Surprising her from behind might not have been the best idea for the moment she whirled around and faced him, Maxwell felt as though he was the one attacked.

Her pale grey eyes were wide with horror, but the rest of her face was nearly stunningly astounding.

Whoever this bloody woman was, she was beautiful, Maxwell thought in his mind. Why would he lie to himself when the fact was laid bare in front of him? He was not one to deny a fact when it was presented before his own senses.

His brow twitched. A reaction he failed to control.

She was no longer the valet with her hair tightly tied behind her nape. She had let it down and it was brushing over her shoulders.

Here, in the Macy ball, she was naught but what she truly was: a woman.

Just as Maxwell was reorganizing his thoughts, taking all pieces back together, she turned and quickly sauntered away from him.

That would not do, of course, for he had many things to discuss with her and his patience was running empty.

With merely three steps, he managed to catch her hand and pull her back.

"Let me go—"

"Care to dance?" he nearly growled as he dragged her to the dance floor, surprising a couple who was just about to make a turn as the waltz continued. He pulled her toward him and heard her gasp of surprise. "If you could dress as anyone you wish, I assume you also know how to dance."

She tried to pull her hand free but Maxwell would have none of it. He tightened his hold, wounding his other arm around her waist and twirled with the other dancers. Her feet stumbled but he caught her, pressing her against his length.

He bent his head. "You are doing quite well, my dear," he whispered beside her ear. She tried to pull away from him once more but he persisted. "Dance or you shall find yourself on the front page of the Herald on the morrow."

She turned away from him but he saw the light of anger in her eyes.

"Now you pretend to be a gentry and I hate to believe you did this as a pathetic excuse to experience a ball."

"You very well know why I am in Willowfair," she hissed. He forced her to turn and her feet stumbled once again.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Someone you do not know."

From the corner of his eye he could see a few guests staring at their direction. Maxwell Everard had never danced with any lady not his family in as big a ball as Macy's, after all.

"That is why I am asking, woman. I do not know you. Who are you?"

She turned her head and pale grey globes met his emerald green ones.

"A woman searching for her mother."

His brow arched with suspicion. "And she is here?"

"Yes."

He let the silence linger for a while as he continued to dance with her. They must leave the dance floor soon for they were drawing more attention.

"If that is your only motive, then why have you been specifically hiding from Ysabella?"

She stiffened in his arms. A corner of his lips quirked in response.

"I wonder why? Would you wish me to fetch her? Surely she would love to meet you?"

Her eyes rapidly blinked as she thought of a reply. Maxwell waited until she said, "Your sister unnerves me in a way."

"A lie."

"The reason why she does unnerve me is an entirely different matter." Before he could ask for her to elaborate her statement, she added, "As I have said, my lord, I shall disappear from your lives without a trace the very moment I am done with my quest, so please, if you can keep this secret for a while, I shall forever be grateful."

Maxwell sighed. From the corner of the ballroom he could see Margaret curiously staring at him. He stopped but did not let go of the woman. "Come with me and dare not run away."

He turned and dragged her away from the dance floor.

Guests followed them with eyes filled with curiosity. He did not bloody care.

He brushed aside a young man who was blocking the doorway.

"Careful!" shouted the man but Maxwell ignored him, intent on dragging his brother's valet out of the ballroom into an empty corridor.

"People saw us walking out of the ballroom. They must think—"

"You would be a man by the morrow. Believe me, there is no reason to fret," he snapped at her, turning into another dark corridor until they reached the last door to the right. He pushed it open and surprised two footmen having a conversation inside. "Out," he ordered and the two men jumped to their feet to rush out the door.

The woman tried to run with the footmen but Maxwell grabbed her and slammed the door, the sound echoing around the empty and dimly lit library.

"Ah, how convenient," Maxwell said as he turned the lock. He saw her flinch and he finally let go of her hand.

As he expected, she tried to attack him but he stepped aside and caught her hands.

"Would you wish to be revealed for who you truly are in front of the ton, or would you rather behave and answer my questions?"

Her pale grey eyes glinted with silent fury but she stopped fighting him and relaxed in his hands.

Satisfied, Maxwell let her go. She jumped away from him, eyes alight with murder. "Now," he began, leaning against the door just in case she decided to risk her life and be an utter fool by escaping. "Who is your mother?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

"Because I bloody want answers, woman," he gritted through his teeth. "Answer my question."

She looked around the room. "I must go before I am found out."

"That shall indeed be the case should you continue to refuse answering my question." He narrowed his eyes. "I do not appreciate getting merely bits and pieces from you. Now, answer me. Who is your mother?"

"We cannot stay here. Your family shall—"

"What makes you believe I will not tell Nicholas or my family? You have to stay here and tell me who your mother is or I go and fetch everyone as I drag you across the ballroom."

She stormed toward him and if it was not for the door behind him, Maxwell would have stepped back for the fury in her eyes were enough to make even a Town Guard feel a tinge of fear. "I paid you for your silence," she hissed.

Maxwell shook his head. "That bloody necklace is not worth anything to me." Again, there was the hurt in her eyes. Maxwell ignored it. "Tell me now."

"Amelia Trilby."

Shock was not enough a word to describe Maxwell's reaction. But he was not like many. He had always managed surprises quite well without acting like a child as Nicholas or Ralph would. He had always relied on his calmness, but tonight it seemed as though he was too bloody calm for too bloody long after he heard the name from the woman's lips. The time seemed to have stretched on as he recovered.

His astonishment slowly dissolved into confusion when her eyes wavered and she uttered, "But I am not certain. It is merely a guess."

He scoffed, feeling suddenly incredulous. His hands came to brush his hair away from his face. "And you risked everything because of a bloody guess?"

Her face tightened and although he could not see clearly, Maxwell knew her face had turned scarlet.

"I have avoided risks all my life, my lord," she slowly uttered. "I avoided them all for this very moment." He saw the trace of tears brimming in her eyes and he frowned. Was she about to cry? "Please, I beg you," her voice crackled and she paused, collecting herself before she continued, saying, "let me do what I came here to do and I shall be out of your life."

She had said it too many times yet Maxwell could not entirely believe her. Who would believe someone who had been a lie from the start? "Why would I? You claim to be a Trilby. The Trilbys, if you must know, do not have a clean name on my list."

"I barely know her."

He cocked his brows higher with a mocking chuckle. "Yet you believe she is your mother. Do you even know her? She is Amelia Trilby, probably the Town's richest and influential bachelorette."

"And she could not have a child?"

"I am merely saying, woman, that mayhap you have been living in a fantasy that you could be gentry." He scoffed when she stepped away, horrified by his words. "Why? Am I not correct? Do you fancy yourself in a much better gown than you are wearing now? A good pair of sandals other than those filthy boots perhaps? Do you dream of living your life in balls such as this one? Do you desire a carriage of your own? An estate of your own? Or mayhap you wish to gain attention and be known? Tell me, am I correct or not? Are you too bloody naïve as to think that it would be easy?" He shook his head. "Amelia Trilby giving you wealth and comfort? Now that will be more bloody scandalous!"

She had stiffened as he talked and her face blanched that he nearly regretted his words. Her jaw twitched as she said, "I am a bastard, my lord, and I am fully aware of the fact. The things you claim I aspire are the same things I always knew I could never enjoy. For someone who is too observant, you have been wrong more than you have been correct." She lifted her chin haughtily and added, "Now, if you may please remove yourself, I would like to escort myself out of this rather dire atmosphere."

Much to his surprise, Maxwell did move away from the door. She was trying to act proud and brave, yet he knew he had done enough damage for tonight. She was a woman still, after all.

And that is what makes this bloody difficult. She is a woman, his mind whispered.

She stiffly pulled the door open and walked out.

Maxwell intended to follow her but yet another surprise was waiting for him in the middle of the corridor.

The female valet was facing a man Maxwell had been avoiding the entire evening.

The woman curtsied and quickly disappeared, making her way back to the ballroom.

The dark-haired man turned to Maxwell, his handsome face all-knowing as he smiled. "I never expected my little adventure along the corridor would lead me to an interesting find, Lord Kenward."

Maxwell gave Osegod an empty smile in return. "I wish that you forget about my tryst with the young maiden, Lord Ranford."

Osegod chuckled. "By the by, how is your brother, Benedict?"

Maxwell started to walk away. "He is doing fine," he replied over his shoulder. "Pleasant evening, my lord."

Osegod nodded. "I hope to enjoy your company at a longer time soon, Kenward."

Maxwell merely gave a short wave of his hand. He turned to the left, intending to go back to the ballroom and find the woman again.

He found her standing outside, her face uncertain.

Another surprise.

He walked up to her. Perhaps he had been making too many advances toward her, attacking her at every turn that she did not even bother to escape him this time.

She had managed to collect herself at such a short time, a difficult feat for a normal individual. Even his sisters found it hard to recover from his angry tirades in the past, yet this woman could easily do it.

He stood beside her and followed her gaze. She was looking directly at Amelia Trilby who was completely ignorant that she was being watched. The black-haired woman may be as old as their mother, but her beauty still outshined most young maidens in the ballroom. A flock of men both young and old, some even older, surrounded her. It was like watching a goddess in red, flowing gown, seeping every drop of blood of those besotted fools.

And just as when Maxwell thought that Amelia Trilby was ignorant of the attention she was getting from the woman outside the ballroom, her head turned and she saw them. Maxwell's gaze travelled from Amelia to the woman beside him.

A long moment passed as the two women simply stood watching each other from across the ballroom. But when his companion started to move, Maxwell stopped her.

She stiffened when his hand circled her bare arm. "It is not the perfect time to cause a scandal."

Her jaw tightened.

"If you truly wish to confront her, do so in a place where she will have less reason to throw you out."

The look of longing in her eyes was too strong for him not to notice when she looked away from the woman she claimed to be her mother and tilted her head up to stare at him. With the longing he saw the resignation.

"It is time you leave," he whispered, pulling her away from the doorway and the ballroom.

*****

Maxine could not believe she had let herself be led outside the Macy estate without as much as a fight.

And she could not believe that she had let Maxwell Everard guide her inside the carriage. She barely cared that the driver might have recognized her.

As a matter of fact, she could barely feel anything.

Her mind was still reeling at the memory of Amelia Trilby's gaze. It was as though the woman had recognized her. And she recognized him.

Or was she wrong?

Or mayhap she was correct. Could it truly be that a mother would recognize her child beyond reason? Beyond fact?

"Who are you?"

Maxwell's question snapped her back to her current predicament: him.

"You know my name, my lord," she said with a sigh.

"Your name, valet."

Her eyes flickered with annoyance. "My time as a princess must have already expired. I am now back to being a valet," she uttered with derision. He obviously did not like her attempt to humor for his frown merely deepened. Maxine sighed, not quite surprised that she was finding Maxwell Everard less unnerving by the day. Meeting his gaze, she said, "Simply Maxine, my lord." Her lips quirked when she saw his doubtful look. "I have told you I am called Max. I was not lying."

"Your father's name?"

"Everything about my family is not significant to your cause, believe me."

"You refuse to tell me your father's name because he is not aware you are here."

She scoffed and looked out the window.

*****

Maxwell frowned at Maxine. He could threaten her to tell him everything, but this woman would simply disappear at the risk of being found out. If that were to happen, he would lose his chance of finding out more about her, of whether or not she was telling the truth or not.

But the more he found out about her, the more he was being disappointed. She could be telling the truth and it would merely prove that he had been fretting over nothing!

He watched as she sat across from him in the carriage. Her hands were folded over her lap, her shoulders square, her back erect.

"You are no servant for you do not speak like one. Your tone is that of a gentry."

He saw her lips twitch into a smile. Was she mocking him?

If he was correct and if she was a gentry, then her presence as his brother's valet would not do the family any good. And if she was indeed a Trilby, then he ought to kick her out at this very moment.

Maxwell's thoughts paused as an insane idea came to him.

If she was Amelia Trilby's daughter, then she could be useful.

If she was truly a Trilby, this Maxine woman could be of good use.