“Confusion now hath made his masterpiece”- William Shakespeare

The carriage ride was one of the most awkward experiences she had gone through since arriving in England. The duke sat across from her, stonily silent, and Alla was too fearful to say anything, and determined that if he were to burst out in anger it would not be because she had spoken her mind. No, she wasn’t about to poke the tiger.

“Driver, Stop!” he called out, furiously.

Alla’s heart raced. They couldn’t be home already. Looking out of the window, she saw that they were definitely not home.

“Your grace?” she timidly tried, hating the way her voice wobbled.

He held up a hand, silencing her. She immediately closed her mouth, and they sat in silence for a while, until he finally spoke. “You will apologize to Miss Taylor,” he told her in a barely controlled voice. “I do not keep servants in my employ who speak to their superiors in such a manner, so if you wish to retain your employment you will do as I say. Am I understood?”

“I understand you completely, your grace, but I cannot apologize to her. My very being forbids it,” she calmly explained.

“Your pride forbids it,” he snapped. “Your stubbornness forbids it.”

“You’re wrong, your grace, I—“

“I am not wrong, Miss Bates! You have fought me at every turn thus far because of those very faults. You act this way towards me; the person who is your employer and superior in every way. Now you shirk propriety aside and refuse to adhere to the standards of—“

“Society?” she angrily interrupted, “because you do not like that I told the woman exactly what I thought?! How dare I have wit? Is that right, your grace? She can speak to me however she wishes because she holds a higher status. Who gives a whit what she says to me because servants don’t possess feelings? Is that what you tell yourself at night? I’ll not let her speak to me as if I don’t matter! I’ll not go through that again. I will make a stand for myself, because no one else will.”

A couple of tears ran down her face as she ranted at him. “You are the most disagreeable man that I have ever met in my whole life. You care for no one’s feelings but yours, and those who hold a like status!” She ended her tirade, breathing heavily where she sat as she stared unflinchingly at the duke. He could bloody well fire her. She didn’t care anymore.

Brandon knew that he shouldn’t allow her to speak to him in such a way but her tears swayed him. He slowly leaned forward, draping his arms across his thighs. “The reason I speak to you thus, is because I do care about the feelings of others. You wounded Miss Taylor’s pride,” he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt. “You wounded her pride, because she wounded yours. I was not going to say that you refuse to adhere to the standards of society,” he gave her a hard look to let her know what he thought about her interrupting him. “I was going to say that you fail to adhere to the standards of morality.” He held up a hand again when she opened her mouth. “The proper thing to do when you are rude to a person is to apologize.”

Alla angrily wiped the tears from her face. “And what of her apologizing to me?”

“She is not in my employ,” he said simply. “I have no influence over her actions or words.”

Alla rolled her eyes, causing his nose to flare and his jaw to tic again. “Please, your grace. I am not completely ignorant of your feelings for each other, I know very well that—“

“You know nothing,” he snapped. “Dare you roll your eyes at me again?!”

“I know that you care for each other. It’s not right,” she stated emphatically. “Caring for someone does not mean that you are blind to their faults, it means that you love them in spite of them.”

He sat back. So, it was like that, was it? “It’s quite early for you to have these feelings for Kent.”

“I haven’t feelings for anyone,” she spat back, “and I don’t intend to. From what I can see, feelings turn men into simpering milksop idiots!”

He leaned forward again, angrier than before, cocking his head slightly to the left. “Did you just call me an idiot?” he asked softly.

She froze for a second. “I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Please do not raise your voice to me, your grace. If you are going to terminate my employment, do so now.”

“You know what you have to do to remain in my employ.”

“Yes, I need to act as a doormat.”

“You need to acquire some manners and use them,” he furiously countered. “Drive on!”

Alla hated him. She hated him with all of her being. She would not apologize to the woman, she just wouldn’t. I can make it on my own without him, she thought, as they traveled onward. She didn’t need him, or any other man for that matter. She could find employment with Breanne; though Alla herself had earlier scoffed at the very idea of her mother allowing it. She shook her head at the negative thought. Things will be alright. I should take advantage of this. This was an opportunity to get away from the very devil himself. The carriage finally came to a halt and a footman rushed over, opening the carriage door for them. Alla prepared to step out.

“Close it and step back,” the duke commanded with authority. The footman immediately obeyed and wisely left the area. Startled, Alla looked at the duke and hesitantly reclaimed her seat. He stared angrily at her. “Do you not understand a word that I’ve spoken to you?”

“I understand, your grace, I simply do not agree. It seems highly unfair for you to focus on my faults alone, and force me to apologize to a woman who does not deserve it or need it. She was rude to me. But, you do not care about that, you care about her feelings and hers alone.”

“You could not possibly be more wrong than you are now—“

“No,” she shook her head as a couple more tears came from her eyes. “You only—“

“I care about what is right and doing what is right. Though I cannot appease a woman every time she has a burst of emotion, because I am well acquainted with both you and Miss Taylor, of course I take an interest. If I did not care about the feelings of Miss Taylor, or yourself, or about doing what is right, then I would have stayed out of the whole affair to begin with.”

He sighed and then leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. “I realize how Miss Taylor acted towards you. I do not condone it, nor do I support it. I can talk to her. I had planned on that anyhow, but there is nothing more I can do to force her to apologize for her part in the matter.”

Alla shook her head in frustration as a few more tears dropped.

“Come,” he beckoned. He opened the door and assisted her in getting out of the carriage. When Alla stood before him, he placed a large hand on her face, gently wiping a tear away with his thumb. He stared down at her in silence until she became uncomfortable with his gaze and shifted her teary eyes to her feet.

“Would you leave this place? Would you leave William?”

Her head jerked up. “That is unfair, your grace.”

“I have never claimed to fight fair, Katrina.”

“It was rude of you to leave Miss Taylor out in the driveway, without so much as escorting her to the door. Do you plan on apologizing for that?”

“Do not worry about my actions,” he said letting his hand slide away from her face. “I know what I must do.”

Alla sighed. “I bid you good night, your grace,” she said, resigned, as she walked away.

“Katrina.”

“Yes?”

“Where is my cane?”

She sheepishly smiled at the exasperation emanating from his voice. “I imagine I left it at the party.”

His frown caused her smile to grow wider. At seeing this, his mouth quirked once, and then he shook his head at her. “You are impossible.” He walked over to her and escorted her inside. When they reached the bottom of the stairs he retained her, taking hold of her arm, and placing himself in front of her.

“Would you leave?” he quietly asked. She looked up into his face. His eyes were soft, she mused, though everything else about him was as hard as the marble floors they were standing on.

“I’ll stay,” she voiced the thought aloud, causing his expression to change dramatically. He smiled down at her, causing a dimple to make an appearance once more. Her heart raced and she once again became uneasy. He was, once more, too close to her for comfort.

“Then you will do what needs to be done?”

Her heart stopped fluttering. He had thankfully squashed the insipid feeling with his own words.

“Yes, your grace,” she sighed. Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder as she ascended the steps.

“Good night… Katrina.”

Alla went to bed feeling as if something had changed between her and the duke. She wasn’t aware of what it was, but something had definitely shifted. Regardless of the thorough inventory she took of her feelings, she was left dumbfounded.

She awoke in the middle of the night sitting up in her bed, finally realizing what had changed. He no longer called her, ‘Miss Bates.’ He called her, ‘Katrina.’ She lay back down, pulling the covers up to her chin. The rest of the night was restless as well. She tossed and turned endlessly. Now there was one issue that taunted her; and one alone. She wondered why she deeply wished for him to know and use her true name, Alla.

Alla slept in late the next morning. Despite the extra hour of slumber, she still awoke with bags under her eyes and felt extremely groggy. Staying out until one in the morning, coupled with a restless night, did not agree with her. When she woke, her curtains were already drawn, and breakfast was set upon her night stand. After eating, she quickly got dressed, pinned her hair up and stepped out of her room, instantly meeting Edith who was passing by with some linens in hand.

“Mornin’ miss,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Edith,” Alla returned warmly as she walked towards the stairs. “Is the duke awake?”

“Oh, yes, miss. He always wakes early. He’s off on business today, so you’ll not have luck findin’ ‘em if yer’ lookin’.”

Alla paused on the staircase for a moment, and then finally nodded. “Thank you, Edith. I have one more question, if you don’t mind. Could you point me in the direction of the Liverpool port?”

Edith gave her directions, and then appeared worried. “Yer’ not goin’ down there by yer’ self; are ye’ miss?”

In all honesty, she wouldn’t be going there alone. There would be the carriage driver… “No, Edith. I’m not going alone.”

Edith placed a hand over her heart, and sighed. “Very good, it wouldn’t do a’tall for ye’ to be a lone female in those parts. Travel safe, miss.”

Alla paused in hesitation, and then shrugged it off, continuing with her plan. Her visit was long overdue, but she dearly wanted to see how Braggs and the rest of the men were getting along. She hoped to find out quickly if they were still in the duke’s employ, and return back to the manor before he did. She tried to convince herself that if he happened to return to the manor first, all would still be well. She didn’t have to give an accounting for her actions; she was a woman grown. He would respect her privacy. Wrong! Her insides screamed. Alla ignored her confounded conscience and had a carriage brought out front. She gave directions to the driver, and the carriage jerked with movement.

Alla had never seen such a wondrous city, and such fancy looking people. She leaned forward to look out of the window and saw men and women, hustling about their business. Young girls walked with their mamas pointing at lace and ribbons in the dress shops, while many women flocked to the hat shops, laughing with gaiety. These people know nothing of hardship, Alla thought on a whimsical smile. How nice it must feel to let your mind be consumed with shopping, parties, and dancing, to only experience the good in the world, and not the bad.

She sat back and closed her eyes for the rest of the ride. She wasn’t sleeping, no. She was listening to the sounds of the city. Everything was so busy. It was all so very different than what she was accustomed to. Alla opened her eyes when the carriage stopped and looked out of the window again. They had arrived at the Liverpool port. She smiled as she inhaled the scent of the sea, and heard bluster from some of the men on the ships.

She stepped out of the carriage, watching as gruff looking men walked by, supposedly on a break from their duties. Ignoring their whistles, she searched for the Coureur de la mer.

A rough hand grabbed her arm as she walked. She stifled a scream and quickly looked to the person who had detained her. It was a man, one that she didn’t recognize.

“Unhand me,” she demanded.

The bearded man squinted at her. He reeked of ale. “Wha’ ye doin’ on these docks by yerself?”

“That sir, is none of your affair,” she tugged her arm but he tightened his hold and leaned in towards her, forcing her to hold her breath against the foul stench. “It’s my affair if ye be who I’m thinkin’ ye are. A man came through here,” he slurred; “spoke like yerself, he did, said he’s lookin’ fer a colored.”

Alla tensed. Inside she was shaking, but stared blankly at him as she composed herself. “Do I look like a colored to you?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated, and then let go of her arm but still squinted at her. “Yer’ lookin a mite tan, miss. There is a wee bit ‘o color on ye…,” he trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Alla forcefully laughed. “I enjoy the sunlight, dear sir,” she said, hoping to distract him. The man in no possible way deserved to be addressed by the title ‘sir.’ Alla doubted that he had ever been called such a thing; and her suspicion was solidified by the look of surprise etched into his features. The man paused and then backed up a few paces. “My apologies miss. It’s just…the description given to all ‘o the men just ‘bout fit ye.” He stopped squinting and widened his eyes; “course,” he continued, wobbling, “I am a mite tipped.” His gruff laugh caused the most unpleasant smell to come from his mouth.

Alla straightened, cleared her throat, and tried to remain calm as she forced a smile. “All is well,” she returned, fiddling with the buttons on her gown. “I’m looking for the Coureur de la mer. Could you show me where it might be?” she asked, looking around again. “I cannot seem to find it amongst all of these other ships.”

The man tottered a bit as he pointed her in the right direction. After thanking him for his help, she started walking towards the ship. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Alla turned around and saw the foul man leaning against a nearby building near the docks staring at her as she departed, and she quickly turned away. She had wanted to question him about the man from the colonies who had asked about her, but decided that it wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Alla tried to calm herself and she prayed that the drunken man would either forget that he saw her; or believe that she was white woman. She sighed in relief when she spotted the ship, and immediately walked up the ramp leading to the deck.

Some sailors walked about ship aimlessly, while others were engaged in their respective duties. She hadn’t a clue when the ship would set sail again, so she would have to see if Braggs was onboard quickly. As it was, she didn’t recognize any of the men on deck. Sudden dread filled her. Had the men lost their occupations?

Determined to find out, she walked up to a sailor, tapping him on the shoulder. He swung around and his eyes widened; he instantly leered at her showing several rotten and yellowed teeth. Alla tried not to cringe as she subconsciously took a small step backwards. The man stepped forward and slowly looked her over from her feet to her face, and was sure to linger on the parts in between. She wanted to kick him.

She lifted her chin a little higher in a no nonsense manner. “Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find Braggs?”

The offensive man’s smile widened as he leaned back against the rail; straightening his trousers in a lewd manner. “What ye’ be needin’ ‘ol Braggs for, wench? Ye’ got Petey in front of ye’, that’s all ye’ need.” He laughed roughly and grabbed her arm.

“Let go,” Alla shouted, pulling away from him. When he jerked her towards him, she kicked him. Hard. The man roared in half agony and half anger, instantly releasing her. She kicked him exactly where her brother had showed her to kick any man if she were attacked. He told her that they would be angry, and that she should run. Needless to say, she didn’t have to resort to kicking any man on the plantation since her father ordered that no one was to touch her in that way.

Alla turned and ran, ignoring the rough laughter from the other men on the ship. When she reached the dock she slowed down, but turned at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. When she saw that another man was in pursuit, she began running to the carriage.

“Ye’ lookin’ fer Braggs?” the man yelled out.

Alla hesitantly stopped and turned around. “Yes,” she cautiously answered, retreating as he came forward.

He noticed the action and stopped. “I’ll not hurt ye’ miss. I’m happy you kicked Petey,” he nodded. “I was ‘bout to come help when he grabbed ye’, but yer’ a quick little thing.” He smiled crookedly at her and Alla gave him a small smile in return.

“Braggs is at home.”

“Home? Is he no longer employed?”

The sailor shrugged. “I’m not knowin’ that, miss. Though I do know where he stays.”

Alla’s face brightened. “You can tell me where…,” she trailed off, as the sailor shook his head.

“I’m not too good w’ street names, miss,” he explained tapping his head with his knuckles. “I can show ye’ where he stays if ye’ agree. I’m needin’ to go to that area to see my sister. She’s feelin’ a mite under the weather, ye’ see.”

Alla thought for a moment as to whether she should take a chance on the sailor. She had no other leads as to where Braggs or the other men could be. Deciding that she had no other choice, she gave the man a quick nod and he followed her back to the carriage. The sailor suggested he ride atop with the driver so that he could direct him, causing Alla to feel instantly relieved.

The ride took her deep into the city; to a part of Liverpool that was dark and drab, where poverty was openly exposed. There was no trace of the aristocracy in the area. It was as if Liverpool had shone like a jewel on the outside, but on the inside, deep and hidden, was an ugliness that was pushed aside and avoided out of shame. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was the same way, pushing aside her heritage and who she was. Was she ashamed to be colored? She honestly didn’t know. Everyone that wasn’t colored had taught her that she should be ashamed. She was startled to admit that she didn’t know herself. She had escaped to have a chance at a better life; to start over. But did starting over mean pretending that she was white for the rest of her life? Did it mean pretending that her mama and brother, that her family, did not exist?

The sailor thanked her for the ride and started walking away. “Braggs lives right through there, miss, at the very end,” he called out, interrupting her thoughts.

Alla leaned forward, looking out the window, and saw a long narrow alleyway. Of course he would have to live down there, she thought as she stepped out of the carriage. She wanted to ask the driver to escort her, but in the end decided against it. No doubt someone would take off with the carriage if it was left unattended.

What was wrong with her? She had certainly faced worse things than a gloomy alley. I better make this quick. Alla took several quick breaths, as if she were trying to physically inhale courage, and began walking through the alley. Along the way, there were a few people sitting on the cobblestone, looking as if they had nothing to live for. They held out their hands in request for food, money, anything that could help their sad state. She wanted to assist them, and wished that she was in the position to do so. Sadness flooded through her and she helplessly shook her head at them as she passed.

Alla finally came to a wooden door, still damp from the morning precipitation. She knocked on it and waited. The door swung open, but she didn’t see anyone. When she heard a tiny shuffle, she looked down.

A cute little blonde girl, possibly about four years old, stared up at Alla curiously. Smudges of soot decorated her nose and arms, a tell-tale sign of her fascination with the hearth. Alla smiled down at her and she smiled widely in return.

“You better not ‘ave opened the door Maggs,” a gruff voice called out.

The little girl jumped at the sound of her daddy’s voice and looked behind her. He showed up at the door scowling down at his daughter. “Scoot,” he ordered. She again gave Alla a quick smile and ran off into the house. Braggs then looked up at his visitor. Surprise was clearly written all over his face.

He almost smiled. “Miss,” he greeted in shock. “What ‘re ye doin’ over ‘ere?

“I wanted to check on you and the men. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to call on you sooner.”

“No, we should’ve been checkin’ on ye’. Come in, come in,” he said, ushering her inside the house. He led her to a wooden table which was situated in front of a fireplace. Alla sat across from Braggs and stared at the table, trying to figure out where she should begin.

Braggs lowered his head to see Alla’s eyes. “Miss? Everything alright?”

She looked up at him; her hands were in her lap clutching her dress. “I’m sorry Braggs. I should have listened to you. You were so obliging in allowing me to learn from you and I ruined everything. I only wanted what I wanted. I was…selfish,” she admitted. “I didn’t take your employment into consideration. You warned me of what could happen but I didn’t listen. I’m not in the habit of acting selfishly, I rarely—“

“Wha’ are ye ramblin’ bout?”

“My accident,” she explained.

“Ah.”

“I should have listened to you.”

“Aye, ye should’ve.”

She looked down again. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Look at me, lass.”

When Alla met his eyes, he continued. “Ye paid dearly for yer’ disobedience. I’m only grateful yer’ alright. I’m not upset w’ ye.”

“How can you not be? How are you going to take care of your family, now? I have to talk to him,” she said to herself aloud. “I will,” she reiterated.

“Whoa, whoa,” Braggs said, waving a hand in the air. “Wha’ ye ramblin’ on bout now?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Your employment.” She now appeared as baffled as he did. “I’m speaking of you and the rest of the men losing your positions because of me. I will talk with the duke. I will make him see that—“

“We didn’t lose our positions, lass.”

“But you said that if I was found out that you could have—“

“Aye, we could’ve, and probably should’ve, but we didn’t. There ‘ave been restrictions placed upon Reed and I, but I expect no less. His grace is a very gracious man.”

Alla scoffed and then immediately straightened. Braggs grinned at her. “You’re gettin’ along w’ em, right miss?”

“As best as an employee can get along with her employer, as you well know,” she retorted, gesturing to him.

“Well now,” Braggs began, leaning back in his chair. “I get along w’ em just fine. I am a mite curious whether ye are, though.”

“If you still have your position, why are you home? I went to the ship looking for you,” she said, changing the subject.

Braggs sat up. “Ye went to the ship by yer’self?”

“Not really,” she hedged, surprised at the censure she heard in his voice.

“Who else was there, lass?” he demanded.

“The carriage driver.”

“That was foolhardy!” he said angrily. “Is his grace aware that ye’ went to the ship; that ye were lookin’ fer all ‘o us?”

“Yes, of course, Braggs,” she lied, hoping to stifle his anger.

Braggs briefly squinted, trying to decide whether he should believe her or not. He had no doubts that the lass constantly got into trouble. She was stubborn, obstinate, and wild. Oh, she tried to hide it but he could tell. That’s why he took to the lass to begin with. She reminded him of how his precious Maggie would be when she came of age. His lil’ girl was already showing those very traits.

Alla decided to leave before he could question her further. “Well, I should get back to the manor,” she announced standing up. “I have much work yet to do.”

Braggs stood with her. “I thank ye’ fer yer concern lass. Not many people would venture…to this part of town.”

Alla suddenly realized that Braggs was embarrassed. “That is what friends do,” she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. As expected, Braggs coughed once and then slapped her hard on the back a few times, causing her to wince.

He insisted on walking her to the carriage despite her objections. He carried his little girl in his arms, and waved her off as the carriage pulled away. Even little Maggie waved at her while trying to squirm out of her father’s arms. The sight made Alla smile. Who would have known that tough Braggs had a little girl, one that he obviously adored. Alla’s smile faltered; she hadn’t met Braggs’ wife. She supposed she would just have to make another trip over to see them again.

As the carriage left the blighted area of Liverpool, Alla leaned her head back against the cushioned seat and closed her eyes.

“Please, mama, we really have to go” Alla repeated. Though her mama did not acknowledge that she’d spoken, she ceased rocking and began stroking her brother’s face. The pain she saw in her mama’s eyes was almost too unbearable to watch, and she found it hard to keep her own composure. Her brother had been her best friend; and she had just lost him. The painful lump in her throat and the pain that she was feeling in her heart hurt more than any whip or kick could have. Knowing that if she lost her composure as well, both her and her mama would be detained and undoubtedly caught, she held her grief at bay.

“Mama, come with me,” she gently urged. Her mama continued stroking her brother’s face as Alla tried to hoist her up from the floor. It was not an easy task, but finally her mama understood their peril, and helped her daughter by endeavoring to come to her feet. Her grief was so great that Alla had to assist her in walking out of the house. Her mama’s arm was draped around Alla’s slender shoulder as the two women slowly made their way down the porch stairs. Tears ran down Alla’s face as she looked to the spot where the three of them had been embracing only moments before.

The women had only gone a short distance from the big house when they heard a noise. They paused and turned back towards the house. A carriage was racing down the drive at an insane speed.

“Misses,” Alla whispered hoarsely. “Come mama, we need to go faster!” Alla and her mama walked faster through the fields. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her mama to run.

“I ain’t got the energy, Alla,” her mama explained. “Go on girl,” she waved her on. “I’m right behind you.”

“No. We stay together,” Alla firmly told her. An outraged scream erupted from the house, causing Alla and her mama to quickly glance back. What they saw made them pause. Many people, equipped with oil lamps, began running through the fields after them. The Misses screamed orders to the men that sent chills down Alla’s back. She tugged her mama’s arm, trying to urge her along a little faster. Her mama finally picked up her pace; but Alla noted it wasn’t enough to maintain sufficient distance between their pursuers. Suddenly, excited shouts that the runaways had been spotted rang out from the men pursuing them.

Alla turned to look back and instantly tripped, slamming into the ground, having the wind knocked out of her. Her mishap was followed by a loud cracking noise which sounded throughout the fields. The impact of her body hitting the ground caused pain to circulate in her stomach, and she took deep breaths to regain her composure as she sat upright. “What was that sound?” she whispered to herself, and instantly checked her ankle to see if she had injured it. After seeing that her ankle was intact, she turned back to her mama to reassure her, but her mama was no longer behind her.

“Mama?” Alla’s panicked voice shook as she called out to her from the ground. Mama was just there, right alongside her. How could she have disappeared that quickly? “Mama?” Alla called out a little louder. She was beginning to rise to her feet and look for her when a voice so soft that she barely heard it, spoke. “Stay….down.”

Instant dread flooded Alla’s senses as she called out to her mama again. She began crawling on the ground, looking for her, and felt a sticky wet substance on her hand. When she lifted her hand, her heart froze. Blood! “Mama?” she called out in alarm. Tears raced down her eyes as she frantically searched for her. When she found her, she noted that her eyes were closed, and her breathing shallow. The brown dress her mama wore now sported a dark, wet stain at her bosom.

“Mama!” Alla cried out. She hovered over her body and shook her, as if to wake her up. Her mama had earlier done the same thing to her brother, and Alla felt as if history would continue to repeat itself. Her heart leapt when her mama’s eyes cracked open. “Mama!” she cried out again, this time with relief.

Her mama looked at her, she opened her mouth to speak but her lips barely moved. “What mama? I can’t hear you.” Alla leaned down so that her ear was right above her mama’s lips.

“Go,” she urged in the barest of whispers.

Alla turned to look at her. “Please, mama. Don’t ask me to do that. I can’t leave you,” she wept.

When her mama opened her mouth again, Alla leaned down. “I ain’t askin’. Tellin’. Go.” Alla cried as she stared down at her mama, at war with herself. How could she leave her? A noise prompted her to rise up to her knees. People were advancing on them.

Her mama lifted her head and grabbed her hand, causing Alla to quickly look at her. “If u ain’t gonna go, we all dead, Alla. We all dead for nuttin’.” Her mama panted. “Go. Make sumpin’ ‘o yoself. They commin’, go!”

Silent sobs racked Alla’s body as she pulled away from her mama. She could hear the Misses’ men getting closer and closer to them. Her mama caught her hand as she moved away. “Stay to da ground a while. Hide in the weeds. Go. I love you.”

“I love you mama,” Alla sobbed.

The strong jerk of the carriage caused Alla’s head to fall forward and jolt awake. She looked around, slightly disoriented. The carriage had stopped. She wiped her tear streaked face and sat up, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she? She poked her head out of the carriage, and when she saw no one, stepped out. The carriage driver was not atop the carriage as he should have been.

“Stuck miss,” he huffed.

Alla turned and saw the lanky driver behind the carriage, vigorously trying to push a wheel out of the mud. He had stripped off his dark red dress coat, and was already sweating with his efforts of freeing it. Alla pulled her gloves off, placing them on the carriage seat, before approaching him.

He was bent over the wheel but instantly straightened, accurately predicting her intentions. “No miss,” he stated, appalled as he backed away from the carriage. “You cannot assist me in this.”

“Why not?” Alla placed her hands on her hips.

“Be-Because this ain’t the work of ladies, miss. This is a man’s labor.”

Alla shook her head and placed her hands on the muddied wheel. “In that case, I suppose you will have to imagine that I am a man. You will not be able to free the wheel without my assistance.” To prove that she meant to help him whether he liked it or not, she began pushing.

The driver looked on, shocked.

“And I’ll not be able to free the wheel without your assistance,” she hinted. Her hair had fallen from its pinned up style, and mud from the wheel had already begun to cling to it. The driver threw his hands up in defeat as he finally came forward, taking in her muddied appearance.

“You look like a common wench, miss,” he muttered as he began pushing alongside her. Alla grinned in response, as they both pushed and heaved to get the thing out of the mud; they were not making progress.

“No use, miss.” The driver shook his head, as he still struggled against the wheel. “It won’t budge.” He sat on the ground, a distance from the carriage, and wiped sweat from his forehead. Alla was breathing heavily when she finally stood back, glaring at the wheel. She shook her head in defiance. She was not about to give up. Not yet.

“Maybe…Just…One. Solid. Push!” Alla exerted all of her strength on the carriage, lost her footing and fell flat on her face. She gasped, and using her hands, slowly elevated her chest from the ground. The front of her gown and her face was completely covered in mud; her hair was soaked with it. She looked up at the driver whose expression was somewhere between shock and amusement.

“Help,” she muttered angrily between barely moving lips; trying to avoid mud entering her mouth. A low chuckle reached her ears and she turned to see where the annoying sound came from.

Her green eyes pierced right into Brandon’s amused blue ones. He was presently standing outside of his carriage which was parked parallel to hers. Alla’s driver hurried to come to his feet. He glanced accusingly at Alla, as if it were her fault that he appeared lazy in front of the duke while she did the work. Brandon uncrossed his arms, laughing, as he came forward and stood above Alla.

“Miss Bates,” he said, chuckling. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Playing,” she snapped. “What does it look like?”

He smiled, and to her dismay, seemed completely unoffended by her rudeness. “It looks as if you had an altercation with the carriage and the carriage won.”

Obviously the stupid man wasn’t going to help her. Alla tried to stand up and slipped once more. He laughed again. Alla wanted to kick him where she had kicked the sailor, Petey. He wouldn’t be laughing then. She paused when she saw a large hand extended in front of her face. Oh, so now he wants to help, does he?

She secretly gathered a handful of mud and quickly took his hand, squishing mud into it, as he hefted her to her feet. His smile faltered and Alla’s widened. He tried to retrieve his hand, but she held firm. Alla knew that he had the power to pull away from her. The man was a beast, after all. Instead he slightly cocked his head.

“What are you trying to start, Katrina?”

She smiled sweetly up at him. “Not starting anything, your grace,” she corrected. “I was finishing something.” Alla finally released her hold on his hand and was pulling away when he grasped it tighter and pulled her closer to him, so that they were mere inches apart.

“You look ridiculous,” he observed as he looked her over.

“Be careful what you say to me, your grace. At present I am not in the best of moods, and you are in a precarious position.”

The duke raised a superior eyebrow. “Did you just caution me to be careful?”

She slowly nodded.

He pulled her even closer so that they were chest to chest. “Your grace, we are entirely too cl—“

“And if I refuse to be careful?” He seriously doubted the chit could do anything—

Alla lifted her other free hand, fingers spread, and placed it upon his white crisp shirtfront. His nostrils slightly flared as he held her stare, then he slowly switched his gaze to his shirt which sported a small muddied handprint on the center of it. His eyes met hers again when he heard her soft laughter. His mouth twitched. “What an impertinent hellion you are. You haven’t a clue as to what you have just started.”

Alla stared up at him. What could he possibly mean by that statement? He slowly released her hand. She knew that she should step back from him, but she didn’t. She felt as if she were captivated by him, again. Alla had thought for sure that he would rant and rave at her for getting his holy shirt muddied, but he didn’t. Just when she thought she knew the kind of person he was, he would do something that she would deem completely out of his character, and would break out of the mold into which she’d placed him. The man continued to confound her.

Brandon was startled by his reaction towards the girl. He stared down at his nanny and secretary, wondering why he felt drawn to her. He didn’t relish the feeling. It didn’t even make sense. She was completely covered in mud. In fact, the only features he could see were her eyes and mouth. So, why did he think that she was possibly the most beautiful person that he had come across? He squashed the feeling and stepped away from her.

Alla instantly felt the distance grow between them, and her smile faded. “Your grace, did I do some—“

A feminine cough interrupted her question. Alla quickly looked to his carriage and saw Miss Taylor’s head poke out of the window before she stepped outside. She held a dainty lace cloth up to her nose and mouth as she observed the crippled carriage. Her eyes surveyed the damage before she gave Alla the same attention, looking at her in revulsion from head to toe.

“Miss Bates,” she began haughtily. “You look like a common trollop.” Alla’s driver coughed and immediately started pushing the carriage again, though Alla was sure he knew it was not going to budge. He only wanted to become preoccupied with something else.

Alla glanced at the duke, who appeared mildly irritated and then turned to Miss Taylor. “I wasn’t aware that trollops walked about covered in mud. Goodness, I wonder why they would get into such an occupation, business can’t be very good.”

Miss Taylor’s eyes narrowed with the realization that she was made to look a fool at her poor choice of words. “Common, is what I meant to stress,” she corrected.

Alla doubted that very much. Miss Taylor meant to call her a trollop; she only chose the wrong time to do so. She smiled at her. “Then I’m quite sure that we have more in common than you may think. For, I was taught that a lady would never say such a thing about another person.”

Miss Taylor gasped in outrage and Alla peeked up at the duke. His mouth twitched twice, but his eyes held a silent warning.

“Brandon, must we stay here?” she asked, dismissing Alla.

The duke turned to Miss Taylor, instantly regretting his offer to take her out for a ride. He endeavored to make up for his rudeness the night he left her standing in the lane, but now she was beginning to annoy him.

“We can hardly leave them out here in the mud, Miss Taylor.” He rolled his shirt sleeves up, showing strong tanned forearms.

Another woman stepped out of the duke’s carriage. Alla surmised that it was a friend of Miss Taylor’s. It was surprising that the woman was capable of retaining friends. Alla could tell almost immediately that the two women were very much alike. Both women complained as they waited for the duke to survey the damage to his carriage. He quickly saw that the carriage wasn’t simply stuck in the mud, but a wheel had been broken.

He walked around the carriage and faced the driver. “Where have you been with the carriage? What roads were you traveling?”

Alla cut in quickly. “I went to see Miss Crabtree and the sights around Liverpool.”

The duke turned away from the driver, who had suddenly become preoccupied fiddling with his hat, and came to stand before Alla. “In future, you will ask permission before you leave the grounds, or take a carriage out.”

Miss Taylor and her friend snickered. The duke slowly turned and leveled them with a stare, causing them to instantly sober. He turned back to Alla. “Is that understood?”

“I understand that I shall not take a carriage without first asking,” she stated.

“Or leave the grounds,” he interjected. Alla became annoyed. The man missed nothing.

“What I decide to do in my spare time—“

“Is my concern since you are my steward,” he said in irritation.

Alla’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her hands settled on her hips. “No,” she shook her head. “You are my employer, nothing more. My spare time is exactly that, mine.”

The duke stepped closer to Alla. She continued to question and to defy him at every turn. He should have released her from his employment a long time ago.

“Whose roof do you live under?”

“That has no bearing on—“

“It does have bearing,” he snapped. “Everyone living under my roof has an accounting to me for their actions, including where they go, and what they do.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I have the urge to make use of the privy,” she snapped back. The carriage driver coughed again.

Miss Taylor walked up to stand next to the duke as her friend stood by the carriage, silently watching the scene. Miss Taylor sidled up next to him. “Why do you allow her to speak to you in such a manner, Brandon?”

The duke’s cheek twitched three times. “Miss Taylor,” he responded quietly, “kindly return to the carriage. I shall be there shortly.”

Miss Taylor nodded once; instantly aware that the duke was on edge, and walked back towards the carriage. Alla noticed, though, that she did not climb inside. She waited and watched to see what would unfold.

The duke stepped towards Alla. They were now as close as they had been when she had muddied his shirt. Only this time, the feeling was different. The flutters were gone, and were replaced by apprehension. He looked positively incensed. He lowered his head so that his mouth was near her ear and spoke to her in a quiet steely voice.

“You will not speak to me in such a way ever again, Katrina, or I swear by God himself that I will give you the thrashing you deserve. I’ll not care where we are. It shall not matter whether we are outside or inside the manor. I’ll not care a whit if someone else is around or whether you shall be embarrassed. From henceforth on, you shall show me respect. Is that clear?”

Alla’s heart pounded in uneasiness from the moment he started speaking. She had again overstepped. Why she couldn’t gain control of her mouth? It was as if all of the years spent absorbing the insults and jeers of others had built up inside of her and she unleashed her aftermath on the duke. How had everything gone from such a light hearted playful situation to the two of them being at odds with each other once again? Why did it bother her so much when they were at odds? She didn’t want to explore the answer to that question. She only wanted to be alone. The two lady dragons continued to watch her from the carriage. She supposed that she should be happy the duke did not yell at her in front of them.

“Is that clear?” he repeated slowly.

She nodded against his ear.

“Good.”

He walked away from her, and faced the driver. “I shall send someone to return for you. Wait here.” The driver nodded in agreement and the duke walked to his carriage. He turned to Alla, who had sat down on the muddy ground on the other side of the lane.

“Are you coming Miss Bates?”

Alla looked up at him as he stared at her. His eyebrows were raised as he waited for her to respond.

“Brandon, you cannot be serious!” Miss Taylor’s response cut off any that Alla could have made. “The whole carriage will become as muddied and smelly as she is and I just had this gown delivered from the tailors,” she whined. “Not to mention that there is not much room—“

“I think I would prefer to wait here,” Alla interrupted.

“Are you certain?” Brandon turned, fully facing her.

“Brandon!” Miss Taylor’s displeasure with the duke was evident.

“More than certain,” Alla calmly replied. Miss Taylor gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and climbed inside the carriage behind her friend.

The duke walked towards Alla. What now? All of her responses were respectful. What did he wish to correct her on this time?

He stood before her and looked up at the sky. “It’s becoming dark,” he observed.

“Yes, it is…”

The duke looked down at her. “You are not fond of darkness.”

Alla’s mouth fell open. “How did you—?”

“You talk in your sleep. When you had the fever….you spoke about it.”

Alla nodded, embarrassed that a secret part of her was now exposed.

“And I’ve noticed that you sleep with the oil lamp on at night.”

How did he know that? Did he pace in front of her bedroom door, taking inventory of everything that was out of place? Alla wouldn’t put it past him to do such a thing. She certainly didn’t like that he knew such a personal thing about her. Breanne wasn’t even aware of that fear.

She cleared her throat, causing him to give her a quick smile. “I shall be quite fine. I have the driver here; and there’s an oil lamp on the carriage is there not?” she asked, quietly.

“There is,” he confirmed.

She nodded. “Then I shall be quite fine,” she repeated, staring at his chest. She could not meet his eyes. He knew a weakness of hers. She felt…off balance. As she stared at his chest, she couldn’t help but notice how the dried muddied handprint stood out on his white shirt.

“Is something amusing, Miss Bates?” His expression showed that he already knew what she had been staring at. Amusement shone in his own eyes.

A quip came to Alla’s head and almost to her mouth but she squelched it. She was done bantering with him. It was only a matter of time before he showed that he was like anyone else and would use her weakness against her.

“Nothing, your grace,” she responded, her smile disappearing.

“Brandon, dear? It’s getting late. Are you through with your servant yet?”

Alla could have sworn that she saw the duke roll his eyes heavenward. But when he simply turned and walked back towards the carriage she decided that she simply imagined it. “Stay put,” he ordered once again. Alla figured he was speaking to the driver but when she looked up his gaze was centered on her.

Alla decided that if she had a tail, that would be her perfect opportunity to wag it. She turned away from him and looked at her driver who was still trying to remain occupied with pushing the wheel out of the mud.

“You may stop now,” she called out to him from her spot on the ground when the duke’s carriage disappeared. “His grace has left.”

The driver turned to her. “And wha’ makes you think I’m not truly focused on dislodging the carriage miss?” he asked, defensively.

“The wheel is broken,” she returned dryly.

The driver grinned sheepishly and gave up pushing. “Forgot that little fact, I did,” he told her, pointing to his head. Alla grinned back and shook her head.

He came and sat down next to her. “Wha’ makes you talk to the master as you do, miss? Any other person would have shaken in his boots at the glares received from his grace, yet you stand your ground.”

“Bluster doesn’t scare me,” she lied. “We are people, just like anyone else and deserve to be treated as such.”

“But miss, the master has always treated me like a person. All ‘o us he treats well.”

Alla scoffed. “He acts as if he is above everyone else—“

“He is, miss.” The driver looked at her as if she had sprouted another head. “He’s a duke. He ranks right below a king, queen or prince if you ain’t knowin’ it. His position demands respect. That’s the way ‘o things here in England, miss. Some are above others.”

“That’s the way of things everywhere,” she observed, resentfully.

“So, then why are ye’ so adverse to how you know things to be?”

Alla paused. “Many people abuse such power,” she quietly responded.

“Aye, many do,” he agreed. “Miss, I’ve worked for the master, goin’ on ten years. I’ve never witnessed such an abuse of power. He gives respect and is given respect. He’s a reasonable man.”

Alla didn’t like what she was hearing, not one bit. She had a certain perception of the duke and she didn’t need the driver or Braggs to go changing how she felt about him. It was bad enough that her mind turned to mush whenever he got too close to her. She decided to remain silent on the matter. The driver would only continue to defend his employer.

The sky gradually darkened, and rain drops began to come down. “Well miss, ye’ might as well get into the carriage. It’s getting’ mighty dark out here, and ye’ don’t want to get caught in the rain. It’s gonna be a cold one tonight.”

Alla quickly agreed and ran to the carriage. She stepped inside and sat down, instantly muddying the seats and polished floorboards. The driver remained outside until Alla asked him if he was determined to catch his death. They bantered about the propriety of whether he should stay outside or whether he should come inside the carriage with her. Alla finally won the argument.

After some time had gone by, they both heard horses approaching. When Alla made a move to step outside, the driver placed a hand on her arm. “Not safe to get out, miss. It could be a highwayman; we don’t know.”

Alla didn’t know what a highwayman was, but she guessed that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. The driver, who she had finally learnt was called Sam, told her to stay put as he ventured out of the carriage to see if their ride home had finally come. The sound of men’s voices traveled to her in the carriage. She hadn’t heard any gun shots, or horrified yells coming from Sam, so she grabbed the oil lamp and ventured out of the carriage. It was dark, rainy and freezing.

A familiar voice made her pause. “I recognized the carriage as we were passing. There is plenty of room for you to ride atop the carriage with my own personal driver. You needn’t wait here in the rain.”

“I would be grateful for the kindness, milord. There is one other passenger inside…”

“Of course your passenger may have a ride as well,” the superior voice stated.

“Thank you, milord.”

“I know that Brandon would do at least that for me. Hurry, man! Let’s get out of this rain!”

Sam ran towards her. “Alright miss. We have us a ride. Gather yer’ things and let’s load up.”

Before she could ask who had stopped to assist them, he ran off and began unharnessing their horses. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to dirty their carriage as well, so she prepared herself to ride atop with Sam and the other carriage driver. Their savior watched Sam as he hurried to harness the duke’s horses to the back of his carriage and then climbed atop with the other driver. Alla decided to approach the stranger and thank him for his assistance before she took a seat beside Sam.

“I thank you sir,” she began. “I don’t know what we would do without your help. The Duke of Manchester was to return for us shortly but something must have waylaid him.”

“It is nothing….Miss?”

“Bates. Katrina Bates.”

“Miss Bates!”

Alla felt inwardly groaned at how he said her name. He had done so with such surprise in his voice, making it very clear that he knew her. He held up his lantern so that he could see her face but she was sure that all he could see were her eyes. The rain had not yet washed the caked mud from her body. She could unfortunately see his face very well. The oil lamp illuminated his shocked features and she stifled a groan, suddenly feeling like the dirty worm Miss Taylor imagined her to be.

“Addison,” she greeted as she curtsied, “how nice to see you again.”