and the Town. The slaves serve these members.”

When he did not open his mouth, she continued. “If you work with us, we will have a chance to solve this. We have Fiona and Faye and they have information. The League has a list of names—”

“What names?”

“Names of the guests. Names you don’t have. Names we can connect to what you have.”

He leaned over and planted his arms on the table. A slight relief rushed through her knowing she now had his attention. “And we also have your mother.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“In Osmond Trilby’s room, we found a brooch with the Ashmore crest.” As realization loosened his face, she added, “I believe Osmond Trilby was your mother’s lover.”

It took a while for him to react. When he did, he scoffed and leaned back with a shake of his head. “My mother would rather die than talk.”

“To you, yes. But with the League, it may be a different matter.” She shifted in her chair. “Please, Cole. I know you’re furious. I would be if I were in your shoes. I admit I spied on you and I can’t demand that you trust me as a member of the League. However, I’m hoping you trust me as Margaret Everard.” Her nose flared as she talked, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She blinked them away. “With the League, we can make this work.”

He stared at her for a long time, chest heaving, lips tight. All the while, Margaret held his gaze. If she let go now, she might break.

“This is why you can’t say yes.”

His statement surprised her and it pulled at her heart. “Yes.”

“Well, I should thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever deal with this if you did.”

The tears did come then and she briskly brushed them off with the back of her hand. “I would not dream of trapping you in a marriage with me without knowing my secrets.”

A bitter smile played on his lips. “I have to wonder which part of everything you did was true and which aren’t.”

“I would be lying if I say all of it was true. But it started to be since the night at the cabin.”

Cole scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. He refused to meet her gaze, looking everywhere but her.

“Tell me, Margaret. Does your family know?”

“Only my brothers and Tori,” she admitted. “But it’s only Ben who knows why I had to approach you in the beginning.”

“To spy ,” he corrected scathingly. “Please do not put it so lightly.”

She sniffled, nodding slowly. “Yes. I spied on you. I used our past to get close to you. I took advantage of what we shared in the cabin so I could go here and search every corner of your estate to scour for evidence.” She caught his gaze and released a shaky sigh. “And I relished on what you offered. For a moment I tricked myself that I could be yours again. And for a time, I was, and it was true for me.” She bit her lips to stop them from trembling. “Loving you is the only thing that’s true while I was doing this mission.”

His jaw clenched, the fury still hooding his eyes. “Be fair to me, Margaret. You can’t tell me you love me after everything.”

“I understand,” she said, but her heart was in riot inside her chest. It wanted to go on a rampage. It was demanding to be heard. But she had done enough damage.

She knew from the start that this was bound to happen and she should have guarded herself well. Any good Leaguer would laugh at her. Falling in love with her mission? Hoping he would not feel betrayed and still marry her? How pathetic.

“I need to be alone,” Cole said, tearing his eyes off her. “Please.”

Slowly, Margaret stood. “I will wait for your decision. And whatever it is, I will respect it.”

She left the study and searched for the children and the twins. She could not be alone for now.

---

The following morning, Cole did not join them for breakfast. By afternoon, he was out riding in the fields. However, he showed up for supper. He dined with them cordially, listened to the twins and answered their questions. Margaret was smart enough not to initiate a conversation.

By the time he stood to lock himself in his study, Margaret could feel the twins’ gaze on her. “Is something the matter?” she asked them.

“With us, none,” Emma replied. “However, there is something wrong between you and Lord Ashmore.”

“A small misunderstanding, that is all.”

“Is he being impatient?” Ysabella prodded. “Is he demanding for an answer to his proposal?”

“No, I do not think that’s it, Ysa,” said Emma, eyeing Margaret closely. If there was someone who was as intuitive as Maxwell, that would be the youngest Everard. Emma could always read a room in a way Maxwell could. The two of them could even finish each other’s sentences. “Is this about the children? I know you took Faye here for a reason. And I know Fiona is also here for a reason.”

She smiled at her sisters. “Please, ladies, I’m tired.”

She retreated to her room before the twins could coax an answer out of her. She was already in her nightdress when the knock came. Knowing it was him, she went to the door.

He remained outside, his face unreadable.

“I’ll talk to the League. But everything will be on my terms. They’re not taking the children and they will not meet them until I say so. I will not be brushed aside.”

Margaret nodded. “I’ve made certain of that. They know how important this case is to you.”

His eyes remained on her for a few breathless moment before he nodded. Then he turned and left. No words, no hesitation.

Margaret closed the door and leaned on the wall, closing her eyes. She slipped into bed, but she knew sleep would not come fast.

---

Two days later, Margaret asked the twins to take Fiona and Faye to the garden. It would be far enough for them to notice the arrival of their visitors.

Margaret was silent beside Cole as they waited. The sound of the carriage made her fiddle on her skirt.

“Why are you nervous?” Cole asked, tone cold. “This was your idea.”

She shook her head, unable to look at him for longer than she should. She was grate for his decision to meet Calan Haverston. But it was not really his decision, was it? She gave him no choice. So, of course, he was furious. He had every right to be.

“We shall take our leave after your conversation with Lord Easton. If you choose to work with the League, someone else will be working with you.”

“It would not be you?” She closed her eyes at the mockery in his voice.

“It will not work. I can continue to do my part on the case by some other means.”

“More spying.”

She did not like how he said that. Her eyes flew to him. “Maybe. I enjoy it, after all,” she said with a smile.

His gaze lingered on her until he had to look away because the door opened and in came Calan Haverston. And he was not alone. He was with his brother, McKenzie Haverston, the Town Guard.

After a short round of greetings, and once the drawing room door was shut closed, Calan studied Margaret, his eyes measuring the distance between her and Cole. And it was quiet far enough to make him say, “I’m certain Margaret has already told you what you needed to know.”

Cole merely nodded, eyes on McKenzie. Understanding his silent question, Calan said, “McKenzie is working with us on the case.”

“I was not informed the Guards are also involved,” Cole said, throwing Margaret a look.

“It was by accident,” Calan replied.

It was McKenzie who spoke next. “I and a few of my men are careful, my lord. We know how the Guards can be easily corrupted.”

“And who else are working in on this case?”

“The Society.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “The what?”

“Splendid,” Cole gritted out. “A criminal group. Do you think this is a bloody joke?”

“Someone from the Society provides us with useful information,” Calan said. “I trust them with my life, as I do trust my brother and his men. As I’ve said, we all stumbled on this case by mere chance, all separately until a couple of years ago.” He turned to his brother. “Mac?”

McKenzie Haverston smiled at them, the scar across his eyebrow moving as he cocked his brows up as he sighed. He looked like he would rather not tell the story. “I’ve been working with the Society for some time before Calan stumbled on the same case I was working on. The case was passed on to him, and he took us on the case, all the while working closely with the Society. It’s an odd partnership, but it works. Until a few years ago, we’ve been having little progress.” He paused and shifted in his seat. “Until my wife, Belinda. I’m sure you’re familiar with her story. She was banished years ago after a scandal.” Margaret sighted fury behind his eyes before he continued. “She was sent to the Manor.”

Margaret stiffened, and so did Cole. When she first met McKenzie Haverston, he had stormed into the Everard House years ago to whisk away the twins’ governess, Belinda Carrington. She knew little about their story, only that Belinda was banished by her father and that for some reason, she returned. During her stay with them, Belinda did not say why and Margaret never prodded because she sensed Belinda had been through a lot. She just never imagined it would be like this.

“It was orchestrated by her sister, Julia, with the help of her then lover, Noah Trilby. All the while, her parents thought she was taken to a cottage in Gailey. They did not know she was aboveground with other slaves. She managed to escape and with her she took one guest book where names of the visitors of the manor are logged.”

“We have that book,” said Calan. “Belinda entrusted it to us, and we had been using it to solve the case.”

“How did she escape?” Margaret asked McKenzie.

“Through the Dark Forest. We’ve searched, but found no evidence of any passage. However, we’re still searching. The Dark Forest is vast, and it’s dangerous. My wife may have simply been lucky to have found a way out of the godforsaken place.”

Calan spoke next. “The book is not enough to take in everyone. Even Julia admitted that she used her husband’s name whenever she visited the Manor to secretly visit Belinda. Julia was insane, and before she was hanged, she said things that alluded to the Trilbys as a dangerous group. We all know by now how powerful they can be. Very little is known about them—in fact, we do not even know all of them—and that’s their power. They don’t display it, but we know it’s there.”

His eyes slanted to Cole. “Your father’s effects will greatly help move the investigation forward. With Belinda and the children as witnesses to the Manor’s existence, with your sister’s letters and your father’s trail of communication and connections, we can connect them to the names we have. We’ll have specific individuals to investigate. And it does not hurt that we have someone from the Men of Courts working with us.”

It took Cole a while to say something. He regarded both brothers with scrutiny. “I will want to know what you have first before I resort to sharing what I have,” he finally said, tone matter-of-fact and direct. “However, the murder of the Prime Minister is being a painful inconvenience. I do not appreciate the League throwing spies in my direction.”

Margaret looked away and shared a look with Calan. Her mentor only nodded. “The murder is still unsolved, and you are still a suspect among others. If you let us talk with Edmund Trilby, or question the girl, we may get somewhere. We have ways to do that.”

“You’re not questioning Fiona. The child barely remembers anything and any mention of that night gives her nightmares,” Cole coldly stated. “As we have not yet agreed on anything, Edmund Trilby shall remain my responsibility. You are not going to approach the young man without me. You said it yourself—the Trilbys are powerful.”

Utter silence followed Cole’s statement. Calan Haverston studied him for a while, then slowly smiled. “Of course.” He stood. “I will personally deliver everything we have on this case.”

“I would also appreciate if you can bring along your contact in the Society.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said McKenzie, also rising on his feet. “The Blower does not easily accept invitation.”

Margaret gaped. “You’re working with the Blower.” She had heard that name being whispered around among Leaguers. It was the Blower who saved the Town many years ago and continued to do so now by sharing information to whoever needed it. “I cannot believe it. Have you seen his face? Met him?”

Cole looked at her with a frown. She ignored him, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Unfortunately, yes,” McKenzie wryly retorted.

“And that’s all we’ll share,” Calan said. “The Blower will show up only when they think it necessary.” To Cole, he said, “Thank you for your time, Lord Ashmore. I’ll see you soon.”

When they were gone, Margaret was deep in thought. “It could be a woman,” she murmured to herself. “He referred to the Blower as they .” She snapped to her senses when Cole stood and faced her.

“I don’t think you’ve changed a lot through the years. You’ve always been fascinated by mystery as you are till now. It’s a pity I just realized I didn’t fully know you back then.”

What in the bloody hell does that mean, the voice in her head asked. The Blower now completely out of her mind, Margaret stood and smiled at him, like she always did when she was hurting. “Thank you for meeting them.”

“You gave me no choice.”

“I know,” she said. “And I hope you will never regret this. No—I know you will not regret this. Calan Haverston is the most reliable man I’ve ever known. He will never betray your trust. Now,” she said, taking a deep breath. “If you will excuse me, I have to tell the twins and Faye that we have to pack.”

“You know this is not easy for me,” he said behind her.

She stopped. “I know, Cole. And I understand.” Her eyes searched his from across the room. “You will always have my support. Whether you fight with the League, or alone, in whatever way I can, I will stand by you and your cause. For what I did, I also offer my expertise. If you need a spy, send for me.” She chuckled when he scowled. “You may find better use of me as a spy than as a wife, my lord.”

“You do not have to leave,” he said. “The children will wonder.”

He was not coming near, nor did he look like he wanted her near, so Margaret shook her head. “Fret not, Cole. I will tell my family that I decided on an answer. They will not come for you. I shall take full responsibility.”

Her body walked out of the room, but she knew she left her heart inside. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe this was fate telling her it had given her another chance to prove it was always meant to be this way.

Again, she spent the rest of the day with the twins and the girls. And again, Cole joined them for a cordial dinner. And that evening, she walked into the room shared by the twins and announced they were leaving on the morrow. Naturally, they questioned why, but when she sternly said they could stay no longer, they resigned to the fact but not without commenting that whatever was happening with her and Lord Ashmore, their mother would be quite disappointed.

When she told Faye of their departure, the girl asked the same question as the twins. But this time, Margaret gave her an answer. “We have to go home so I can help you with your papers. We can only do so in Wickhurst.”

Faye studied her face for a while. “Can I sleep with Fiona? She has grown attached to me. She will be sad once we leave.”

“Of course. I’ll wake you up on the morrow.”

In her room, Margaret lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. She allowed her thoughts to linger. She wondered what Cole was doing now, or what he may be thinking. With bitterness, she knew she would do this often in the days to come.

Sleep crept in between her thoughts. For how long, she could not remember. All she recalled was that she was awakened by the bursting of the door and the sound of bare feet running toward her. When she opened her eyes, Faye was shaking beside the bed, tears streaming down her face.

“Faye? What happened?” she asked, alarmed.

“He took her. H-He took her!”

“Who?”

But the girl was not listening. She was frantic with fear. “Fiona! He took Fiona!”

XXXVII. The Chase

“Tell us what happened, Faye,” Margaret softly said, kneeling before the girl. “Don’t be afraid. We’re here. We’ll keep you safe. No one can touch you.”

Faye looked around the parlor. Her eyes landed on Cole, who was pinching the bridge of his nose while he paced. She was seated between Ysabella and Emma, who were holding both her hands to sooth and comfort her. The twins, like Margaret, were wearing robes over their nightdress, both utterly concerned and confused.

“I woke up to the sound of his voice. He told her they must leave. He said he’s taking her somewhere safe.”

“What did he look like?”

“I didn’t see him because I kept my eyes closed,” Faye said. “I was afraid he’ll take me, too.”

“Did Fiona know him?”

She nodded.

“Did she call him by any name?”

Faye was quiet for a moment as she scrambled for memory. “Eddie. She called him Eddie.”

Margaret heard Cole curse under his breath.

“He told her she’ll like it there and Fiona said she doesn’t like David.”

“David?”

“Yes. She’s afraid of him. He locked her up before in the Manor, she said, but the man said it was only because David was trying to protect her.”

Margaret twisted around to look at Cole. “Who is this David? Do you know?”

He shook his head. “She never mentioned the name before.”

Faye started shaking as her tears flowed again. “I was a coward. I pretended to sleep. I didn’t stop him.”

“No,” Margaret said. “You were afraid. If he took you, too, we wouldn’t have a chance of finding her.” Faye bit her trembling lips as her tearful eyes searched hers. “And did he say where he’s taking her? Where this David is?”

“No, he’s not taking her to David,” Faye said, shaking her head. “He’s taking her to a friend. They’ll wait in a village, he said. And that he’ll not take her to Thorne. That’s what I heard, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know!”

Margaret jumped to her feet and faced Cole. “The Lord of Thorne. Who is he?”

She saw the realization wash his face before she even finished her question. “David Trilby. His uncle.”

Margaret returned to Faye and kissed her forehead. “You did great, Faye. I’m proud of you. And you’re safe now.”

“But Fiona—”

“Fiona will be safe, too,” she promised, looking at the twins. “Don’t leave her side.”

Emma blinked at her in alarm. “Maggie, you can’t be thinking what I’m thinking!”

“Don’t leave Faye alone. Stay with the servants.” Turning on her heels, she said to Cole, “We have to go.”

He stalked her in the corridor. “You’re not going.”

“I am,” she stonily said. It must be the tone in her voice, or the way her eyes threw him a darting look that threw his objections out. “I’ll meet you in the stables.”

“What?”

“We’ll have to ride on horseback. It’s faster that way,” she said before running up the stairs to her room.

Not a quarter of an hour later, she strode in the stables in a pair of breeches and a shirt.

“Is that a bloody pistol?” he asked, looking at her waist as she shrugged into a coat.

“Yes,” she said, approaching one horse. “Is she fast?” When he did not reply, she asked, “What?”

His jaw tightened and he shook his head. “Nothing.” Three more men joined them outside. “We can’t go alone,” he told her.

Margaret nodded, mounted her horse, and said, “We don’t have much time. I’d rather we catch them before this other friend meets them.”

---

The village of Irving was located outside Theobald. On horseback, it could be reached in half a day, and just before the end of the day by carriage.

The young man did not want to stop at Irving. They continued to the village of Haywood where the population was dense and had more than one tavern to stay in. He should go straight to Hastings, but his cousin Peter gave a specific instruction. He had to wait for him to come.

Fiona slept soundly in his arms. Did she think she was safe with him? Of course, she did. Children would believe a lie if it was delivered by someone they loved.

He paid the hackney that dropped them outside an old tavern and carried Fiona in his arms. The sound of soft, drunken chatters greeted him, and a woman came up to him to ask if he was there to get a room. Yes, he was, for him and his little sister.

He was afraid. Thorne was just a few miles away. The only consolation was that his uncle’s schedule was predictable, always the same. By morning, he would be in his estate. By night, he would be in the Manor.

When the woman returned to announce their room was ready, Edmund carried his sleeping bundle of burden up the stairs. The woman helped by opening the door and closing it when he entered the room. And locked it.

Edmund made a move to turn to the door, but the light flickered on, revealing the room was occupied before he even entered. His heart sank to the ground. He should have known Peter would do this.

“Do you truly think you can get far?” the man asked. His hair and eyes were dark, even in the light. Like all Trilbys. “Where are you going this time, Edmund?”

Edmund carried the sleeping Fiona to the bed without an answer and carefully tucked her in. He took his time before straightening to full height and face the man. “I was going to wait here for Peter. He was supposed to tell us where to go. And I guess he decided.”

The Lord of Thorne arched one thick eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling with what could either be amusement or menace. It was hard to figure out with the man. There were stories about him, of how he served heads on a platter, of how he drank blood every night. Those were false, of course, because Edmund knew what David Trilby was truly capable of.

“To return her to me, I suppose?” Thorne asked, watching Fiona sleep.

“No, of course not. But since you are here, and I believe Peter that bloody bastard told you, I’m hoping you can help.”

Thorne was young. He may be his uncle, but he was far younger than his father, Osmond. They could even pass as cousins, him and Edmund. When he was younger, Edmund had learned to categorize his family.

His father and his siblings he considered the spawns of his great-grandfather, inheriting the old man’s nefarious characteristics down to the last bit of their being.

The other category would be what he would call the servants because they would follow anything the spawns and the old man told them.

The last category, and that’s where Thorne and his family belonged, were the indifferent bastards. They had their own worlds, living their own lives with little contact to the family. They took orders from the old man, of course, but they would always rather not participate. They were unbothered by most things, which made them different because they had the potential to betray the family. But because they were capable, and they could do anything asked of them better than anyone, they were treasured. Because of that, they held some power.

And Edmund was hanging on to that power.

“Tell me, Edmund,” Thorne said, tilting his head to the side, “Why do you think I would let you get away with this? After you tricked me, took her away from my care, why do you think I should help you?”

“It was Noah. It wasn’t me.”

“Truly?”

“Yes! Surely you heard. You know my father took her from Noah to return her to you.”

“Then it was not you who took her to someone who is not a bloody Trilby?”

“I had no choice. Something happened,” Edmund said.

Thorne’s smile did not disappear. “Of course, something happened. Something always happens to you, Edmund, and I’m starting to feel it’s all because you’re playing the game wrong.”

His nose flared. “I’m afraid I’m not the typical player.”

“No. You are exactly the typical player. You play the same game as everyone else and now look at the trouble you’ve caused.”

“I’m not like you. I’m not like Peter. I can’t stand idly by knowing what they’re doing to her,” he hissed, pointing at Fiona.

Thorne’s mouth closed tightly as his eyes veered to the girl. “Tell me what happened and I’ll decide if I’ll help you or not,” he ordered. “And if I decide to help, you know what it will cost you.”

XXXVIII. The Trilbys

The next village they went to was Haywood. When they walked out of the first tavern, Margaret was afraid they were too late. Edmund may have already met with someone and now they’re on the road to nowhere and they may not have a chance of taking her back.

However, there was one last tavern. Cole entered first and made inquiries. The woman he asked nonchalantly pointed them upstairs. Leaving Cole’s men outside to keep watch, Margaret and Cole ran up to the room. When they burst inside, Edmund was there, sitting in bed, as if he had been waiting.

“Where’s Fiona?” Margaret asked, looking around the room.

“Edmund,” Cole said, striding toward the young man. “What were you thinking?”

Edmund’s lips pursed and he glared at Cole. “Should I not be asking you that question?” His eyes flew to Margaret, the intensity in his gaze enough to relay what he meant. “I trusted you.”

Margaret’s jaw tightened, but she kept her silence. If they wanted to Fiona back, they had to be careful.

“Where’s Fiona?” Cole asked.

“Why would I tell you?” Edmund asked, fury in his dark eyes. “She’s not yours to begin with. I placed her in your care because I trusted you, but you go around the Town talking to people I told you not to talk to! Didn’t you trust me when I said I’ll help you with your case?”

“You cannot do this alone,” Cole told him after a few seconds of silence. “I cannot do this alone. We need people who can help us.”

“Like her?” Edmund spat out, looking at Margaret. “She’s with the League! She has been spying on us! And do you know who the League answers to? Do you have any idea who they serve? It is not the people! It’s the bloody bastards sitting in the parliament!”

“No, you’re wrong,” Margaret said, stepping forward. “The League answers to no one.”

Edmund scoffs. “Tell that to someone who has not seen Leaguers wander in and out of his father’s office, my lady.”

Margaret stared at Edmund. “You sent men to follow me.”

“I had to. You were spending a lot of time with Devitt. I needed to make sure you were not a threat. But my suspicion only grew when my men told me they were compromised. Only someone who’s wary would know they’re being watched.” His eyes were bloodshot with anger as he looked at her. “Then I had to find out you went to Ashmore where Fiona was.” He turned to Cole. “I’m not stupid as you might think, Lord Ashmore. I may be young, but I know a threat when I see it. And she went to Sheills and met with Calan Haverston. Mere weeks later, Haverston paid you a visit in Ashmore.” He stood and faced Cole. “I’m not stupid. I had to take Fiona before the League gets to her and return her to the wrong Trilbys.”

“The wrong Trilbys?”

Edmund shook his head. “You do not understand. You never will unless you are a Trilby.”

“Then make us understand, Edmund,” Cole said. “Because as far as I know, you have also been a little dishonest. Tell me everything that happened that night. Tell me about the Manor.”

At the mention of the Manor, Edmund’s face tightened but he blinked it away and shook his head. “It is not what you think.”

“You know what I truly think, Edmund?” Cole asked, stepping closer, his face twitching with fury. “I think you have been playing me. I think you know what I’m doing and you want to know more. You’re collecting information to give to your family. And I think you’re taking Fiona back to the Manor.”

“Even if I am, she’s safer there.”

“You’re not making me understand a bloody thing, Edmund. Start talking with sense or you shall be in trouble. Your family is not the only one capable of making things difficult,” Cole said. When Edmund’s eyes flew to Margaret, he added, “Lady Margaret is staying. And so are you. You’re not leaving this room alive unless you tell us everything.” He pulled a chair and forced Edmund to sit. “Start why Fiona is safer in the Manor.”

“I don’t know much about the Manor,” Edmund eventually said, voice low, almost a whisper. “I’ve never been there. All I know is that Fiona is untouchable there. She always had been.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they would not hurt her.” Cole did not ask the question that followed the question. He waited until Edmund spit it out. “Because she’s one of us. She’s a Trilby.”

Her breath was trapped in her throat as Edmund said the word. But for some reason, Cole did not seem at all surprised.

“I’m certain you already know about Belinda Carrington. How her banishment was orchestrated by her own sister, Julia Trilby. With Noah’s help, Julia managed to send her sister to the Manor. And then she married him and became part of the family.” Edmund looked at Margaret, and then Cole. “A few years ago, after murdering their mother, Julia was caught trying to kill Belinda after her escape. She was pregnant then with her child. That child is Fiona.” Edmund fell quiet for a while, then he scoffed.

“But the thing about the Trilbys is that we also protect our own. Only in a different way. Because of Julia’s crime, they had to protect their names. Noah was a member of the Town Leaders and the family has big plans for him. He had to keep his status in society. They took Fiona away from him and sent her to the Manor. Noah didn’t like that. Last year, he took Fiona back, the only child he had with his crazy wife.”

Edmund sighed and leaned back against the chair. “But my father, the Prime Minister, didn’t like it. He took Fiona away from his brother and she had been staying in our home since, promising the family he would take her back to the Manor.” At his last words, Edmund’s face crumpled and his shoulders shook with rage. “I should have known then. I should have known what he—” He was not able to finish. His hands flew to his face and he bent over the chair like a ball, crying and shaking. “I didn’t know what to do…” he sobbed in his palms.

Margaret and Cole shared a look. They waited until Edmund mastered himself and his cries turned into choking sounds and slowly died. “What I told you about Fiona overhearing their plans after your visit was true,” he said to Cole, sniffling and wiping his tears with his sleeves.

“But that’s not the entire story.”

Edmund swallowed hard. “No.” He stared blankly in space, his tears welling his eyes. He was already lost in his own memory of that night. “I was in that meeting. They talked about how Lord Ashmore’s investigation will cause problems to their operations and everything else they’re planning for the Town. And I was there when they caught Fiona. We didn’t know how she got in there. She must have been playing in the room and hid in one of the closets when we arrived. She knew that room was off-limits. Her father, Noah, wanted to take her back but my father wouldn’t allow him. He said she’d return to the Manor. Fiona was locked in her room. I visited her and she told me she wants to go away. She’s afraid. At first I thought her concern was about the punishment she’d get for being in that room. But that night…”

His lips trembled and it took a while for him to recover. “That night, I couldn’t sleep. I knew she would be taken back to the Manor and I may never see her again. With that thought, I went to her room only to find that she was not there. I searched and I…”

Margaret held her breath as she waited for Edmund to continue. A part of her didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, another hoped it would not lead to something she was already thinking. But what she was thinking was nothing close to what happened.

“I found her in my father’s bedchamber.” Edmund’s voice shook with anger and disgust that it did not take more words to explain what he meant. Margaret gasped and choked with tears.

Cole’s fists tightened into a ball beside her.

“The bloody bastard said he was just…” Edmund choked on his words and even Margaret did not want him to continue. “He denied it and even until now, I don’t know if he was telling the truth. But that night, I saw in Fiona’s innocent eyes the fear and confusion. She’s—She’s just a child!”

Margaret shivered at the sound of anguish in Edmund’s voice. And she, too, felt the underlying wrath in his tone. Cole must be feeling the same because he was too stiff, his fists tight and shaking.

“He was foxed that night and attacked him. I told him never to lay his bloody filthy hands on her ever again. I asked how many other Trilbys, how many servants and children he had touched, but he wouldn’t answer. I carried Fiona away, but he lurched at me, furiously shouting about how I could be such an ungrateful bastard.” Edmund seemed to be in a trance and the words simply rolled out of his tongue. “He tackled me to the floor. He was a big man and he managed to pin me with his weight. He wrapped his hands around my neck.”

Edmund unclenched his hands, and formed them into a choking form. “I could still remember feeling my life being drawn out of me, him breathing down on me, his wrathful eyes fading as my ears blocked everything.” His hand absently held his neck as though he could still feel his father’s hands around it. “And then his hold loosened and I could breathe again. My vision cleared and when I realized that I was indeed alive, I pushed him off me.

“I jumped to my feet and realized that my father was barely moving. At first, I thought he was in a stupor—fell asleep or something. But his eyes were open, looking at me as though I betrayed him. The thought came to me slowly. I realized he was dying. I searched the room and found Fiona standing behind me, her eyes covered with tears and she was shaking.”

Margaret felt her heart stop and began again to race faster than before.

Edmund stifled a sob. He searched their eyes. With a shaking voice, he said the words Margaret and Cole were not ready to hear. “She was holding a knife.” A tear dropped straight from his eye. “Fiona,” Edmund choked out. “It was Fiona who killed my father.”

XXXIX. On Matters of the League

“She fainted in my arms and I took her to my room. I came back to find the butler and we both returned to the room.” He paused to take a deep breath. “He was dead by then. Just one strike and the bloody bastard died. He did not suffer enough,” he gritted out. “For everything he had done to those around him—to me, to Fiona—he deserved more.”

“And what did you do next?”

“We locked him in the room. When Fiona woke up, she asked me what happened. That’s when I ordered the butler to get me a hackney. I couldn’t use my father’s carriage. I had to take her somewhere before she remembered out what happened. Or what she did.”

He let out a shaky sigh.

“Then your servants are aware.”

“Yes. But they won’t talk. They’re loyal only to the Trilby they serve. At the moment, that’s me.” He shook his head, as if he, too, found his story unbelievable. “Fiona doesn’t remember killing him and I hope it stays that way.”

Margaret could not agree more.

Edmund looked at Cole, as if he was torn between the feeling of betrayal and the helplessness.

“You can’t send her back to the Manor, Edmund,” Cole told him.

“She’s safer there than she is with us. I don’t see any other choice.”

“Taking her back to the Manor will only give her father easy access to her,” Margaret pointed out.

“I know, but the Manor has rules. And everyone abides by them. Noah will not repeat what he did.”

“How can you ever make that certain?”

“I’m certain,” the young man said, but his flickering eyes that would not meet them told otherwise.

Cole sighed. “If you want her safe, Edmund, let me take care of her. The Manor is not the best place for her. She needs family. I can give her that.”

Margaret’s eyes went to Cole and a tear fell from her eye. Edmund was silent for a while, lips pursed in an internal battle that only he could feel. “I know,” he finally whispered. “I don’t know where to take her. I don’t know how I can keep her away from us.” He stared at Cole. “And God, help me, even after what you did, I still trust you.”

“And you can,” Cole insisted. “I meant to talk to you, but you disappeared.”

“Of course, I did. I just found out you exposed Fiona to her,” Edmund said, throwing Margaret a look. He shook his head. “Even if I trust you with her, she can’t stay with you or the Haverstons. The work you do will only put her in much greater risk.”

“I know the place for her,” Margaret said. “It’s not with the League, I promise.”

Both men looked at her, one baffled, the other filled with doubt.

“My brother Benedict and his wife are building a school for children who lost their families. Fiona can stay there without anyone ever knowing where she came from. She will be with children her age. She will have a semblance of a normal life.”

Edmund closed his eyes and sighed. He looked tired.

His shoulders shrugged in resignation and he slowly nodded. “I need to think about this.”

Cole stared at him for a long time, hands resting on his hips. “Who is helping you, Edmund?”

“A cousin.”

“And this cousin has a name?”

He shook his head with a scoff. “I cannot tell you. Don’t ask me anything about my family, please.”

“Does your family know you’ve taken her?”

“Not all of them.”

“And those who do agreed that you can keep her?”

“They will have to.” Edmund looked at them and sighed. “Not all of us are evil, but those who are have the power to control everyone. And for those who wish for something, we have to pay for what we want.”

“And what did you pay for Fiona?”

Edmund smiled weakly. “My loyalty. That’s why I can no longer work with you. If they find out, I’ll be in trouble. And then Fiona will be in trouble.”

Cole shook his head. “You can help us take them down, Edmund.”

“No,” Edmund said, rising to his feet. “Maybe someday, but not now. Not when I remain in their clutches.” He looked at them, eyes jumping from Cole to Margaret and back. “Noah will find her. Not now, but once he gains more power in the parliament, he will find her. He’s as crazy as his dead wife. The first place he’ll go to will be the Haverstons. When he can’t find her there, he will search again.” He looked at Margaret. “If I decide to hand over Fiona to your family, I cannot assure that Noah will not turn his attention on the Everards.”

Margaret nodded. “I’d actually love to see him try.”

Edmund only shook his head. “I will know when I made my decision. For now, Fiona stays with me.”

Long after Edmund left, Margaret sighed in disbelief. She felt numb, lost, her thoughts everywhere but the present.

“We have to leave,” Cole said in a tone so calm it was almost surreal.

“Where?”

“Ashmore. We need to send word to the Haverstons.”

---

Margaret looked around the Ashmore drawing room. The thought that Fiona was no longer in the household was disheartening. She was tired, but there were so much to do.

Since their arrival two days ago, Cole agreed that they needed to send word to the Haverstons. She spent most of two days with the twins and Faye, assuring them that Fiona was safe, and that hopefully, she could return. They were curious and they had a lot of questions. However, Margaret told them there were things she could not share. Matters better left unsaid for Fiona’s safety and theirs.

Cole rarely saw them, and when he did, they did not talk about Edmund or Fiona. Margaret could not tell what he was doing when he was alone. She could only guess that he was working in his study.

When Calan Haverston arrived, he was with McKenzie, and with the man was his wife, Belinda. Surprisingly, Cole welcomed the woman. In fact, he asked that he told her about Fiona himself.

Belinda took the news about Fiona badly. She had refused to talk to anyone for a while, allowing only her husband to comfort her. Margaret now saw Belinda in a different light after learning where the woman had spent the five years of her banishment. If there was anyone who knew what it felt like to be in the Manor and to live in fear, it was Belinda.

“I never want her to ever remember,” Belinda said, breaking the silence in the room, snapping Margaret back to the present. Her eyes were swollen from tears, her red hair loose over her shoulders. Her pale lips trembled as she spoke. “I can’t wait to see her.” Stealing Margaret a look, she sniffled. “I know, Margaret,” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I know I cannot be her family for now. I can’t tell her who I am.”

Margaret reached out to squeeze her hand, her eyes also filling with tears.

“Please tell me he’ll agree. He will let you keep her.”

“I can’t promise you anything, Belinda,” she said. “Like you, I’m also hoping.”

“She suffered more than I, Margaret. How could they have done that to her? How could they?” Belinda wiped her tears and let out a shaky breath, mastering herself. “I’m afraid,” she said, voice clearer. “I’m afraid she’ll remember. When she grows up, she will have questions and I don’t know how to answer them. I won’t know how to tell her about Julia and the monsters in her father’s family.”

“And we shall be ready,” Margaret assured. “If Edmund decides to grant us the privilege, we shall fill her with enough love and care that when the time comes that we have to tell her everything, it will merely be a fact rather than a painful memory.”

Belinda smiled at Margaret through her tears. “You will take care of her, yes?”

“I promise,” Margaret said.

Belinda looked at the closed door. “Lord Ashmore is not pleased with your secrets, is he? I can tell.”

“He understands, but I don’t think he can forgive me,” she replied said with a sardonic chuckle directed at herself and bad fate.

Belinda nodded. “Lies are a little complicated, you know,” Belinda said. “We do it to save ourselves from pain. Or save others from the pain of the truth.” She smiled weakly, as if recalling a memory. “You must first learn to forgive yourself.”

Margaret remained quiet. Somewhere in the manor, the twins and Faye were waiting. Once the Haverstons were gone, they would leave, too.

---

Calan Haverston found him alone by the entrance of the garden. He did not turn his head when the man stood beside him. For a moment they both shared the silence.

“The League has agreed to clear you of any suspicion in regards to Osmond Trilby’s death. Your mother has been cleared as well as there were witnesses who saw her in Tiny Town when the murder happened. As far as everyone outside the League of Founders knows, Osmond Trilby’s death was but a case of robbery.”

Cole nodded.

“And we also appreciate your decision to work with us on the slavery case.”

“Before we go forward, I want to make clear that Edmund Trilby cannot be harmed. The young man has gone through enough. Whatever his decision may be about Fiona, I’d like to think he’ll be doing it with her best interest in mind. We’re on our own on this case, as we were before we decided to work together.”

Calan nodded with a smile. “I understand. I know this case is very personal to you as well.” He paused for a moment before adding, “We need your expertise as much as you need ours. I understand from Margaret that you would appreciate it more if I assign a different Leaguer as a liaison between us.”

His jaw tightened. “You can send any Leaguer you deem appropriate, and one we can trust.”

Again, a long silence followed. When the man moved, he thought Calan was going to leave him alone. “She told me that you can never kill someone and that the only mistake you can do is to walk away from love.”

Cole looked at Calan without giving away anything.

“I believe she will be leaving on the morrow?” Calan asked, turning to stare at the empty garden. “As a Leaguer, she will not demand that you stop her. We are trained to learn how to be alone. I think that’s why she decided to join in the first place. She was desperate to learn how to thrive without anyone. Or at least pretend that she can.”

Simply with those words, Calan Haverston turned and left.

---

When everyone had retired, Margaret penned a letter to Benedict to ask if he could make room for two more children in Agatha’s school because she may soon bring two more. She would tell him everything, she wrote, once she was certain of her plans. Folding the letter, she prepared for bed.

The door to her room opened, startling her.

“You forgot to lock the door,” Cole said, walking inside and closing it.

Heart hammering against her chest, Margaret said, “I was just about to.”

He stopped in the center of the room, hands deep in his pockets.

“Why did you join the League?” His question surprised her.

“I thought I’ll enjoy the work.” When he just looked at her, as if waiting for the truth, Margaret swallowed. “I needed a distraction. I needed a purpose.”

His lips pursed. God, he looked tired. His hair was sticking out in places, and she could smell brandy in the air.

“Was it worth it?”

Margaret struggled to fight the tears. She felt her face flush, her jaw tight and her hands balled into fists at both sides. Her heart wrenched as she prepared to say the words. “Yes. I got my second chance, didn’t I?”

Through her tears, she saw Cole stride toward her. She blinked the tears away and for the first time since she confessed the truth, she saw his guard completely down.

His own eyes were moist with tears as he cupped her face gently, his thumb running across her cheeks. “Don’t cry, darling. It’s alright”

She sobbed through her tight lips. “I’m sorry.”

Resting his forehead against hers, he swallowed. “I have made you lose faith in me and I hate myself for it.”

“No. You know that’s not what it was. I had my duty to the League.”

His lips were trembling when he kissed her. She could feel the pain there, tasted the salty taste of regret. “God, I love you,” he whispered.

A whimper of relief escaped Margaret and she finally allowed herself to touch him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him.

Later, when they were both calm, when the tears dried, and he started to pull the strings of her nightdress open, Margaret bit her lips and said, “I will not be leaving the League.”

His hands stilled and for the first time, a small smile broke his face, his eyes glittering with amusement as she held her breath. “I would never ask you to do that. The League has been a part of your life when I never was.”

Pulling her into his length, he kissed her forehead, her nose, traced her jaw with his lips. “I’ve always known you’re courageous, but I’m awed and proud that you found a way to make use of it.” His fingers raked her hair off her face as he searched her eyes. “You have a beautiful mind, a heart better than the jewels your family mines, and a spirit that is stronger than ten men combined. You are a perfect Leaguer.”

Margaret smiled, eyes burning with renewed tears. “I love you,” she whispered.

“And I love you,” he said, burying his face in her neck. “And be mine, darling. Please, be my wife.”

She laughed in his kiss. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

They made their way to the bed, their clothes discarded and thrown to the side. He did not give her time to wrap her head around what had just happened, or what was about to start, her senses focused on what they had just began.

She watched in awe as he trailed kisses up her navel from where he just gave her frenzied pleasure, smiled as she saw nothing but open desire in his face as he rained open kisses between her breasts, his body fitting perfect over her and between her legs.

“When we’re married,” he whispered in her ear, smiling as she moaned with the teasing roll of his hips. “Will you also tell me the rest of the League’s secrets?”

“Do not go as far as that, my lord,” she retorted, laughter rumbling in her chest and coming out in a gasp as he slowly claimed her.

“Ah, and here I thought love is an all-powerful force.”

Margaret threw her head back and laughed. “On matters of the League, no. On matters of the heart, it most definitely is.”

She knew when the teasing was over when he hissed in her ear and his shoulders tightened in her arms. “We’ll talk more later, yes?” he asked, blowing hot breath in her ear.

Margaret could only manage a quick nod. No more words were needed for a long while that night.

XL. A New Home

Agatha had not yet decided on a name for the boarding school, but they had already started accepting students, most of whom orphaned. Margaret and Cole would have loved to have Fiona live with them, but everyone knew what’s best for the child. And for Faye, who chose to stay with Fiona.

The Haverstons were present when Edmund arrived in an unmarked carriage with his cousin. The little girl was excited to see the twins again, and of course, Faye, who would not let her go even after she had stopped crying.

Fiona was also introduced to the Haverstons despite Edmund’s reluctance. She only knew them as friends of Cole and Margaret. After meeting Benedict and Agatha, Belinda, who was trying her best not to break down and cry, asked her niece if she would like to explore the garden at the back of her new home, Edmund a silent shadow behind them.

Cole was finally at ease that Fiona was safe and that she would have Faye with her for most days. The two children had a lot of healing ahead of them and being away from Wickhurst and Willowfair, he hoped they would find strength in each other in Devonshire.

After a tearful goodbye with Fiona, Edmund reluctantly prepared to leave. Walking the young man to his carriage, Cole said, “I wish that someday you can tell us more about the Manor. There are still women and children trapped in that place. We have to help them.”

Edmund shook his head. “I’ve pledged my loyalty to my family now, Lord Ashmore. You can take me, have the League interrogate me, but let me tell you now—my will know about it and they will do everything in their power to make me stop talking. Everything . Don’t forget that I’m a Trilby too, my lord. I can sleep at night peacefully so long as I get to live and Fiona is safe. There are other people who can selflessly fight for others. I’m not one of them.” His jaw twitched as he stepped away. “At least not yet.”

---

That evening, Cole sat beside Faye in the settee and watched Fiona play with the twins. “Have you decided on a name?” he asked her. “The papers are ready. We just need your name.”

Faye turned to him, a smile slowly forming on her lips. “I like that my name starts with the same letter as Fiona. I think I’ll keep it.”

Cole nodded. “Faye is a very beautiful name.”

“So is Fiona.”

They both laughed when Fiona squealed, running after Ysabella.

“I’m told that you’ve been learning how to read and write.”

“Yes, I have.”

Cole smiled. “The school will provide you with more learnings,” he promised. He turned to Faye to add, “You and Faye will have each other. And you will have us always. You are both special to us now. This shall be temporary. Someday, we hope to bring you home with us to Ashmore.”

Faye looked away. “But I’m not special.”

“Every child is, Faye,” Cole said. “I had a sister, you know. So I know just how special young ladies such as you are.”

“Where is this sister?”

“She’s not with us any longer.”

“What was her name?”

“Leah,” he said. “She was smart and kind. And she liked to read a lot.”

“Truly? I suppose you miss her a lot.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. “I do. Very much.”

---

After spending another week in Devonshire, Margaret and Cole left to return to Wickhurst where they had to deal with another difficult mission: their wedding.

A sleeping engagement.

It was how Lady Alice called it and that was how The Herald reported it.

It did cause quite a stir, but not as much as that of Levi’s or Benedict’s. Many agreed it was about time Margaret Everard married someone, and it was better that she be married to a man her brother trusted (that part did not quite sit well with Nicholas, Maxwell, and Ralph).

Others were curious as to how the engagement came about, or when or how the courtship started, which Lady Alice very nonchalantly explained away by saying Cole Devitt was friends with her sons (again, much to the chagrin of Nicholas, Maxwell, and Ralph). The Herald, of course, was able to gather more details and satisfied everyone’s curiosity:

Cole Devitt had been a good friend of Benedict Everard since their years in Adam’s. Devitt had been courting Margaret Everard since they met many years ago, but it was put on hold after the death of Harold Everard and Leah Devitt. Both families mourned the untimely deaths of their beloveds, the courtship taking a step back. It had only been recently that the two were reacquainted after Devitt’s reinstatement in Wickhurst, giving Cole and Margaret yet another chance to fall in love all over again.

The wedding was in two days and every Everard had once more gathered in Wickhurst. While Margaret was busy being dragged around town for fittings, Cole stayed in his villa to prepare himself for yet another dinner with the Everards.

However, when Hugh informed him that Lady Victoria wished to be entertained, he was surprised. Since their time in Sheills, Cole had not had an opportunity to chat with Margaret’s best friend.

By the look she gave him when he entered the parlor, Cole knew that Tori was still uncomfortable with the situation. And she had every right to be so.

“Lady Victoria. Good afternoon,” he said with a bow.

Tori smiled but it did not reach her eyes. “Good evening, Cole. Please. We’ll be family soon. You can call me Tori. You once did before.”

Cole awkwardly looked around the room.

“I’m here because I wish to say a few things before the wedding and I hope the two of us can forget about it hereafter.”

“Of course,” he said, motioning for her to sit. Tea was served, but neither of them touched it.

“My friend did not deserve the misery you brought upon her years ago,” Tori said, her eyes filled with worry. “I hope that you do not cause her pain again for I am only going to give you but this one chance to prove me wrong.” She stopped to moisten her lips. “I was there when she was in her worst and trust me when I say I could never allow her to be in that dark, dark place ever again.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I truly wish the best for the both of you. I know you, too, have been through terrible years. And when things get a little difficult, always remember how you were without each other. Please remind her every day that you love her. I know you do. She is not one who will say it every day, but her love for you is timeless.”

Cole smiled at Tori, nodding, grateful that Margaret had a friend like her. Thankful that someone had been there for her. “I try my best every day, Tori.” He paused for a moment, hoping she could see in his eyes the love and devotion he had for her friend. “Thank you for being there for her. When I was not.”

Victoria’s nose flared before she burst into tears. “Oh, now you’re making me cry!” the woman said. “Now, what would Levi think?” She laughed as she accepted the napkin from him. Face dry, eyes moist, Tori grinned at him. “I hope you don’t suffer as much with the Everards. You know her brothers. You’ve been friends with them. They’ll get over it.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I’ve seen them all in their best and worst many years ago. I know how to deal with them.”

“Good. Let them think they’re winning. They like it. And don’t say much. They hate it when you don’t talk. They think all the terrible things when their enemies are silent. Agatha would agree. She practices it every now and then, she says.”

They shared a laugh, both in-laws to the most challenging family in Wickhurst for once in connivance.

---

Margaret was continuously awed by her mother’s great talents in preparing for a grand wedding. Like how Tori and Agatha were made to suffer, Margaret was whisked from one shop to another for fittings and others.

Her days were filled with so many activities for the wedding that she hardly had any time to think about the League or even Cole.

But a day prior to the grand event, Margaret had a caller while her mother went out with the twins for their fittings. The said caller refused to enter the Everard House. She was waiting inside her carriage, Jefferson said.

“You do not have to look like you would rather burn than stay one more minute in front of my home, my lady,” Margaret said after she settled opposite Ida Devitt in her carriage.

The woman’s ire could have slashed through the tiny space between them. “My son told me that if I cannot extend my felicitations, he would rather I do not attend the wedding.”

“We can both agree that felicitations were given,” Margaret said. “And you can, of course, choose not to attend.” The woman’s face flushed. “But I know that your love for your status will require you to do so.”

“My son is making the biggest mistake of his life,” Ida Devitt said, eyes locked on Margaret’s.

Leaning over just enough to show the woman the small smile that curled the corner of her lips, Margaret said, “I am marrying your son and you shall have to accept it.”

The same murderous look flashed across the woman’s face as Margaret opened the carriage door. Ida Devitt grabbed her arm to stop her. Through her teeth, she said, “I am here to order you to not go through with the wedding.” Margaret was quite ready to hear that so she simply blinked in defiance. “If you truly love my son, you will spare him of the grief he will surely have to suffer being married to you. Your very presence will remind him of our dear Leah and his hatred for your brother will consume you both.”

Margaret drew a long breath before she spoke. “It seems, my lady, that the only person who is consumed of the past is you. Your son and I know what the past has caused us all. He and my brother shall settle their differences in time, if not now. But what your son and I have will never change.” She forced a smile.

The woman’s eyes widened with contained fury. “You are a despicable creature, Margaret Everard.” Ida Devitt growled. “I will never honor anything you give to my son. I will never lay my eyes on your children and I do pray to God that you will never bear any for you do not deserve it after everything you’ve stolen from my family.”

A sudden rush of cold, raw anger came over Margaret. She managed to come to her feet and walk up to the woman in a matter of seconds. “I know about you and Osmond Trilby,” she coldly said under her breath. Her statement was rewarded with a look of sudden horror in Ida Devitt’s eyes. “And as for Leah,” she said, leaning closer to whisper, “I believe we both know—and so does your son—that there is an entirely different story there.”

“Let go of my daughter, Lady Devitt,” a cold voice said from outside the carriage.

Margaret and Ida Devitt snapped their heads. Lady Alice Everard was standing on the side of the road, looking sharply at Ida.

“That is not how you treat your future daughter-in-law now, is it?” Lady Alice asked through her tight smile.

Ida Devitt let go of Margaret’s arm, face flushed.

“Are you coming in for tea, Ida?” Lady Alice asked. “I can bring out something bitter if you wish.” And as the lady glared at her, Alice Everard stepped forward and under her breath, said, “With a drop of poison as gratitude for how you so gracefully treat my daughter.” When Ida Devitt’s eyes widened in horror, Alice blinked and widened her smile. “But, of course, if you promise to peacefully leave early, we also have milk and sugar.”

Ida Devitt scoffed and flinched when Alice Everard shut the carriage door with a bang, a big smile, and a taste of that poison in her blue gaze.

Margaret scoffed at her mother in disbelief when Ida Devitt shouted for her coachman to drive away.

Alice Everard turned to walk up the doors. “Your sisters are still in the park. I’m afraid you will have to fetch them, dear. And oh, I want that woman’s seat be far from mine during the wedding.”

Margaret gaped after her mother, lost for words.

---

It was the day of the wedding and Lady Alice clutched her chest with a smile in front of Margaret.

“You look very stunning, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Margaret said, rushing toward her mother’s embrace. “You know I love you, yes? For everything you have done for us all,” She moved away a few inches to look into her mother’s eyes. “For forgiving Cole.”

Alice Everard’s eyes welled with tears. “No, my dear, there was nothing to forgive him for. Yes, he hurt you and Benedict, but he had been hurting too. A mother should understand not only her child’s pain but that of those of others as well.” Pulling her closer, her mother planted a kiss on her forehead. “I would not take you away from him after years of waiting.”

“I will miss you dearly,” Margaret sobbed. “I will miss our quiet tea afternoons and—”

“Margaret Everard,” her mother sternly said, “You are only marrying the man of your dreams today, not packing off to some faraway land. You will be living merely a few minutes away from the Everard House. We can have as many tea afternoons as we both wish. But do not make it too often. I can be busy most days.”

Margaret tearfully laughed. “I wish Papa is here.”

The tears finally escaped Alice Everard. “I would give anything to have your father walk you down the aisle, Margaret.”

The pain clenched at her heart, and she knew she shared it with her mother. “Me, too. And if he was here, he would say we are both ruining the day by crying.”

“He would definitely say so,” Alice said, wiping her tears. “But fret not. He made certain your brothers will know their tasks.”

Margaret groaned. “I’m honestly afraid.”

Alice laughed and looked at her with longing and love in her eyes. “Never let him hurt you again, my dear. And never allow anything to come between you two. Love him like you have always did for years. Make him never regret the sacrifices he made. Heal each other’s wounds. Make a great future together so the past will never once again become a part of your present.”

She nodded, more tears streaming down her face. “I love you. Always.”

“Always and forever, my dear. I love you forever and always.” Her mother gently reached for her hand. “Are you ready?”

“For ten bloody long years.”

“Oh, Lord, I’m starting to think he doesn’t deserve you,” Alice said with a laugh. “Never let him hear you say that. Nor your brothers.”

---

Cole could say that there were very little people in the guests whom he could consider his friends. And there were certainly none that he considered family.

His mother did not show up with his aunt, which he expected after what Margaret told him last night during dinner. He received a missive from his aunt that morning, saying his mother was not quite feeling well and fit to attend the wedding. He knew that to be untrue. His mother had been healthy for years save for moments when she deemed it necessary to summon a faint.

“No one seems to be present to stand as the groomsman,” Benedict’s voice from behind.

“I was told by your mother I don’t need one.”

Benedict looked around the crowd with assessing eyes. “But the crowd will wonder.”

“They can wonder all they want,” Cole said, fixing his cuff.

“Nick,” Benedict called over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, I’m not going to be his groomsman,” Nicholas indignantly said.

“Call Levi, Max, and Ralph. The four of you will be the ushers,” Benedict ordered, walking past Cole. “I will be the groomsman.”

Startled, Cole started to protest. “You don’t have—”

“This is my sister’s wedding, Devitt,” Benedict said. “She deserves a complete one.”

Cole felt something inside his chest swell as he nodded and watched Benedict walk to the entrance of the church. He stopped beside Tori who was the first bridesmaid. Behind them the twins who were the second and third bridesmaids. Cole stood frozen but Maxwell pushed him to wryly say, “Go. She’s here.”

His feet hesitated but the mention of the bride reminded him why he was here—why he chose to be here.

He walked toward Benedict and the rest. He shared a quick look with the man, a gesture of gratitude, before he turned to face the altar at the end of the aisle.

The rest of the Everard brothers did their tasks and settled the guests with charming smiles. The vicar positioned himself behind the altar and motioned for everyone to stand. For a second, Cole was blank. He did not know how to proceed.

“Go,” Benedict’s voice said behind him. “Start walking.”

And he walked. He knew every eye was staring at him. For a moment he wished Fiona was here to witness this. The child would have been enthusiastic. Her safety was important. He would tell her every detail of the wedding, he thought.

When he finally reached the end of the aisle, he watched the rest of the entourage split into two. Benedict gave him a nod, Tori a meaningful smile, the twins their cheeky grins, and then there she was walking with her mother, dressed in white and in all her splendor.

His nose flared at the sudden onslaught of emotions. His heart—for it definitely was his heart—swelled inside his chest as the woman he had sworn to marry many years ago marched down the aisle with a smile.

Memories of her talking to herself in the garden flashed in his mind. He would never regret that night he chose the flimsy excuse of offering her a dance lesson. Everything that proceeded that night came back to him with each take she took.

Margaret laughing at his jokes; the fear in her eyes when Benedict caught them in a tryst; her nervous laughter when they first came to his bedchamber; the many nights they spent in the woods; her tears when he proposed; her devotion to his every word. Everything returned in a rush of emotions—the wonderful, the tragic, and the second chance.

Cole blinked away the tears as Margaret walked closer, her steps light that she was almost floating like an angel coming down from the heavens to rescue his tattered soul.

Yes, he may not have a single family among the crowd, but the woman coming toward him was enough. In a few more steps she would be his. And he would be hers.

The woman who rode her horse in a nightgown ten years ago was now coming toward him in a beautiful white wedding dress adorned with jewels whose value could never match that of their owner. She was not here to stop a duel. She was here to claim the promise that had been deprived of them.

Lady Alice gave him a teary smile as she and her daughter stopped before him. She gave Margaret a kiss on the cheek before handing her daughter’s hand to him. But Margaret froze, stopping before her hand touched his.

Cole’s heart froze for a moment, a feeling of dread washing over him, seeing the hesitation in her face. She turned and looked behind her where her brothers were and walked away.

Cole watched as she came to Benedict to give him a hug and whispered something in his ear. Her brother smiled and nodded. She turned to Levi next, kissed him and the man cupped her face in a caress. Maxwell was next and he grumbled something under his breath before he kissed the top of Margaret’s head. Nicholas gave a dramatic sigh as he planted a loud kiss on her cheek. Finally, Margaret turned to her youngest brother and gave the young man’s head a quick ruffle. She chuckled with tears as she kissed him on the cheek and finally walked away to return to Cole.

She blew the twins a kiss and received a pair from them as she faced him.

“Now, I’m quite ready,” she whispered to him, giving him her hand, eyes filled with unshed tears.

Cole felt a lump in his throat. With his free hand, he wiped her eyes dry. “It’s finally time, my lady,” was all he could whisper.

XLI. After Beginning

“Maggie!” Ysabella greeted her, “I miss you! We all do!”

She gave her sister an amused frown. “You know I’m merely a few blocks away, yes?”

Ysabella shrugged. “Well, yes. But we still miss you.”

She chuckled. “Where is Mother? I was hoping to spend tea with her,” she said.

“She’s out. Lady Lettice is in town. But you can join us for tea. Aurora is here.”

“Aurora?”

“My friend I met at Sheills.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” she said, following Ysabella into the parlor.

Emma was sitting in one of the chairs talking to a dark-haired lady. “Look who came calling!” Ysabella cheerfully said. “Aurora, you’ve met our sister in Sheills. But back then she was not yet Lady Margaret Devitt.”

The woman, although terribly beautiful, was obviously a little older than the twins. She stood and gave Margaret a small curtsy. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Devitt.”

“Aurora is here to find a match,” said Ysabella. “Need not be shy, Aurora. We are all looking for a match this Wickhurst Season.”

“Not me,” Emma objected, picking up her tea.

“You are almost the same age as Maggie. You should find a husband this season,” Ysabella told her friend, ignoring Emma.

“Don’t mind Ysabella,” Margaret said, sitting down. “There should be no rush in finding a match. Age is but a number.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling them,” Emma droned. “Look at Maggie. She was on the shelf last year and look at her now. She was not hunting as much as she is not desperate to have a child at her age. Right, Maggie?”

Margaret laughed. “Quite true. I enjoy every moment.” Eyeing Aurora, who was smiling at her with a mixture of awe and curiosity, Margaret asked, “But have you any eye on someone?”

The woman blinked a few times. “I have not yet met enough gentlemen, I’m afraid.”

“Yesterday, she danced with Wakefield’s brother,” said Ysabella.

“Wakefield?”

“Yes. His brother was in town and attended the same ball last night. Imagine if he proposes, Aurora. We would be sisters.”

“Oh, Lord,” Emma groaned. “You and your fantasies.”

Aurora merely laughed. “I do not think Lord Bertram enjoyed our dance enough. I’ve stepped on his foot more frequently than I talked.”

“But he’s been eyeing you the entire evening,” said Ysabella. “No matter. If he’s not for you, we can always find someone else at Theobald. Wakefield will also be there.”

“Should you have Wakefield in your thoughts every single moment?” Emma asked. “We have him for every meal as well,” she said to Margaret. “If she mentions Wakefield another time, I will start to forget what my meals actually taste like!”

“But I have to agree that Lord Wakefield and Ysabella can be truly a good pair,” Aurora loyally said. “He flushes whenever she comes near.”

“That’s because he’s flustered, really,” Emma murmured.

“Very well, I will no longer mention Wakefield,” said Ysabella. “What about our brothers, Aurora? I’m certain one of them will be good enough.” When she said it, both Margaret and Emma grimaced. Ysabella considered what she just said and her face crumpled. “Well, we can forget about them. Nick is too dramatic, Max too dry, and Ralph too young and immature.”

Margaret sighed, shaking her head, giving Aurora a look of warning. “Do be careful with these two, Aurora. They do try so hard with their matchmaking.”

Aurora chuckled. “I shall keep that in mind.”

They talked more about the season, and how the ladies were surviving it. She listened to Ysabella and Emma complain about their brothers who would always arrive in the same ball they were in just to see, perhaps, that they were in the ballroom and not somewhere else. “And they would scrutinize our dance cards at every turn!” Ysabella whined.

Their conversation came to a halt when Lady Alice arrived with her friends, who then engaged the much younger ladies to stories of old days.

When she got home, Margaret was exhausted.

She found Cole in his study. “What time did you arrive?” she asked, walking over to stand by his chair. He tilted his head back and received her kiss.

“Two hours ago, I believe,” he said with a sigh. He sounded tired but he smiled when she slid over his lap. “How was tea?”

“I met the twins’ new friend. The one Ysabella befriended in Sheills last year.”

His eyes narrowed down at her. “And why do you look bothered?”

“She’s a little old for them.”

“They’re friends, Meg.”

“I mean she does not seem like someone who would be friends with the twins. I can’t explain it.”

“It’s in your nature to not trust everyone.” He wrapped his arms around her and adjusted her on his lap. “It’s like a double-edged sword, this trait of yours.”

“I’d love their friendship to be completely innocent in nature, Cole. Truly, I do. But there’s something about this woman that makes me wary.”

Cole smiled. “Well, then, what do you intend to do about it?”

“Nothing,” she said, kissing his mouth. “For now.”

“You’re being a bloody Leaguer again. Stop it. These are your sisters. I’m quite certain they know what they’re doing.”

“You think Ysabella knows what she’s doing? Obsessing over Wakefield?”

“She has Emma. And you know Emma.”

“That’s the only thing that assures me,” Margaret said. “Well, you are right. They’re old enough to know what they’re doing. And I have other important things to work on.”

For a year now, they had been reevaluating evidence with the League, with Meg serving as Cole’s liaison. It had not been easy as they first thought. The League had collected a lot over the years, and so did Cole. Everything had to be validated by the other before it could be collated. Worse, it bore Margaret. There was nothing but papers, following a system of protocols, and guessing which person was which. Not only that, there were more things coming in from all sides—new evidence that would most often fall into the category of gossip rather than a reliable source.

It had become a routine. The only consolation for them was that everything was slowly becoming clearer. They could see a picture emerging as they worked.

But it was not enough. They needed more.

Osmond Trilby’s death had long been forgotten by many. The cryptic thing, however, was that the next Prime Minister was someone they did not expect.

It was Alan Osegod. His name suddenly became popular, when just a few years ago, he was but a stranger to everyone. He had made open remarks on subjects that concerned many of the townspeople, touching the right topics just enough to garner attention. And he surprisingly had a lot of support from both Houses.

The League, and even Cole, had expected another Trilby to take the seat, but such was not the case. Alan Osegod managed to rise in popularity amongst both Houses, and had gained the majority of the votes last year.

Margaret knew that the League was keeping a close eye on the man. They had heard that the Blower did not trust him. But that was all she could get from Calan Haverston.

As her husband showered kisses on her neck, she said, “With the contributions we have on this case, I think we have a high chance of meeting the Blower.”

“Hm,” was all he said, his lips tracing her jaw.

“We’ll have to work on this case as long as we can, Cole,” she said. “We shall be involved until we meet her.”

His lips stretched in the corner of her mouth. “You’re so certain it’s a woman.”

“I’m sure she’s a woman. How else do you think she gathers information? Men don’t trust their women to understand their conversations. Sometimes, they barely know we’re there. Or they get too distracted like you are now.”

He stopped and gathered her in his arms. Standing, he said, “I think you’re quite right. Let’s continue this in our bedchamber.”

Hours later, as they dressed for supper, Margaret asked, “How was your night with my brothers?”

“You should have come to Grey’s after all,” he said with a groan.

“It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Well, Ben was there to control the others.”

“Good.”

“And they’re in our drawing room.”

Margaret whirled around in shock. “What?!”

Cole laughed. “Asleep. They were too foxed. Ben said we should leave them at Grey’s and left without much of a word.”

“Well, you should have! They practically live there!”

“Have a heart, darling. The manager was too flustered. I took pity.”

“Goodness,” she said, shaking her head. Not a moment too soon, she was storming toward the drawing room to wake her brothers. And not long after, much to her chagrin, she was dining with them.

“I think this wine doesn’t taste like anything,” Nicholas said, frowning at his glass.

“You get what you give,” Cole said with a smile.

Whatever Nicholas had to say was interrupted by the arrival of a breathless footman from the Everard House. His eyes were wide as he said, “Lord Devonshire demands that everyone come to the Everard House at once. He says that Lord Standbury is going insane and needs your help.”

“Levi? But he is not due to arrive with Tori until tomorrow,” said Margaret.

“Lady Standbury started to go on labor on their way here, my lady,” the footman said. “Thus the rush. The doctor just arrived.”

Without a word, they shot to their feet.

Not half an hour later, they all burst into the Everard House as a group. The twins were ready to block their path and direct them to the parlor.

“Mother’s orders. No one comes upstairs.”

“But she’s my best friend!” Margaret cried out.

“Mother’s orders,” Emma sternly said. “She says there are already too many people in the room. Agatha is with them and she knows more about this than anyone.”

Margaret turned on her heels and stalked to the parlor where she found Levi rubbing his face with his hands. In one corner, Benedict was sitting down calmly. Her brothers, on the other hand, started to attack the liquor cabinet.

“We had started to offer you our best brandies, Devitt,” Nicholas said, continuing their conversation at supper. “You ought to at least pay us with a new nephew.”

“Yes, nephew. We have enough Everard women running around,” Ralph added, forcing a glass of brandy in Levi’s hand. “Drink, brother, before you lose your mind.”

“I wonder why they do not berate me for still not having sired an heir,” Benedict said to Cole.

Margaret smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. She was aware that Agatha and Benedict had been trying.

“I think I should be there with her. She needs me,” Margaret said, swallowing the drink Maxwell gave her.

“Can everyone shut up?” Levi asked, glaring at them.

“I’m out of here,” Margaret announced, handing her empty glass to Cole before giving him a chaste kiss.

But it was Cole who stopped her, catching her hand. “You have to stay here.”

“He’s right,” said Benedict. “Even the husband cannot enter that room. Mother has locked us all out.”

Margaret groaned and dropped beside her husband.

“I heard it’s quite painful,” said Ralph. “How long has she been in labor, Levi?”

“Shut up, Ralph,” Levi bit out.

“But I’m just asking—”

A pillow flew across the room and landed on Ralph. “Shut up,” Maxwell said.

“You threw a pillow at me!” Ralph growled.

“Stop it or you’re all out of here,” Benedict ordered.

Margaret jumped to her feet. “I’m not going upstairs, but I’m out of here. You men are making it worse. I’ll be outside with the twins.”

Ysabella and Emma were talking when she slipped out of the room. They fell silent as she approached. “Distract me. What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Bandits,” Emma nonchalantly said, wincing when Ysabella’s elbow poked her side.

Margaret had to admit it was a good distraction because she was suddenly curious. “Bandits?”

Ysabella gave a nervous laugh. “Have we not told you? We are friends with some.”

Margaret faced them fully. “How?”

The pair looked too innocent to be believed. “We met them on our journey to Standbury with Tori and Levi.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “Is one of these bandits named Alex?”

“How do you know of her?” Emma asked, face filled with wonder. “Oh, Lord, did you meet her? You saw Ned and Barto, yes? Did they hurt you? You ought to have told them you’re an Everard!”

Margaret’s mouth dropped open. For a moment she was speechless. “I did!”

The twins relaxed. “Oh, well. Good,” Ysabella murmured.

“I cannot believe—”

“Do not tell Levi, please,” Emma interjected. “He would kill us if he learns we told you. He would rather forget that incident. And don’t tell Ralph. He’s a Town Guard now. It’s not very safe for Alex and her family.”

Margaret groaned. “Oh dear Lord. Friends with bandits… When will you both grow up?” she groaned.

“We are growing up, Maggie,” Ysabella said. “And bandits are not all that bad! They are quite fun people. If you simply hide your purse, of course.”

“Fiona and Faye seem to grow old faster than you two,” Margaret said to them. “And now I’m afraid to let them stay with us next season.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can just spend next season there,” said Emma. “I’ve rather grown fond of Devonshire since the school was established.”

Margaret sighed, shaking her head. “I think I need more drink.” As she walked back into the parlor, she muttered, “Bandits!” in utter disbelief.

---

The baby arrived in the wee hours, making everyone in the parlor jump to their feet to race up the staircase to Tori’s chambers. Levi was already at the door before everyone else reached the landing.

They crowded around Levi who took the child from the nursemaid. Benedict wrapped an arm around his wife, who looked just as exhausted as Tori and kissed her temple.

“Are you quite sure it’s a she?” Ralph asked, doubt in his voice.

“Are you quite certain about the name Lindsay?” Maxwell asked Levi with a frown on his face.

“She is Lindsay,” Levi growled at his brother. He snapped his eyes at Ralph and added, “And yes, she is a she.”

Margaret chuckled, stepped back, and went to her friend on the bed. “You did great, Tori,” she said. “Now you must tell me if it bloody hurt like hell.”

Tori groaned. “I don’t recommend it, Maggie. It hurt so much.”

“Oh, Lord,” Margaret said.

Tori broke into a smile. “But it’s worth it.”

---

Margaret and Cole went home after Levi ordered everyone to leave him alone with his wife and daughter. Their mother seconded, telling everyone it was time to rest and that they could all have their time with the babe on the morrow.

“I have something to confess,” Cole said, rousing Margaret from sleep in the carriage way home.

“What is it?” she sleepily asked.

He gave her a sideway glance. “You do not sound so interested.”

“Why should I be?”

“I might confess to having a mistress, or that I did something terrible,” he nonchalantly said.

Margaret scoffed. “And I ought to worry because?”

“Then you are not worried if I do indeed have a mistress?”

“Why would I be? She must be the one who must worry, not I,” she countered. “She might disappear from the Town and no one would ever know it.”

Cole laughed out loud.

“What is it?” Margaret asked.

“Do you remember I told you I do still have the special license years ago?”

“Yes, of course. You have kept it to this day.”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I must confess I acquired two. I had the first one before I asked your father and Benedict for your hand.”

Margaret frowned. “But how did you acquire their—”

“I forged their signatures,” he said in haste, stealing a glance at her. “I’m not proud of it now, of course.”

“You did what?” she asked, fully awake now and strangely horrified and amused all the same.

Her husband let out a sigh of relief. “It feels quite good to finally let it out. But they did give their signature for the second one.”

Margaret slapped his arm. “That was foolish of you!”

“I know, but I was anxious they would not approve. I should have known they would because your mother had already expressed her approval.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I do have it still if you wish to see it.” When she simply shook her head in disbelief, he added, “Should I confess to Benedict?”

“No!” Margaret immediately said. “They will surely kill you this time, darling, trust me. Burn the bloody license after you show it to me. I want to see your forgery skills. You may come in handy in the future.”

“I’m afraid that as a member of the Men of Courts, I cannot assist you on such endeavors should you require it,” he said.

“Now that we have come to confessing our little crimes, I have one as well,” Margaret said after a while when they reached home.

“What is it?”

“I stole one of your brooches during the Theobald party.”

She laughed at his horrified look and pushed the door open.

“Now, my love, you must tell me every detail. How, when, and where?” Cole said as he followed her up the stairs to their bedchamber.

Moments later, Margaret’s muffled laughter echoed down the corridor, followed by her husband’s scandalized cry of disbelief.

Author’s Note

Dear Readers,

You have just read the new edition of this story. I hope that you can be patient with me as I edit the rest of the Everard stories in the coming months. This story has been particularly difficult to restructure and edit because of certain plot points that I changed from the Haverston Series and also the future Everard titles.

For now, I’m grateful for all your support! See below or check out my profile for a complete list of all my works!

Cheers!

J.D. Ruiz (greenwriter)

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