Hidden from sight by a rosebush in the garden that, luckily, did not have a dung heap anywhere in it, Lord Patrick reached into the envelope and pulled out a cheap piece of paper. Unfolding it, a short message met his eyes. Together with Amy, he leaned over the note and proceeded to read.

Mr P.

You shall never be named in any order. They shall never be signed with a name. This is a precaution you will surely understand due to the confidential nature of this business.

Patrick grimaced at the elegantly phrased letter that sounded almost as if it came from a solicitor's office.

A deliberate effect?

Most likely. If this message were ever to fall into the wrong hands—or the right ones, depending on your perspective—it would seem completely harmless.

Although it wasn't, he realized as he read on. It definitely wasn't.

Your task will be the following: One of our most esteemed clients was supposed to receive a package. Said package was lost along the way. The negligent employees responsible for this have already been dealt with, but the package in question is still missing. It will be your job to find and retrieve it. Deliver it to the address on the back of this letter. You shall receive payment for the task upon return to the firm's headquarters.

Signed

The Senior Partners

"Senior partners, eh?" Out of the corner of his eye, Lord Patrick saw Amy's eyes glitter dangerously. "I know ye shouldn't punch seniors, but in dis case, I think I'll make an exception."

"I cannot help but agree." Patrick nodded grimly. "I never realized how satisfying beating old people into a pulp might be."

"I'll look forward ta it den. But, before dat..." Her voice trailed off, as she clearly didn't want to continue.

"We'll have to capture a child who did nothing wrong except being brave and resourceful enough to escape her kidnappers, and deliver her to the very devil she tried to flee from?" he finished her sentence more grimly than ever.

"Aye."

Lord Patrick's fists clenched. Right now, he really, really wished he had some seniors to punch. "Do we really have to go through with it? Isn't there anything we can do to...to..."

He felt a soft hand land on his shoulder. It soothed him, just a little.

Her next words, though? Not so much.

"We've gotta bring an end to dose bloody gangs."

She didn't say how they would do that. But, then again, she didn't have to. It was right in front of them, in black and white.

"Oh, bollocks!" Letting out a string of curses, Amy punched a nearby tree. "Dis is bullshit! Ta help all da kidnapped girls, we'll 'ave ta bring a kidnapped girl back to 'er kidnapper? Hell, no! No, no, and ten times no! I ain't gonna do it, do ye 'ear me? I ain't gonna do it!"

Patrick felt something fierce surge up in his heart as he looked into her eyes, burning with fiery green determination. Grabbing her by both shoulders, he whirled her around to face him, gazing straight down at her. "You won't have to," he swore. "I'll make sure of it."

Deep inside, he prayed time wouldn't make him a liar.

Amy gazed up at him for a long moment—then threw herself forward, burying her face in his chest. Instinctively, Lord Patrick's arms came up to hug her close, and he swallowed. He....shouldn't be feeling like this. He definitely shouldn't. He'd just learned he would have to commit a horrendous crime. But still, right now, with Amy in his arms, he couldn't help but feel happy.

"Awww! Will you look at that? You're already so close, you adorable little lovebirds!"

Lord Patrick nearly leapt out of his skin. Whirling around, he caught sight of a certain stalker peeking around the rose bush.

"Mother!"

"Yes, Patrick, dear?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Why, taking a walk in the garden, of course." She blinked up at him innocently. "What are you doing here?"

His Lordship became abruptly aware of his hands still resting around Miss Amy Weston's waist in a manner that didn't really befit a gentleman. Not unless you went by Titus' definition of the term, that is. He drew his hands back as if he had been burned.

"Ehem. Also taking a walk."

"My, my, what a coincidence."

"True." Quickly, he stepped away from Amy, making sure to put a safe distance between them.

"Now, now." His mother winked at him. Winked! "No need to stop on my account."

Oh ground, please swallow me up, I beg you!

The ground refused.

"Well, ehem." Clearing his throat, Patrick vaguely gestured towards the house. Or the street. Or anywhere away from here. "I think Amy and I should be going. We have a, um..." He glanced down at the letter, quickly hiding it behind his back. "...social engagement tomorrow, and will have to make some preparations."

"Oh." The dowager duchess nodded. "Well, good bye, then."

He blinked, surprised. "You don't mind postponing your continued lessons for her?"

"No, not in the least."

"Oh, excellent." Brightening, Lord Patrick gestured to Amy and stepped towards the house, ready to make his escape. "Miss Amy and I shall be leaving, then."

"Wonderful!" Stepping over to him before he could move so much as an inch, his mother linked her arm with his. "I'll come with you."

Lord Patrick's jaw dropped. "What? But—"

Before he could think of a good reason to protest, he was dragged away. Glancing back, he caught sight of Amy, who was watching the whole scene with amusement.

Well, at least this has served one purpose. It's brightened her mood.

The fact that, in some corner of his mind, that actually made his mother's shenanigans feel worth it made alarm bells ring in his mind. Alarm bells which, at the sight of Amy approaching, he completely ignored. Quickly, the young woman with the mesmerizing emerald eyes caught up to him, snatching his other arm.

"Let's go, shall we?" She smiled up at him.

"Yes." Patrick nodded. "Let's."

***

"Ah, Miss Weston, Your Grace!" Pulling open the door, Griffiths bowed deeply. "Such a pleasure to see you again." Then he turned towards Patrick, he inclined his head just barely. "My Lord."

Amy felt her lips twitch.

"Who is the employer here, again?" His Lordship enquired rhetorically.

"I couldn't say," Griffiths stated smoothly. "My memory is rather faulty these days."

"Oh, I don't know!" Grinning, Amy patted the butler on the shoulder as she strode past. "Ye remembered sweet little me. I'd say yer memory seems fine."

"Thank you very much, Miss. Would you like me to take your coat?"

"Why, yes, thank ye!"

Following the butler, they were led into the drawing room. Out of the corner of her eye, Amy caught Patrick making a gesture and, nodding, Griffiths disappeared, soon reemerging with a tray full of tea and biscuits.

Amy smiled. Several weeks of her company had apparently not obliterated Patrick's manners badly enough for him to not offer refreshments to his own mother. She would have to put in more of an effort in the future.

"Biscuits, Miss Weston?"

Or not. Butlers were the best.

Hm...perhaps you should rethink not going through with that engagement, Amy...

Quickly shaking off the idle thoughts, she glanced over at Patrick. He sat straight as a rod while his mother peppered him with questions, the gangsters' letter clearly burning a hole into his pocket. Amy couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief that they could put off further discussion of that matter until after the dowager duchess had left. If Lady Henrietta Valentina Day were to find out what her son and his little group of friends were truly up to—

Suddenly, she was torn from her thoughts by the sound of a door slamming open. Looking up, she caught sight of a broadly grinning Titus Irving standing in the doorway.

"We did it!" he exclaimed. "We actually did it! We went to the casino and got three invitations to a—"

Amy had never seen a man jump up that fast before, particularly not with a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands. In a blink, Patrick was in front of Titus, one hand clamped over his mouth.

"Mphmmph?"

"Three invitations to what?" the dowager duchess asked.

"A charity ball!" Patrick exclaimed. "Yes, that's it! Invitations to a charity ball!"

"Oh, how splendid!" Lady Henrietta beamed. "Can I come, too?"

Amy nearly spurted her tea halfway across the room. Grinning from ear to ear, she gave Her Ladyship a nod. "I don't see why not. We'd be 'appy ta 'ave ye accompany us, wouldn't we, Patrick?"

Judging by the look on Patrick's face, the only response he could come up with was trying to not choke on his spittle. Letting go of Titus instantly, he dashed over towards Amy. Hm...did he want something from her? Why would that be?

"What are you doing?" he hissed into her ear. "Are you trying to invite my mother to an illegal slave auction?"

"Nah." She sent a smirk his way. "I'm tryin' ta make ye 'old a charity ball. Ye've got enough money. Go spend some."

He blinked. "Oh."

"What is the charity ball in favour of?" the dowager duchess demanded, eyes sparkling with interest.

"We, ehem...haven't quite decided yet." Clearing his throat, His Lordship sent Amy a pleading look, clearly having not a bloody clue what to say next.

Amy grinned. She couldn't possibly refuse such a heartfelt plea for help. Besides...why waste a marvellous opportunity? "'ow about makin' it in favour of poor, unemployed prostitutes?"

Patrick nearly choked on his spittle again. Hm...what if she tried once more? After all, they do say third time's the charm.

Better not risk it.

"Unemployed pros...oh my, oh my!" Her ladyship fanned herself, her cheeks paling. "How did you come up with such an...unusual idea?"

Amy's grin widened. Time for a good story, eh? "Well, dat's a most interesting tale. Ye see, I—ow!"

She twitched as a certain lord's heel came down hard onto her toes.

"She is simply that kind of woman," Patrick explained, making sure to keep a firm pressure on her foot, the bloody bugger. "During her charitable work work in the darker parts of London, she has come into contact with some of the more sordid aspects of life in this city. She just can't help empathizing with those in need. It's almost as if she were one of them."

This time it was Amy who stomped on his foot. Quite the accomplishment, considering his was still on hers.

My first footsie sandwich. One lives and learns.

"Oh, sweet girl!" The dowager duchess swept in, throwing her arms around Amy. "I knew you were very supportive of charity, but I never realized you went that far! Come, let me give you a hug!"

Amy smiled. Now all dat's missin' is her squashing our feet, and we'll be one 'appy little family.

"Y-ye think it's da right thing ta do?" Amy enquired shyly, blinking up at the older woman, using all of her considerable acting talent. "Ye don't think it's wrong for me ta associate with such unvirtuous people?"

Behind Her Ladyship's back, Lord Patrick rolled his eyes. Amy had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Why, of course not, dear!" Beaming, the dowager duchess squeezed her hands. "On the contrary, I think it is admirable for you to take pity on these poor women. From what I hear, most of them do not pursue this kind of life of their own free will, and I would never blame unfortunate victims for their plight." Her eyes narrowed, and she threw a stare at Titus, who attempted to look supremely innocent. "Although I cannot say the same for the men who take advantage of their services. If I ever caught a son of mine in a place like that, I would dust off my husband's old horse whip!"

"Oh, don't ye worry, Yer Ladyship," Amy reassured her, having trouble not to keel over laughing at the expression on Patrick's face. "I'm sure dat with Patrick, ye won't ever 'ave ta worry about somethin' like dat."

"Aww...that's so sweet of you, my dear! So, when is the set date for the ball?"

"Well..."

Amy was just about to pick a random date from the nearest date palm when the door to the room flew open again, admitting another fresh visitor.

"Does my house not have a front door anymore?" Lord Patrick asked the air.

"I left it open, My Lord," Griffiths stated suavely. "A welcoming attitude behooves any noble household."

Patrick opened his mouth, probably to respond—then blinked, staring at the man who had just entered.

"Thomas?"

Glancing between Patrick and the newcomer, Amy raised an eyebrow. "Thomas?"

"Thomas T. Gallagher, MD, OBE, MBBS," Patrick explained. "My friend from the hospital."

"Ah." She nodded, grinning widely. "The handyman."

Lord Patrick did his best to retain a solemn and noble face. He failed miserably. "Yes. Yes, the handyman."

To judge by the look on Dr Thomas T. Gallagher's face, he didn't fully appreciate the brilliant nickname. But, in a blink, his expression switched and, for some reason Amy couldn't fathom, he sent a bright, cheerful smile at Patrick.

"Yes, the handyman is here. And the handyman has brought some news for you. But I think not just my friend Patrick should hear this, since it is rather interesting news. Is everyone important here?"

Amy looked around. "Well...besides me, dere's Karim, Patrick, Patrick's best friend and Patrick's mother...yep, I think everyone's 'ere."

"Patrick's mother!" The doctor's eyes sparkled with wicked delight. "That's just splendid! And oddly fitting."

Fitting? Amy was just about to ask what he meant by that when something occurred to her. "Oh, wait a moment! Cora and Jenny ain't 'ere." She frowned. "In fact, I ain't seen dem for some time now. Where 'ave dey bin?"

"Ah, I think I might be able to solve that mystery." The completely unsterilized, shit-eating grin on the doctor's face widened.

***

Lord Patrick watched the smile on his doctor friend's face with slight apprehension. It seemed eerily similar to the kind of smile Titus would usually wear before one of his pranks. But...

No.

Thomas was a respectable medical professional. Even if he wanted to get back at Patrick for the little stunt with the hand, he wouldn't know what to do.

"You know where they are?" Lord Patrick frowned, lifting a sceptical eyebrow. "How would you have anything to do with Miss Amy's friends? Come on, why are you really here? Did you drop by to deliver another hand?"

"No." Somehow, Thomas's smile managed to widen even further, morphing into a kind of smile that Lord Patrick recognized immediately: one that promised to deliver sweet, delicious revenge. "I did not come to deliver a hand. A whole human, this time, actually."

Patrick blinked, wondering whether he should have his ears cleaned. "Pardon?"

"Granted, just a small one. But that's best for the poor mother, I would guess."

"Mother?" Came an exclamation from right beside him, from a certain green-eyed seductress. "Ye don't mean...!"

"Miss Amy Weston, I presume?" Glancing over at her, Thomas inclined his head. "Thomas T. Gallagher, MD, at your service. Though further introductions will have to wait till later, I'm afraid. Things are rather urgent."

"And why is that?" asked Patrick. A horrific realization seemed to hover just at the edge of his mind. But that couldn't be right, surely. Right?

"Well...It's a funny story, actually. I was just stepping out to take a little walk and recuperate from recent...stressful experiences—" He speared Lord Patrick with a meaningful stare. "—when two women came down the street, one of them rather heavily pregnant and tired. I was just about to offer my assistance in calling a cab for her when she suddenly clutched her friend for support, and it became evident she was in need of my assistance in a more professional capacity."

Lord Patrick's eyes went wide, the penny finally dropping. A giant ten-ton penny that shook his mind. "You don't mean...!"

"Oh, I do. I most certainly do." Eyes sparkling, the good doctor patted his belly in a meaningful way. "Of course I immediately helped her into the hospital and had my best doctors start assisting her with her little stomach problem. I thought it was just going to be another routine delivery. But imagine my surprise when I asked the pregnant lady whom I should inform of the circumstances, and she gave me this address." Casting a quick glance at the dowager duchess, the doctor sent an evil smile at His Lordship, who was currently trying to sink into the sofa. "Something you want to tell me, Patrick?"

Lord Patrick Day decided he was going to strangle a doctor later tonight.

But not now! Definitely not now!

Because right now, his attention was entirely occupied by the way his lady mother was trying to incinerate him with her gaze.

"Patrick, dear...! I think the two of us need to have a little talk."

------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Sorry for the slightly delayed chapter. I hurt my back yesterday, and almost forgot to post it over trying some remedies to get rid of the pain. Luckily, my alarm was still working.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob