Maxine rode to the next village, Oakley, for nearly eight hours, mostly because she lost herself quite a few times. She visited the village merely once every year accompanied by a servant to take her fittings for new dresses.

Her stepmother had always insisted that they could go to Wickhurst or Willowfair or even Tiny Town to procure more beautiful dresses, but she had always refused. A small village modiste had always been sufficient. And the tiny village of Oakley had a good modiste who claimed to have been an apprentice of Madam Vernice of Wickhurst.

But by the time she reached the now-familiar place, she found it hard to find a hired hackney at Oakley and was informed by a tavern worker that she would most likely find one at Marsden, a village five hours away on horseback. Considering her horse riding skills, it would probably take her more than that.

She could ride straight to Wickhurst, yes, but she was no fool as well. It would not be wise, really. The farthest she had been from Theobald was Oakley itself. She was not an expert rider, nor was she experienced on road travel. She had heard stories of bandits lurking in dark corners, ready to jump at anyone.

Maxine had nothing much to spare save for the few gold coins she had in her purse. The reason being was the obvious fact that she did not thoroughly plan for this adventure perfectly. Most of it was a product of her own impetuous nature and seemingly low ability to truly discern the consequences of her actions.

Left with no other choice, Maxine guided her horse to the village of Marsden where she hoped she could sell the horse for more coins and find a hackney to take her to Wickhurst. From there, she planned to work and save more money for more what she planned to do in Willowfair.

She could not stay near Theobald. Weary as she may be, her father might catch her in time to bring her back home.

She made one stop to rest beside the road under a lamppost, but not long enough to attract attention. Her back was aching for having been on the horse for hours on end. Her legs were wobbling, but she did not need them so she ignored the screaming muscles as well.

Nearly eight hours later with no food and drink, Maxine reached Marsden. It was bigger than Oakley and a tad busier as well. It was not difficult to mix with the crowd of village folks that walked the streets. The day was nearly ending as indicated by the distant dimming lights from distant holes.

"Excuse me," she said in a low voice, calling the attention of a passing lady. "'Scuse me, miss!" she called out loudly but the woman ignored her, looking over at her once with alarm before briskly walking away.

With a sigh, Maxine continued walking. Where the bloody hell was the tavern? Her horse needed food and rest and she needed to sell it. And she needed food as well.

"Ye lookin' for a tavern?" asked a small voice behind her.

Maxine turned and saw a young boy looking up at her with a smile. She nodded. "Yes. I was hoping to sell my horse and find myself a hackney to Wickhurst."

The young lad frowned at her. "Ye gentry?"

She stiffened. "No."

"Ye talk like one!"

"Well," she uttered, panicking. "Well, I have to, see? Me master required it."

The boy looked at her with assessing eyes before he turned to study her black horse. "Then why ye wanting to sell yer horse? Did'ya steal it?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "'Corse not!"

The boy shrugged. He pointed to the right and said, "Tavern's that way."

Maxine nodded and gave the young boy a smile. "Thank ye, young lad."

"Ye look like a girl."

Maxine felt as though her blood drained down from her face. "I am no girl, boy."

"Aye, if ye say so. Well, so long then!" The boy gave her a wave before running across the street.

Maxine cleared her throat and straightened her coat. She searched her satchel bag and found the newsboy hat she stole from one of the footmen in Theobald. She tucked it over her head and pulled it down to shadow half her face.

Having had enough of riding a horse, she decided to walk and find the tavern, guiding the horse to the side of the road. At last, after a successful inquiry with a newsboy, she found the busy tavern.

Tethering the horse outside, she entered the old building. A booming sound of laughter and loud chatters greeted her. A few men pointed at her as they held large mugs of drinks, their faces red and their laughter obviously foxed.

"A pretty boy!" one of them said, whistling as she passed by to find the owner.

"A very pretty boy lass!" another added and laughter erupted around the hall. The tavern wenches laughed along, their shrilling laughter a disruption to one's ears.

Maxine ignored them and sought the attention of a large woman behind a filthy wooden counter.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she politely said, "I was hopin' you could help me find a buyer for me horse."

"What?" the woman asked, busily pacing behind the counter to pour more drinks into mugs.

"A buyer for me horse," she repeated, ignoring the whistling of the drunkards behind her. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her mind already calculating the distance to the door should the need to escape arise.

"What horse?" the woman snapped, finally stopping to stare at her. She looked like she never met bath water for weeks.

"Me horse."

She saw the doubt cross the woman's face, but whatever suspicion the lady might have in mind, she did not voice it. Wiping her hand over her apron, the woman walked around the counter to walk to the door. "This better be worth my time, young lad."

Maxine hesitated before she followed the woman.

"What horse, dearie?" she asked when they stepped outside.

Maxine began to point to her horse but stopped, stunned.

It was gone.

Her face blanched. She felt the blood drain from her face.

The woman guffawed, exposing missing teeth.

She gave Maxine's shoulder a heavy slap. "Ye ought to know better, young lad!" Chuckling, she walked back into the tavern.

Maxine stood stupefied, staring at the empty spot where her horse had been merely minutes ago.

Bloody tarnation!

Samuel's horse was stolen!

*****

"I do not believe that to be true," Maxwell told Nicholas, voice seriously sounding dangerous. "It is quite unbelievable to have such an accidental explosion with no fatalities."

Nicholas frowned at his brother. "And you wish to have fatalities? Are you that morbid?"

Maxwell was silent for a while before he said, "Merely saying it might not have been an accident."

"Oh, so you have now joined the Town Guards? You now have the skills to investigate such matters and prove that it was not an accident?"

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "Believe what you may, Nick," he said. "I'd wager more of this shall happen."

"We have been very careful with the mines since the big accident that caused us our father's life," Nicholas shot back. "The explosion was nothing but an accident that could have been big if not for our well-trained workers."

Maxwell shrugged. "If you say so."

Nicholas shook his head. "You simply wish to believe it is otherwise because you always think the worst of every bloody thing."

"And it had saved us too many times in the mines," Maxwell retorted. "By the by, mother had sent word. She is at the manor."

"And?"

"And you know what that entails."

"Well, I shall be busy," Nicholas said. "I am coming back to Rock'oles tonight."

Maxwell shook his head.

"And what does that mean?"

"What?"

"That motion with your head." He shook his head to demonstrate.

"Nothing," Maxwell said, a corner of his lips twitching.

"Do not make me force it out of you, Max."

"I do not care," Maxwell said, coming to his feet. "I have to go."

"Where?"

"Mother, of course."

"And?"

"What do you mean and?"

"What shall you tell her?"

"Of your absence?" Maxwell asked. Nicholas nodded. "The truth, of course. That you are with a whore." Nicholas jumped to his feet and Maxwell wryly uttered, "Which I shall deliver as a joke, brother, do not fret."

Nicholas gritted his teeth. "I am doing this for Ralph and Cole."

"You do not bloody think Ralph can solve this case. And you hate Devitt's arse."

"And so do you."

Maxwell started for the door. "Which is why I am coming to that dinner instead of Rock'oles."

As his brother walked out of the door, Nicholas shouted, "Do be sure to smile when you tell that joke, Max! You are such a great failure with jests!"

*****

Maxine was utterly angry over what happened with the horse, but she had no one to blame but herself for being so naïve and stupid.

How was she to know that it was not safe to leave her horse unattended outside the tavern when there were people walking past? How was she to know that someone would steal it?

She would have slapped herself now if she were not only inside a hackney with two foxed men who had been laughing at her for no apparent reason. The driver had demanded for her to pay in full and she could not very well climb down and find another hackney. No, not when they were in the middle of a dark road going to Wickhurst.

"Where ye from, lad?" the large man asked before he hiccupped and his friend chuckled.

Maxine ignored him.

"He asked ye a question, pretty boy!" said the other man, kicking Maxine's seat. She flinched and slid closer to the window.

The two men laughed. The large man kicked her seat once more.

Maxine's head snapped and she glared at them. And she regretted it.

Her act depicted challenge and they took it quite seriously. They both leaned over and the larger of the two grabbed her coat collar. She fought the gasp that threatened to escape her throat when he harshly pulled her closer, baring his filthy teeth. One tooth was missing. He roared at her face and despite her resolve, her eyes involuntarily closed.

She craned her neck to the side when she smelled the man's rotten breath.

"We asked ye a question and ye answer!" he shouted at her face.

His companion laughed harder as Maxine fought the man. "Answer, pretty boy!"

The larger man twisted his hand, pulling her closer toward him.

"Where ye from, eh?"

She swallowed and opened her eyes. "T-Thorne," she lied.

The two men were still for a while before they both turned to look at each other. Maxine hoped that the stories about Thorne were true, that whoever heard of the mention of the notorious estate would cower in fear.

Finally the man let go of her coat but not without throwing her back harshly against her seat. She could not help but glare at the two of them, gaining a little confidence by the slight sign of fear in their eyes.

"Ye work there?" the larger man asked, eyes suspiciously narrowed at her.

"Aye," she replied, voice growing strong. She cleared her throat and absently straightened her coat. "Lord Thorne would'na be happy if he knows of this, see?" she could not help but add. "He was hopin' I'd reach Wickhurst with no trouble."

The two men laughed, although rather forcefully. "We did'na cause ye trouble, young man."

"Ah, but I lost me horse, see?" she said. "And I fear he would'na take the news very well." She let the silence linger for a little while before adding, "And Lord Thorne might not believe me if I tell 'im 'tis not ye who stole me horse! See what I mean, me friends?"

The two men blanched.

"Ah, I pray he did'na bring his swords," she said in a dramatic, mournful voice. "He does love using them, see?"

"He—he is in Wickhurst?"

She vigorously nodded her head. "Aye. And he is expecting me to arrive on horseback."

The two men looked at her suspiciously. "Thorne does not go to Wickhurst, young lad."

"Oh, but he does, of course he does!" she said, fighting off a stammer. "In secret," she whispered.

"I do not believe ye," the larger man said.

"Thorne would'na hire a nancy!" the other man added.

Maxine shrugged. "Well, whatever ye say, me friends."

They left her alone after that. They might not believe her, but she knew that they would not also risk bothering her again.

The Lord of Thorne was known to be the son of the devil himself. Most of the stories were farfetched gossips, of course, but it was well to believe them than risk being one of the many alleged victims of his wrath.

Thorne was a name everyone would rather not talk about, yet at that moment, Maxine said a little prayer for the dark, mysterious estate. Whatever it was hiding, whether or not the secrets were true, Thorne had saved her tonight.

*****

By the time Maxine reached Wickhurst, she was broke and starving.

The two men who journeyed with her had jumped out of the hackney just before they reached the affluent town, daring not to give her another glance. Maxine noted the usefulness of Thorne's name for future tragedies.

"Step aside!" the driver of the hackney shouted at her when she did not move out of the way after she climbed out. She was too mesmerized to have thought of anything else.

Wickhurst was indeed a sight to behold.

The buildings were far bigger than anything she had ever seen in Oakley or Marsden. The people who walked along the streets wore far better clothes she had only seen during the Theobald parties. The lamps also glowed brighter, but then perhaps the bigger holes she could see from a distance had more to do with the brightness.

"Out of the way!" someone shouted and she jumped to her feet before a carriage drove past her in a rush. Her heart hammered against her chest but she could not help the smile that crept up her face.

She was here.

She had made it. With the help of Thorne, of course, whoever he was.

She was here!

Maxine turned around and realized that the driver had stopped just as where she had instructed him to. To her right she saw the clear sign that read Vinge Rd. To the left she saw Dosett St.

The hammering in her chest intensified as she slowly turned around, tilting her newsboy hat to look at the large apartment before her.

She looked at the signs once more.

Squaring her shoulders, Maxine took a deep breath.

Nicholas Everard better stay true to his promise because she was now here at the junction between Vinge and Dosett.