Save for the black hair and emerald green eyes, there was no other sign of Nicholas in this other Everard brother of his.

Maxine thought that she knew them too well from all of Samuel's stories, but now as she stared at the scowling face of the man before her, she was quite certain why Samuel might have chosen not to talk about him often.

She had seen Benedict Everard, the eldest, in a few Theobald parties before he married. She had also had a glimpse of the youngest brother, Ralph and even Levi, the second brother next to Benedict, when they had to attend a few Theobald parties to accompany their mother.

But this one she had never seen. This was the brother that was rarely mentioned, the one whose name she had forgotten. All that she could remember was that there were five Everard men and this was probably the third brother.

What was his name again? Ah, bother not, she could not remember!

She may not have remembered this brother when Samuel had mentioned him, but she was certain she'd never forget him again after this moment—that was if she was to survive this moment alive for by the look on his face he might already be thinking how to murder her.

His piercing, impatient eyes bore into her and Maxine found that she could not move.

"Where is Nicholas?" he demanded with a snap.

Maxine opened her mouth to speak but the man finally shook his head and walked past her, brushing her aside. "Where the bloody hell is Oscar?" he demanded in a low, wry voice.

For the love of all that was holy, Maxine finally managed to close the door behind her.

"Well?" the angry Everard asked, whirling to face her once more. "What the bloody hell is the matter with you?" he demanded. "And why are you here?"

"I—I am the new butler," she uttered and he frowned at her with disbelief. Then she realized what she had said and her face flushed. "I meant I am the new valet, milord," she managed without a stammer.

"The valet?" he asked, now utterly interested. He peered down at her and walked closer. "You, a valet?"

Maxine blinked and nodded. This must be the brother who scared all his valets away, she thought, remembering Nicholas' words back in Theobald.

"Milord!" Oscar's urgent voice said from behind Maxine. "Apologies, milord," Oscar said, "He is new."

The frown on the man's face did not disappear even when he tore his eyes off Maxine to face Oscar. "Where is Nicholas? He is wanted at the manor."

"We believe he has set out for Grey's, my lord."

"Ah, bloody bastard," the man said, turning on his heels.

"Should I inform his lordship of your—" Oscar started but the man raised his hand to stop Oscar's words.

"No. I shall find him myself." He strode past Maxine and stopped, turned to face her and added, "Do not answer the door if you do not know how to speak."

Her mouth dropped open at the man's detestable remark. She glared at the broad back walking away from her and she did not notice Oscar standing beside her until the man snapped at her, saying, "Dare not do anything that is not part of your task, valet."

Maxine slowly turned to frown at Oscar. "But being a valet also requires one to wait on their masters and that includes opening doors."

Oscar scowled at her. "But Lord Max is not your master."

Maxine's eyes widened. "Max?"

Oscar incredulously glared at her. "Maxwell Everard, the Lord of Kenward. You do not know the man? Are you daft?"

Nicholas' laughing voice rang in her ears. I do love ordering you about, Max...

Upon realizing the reason behind Nicholas' humor of her name, Maxine felt her blood start to boil inside her.

She gritted her teeth and whirled, turning away from Oscar.

"Where are you going?" the butler asked.

"Wait for my master, of course, sir!" she shot back over one shoulder. "Which at the moment means precisely that—wait!"

*****

The entire household was quiet all throughout the rest of the afternoon which Maxine utilized arranging her belongings. She kept the only dress she bought with her, wrapped in linen cover under her bed. The rest she was comfortable showing to Albin was placed in the small closet situated at the foot of her bed.

Molly called for her to go to the kitchen, ordering her to bring along her spare uniforms.

Lottie fought off her laughter upon seeing Maxine in uniform.

"Oh, horrible! Just horrible!" Molly cried out, mouth agape. "Come over, sir, and I shall have your clothes fitted at once!"

Albin watched with fascination as Molly turned Maxine around, taking measurements. Fanny was busily pacing around the kitchen, cooking dinner. Oscar was nowhere in sight much to Maxine's relief. The grumpy young butler must be somewhere in the household checking if everything was in order.

In her honest opinion, there was nothing much that anyone could do in such household when the master himself was often out most of the day. There was no one to serve!

The longer Maxine spent time with Molly, she started to feel quite uncomfortable. The woman would not stop batting her eyes at her, brushing her hand over Maxine's shoulders or arms or wherever she could manage. Did the maid fancy her?

Bloody hell!

"We heard you've met Lord Max," Molly whispered with a lopsided grin. She was now taking measurements of Maxine's trousers.

"Yes," Maxine replied, sighing with relief when Molly finally stepped away from her.

Lottie had straightened in her chair, great interest on her face.

Molly saw the other girl's reaction and she chuckled. "Lottie here is smitten with the lord."

Lottie's face flushed with color. "I—I—well," she said, clearing her throat, "that is quite true."

Maxine found herself laughing along with Molly and Fanny.

"At the very least, there is someone of the opposite sex who fancies Lord Max," Albin uttered with amusement, eyes on Molly. "Am I correct, Molly?"

"I have to agree," Molly said, looking up from her notes.

Maxine did not comment. She found it unwise to do so when she barely spent a day in the household. Servants could talk and she did not wish for anything she might say to be reported back to Nicholas.

"What did Lord Max tell you, Max?" asked Fanny.

Albin laughed. "Ain't it funny how they have the same name?"

"Lord Max's name is not Max," Lottie defended. "He is Lord Maxwell."

"Still Max to most of us," Albin shot back before he turned his attention back on Maxine. "So, what did he say to you, Max?"

Maxine shrugged. "He snapped at me. My fault, as a matter of fact."

Molly scoffed and Albin did the same. She gathered Maxine's two sets of spare uniforms and said, "I shall try to work on the first set this evening so you could wear it by the morrow, Max."

Maxine smiled. "Thank you."

She saw Molly's face flush as the woman waved her hand in dismissal. "Mind not! I do this for everyone."

"Not for me," Albin contradicted with a frown.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Because you do not need help, Albin. Your clothes fit you quite perfectly, do they not?"

It was Albin's turn to flush. He cleared his throat and jumped to his feet. "I ought to go back to work. The guest bedchambers might need a good checking."

Maxine frowned. "Are we expecting guests?"

"More like pests," Molly whispered and Lottie gasped at her words, saying, "Molly! You ought not to be talking 'bout 'em in such manner!"

"Well, it is quite true!" Molly defensively said. "Lord Max and Ralph merely come here to sleep and eat when they awaken and then leave when in fact they do have their own apartments!"

Albin shrugged. "At the very least they do not bring the women here. Very well, I must go. Max, be certain his lordship's chamber is ready when he arrives."

Maxine nodded.

"We do not want Oscar to berate us all simply because we forgot unimportant details," Molly whispered as Albin left the kitchen. "Now, while I have nothing left to do, I shall go back to my quarters and start on these," she said, lifting her uniforms in both arms.

"Thank you very much for this, Molly."

The woman's face went scarlet once more. "Oh, you are so dear. I shall see you later, yes?"

Maxine nodded, ill at ease by the woman's seductive smile.

When Molly was out of the kitchen, Lottie said, "Would you not agree, Fanny, that Molly fancies Max?"

Maxine's eyes widened with horror and Lottie, upon seeing her reaction, laughed out loud.

Fanny, on the other hand, merely smiled, the sides of her eyes wrinkling in the process. "I do not see why she should not," she said, studying Maxine. "Max sure is a kind man."

"But you barely know me to judge me so, Miss Fanny."

"Fanny, just Fanny, Max," Fanny said, "And I can feel you are a good man. His lordship would not have hired you otherwise, yes?"

Maxine merely smiled. She swallowed the bitter taste of guilt and turned away from both ladies. "I should find Albin," she announced. "I am yet to know more about my tasks."

Lottie and Fanny both said, "Okay then!"

Maxine went out to find Albin whom she found to be more comfortable to be around with than the ladies. Oscar, of course, was no question.

*****

Albin was a great companion to pass the time later that night. The man would not cease talking about Molly and her many talents in the household as well as his dreams to work for one of the more affluent lords in the future. Maxine could not help but wonder why the man seemed to find it hard to confess his obvious feelings for Molly.

But it was not her place. She soon forgot such thoughts when Albin talked more about the times he had to spend with Nicholas when he was still serving as his valet.

Maxine was able to forget for a few hours that she had not had proper rest since she left Theobald and that her body was craving for a much needed respite. But Oscar had to ruin the fun when he knocked on their door, reprimanding them about the noise they were creating.

"The master is not even home to hear us," Albin complained as he went under his covers. He let out a big yawn as he said, "Good night, Max. Forget not to bolt the doors once his lordship is home."

"Aye," Maxine replied, standing to her feet. "I will stay somewhere outside. Sitting on this bed pulls at my eyelids."

Albin muttered something incoherent, already falling into slumber.

*****

Maxine awakened with a start when she heard a loud thumping sound from the hall. She jumped to her seat, feeling quite lost with an immense sense of panic. But then she remembered where she was and why she was there and the feeling ebbed away.

Walking out of the dining room, Maxine found the hallway empty and she frowned. She was certain she heard something from out here.

She sauntered toward the bottom of the staircase and looked up to find Nicholas wobbling near the top of the stairs. Jumping to her feet, she rushed up to him.

"Milord," she said, panting when she reached his side. His eyes were half-closed and it seemed as though he did not hear her. "Milord, let me be of assistance."

"No, no," Nicholas said, shaking his head. "I need no assistance." He turned to her with a surprisingly easy smile. "I am not as foxed as my brothers, Max."

"Your brothers?"

He nodded, turning to enter his bedchamber. "But I do need assistance undressing, Max."

"U-undressing, milord? Of course, of course," she stammered, following him into the room. He was already pulling at his cravat and she caught it when he threw it over his shoulder. He took off his coat next and she tore it off his arms when he had trouble doing so. His shirt followed his coat and Maxine was grateful for the dim lighting and his intoxication for her face had gone scarlet at the sight of his bare torso and shoulders.

The heavens might still be watching her because Nicholas left his breeches alone, walking straight to his bed where he fell and rolled to the center. Maxine placed his clothes on the chair and pulled the covers from underneath him to cover him as he slept.

"My brothers..."

"Yes, milord?" Maxine asked.

"Drawin' room, Max... brothers."

Maxine frowned down at him until his words finally settled and she realized what he wanted her to do.

She stepped away from the bed, watching Nicholas' even breathing under the covers.

Ah, the bastard finally had his slumber after hours of gambling and drinking while she who had to spend nearly a day on a horse and another one in a carriage with two foxed men had not had anything but that short nap in the dining room. And now she was tasked to take care of his brothers.

With haste, she arranged Nicholas' clothes on the chair and left his room, shutting the door behind her before coming down the stairs to find his brothers in the drawing room.

The sight that greeted her the moment she pushed the doors open was not one she had ever witnessed before. A younger man was on the floor, hugging what appeared to be a vase at first sight but one Maxine later realized to be a spittoon. The other man, the one called Maxwell and the very same man she met earlier that afternoon, was slouched on the chaise, head tilted back and staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes half-closed.

Swallowing hard, Maxine squared her shoulders and went straight to the younger man whom she assumed to be Ralph Everard, her brother's best friend, the Town Guard. She had seen him a few times in previous Theobald parties, but tonight he looked utterly different—horrible, in fact.

"Milord," she said in a low voice, bending over the man but he held out his arm, ordering her not to come near.

"A moment, a moment," he grunted before he made a gagging sound and retched into the spittoon. Maxine jumped away with a grimace.

Why would men drink so much and waste it all into a bloody spittoon?

She looked up and her eyes landed on the man on the chaise.

And then her heart stopped.

He had moved his head to the side and he was staring straight at her, his green eyes looking dark and dangerous. The look he gave her was beyond unnerving. It was as though he was peeling her layer by layer, looking at her in a completely different light, revealing every inch of her secrets.

His lips curved into a lopsided grin and Maxine tore her eyes away from his.

She ignored Maxwell and returned to Ralph's side, bending over the heaving man.

Ralph stumbled to his feet. Maxine immediately caught his arm to steady him.

"Chamber..." he murmured, his head lolling to one side as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Maxine made a face when she smelled him.

Bloody tarnation!

"Let me escort you to the guest bedchamber, milord," she managed with a grunt, steering the man toward the door.

Ralph Everard looked younger than his brothers, which was given for he was the youngest. Yet that did not change the fact that the man was heavy and still towered her. It did not help that he could easily lose his balance as they climbed up the stairs. Once, they almost fell backward but Maxine caught the railing before they both fell to their deaths.

Like Nicholas, Ralph fell on the bed the moment they entered the room. She loosened his cravat, removed his shoes and rolled him to the center of the bed. Pulling the covers over him without taking his shirt off, Maxine left the bedchamber and returned to the drawing room.

Maxwell was still in the same position she left him but his eyes were already closed. Through the dim light, she was able to study his features and she made a strong conclusion: the man was scary.

It was not just his long hair, really, but it was his entire look. His brows had a natural frown even while he slept. His lips, though closed, looked as though they were ready to bare his teeth in a snarl. His chin looked rougher than his brothers' for he had not obviously bothered to shave it smoothly for days.

He looked unkempt, yet clean. He looked bedraggled yet neat all the same.

The stares he had been giving her since the moment they met had rendered her motionless that she was half-grateful his eyes were closed at the moment.

And it was why she could not bring herself to wake him and take him upstairs.

Slowly taking a step back, Maxine decided Maxwell Everard was better off in the drawing room, alone, with Ralph's spittoon merely a few paces away.

She could always say he had insisted to sleep in the chaise. No one would believe a foxed man's memory after all.

With that in mind, Maxine turned around to leave Maxwell Everard inside the drawing room. She bolted the main doors and went to claim her well-deserved slumber.