Maxine was frozen in shock.

Maxwell Everard's gaze was not simply furious, but knowing all the same.

Did he know? Did he see through her disguise?

"I am merely a man lucky enough to be employed by your brother, milord," she managed to utter without a stutter. The panic she had felt seconds ago seemed to have given way to a much needed faculty—survival. "Whyever would you think otherwise?" she added, pulling her hand away from his strong hold.

He let her go, emerald green eyes nearly black with unspoken fury and confusion. It was then that Maxine realized the man was merely provoking her—taunting her to satisfy his curiosities. She might have done something wrong to have caused him to suspect her and she vowed to correct that.

"You may have managed to fool everyone, valet," Maxwell Everard spoke, voice filled with warning, "but not I. I have seen many valets in my life and you do not compare to any of them."

Maxine stepped away, lifting her chin. "Mayhap I am not like most valets, milord, thus the reason why your brother took me under his employ," she uttered with pride.

He merely narrowed his eyes. "One fair warning, lad," he uttered, falling back into the bed, "you do not mess with my family."

Maxine's jaw tightened. "I would not dream of it, milord," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Good night, milord." She tried her best to nonchalantly turn and walk to the door.

To her great relief, Maxwell Everard did not stop her.

Her heart started to hammer against her chest as she rushed back to her room. Albin was already inside. The man frowned upon seeing her face.

"Bloody hell, Max, what did the bastard do to you?"

"Nothin'," she murmured, kicking off her shoes. She went under the covers and faked a yawn. "Good night, Albin. See you on the morrow."

But while Albin resumed his sleep, Maxine stayed wide awake in bed.

She ought to get out of Wickhurst soon.

This was foolish. She must not have come here. Lord Wakefield was here, the very same man who could identify her and blow her cover. She must not wait until Ysabella Everard would come and find her, or worse, Samuel to walk through the doors and discover her here.

*****

There must be a good reason why Nicholas was in a very good mood the following morning. He was humming while he shaved and Maxine could not help but smile and wonder as she held the mirror for him. Why was he happy?

"I am in a rather great mood today, Max," he said after he rinsed and as Maxine handed him the towel.

"I have noticed, milord," she said with a smile.

"Do you know why?" he asked, turning to face her, emerald green eyes glimmering with mirth.

"No, milord, I am afraid I do not."

"Ah," he uttered, throwing the towel to the side. Maxine rushed to pick it up, shaking the image of his handsome, clean face off her mind. "Of course you do not know." He went to pick up a cravat, took a good look at it and shook his head. "Mind not," he said, "I do not need one today. What I need is to be downstairs before the commotion starts."

"The commotion, milord?" Maxine asked, baffled.

"Why, of course! The reason why I am ecstatic!"

"You are quite excited for a commotion?"

"Yes," he said, rushing to the door. "You shall find out soon enough."

Maxine did find out sooner than she had anticipated. She was standing in one corner with Albin and Oscar, trying her best to ignore Maxwell Everard's gaze. But it also seemed as if the man had completely forgotten the events of last night for he was not giving her the same amount of attention he had been giving her in previous days.

As a matter of fact, he seemed to share Nicholas' excitement.

Maxine waited for the commotion Nicholas was talking about when a series of sounds erupted from the hallway and Oscar rushed out of the dining room in alarm to see what it was.

She saw Nicholas and Maxwell share a look, eyes glinting with wickedness, as they nonchalantly continued their breakfast.

"Where is he?" a female voice was demanding from the hallway and Maxine immediately knew that Lord Devitt and Wakefield were still in residence.

Before she could think of anything else, a black-haired woman walked into the dining room. To Maxine's great relief, it was not Ysabella. But she also knew this woman as she had been to many Theobald party, accompanying Lady Alice.

Margaret Everard-Devitt sauntered into the dining room, eyes narrowed at her brothers. "Where is my husband?"

Nicholas paused and looked at his sister. He shrugged. "Probably still passed out in the drawing room, my dear."

Margaret crossed her arms over her chest. "What did you do last night?"

"The usual," Maxwell wryly replied.

Their sister did not seem to like the answer. "The usual?"

"Of course," Nicholas said with a smile. "Would you care to join us, sister?"

Margaret's eyes narrowed further. "I was sick of worry the moment I realized he has not come home!"

"Should you not be telling your husband that?"

With a scoff, Margaret whirled around and walked out of the room.

Maxine watched as Nicholas and Maxwell chuckled before resuming their breakfast. Not a minute longer, she heard a commotion from outside the dining room, probably inside the drawing room.

"I have told you not to drink too much!" Margaret's voice was saying.

A voice replied, probably that of her husband, but it was hard to discern as it sounded more of a painful moan than a statement.

Nicholas was the first to throw his napkin on the table, jumping on his feet, saying, "I want to see this," followed by Maxwell. The two men rushed outside.

"Max! Albin!" Nicholas' voice soon followed and Maxine and Albin jumped to follow the group outside.

Maxine and Albin found Margaret with her hands on her hips, looking at her husband as the man struggled to stay on his feet, arms wound around Oscar's shoulders.

"Never mind," said Nicholas, grinning from ear to ear, "I believe Oscar can manage."

Maxine winced when she saw Oscar's flustered face.

"This shall be the last time, Cole," Margaret said.

"Told me to go!" was her husband's reply.

"Yes, but not to get brutally foxed!"

"Should've suggested the library then!"

Nicholas guffawed. Maxwell snickered. Margaret turned to her brothers with a murderous look in her eyes.

Nicholas raised his hands. "Dare not blame us, sister. Your husband is correct. You told him to go to Grey's and you very well know what happens at Grey's!"

Margaret scowled but did not say anything. She followed her husband and Oscar out the door where a carriage was already waiting.

"Until next time, Devitt!" Nicholas cried out.

Margaret glared at him. "I would not go as far as berate you both," she said with a smile. "For I am certain someone shall do it for me soon."

Nicholas and Maxwell shrugged. They both turned to peek into the drawing room.

"The bastard's still asleep!" he said with a loud laugh. He and Maxwell returned to the dining room.

Maxine and Albin waited until Oscar returned, breathless. "Should anyone look for me, I shall be in the kitchen," he snapped at Albin.

Albin and Maxine watched with amusement as the arrogant butler disappeared, easily tired after that one task.

"Close the door, Max," Albin ordered, grinning widely, walking away.

Maxine walked to the door, closed it and turned, intending to return to the dining room. But before she walked away, a loud knocking sound came to the door.

She rolled her eyes. Surely Nicholas had better mornings than this one, yes?

Whirling on her feet, she walked over to the window to see the new visitor.

And her eyes widened in horror.

It was a very angry Ysabella Everard.

*****

Maxine rushed into the dining room and found Albin. She noticed Maxwell following her movements but ignored it.

"Lady Ysabella is at the door."

Albin's eyes widened. "Well, did you allow her entry?"

"No."

"Whyever not!" the footman hissed.

"I—I—Oscar has given specific instructions that I am not allowed to open doors," she uttered the truth. "And—and I missed to take the paper into the dining room. I must get it now," she lied.

Albin shook his head and walked out of the dining room.

"Where is my husband?" Ysabella's angry yet familiar voice boomed from the hall.

Maxine panicked.

Nicholas jumped to his feet, excitement on his face. Maxine sighed with relief when he rushed out to meet his sister in the hall.

She would have loved to see the scene in the drawing room, but she could not risk being recognized by Ysabella or her husband. And so Maxine contented herself in listening to the ruckus outside.

It was only then that she noticed that Maxwell did not join his siblings. He stayed and continued with his meal as though his sister was not about to cause murder outside.

Maxine swallowed and pretended she was in another place. "The paper, valet."

Maxine flinched at the sound of his voice.

She blinked. "Milord?"

"The paper. You told the footman you missed to take the paper to the dining room," Maxwell said, one thick brow arched. "Where is it?"

"Ah, yes, yes," she said, stiffly turning away from him to disappear into the kitchen. She knew the man's eyes were following her.

Why could he not focus his attention on someone else? Why did it have to be her? Was she utterly suspicious?

She nearly squealed in surprise when she bumped into Molly and Lottie. The two servants were standing at each side of the doorway, listening to the ruckus outside. Ysabella was not talking about how she could box better than her brothers and it was apparent she was talking to her husband.

"Who opened the door?" Oscar asked from one corner. He seemed fine now, but it appeared as if he was not intending to return to the drawing room anytime soon. Lord Wakefield was far heavier than Cole Devitt.

"Albin, sir," she replied.

"And why are you here?" Oscar asked with a frown. You must go back—"

"Lord Maxwell is asking for the paper," she murmured.

Molly jumped to her feet. "I shall get it for you, Max," the maid said, rushing out of the side entrance.

Oscar's eyes followed the maid until she disappeared from the kitchen. He turned to Maxine. "Was it not your task to take the paper?"

"I—I forgot, sir. I beg your pardon, it shall not happen again."

"Oh, do stop berating Max," Molly said just in time before Oscar could say anything, reappearing into the kitchen with the paper in hand. She walked over to Maxine with a sweet smile. "Here, Max."

Maxine smiled. "Thank you, Molly."

"And the last of your uniform is nearly done. I will give it to you by the end of the day."

"You shall not be working on anything else other than your chores today, Molly," Oscar said, voice cold.

Molly rolled her eyes, letting only Lottie and Maxine see it, before she winked and disappeared into the service corridor.

"Go take the paper to his lordship," Oscar ordered.

Lottie leaned her ear into the doorway. "I believe Lady Ysabella has already departed."

Maxine nodded with relief. She gave Lottie a smile. "Would you wish to deliver the paper to Lord Max?" she asked in a teasing tone, but a part of her was hoping Lottie would agree.

Lottie's face flushed. "Oh, no, no!" She vigorously shook her head. "Scullery maids cannot serve anyone directly." She looked over at the scowling Oscar and pushed Maxine through the doorway. "Go."

Maxine found Nicholas chuckling with mirth in the dining room, having settled back in his chair with contentment. She placed the paper beside Nicholas, gaining yet another unsatisfied scowl from Maxwell.

Well, he did ask for the paper, but her master was the other brother.

Maxine stood beside Albin who murmured under his breath, "You ought to have seen the ruckus." The footman's voice was filled with amusement. "Lord Nick did look a bit flustered for a second. Lady Ysabella was not happy at all."

"As I have figured," she murmured back with a small smile.

"I pray Lord Wakefield shall hold on to his promise."

"Which is?"

"To know his way home next time."

Maxine bit her lips to hide her smile. She focused her attention on Nicholas who had gotten hold of the paper before Maxwell snatched it for himself.

"I must say the gossip section is far more entertaining than the politics part," Nicholas said to his brother, sliding the paper across the table with disinterest. "It is getting tedious how the Herald gives too much attention on Osegod."

Maxwell did not comment as he read the article.

"And they take photos of the man and his friends in a more precise manner as they do us!" Nicholas added with a shake of his head.

Maxine nearly rolled her eyes. When would Nicholas stop his condescending words against the Herald? She knew Samuel wrote for the politics section and to hear her master talk about her brother's work in such a manner hit a nerve.

Very much later, Nicholas stood up and loudly yawned. Maxine knew she ought to be scandalized but she realized that when it came to the Everards, such incorrect manner was acceptable.

"You ought to go home, brother," Nicholas said. "I have work to do."

Maxwell nodded. "I do plan to go to Kenward."

"For how long?"

"Not long," Maxwell replied, standing from his chair.

"What will you be doing there? Bore yourself to death?"

"No," Maxwell snapped. "I have missives waiting for me there."

"Can they not be delivered here?"

Maxwell did not reply.

"You do not trust anyone at all, do you?"

Maxine watched Maxwell shrug before he disappeared from the dining room.

Nicholas shook his head. "Do you believe he is part of the family?" he asked Albin and Maxine.

Albin nodded while Maxine shook her head.

Nicholas laughed. "Good answer, Max. Good answer!"

"His lordship does like you," Albin muttered when they were finally alone.

She offered no comment.

"Very well, back to work then," Albin said, walking back into the kitchen. "Molly! The dining room!"

Maxine walked over to the copy of the Herald. Both Maxwell and Nicholas may not know which articles Samuel wrote, but she could point them out easily. She scanned through one article after another until she landed on the one that caused Nicholas' disinterest.

In the middle of the article was a very good photo of a handsome man who could very well be merely a year or two younger than her father.

Maxine's eyes searched for the description of the photo and her suspicion was proven correct.

Alan Osegod, Lord of Ransford, Head of the Town Leaders, smiles for the camera with his friend Amelia Trilby during the recent Trilby Ball in Willowfair. The Trilbys and the Osegods have maintained their friendship for many years and have never hesitated to showcase the fact.

Maxine veered her gaze back on the photo, studying the face of the woman.

The photo was taken better than the others she had seen the Herald had printed before, but if there was anything it lacked, it was colors. She did not know what Osegod's hair color was or the color of his eyes, but one look at the woman standing beside him and she knew. Her elegant and graceful stance, her square jaw, her dark hair—everything screamed of recognition.

No, it was far from simply knowing. It was more likely an instinct, a leap of all her senses telling her she finally found her. She finally understood what many had said before. She finally felt how it was to recognize one of your own.

One look and Maxine was certain what she was looking at.

One look at Amelia Trilby and she finally understood why her father never wished for her to know her mother: the woman was a bloody Trilby.