She did not have to read the entire article to learn of its contents for the heading provided a clear picture.

Maxwell threw the paper across the room when he saw it and he said, "We go home to Kenward at once!"

Maxine could barely offer a reply for she felt utterly numb.

Everything was crumbling to pieces. What had she done! Her family—the Theobalds was now facing a scandal. And it would be soon that the Everards would be dragged along as well.

"No, we cannot act as cowards and escape," her husband continued to rant before her, pacing the room. "In fact, we must follow my mother's example. Should we go out and allow them to gawk? That is if you can do it, Maxie," he kept muttering to himself.

Maxine merely blinked. She had to concentrate on breathing because it seemed that she had forgotten how to.

Almost an hour later, her husband was seated across from her in the same drawing room and he brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"We must replace this scandal," he said.

For the first time since she saw the article, Maxine blinked and frowned in reaction. "Whatever do you mean, Maxwell?"

He picked up the almost tattered papers from the floor and waved it in front of him to emphasize his point. "It is not mentioned that you are married."

Maxine stiffened. "No, no, I cannot—I cannot—"

"Bloody hell, Maxie, two uncles of us died as bastards and they have all fathered other bastards who are not living in Sheills with their own family. We are the last you have to be worried for," he snapped, standing to his feet.

The door burst open and Maxine gasped when she saw Lady Alice and Emma rush in with their brows furrowed and nose flaring, ready to fight a battle—whatever it was.

"Well?" Lady Alice asked, looking at Maxine and Maxwell. "What are you two doing here? Should you not be in the park flaunting yourselves?"

Maxwell groaned. "I told you," he said to his wife.

"Do not mind Mother, Maxine," Emma said, coming toward her and holding her hand, her face softening as she added, "You have to be strong, see? That is all that she means. Strong, Maxine, and dare not be ashamed."

"Horrible! Just horrible!" another voice shrilled. Maxine looked up and saw Ysabella storming into the room with her husband in tow. "They did not even manage to acquire a sketch or a photo of you!"

"Exactly what I said!" Lady Alice said. "Just Maxine—no face whatsoever! It can be anyone, dear!" She whirled to face Maxwell and asked, "You must visit their offices. Have them correct her name!"

When Maxine turned to her husband in confusion, her mind completely muddled by many serious matters about her birth mother, the Trilbys, Osegod and her bastardry, he simply rolled his eyes and explained, "What Mother wishes to do is that we demand that the Herald include the Everard name in yours." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "I did suggest something of the same earlier," he pointed out.

"N-no," she stammered, standing up. "I-I am sorry," she said to everyone. "I have to think. I believe I cannot do so at this time."

To her utter relief, no one said a word.

"Behave," she faintly heard Maxwell say to his family, adding to Wakefield, "Take them home," before he followed her to their chambers.

*****

Two days since the first article, Maxine still refused to discuss anything.

"You know I do not care, Maxie," Maxwell said to her as he entered their bedchamber and settled beside her in the bed. "But I do care that you care," he said. "For all we know, love, this can merely be a part of Osegod's plan to force us to agree to his demands. It is quite odd that the article came out merely days after you sent Amelia Trilby that letter."

"Whatever do you mean, Max? That they figured they cannot use me and so they resort to this?" she asked in disbelief. "That is rather too shallow of them."

"You cannot stay locked in this estate forever," he said. "I am itching to go back to Kenward, if you must know."

"Could you sneak me into the carriage so we can go home?" she hopefully asked.

"I am afraid I cannot even if that is possible."

"Why?"

"Because gossipmongers are causing unwanted traffic outside this estate," her husband wryly stated. "They look like lost kittens going to and fro."

She groaned. Yesterday the article of her being married to Maxwell Everard was on the Herald and Maxine was afraid to ask who was responsible for it. This time she did not even get past to reading the entire heading after she saw Maxwell's name attached to hers.

"And your parents are downstairs," Maxwell belatedly provided, causing Maxine to sit up in bed in alarm.

"What!"

Maxwell shrugged. "They came as fast as they could."

"You ought to have told me!" she said, scrambling to get out of bed.

"Not in your nightgown, love," he said, throwing her a robe, amusement on his lips.

Maxine ran out of the room and found that Maxwell was not indeed lying. Eustace and Rachel Theobald were in the parlor and both came to their feet when she rushed in, Maxwell following closely.

"Oh, darling," Rachel said, catching her in an embrace.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled against her stepmother's dress.

"Stop crying, Maxine," her father ordered. "Why the bloody hell are you crying?"

"My lord," Rachel said in a warning voice.

"This has always been what we wanted, that is all I am trying to say. But we do not like that you are presented to society in such a way!"

"I have caused you a scandal," she said, a tear escaping one eye. "How could you talk about properly presenting me to society when they do not—"

"You are not a bastard, Maxine, not in our eyes," her father strongly said. When Maxine simply sobbed, he looked at his wife and said, "Would you leave us for a moment? No, darling, I do not plan to berate her."

"Allow me to escort you, my lady," Maxwell said to Rachel who nodded and reluctantly let go of Maxine, kissing the top of her head before heading out the door with Maxwell.

"Sit down, Maxine, for God's sake, you are a lady," Eustace said but when his daughter sobbed harder he sighed and he went toward her to guide her to the chaise. "Look at me, child." Her father's voice was gentle and soft. "Maxine Theobald-Everard, look at me," he said when she refused to do so.

Finally she did and she saw the same pale grey eyes staring at her with utter love and tenderness. "You are no bastard in our eyes. Your birthmother gave you to me to offer you a better chance."

It was then that she realized what he was doing. He was telling her about her mother.

"Your mother knew what could have happened to you should she have not done so." Eustace Theobald paused and swallowed before he continued, "She was the only good in that family, Maxine, and I would not have allowed her to give you her name if she was not. I committed a great sin against Rachel and your brothers when I refused to go home to Theobald and dally with an innocent woman. I can also say the same for Maxine Trilby, but you, my dear, are not a mistake—you never were." Maxine whimpered and her shoulders started to shake. "You are the miracle that brought me back to Rachel and my family. You have kept us all together in more ways than you can ever imagine. So believe me when I say that we care not of the scandal. We can live with it, but I trust that we cannot forever accept should you continue to be ashamed for that equates to being ashamed of being a Theobald. You are not a bastard, my dear—you are a Theobald and will always be. Do you understand me, Maxine?"

Maxine could not speak for there was a heavy lump in her throat. Tears simply flowed as she nodded and her father pulled her into an embrace.

"Now, how about we plan your grand wedding?" her father asked in a very hopeful tone.

"Do not push it, Papa," she said, chuckling through her tears.

"Ah, then perhaps two months from now?"

She laughed this time, tears running freely. "Perhaps, yes."

Maxine stared at an open space, thinking of the woman who gave her life. Was this all that she would ever know of her?

*****

Three days later, when her parents had departed for Theobald, Maxwell handed Maxine a copy of the Herald.

"Your dear brother is late to the party, but I believe you ought to see this." He sat beside her and pointed at the article he meant for her to read.

Dear Ms. Mulligan,

I never had to experience ire from any of my equals, and most especially from those below my station. Not until I heard my sister's governess telling her that she was not who she thought she was. My sister was barely five at that time and she stared wide-eyed at Ms. Mulligan, confusion in her eyes. "You are not your Mama's child, dear," I heard the governess reiterate. "You cannot play with the other children. We stay in this very room."

My sister, in her little voice, asked, "Why I cannot?"

"Because the children and their parents will know of your family's secret!"

"Secret?" she asked again.

"Yes! You are the secret, dear. We must keep you a secret. I will be torn away from you if you are to be discovered. Do you want Ms. Mulligan away? You will have no one to play with then. Your brothers have their own friends, see?"

My sister shook her head. No, of course she did not want her governess gone!

"Now, there is a good girl. What do you tell your Mama when she comes for you?"

Dear little sister simply frowned.

"Tired! How many times must I repeat, child? You are tired! You do not wish to go out."

"But Mama said I can—"

"She is simply trying to be nice. Now, always keep in mind that you are a bastard, dear. Your place is only with me and this room, see?"

I had to leave after hearing those words, my young mind greatly appalled.

And that was my greatest sin.

I kept my silence.

I never told my parents of what I heard. I kept my silence for I thought it trivial. I did not wish for Ms. Mulligan be dismissed for it would take more months for another to arrive to replace her post. Maxine would bother me again when she was bored and I did not want that. I had other manly games I wanted to play and she would only prove to be a nuisance as most little children are.

But that conversation I heard in that playroom never left my mind. I wondered of many things. I wondered if Ms. Mulligan said the correct things.

But it couldn't be!

My sister came to our doors crooning and crying all night long many years ago before there was even a Ms. Mulligan. My brother and I wondered who this little creature was. But we were told by our mother that the Lord had granted her wish and gave her a daughter. She was a miracle!

No, mother could not have lied to us, I thought. I grew older and realized that Mother's affections were genuine and Maxine had started to withdraw—not completely, but slowly and quietly.

Must I have done something when I first heard Ms. Mulligan? Ought I have come running toward my parents and repeated every word the governess spoke?

When I concluded that the answer was yes, I kept my silence once more for I knew it was too late. My sister never emerged again. Her shrilling laughter faded along the years. Even her cries were muffled until they completely ceased. Until there was naught but a young lady whom we could talk with but could not truly enjoy life with. No, not entirely! For how could we when she refused to go out beyond the Theobald walls? How could we when she was hiding amongst the guests during our brother's wedding? How could we when she dressed up as a servant every Theobald weekend party?

Yet now another Ms. Mulligan threatens to destroy my sister when she had finally braved an adventure beyond the walls she built around herself, thanks to such fateful governess! And this Ms. Mulligan is not merely one, but an entire population who had set such high standards that they even cannot reach. These Ms. Mulligans dare hide their own misdeeds for the opportunity to bring forth someone to condemn and judge, happy and willing to do so because it allows them to sleep tight at night, believing someone out there was living a more horrible life than theirs.

But I am no longer a boy, nor am I a muddle-headed young man and I shall not be silenced. I dare blame society for shaming an innocent woman who was never given a chance to choose who she shall be, but cannot even dare say a word to their own husbands, wives, daughters and even friends who had countless choices but still opted for their own shameless misdeeds, all the while wearing facades of greatness and immense self-righteousness.

Would I dare blame my father for having fathered a bastard? Perhaps, yes, but then I would not have my feisty sister and he would not have had the chance to pay for his sins which he did in such great a manner. Would I dare blame the woman who gave birth to this bastard? Perhaps, yes, but then she atoned for her sins by giving us our miracle.

But I dare blame myself for if I simply said something against the first of hundreds Ms. Mulligans in my sister's life, our family would have had this preposterous scandal over and done with years ago, because I am certain that my parents and my brother would have braved society as they do now—as we do now.

For all of you, high and mighty Ms. Mulligans who feed on innocent lives, I would like to present to you my one and only sister—Lady Maxine Theobald-Everard, a lady surrounded by people who are as loud and silly as all of you are, but more powerful once scorned.

Silent no more,

Lord Samuel Theobald

Maxine's face was filled with tears as she finished her brother's letter. Soon after, she was bawling in her husband's arms.

"I have to admit, love, that I could not have done better," he said, kissing her temple.

Maxine laughed through her tears.

She did not need another family. She had the ones she wanted.

*****

"Your brother may not stand a chance against us in the middle of a killing field with swords and pistols," Maxwell said later that afternoon, "but I do believe we should all perish should the weapon be a pen."

Maxine scoffed. She looked out the window and there was a remarkably big difference. The constant passersby seemed to have finally found their way home.

"Osegod has sent another letter," Maxwell said behind her.

"Are we going to Devonshire?"

"I am," he said stepping closer behind her. "You stay here where it is safe."

"I wish to go to home to Kenward," she said.

"Not for now. You are safer here. You can stay with Mother if you wish. But if you wish to spare your ears of her great praises for your dear brother Samuel, Wakefield's estate is also very near."

"So is Nicholas'," she said in a teasing voice.

"So long as you do not go out of Wickhurst," Maxwell said and Maxine frowned when she felt something cold around her neck. She looked down and her eyes widened when she saw the ruby necklace.

"You gave me this as payment for my silence," he said, locking the cord behind her neck. "But as your brother has well stipulated, we are silent no more."

Maxine smiled "You Everards never were," she jeered. She turned to wrap her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she said. "What of the emeralds?"

He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. "I shall give the rest when we return to Kenward."

She cupped his face. "I want to go with you, Maxwell."

"No, love. We shall be riding by horseback. You will merely slow us down."

She chuckled. "Always the honest one, are you not?"

He shrugged before he bent down to give her another kiss.

*****

"Tell me why, again, did we not bring Nick?" Maxwell asked Ralph. They stopped at a tavern halfway through their journey to rest for a short while.

Ralph stretched his legs and grunted at the pain. "It is well to have a dandy when you travel for leisure, brother, but not on matters like this."

Maxwell merely scoffed for his younger brother was correct.

Nicholas would be worse than Maxine should they have brought him along.

"What do you guess would Ben say?"

"He does not have to say anything," he said. "We merely have to convince him to reject Osegod's proposition." His attention was drawn by the sounds of galloping hooves from a far distance and he frowned as he slowly saw the rider coming nearer. "Bloody tarnation."

Ralph followed his gaze and his brother jumped away from the rock he was sitting on. "Bloody tarnation indeed."

Maxwell joined Ralph and they both waited with their hands on their hips as Nicholas approached.

"What the bloody hell, Nick—" Ralph started but Nicholas seemed irrevocably different. His face was serious and panicked.

"Max!" he said to Maxwell as he pulled at his horse's reins. The animal's whine echoed down lone road.

Maxwell could not understand why his heart started to hammer against his chest. "What?" he demanded.

Nicholas swallowed. "You have to go back to Wickhurst. It is Maxine. She's—"

Before Nicholas could even finish his sentence, Maxwell was already running for his horse.

"What happened?" Ralph asked as Maxwell jumped on his horse and turned it around to face the road back to Wickhurst.

"Carriage...accident!" was all he managed to hear before he kicked his horse and galloped back to Wickhurst.