Ralph was once more absent at Grey's. Months of investigating the slavery case had eaten most of his time, leaving Nicholas and Maxwell at the mercy of their other friends who were either too bloody drunk before the fun started or out early to dally with their lovers.

Nicholas may be a rake, but he did not prefer to have mistresses as he could always go to Rock'oles. The women might be more expensive, but nothing could compare to how much one would have to spend on one mistress alone. Maxwell, on the other hand, had lovers every now and then, but he was not one who would keep them for long. He found the entire business in keeping a mistress tedious and clamoring for a woman's attention at Rock'oles pitiful.

"Should we pack our bags and go around Town?" Nicholas asked Maxwell.

"Why?"

"Wickhurst is proving to be quite a bore, is it not?"

"Truly?" a voice asked behind them.

They both turned to see Cole Devitt standing beside William Wakefield, both men grinning at them as though they enjoyed Nicholas and Maxwell's present pitiful condition.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Nicholas demanded at their two brother-in-laws.

"Margaret does not mind," the brown-haired Devitt replied, walking over to the chair beside Maxwell. "In fact, it was her she who suggested I stay away from my study and be at Grey's." He raised his hand to get the server's attention.

"I, on the other hand, have the freedom of a good husband," Wakefield said with a sneer, signaling the server for his drink, taking the seat beside Nicholas.

"I do not believe Ysabella would readily agree to you being here," Nicholas said, "considering how this place was practically your home before you married."

Wakefield's blonde locks moved as he shook his head. "Oh, no, she did say yes."

"After she learned that I shall be in his company," Cole added.

Nicholas and Maxwell both scoffed. "I have to admit you had been quite fun before you married," Nicholas said to Wakefield.

"But he can no longer have the same fun, can you, Wakefield?" Maxwell asked Wakefield, his tone laced with warning.

Wakefield groaned. "Of course," their brother-in-law answered wryly.

"By the by," Cole asked, looking around, "has Ralph returned yet?"

"No," Nicholas said. "Still on that bloody case." Cole made no comment as the slavery case was a sensitive case and even Wakefield could not be privy to it.

"I have heard of the accident in the mines," Wakefield said, voice turning serious. "You ought to be grateful no one was fatally hurt."

Nicholas nodded. "But Max here believes a different theory." He inclined his head toward Maxwell.

Maxwell let out a heavy sigh. "I do not expect you to believe it. Stop telling everyone."

But he had already caught Cole's attention and his brother-in-law frowned at him. The bastard reminded Maxwell that he was the Head of the Man of Courts in Wickhurst and that he was married to their sister who was a member of the League of Founders. If there was anyone who would take his claims seriously, it would be Cole and his wife, Margaret. "What led you to believe so?" Cole asked.

"The fact that everyone came out alive," he muttered dryly.

"But you must be grateful none died!" Wakefield uttered.

"Exactly what I told him," Nicholas said.

"An explosion that happened at the least expected location in the mine ought to be considered malicious," Maxwell countered.

Cole was silent for a while before he said, "You believe the bomb was planted."

Maxwell merely shrugged.

"A sabotage?" Wakefield asked.

He shrugged once again.

"But who?" Nicholas pressed.

He gave his usual reply: a shrug.

His brother scoffed and shook his head. Nicholas turned to Cole and Wakefield. "I would give anything for a longer explanation from my brother. It is quite frustrating, is it not?"

Wakefield nodded. Cole simply stared at Maxwell.

"Presenting a different topic, Devitt," Nicholas said, turning his full attention on Cole. "What say you to Noah Trilby having gained a new position as one of the Town Leaders?"

Maxwell waited for Cole's reaction. Years ago, Cole had had an encounter with the Trilbys, particularly Noah Trilby himself. One of the two girls Cole and Margaret had adopted, Fiona, was a Trilby. Fiona was the daughter of Noah Trilby with his first wife, Julia Carrington who was sentenced to death for multiple crimes against her family. They did what the Trilbys were best at: they kept the child from society due to the scandal her mother caused. The Trilbys kept the child a secret until Osmund Trilby's death.

Osmund was a former Town Leader that Cole Devitt had been investigating. The same day Cole visited him, Osmund Trilby ended up murdered in his own home. His son, Edmund Trilby, took Fiona to Cole's care, claiming that the child had witnessed her uncle's murder and the people responsible for the murder wanted her.

To make matters worse, the League of Founders started to investigate Cole, believing he might have been responsible for Osmund Trilby's death.

Maxwell was not privy to everything that happened that year. All he knew was that Fiona was abducted while in Cole and Margaret's residence after they had married. It was Noah Trilby who took her. Cole and Margaret managed to claim Fiona back with the help of the Haverstons from Willowfair. One of them was married to Fiona's aunt, Belinda, sister of Julia Trilby.

Everything did not end up as clear as Maxwell had hoped. All Cole and Margaret told the Everards was that Fiona was to be protected from the Trilbys, particularly her father, Noah. They did not manage to file a case against the man as they lacked evidence of the abduction, add the fact that he was Fiona's father and he had claims on her.

Maxwell knew that Cole and Margaret, including Edmund Trilby and the Haverstons, knew the true story behind Osmund's death. They may claim that the man was killed by the people he worked with in the illegal slave trade, but Maxwell knew that his sister and Cole had found out who killed the man.

He had long decided that it was better to let the two keep the secret to themselves. Cole, after all, was still working on the slavery trade and Maxwell was led to believe that the Trilbys were still involved.

Now, years after Osmund Trilby's death, another Trilby was given power over the Town. Noah Trilby, if he was involved in the slave trade like his deceased brother, would prove to be another difficult case for Cole.

"The Trilbys are close to the Osegods." Cole's voice drew Maxwell back to the present. "It is not a surprise he gained a chair amongst the Leaders."

"Do you fear that he will take Fiona?" Nicholas asked. The Everards had by now considered Fiona as one of their own.

"The Haverstons would not allow it," Cole tightly said. "And so do Margaret and I."

"Edmund, too," said Nicholas.

"I do not know the entire story, gentlemen," Wakefield uttered, "but I do have an inkling as Ysa had shared what she knows. But who the bloody hell is Edmund?"

"Edmund Trilby is Fiona's cousin," Maxwell provided.

"He saved the young girl from his own family—the greatest thing a Trilby could ever do," Nicholas said, leaning against his chair with a sigh. "I pity the young man, truly. His father died an evil bastard and he had to take his cousin away from his family's wrath."

Wakefield slowly nodded. "I have heard Fiona talk about him. He is the Eddie she has been talking about?"

"No other," Cole said. "But I do not wish to discuss any of my daughters here." He turned to Nicholas. "Nor do I wish to discuss Noah Trilby. The bastard shall have his day in court."

Maxwell snorted. The three men turned to look at him. "What does that mean? That snort?" Nicholas asked.

Maxwell shrugged.

His brother groaned. "Bloody hell, Max, care to give the corresponding words to that shrug?"

Maxwell found explanations tedious and unnecessary, but he had long accepted the fact that even his family could not decipher his unspoken words so he patiently said, "It would be a bloody difficult thing, Devitt, considering how the Trilbys have the protection of the Osegods."

"Osegod may have the highest position in the assembly of the Town Leaders, Max," Nicholas said, "but he is but a man. The entire bloody Town may be under his rule—"

"Except Tiny Town," Wakefield reminded. "Tiny Town has immunity from the Town Leaders."

"Precisely my point," Nicholas said, nodding. "As I was saying, the entire Town might be under Osegod's rule at the moment, but we all know that he does not have any hold on the League of Founders and Tiny Town."

Cole had been quiet for a long time. He did not talk about the League of Founders with anyone but the Everard brothers. No one but them knew that Margaret was a member, not even their mother and sisters and that included Wakefield. But something in Cole's expression gave Maxwell the impression that the man was quiet not because of Wakefield's presence, but of something else.

"Care to share, Devitt?" he asked his brother-in-law.

Cole gulped down his drink and sighed. When he finally spoke, his voice was grave. "Tiny Town may very well be under Osegod's reign despite the town's claim that they do have immunity and that they are an independent state."

Nicholas straightened in his chair, Wakefield leaned closer and Maxwell narrowed his eyes. All of them waited for Cole's next words.

"Tiny Town is essentially being ruled by the Trilbys themselves. They have estates and plantations surrounding Tiny Town. Their opinions greatly matter on everything the place decides on."

"And the Trilbys are close to Osegod," Wakefield said with awe.

Cole wryly smiled. He emptied his drink. "Bloody hell, I did not come here to talk about politics. My wife has been hoping I would forget about all of it tonight."

Maxwell watched as Nicholas quickly changed the topic. He tried to brush aside the concerns he had been keeping regarding Margaret and her work with the League. Merely months ago, he had caught his sister talking with a fellow Leaguer about a plan to oust Osegod. Margaret might have claimed to have nothing to do with the mission, but she was still part of the League and if Osegod were to find out of her connection to the secretive society, he could very well use his power to ruin the Everards.

Mayhap he ought to have a talk with his sister. She must, at all cost, free her hands of Osegod.

*****

A loud commotion erupted from the great hall and Maxine jumped to her feet, wide awake, and rushed out of the dining room.

She stopped in her tracks when she found more than two people wobbling their way into the drawing room.

Jumping to her feet, she rushed to the door and almost bumped against Nicholas.

"Ah, Max," he said with a wide grin. "Perfect timing."

He did not seem foxed but the sounds elicited by the men inside the drawing room told her that her master brought home more than she could muster for the night. Again.

"Would you care to take care of them for me?" Nicholas asked, giving her shoulder a heavy pat before walking toward the staircase.

Maxine closed her eyes to calm herself.

You are a valet. You are a servant, she reminded herself.

Drawing a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the drawing room.

Ralph Everard was not amongst the three men, but Maxwell was. Swallowing the frustrated groan back in her throat, she walked over to the chaise were the three men were slouched. Maxwell was quiet while the other two kept muttering and groaning in intervals.

"Cravat," Maxwell ordered, peering at her through his half-closed eyes.

Gritting her teeth, Maxine walked over to him and pulled at his cravat to loosen it. She gasped when he caught her hand and leaned closer to peer at her through his lashes. His hair was a mess as it seemed to always be. Maxwell Everard narrowed his eyes and Maxine had the urge to step back and escape once again.

But to her surprise, he let go of her hand and fell back against the chaise, eyes closing. She let out a sigh and studied his state. Foxed but comfortable. He'd have to spend another night in the drawing room, she surmised.

Turning to care for the two men on the chaise, Maxine frowned. The man with dark brown hair seemed familiar, yet she could not truly point out who he was. Mayhap she had seen him in one of the Theobald parties.

Veering her eyes to the man in the middle of the chaise, Maxine stepped back in alarm. Her heart started to hammer against her chest.

She recognized the blonde lord. He was William Wakefield, Ysabella's husband—the same one who saw her outside her corridor in Theobald!

Wakefield's eyes were closed, but Maxine knew she could not risk being found. Whirling on her feet, she rushed out of the drawing room to wake Albin. The man could take care of Wakefield while she assisted the other man.

Albin woke with a start when Maxine rushed in and shook him from his slumber. "What is it?" he asked.

"I am sorry," Maxine said over him, "but I need your help."

Minutes later, Albin was pulling at Wakefield who was loudly groaning, muttering that he could not go up the stairs for he had to go home to his wife.

Albin sighed. "Should I call for his driver?" he asked Maxine.

Maxine shrugged.

"Ah, bother not," Albin said. "The man is probably asleep by now, considering the time. Mayhap they could stay here." He looked at the other man and turned to Maxwell. "You take care of Lord Max."

Maxine swallowed. "Me?"

"Of course," Albin said. "I'll take care of Lord Devitt and Wakefield."

So the other man was Lord Devitt, she thought. He was the Head of the Man of Courts if she could remember correctly. And he was married to Margaret Everard. Ah, of course. She remembered now.

"No need for help," Maxwell's voice uttered, causing Albin and Maxine to jump in surprise. He was already pushing away from the chaise. "I shall find my way... find my way."

Albin pushed Maxine toward Maxwell. "Go," the footman ordered.

Maxine sighed and walked over to Maxwell. "Let me guide you, milord."

Maxwell looked down at her and scoffed. "You cannot even properly carry a glass of lemonade," he droned with a dry laugh. "You expect to carry a lord to his bedchamber?"

She forced a smile. "Fret not, milord, nothing shall be spilled in this task," she replied, taking him by the arm to steer him toward the door.

"Your tone tells otherwise," he grumbled, stumbling in his steps. "You are short to stating that blood might be spilled."

Maxine's lips quirked. "Wise conclusion, milord," she said with a grunt.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Nothin', milord," she snapped. She looked over her shoulder to see Albin helplessly looking down at Lord Devitt and Wakefield, hands on his hips.

Mayhap she did have the easier task tonight. She could not face William Wakefield, foxed or not.

*****

Maxwell was not as foxed as he appeared to be. In fact, he was entirely capable of finding his way to the guest bedchamber without the valet's help.

But he was curious of the valet.

This young fellow was not the usual sort and he wondered why his brother even bothered to hire this incompetent one. He was certain that if he leaned his full height on the man, they would both find themselves flat on the floor.

When they finally reached the bedchamber, the valet opened the door. He went straight to the bed and fell.

"Would you wish to have your clothes removed, milord?" asked the valet.

He rolled his head to the side. His eyes studied the small form standing by the bed. "No," he said and the valet made a move to walk away. "But care to open my shirt," he ordered.

He watched as the servant's shoulders stiffened before turning to face him.

He caught the valet's hand when he reached for his loosened cravat. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice clear and serious.

The valet's eyes registered alarm. Maxwell confirmed that the valet was not here for mere employment.

"Answer my question."

"Max, milord. My name's Max," he answered.

He looked down at the hand he was holding. "And you say you are a valet."

"Yes, milord."

He looked up at the valet once again. "Soft."

The valet frowned. The room was dim and he could barely make out his features. "Milord?"

"Soft. Your hand is soft," he explained. "Why?"

Max's mouth hung open. "Should it be rough?"

Anger rushed through him. He had no time to spare for useless chatters.

Maxwell pulled at her hand and sat up in bed. He heard the valet's gasp of surprise. "I do not appreciate the sarcasm, valet," he gritted out. "Now answer my question." He pulled Max closer until he was looking into scared pale grey eyes. "Who are you and what are you doing in my brother's estate?"