Many months ago...

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

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

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

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

She was a bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What should she be this time?

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

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

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

Only it would be a different one.

*****

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

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

"B-but, m-milady, you are—"

"A footman," she uttered, lifting her chin. "Stop gawking."

"His lordship will not like—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She ignored the panicking footman a few paces away.

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

Maxine was stunned. "I do?"

"Of course!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everard.

She had bloody chosen the Everard carriage.

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," the woman said to Nicholas before she started to walk beside Lady Alice's daughters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll hand 'em to ye," the driver said, climbing on his seat to reach for the luggage.

Maxine prepared herself for the heavy task at hand.

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

"Heavy, aren't they?" Nicholas Everard's amused voice said behind her. "That's my sister's."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So do I," she murmured under her breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But what would I do in Wickhurst?"

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

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

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

"B—but I am already—"

"How much does the Theobalds pay you?" he asked.

How would she know that?

"I do not discuss personal financing, milord."

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

She frowned. "Whyever not, milord?"

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

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

"And dare not go into Vinge Road."

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

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

Maxine hastily blinked away and took another step back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed. "Famous! Just famous!"

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

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

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

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

Being a valet was no easy task after all.

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