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PART 1

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MAY 1812

If one should question, one should seek an answer.

This author has always been curious about one institution, one that has survived for decades with no help from the outside. How they do so is never the question, for women are as capable as men.

How they run the Kingdom of Sutherland from inside their walls, however, is a question that begs an answer.

Rumors, they will say, for there is no evidence that Belcourt runs Sutherland. How can they when we have the king?

But this author knows people.

And every truth starts with a question.

What is Belcourt?

Or should I say—Who is Belcourt?

"What do you think, child?" Ellise asked, folding the copy of the Sutherland Post. She rolled her head to the side when the little human beside her merely garbled sounds in response.

The child's auburn hair was an utter mess, the small ribbon that was once clipped on top of her head was now dangling at the ends of the strands. Her hazel eyes were glimmering with amused curiosity as she held herself up on all fours on the floor.

Ellise blinked at her niece, wondering what the little creature was thinking.

"What are you doing on the floor?" the voice asked from somewhere above her. She rolled on her back and found Robert Dior, Marquess of Chester, looking down on her.

"Playing," she replied, rolling on her knees. The swift motion caused her niece to squeal, and she frowned.

"Is she laughing?" Dior asked, coming down on his feet to peer down at the child.

"She must be. Her mouth is stretched to a smile," she replied, handing the paper to him. "Did you see the post?"

He took the paper and rolled it with his hands. "Yes," he replied, extending the rolled paper toward Alannah. The child reached for it and with her stout fingers, grabbed the end. Dior then slowly stood, carefully raising the rolled paper to guide the little girl to her feet. "Can she walk?" he asked.

"If she does, she has been fooling me," Ellise replied, rising to her feet. "She does nothing but crawl." Then she paused, frowning as the girl stood.

Alannah fell back on the floor, rolling to her side with another squeal.

"Is she crying?" Dior asked, peering down at the child.

"I see no tears. She must be faking it," Ellise said, checking if her niece was hurt. "That is how she manipulates my brother."

Her niece rolled back on fours and crawled toward Dior. He walked to the nearest settee and settled down. Looking around her small office, he said, "Are you not moving into Blackwood's villa?"

"No. I found the proximity of my bedchamber here far less taxing," she replied, walking to sit in the opposite chair, the one near the window. She crossed her leg over the other and stared at him.

It would not be fair to many handsome men to claim that Robert Dior was more gorgeous. He was not. His dark hair and dark eyes were more menacing than dashing. His tall and muscular built more intimidating than erotically attractive.

But she was comfortable around him.

They may be rivals in the eyes of those who grew up with them, always opponents in many games such as archery and fencing, but they were not. They both enjoyed challenging each other. They learned that losing to each other was just another opportunity to learn more techniques.

And they were both comfortable being alone together.

Not much could be said to many men and women.

Alannah had crawled her way to Dior and was now extending her arms up to him, begging to be picked up. She watched him study the child and reluctantly patted the girl's head. Giving up, Alannah squealed and crawled back to her toys.

"Why is she here in Sinclair?" Dior asked.

"Her nurse has the day off. Her mother is meeting her sister downtown." Then she motioned her head to the door. "My brother is cutting someone's limb off somewhere."

He crossed his leg over the other, rested his chin on the back of his hand, then turned to her. "More French are reported to be on their way to Sutherland."

"Soldiers?"

"No, nationals." He unrolled the paper and placed it on the table beside him. "We cannot focus on Belcourt alone."

"We should if Belcourt is behind Sutherland's sudden friendliness to the French," she retorted, eyes on Alannah. The girl just bumped her head on the table. Seeing no blood and tears, she veered her head back to Dior. "I know my priorities, Dior."

"I am not saying you do not." They both turned when a loud bang came from Alannah's direction. Ellise sighed and jumped to her feet when her niece started wailing. "Sometimes I think she's blind," she murmured, picking up Alannah. Then to her niece, she sternly said, "You saw there was a chair. It does not move, but you do. Do you understand? You move away from the chair because it cannot."

The little girl merely cried harder.

"I think she is hungry."

"She just ate."

"Then she must be—"

"She is crying because she cannot express herself. She must want her mother."

Alannah buried her face into her chest, then rubbed against it, her crying ebbing away.

Walking back to her chair, Ellise sat down with her niece sprawled over her.

"She is falling asleep," said Dior.

She bent her neck, chin touching her chest to peer down at her niece. "Are you certain? She is not biting my shirt?"

He peered. "No, she is sucking on her thumb."

"Get me some pillows."

He stood and walked to the connecting door that led to her bedchamber. Soon, he emerged with two pillows, which he threw on the carpet in the middle of the room.

"You should wait until she is completely asleep."

"I can barely breathe, Dior," she gritted out. "She is a big child."

"Then do it slowly."

She did, but it caused Alannah to startle and whine. With a silent growl, Ellise fell back into her seat. Dior did the same. They waited until she thought the child was deep in slumber.

When she finally lay the girl on the carpet against the pillows, she returned to her seat and looked at Dior. "Do you have nowhere else to go?"

"No," he said.

"Your mistress?"

"She left me."

She frowned. "Why? Did you hurt her?"

"No."

"Then why would she leave you?"

"She has found someone else, apparently."

"Then you should find someone else. Or are you mourning her loss?"

"No, I do not. Why are you concerned?"

"Men who lack sexual gratification can be hard to deal with."

"And you do not?"

"Do not need sexual gratification?"

He nodded. She scoffed. Sometimes he could be quite innocent, really. "I do not believe I need someone to give me one."

"As do I," he retorted. "I can pleasure myself if I need to."

"As do I."

"You have not been going around balls this season," said Dior. "Your mother must be disappointed."

"I see no point."

His eyes went to the Sutherland Post. "What do you want me to tell her next?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Tell her about the Belles."

***

The High Priestess was playing with her doll inside the underground chamber when Arielle walked inside, guided by an Elected. Clad in her purple cloak, the Maiden curtsied low in front of the High Priestess.

Leila looked up from her doll and asked, "What did you find?"

Arielle looked up, her light blue eyes meeting Leila's slightly lighter globes. "The Sutherland Post and The Grimes are both owned by one entity. Her name is Sheridan Garmont."

"A woman," Leila said with interest.

"She is the niece of the man we killed during the attack in Everleigh."

"The one you thought to be Leo."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"What else did you discover, Arielle?" she asked, smiling gently at the Maiden.

"She has been meeting with Robert Dior."

"Then this man must be a Royal?"

"He might be." Anger flashed across the Maiden's eyes. "Now that West Blackwood is away, it is highly likely that he left Dior as the Royal Master."

"And what does your friend Tanner say?"

"He says that not every Royal knows their fellow members. He is only familiar with the ones he has been introduced to."

"Why do I not believe that?"

"He has been truthful to me thus far. He gave us Everleigh. And he is spying on Esther for us. He may no longer be a Royal, but he will do anything for me."

Leila looked down at her doll, smoothed its balding head and nodded. "Speaking of your half-sister, how is she?"

A smile curled on Arielle's lips. "She still believes she has eyes inside Belcourt through Tanner. And she is still looking for Jade."

"Jade can never leave Belcourt."

"I understand, Your Highness."

"Make her the new Mistress of the Court of Flowers."

Arielle blinked, confusion in her eyes. "But we cannot fully trust—"

"She will do," said Leila. "She hates Esther. She will do anything to get her revenge. But she cannot step outside."

Arielle looked doubtful, but she nodded anyway. "Of course, Your Highness. It shall be done."

"Are the Belles faring well?"

"They are where we want them to be, Your Highness."

"Good!" she said, smile growing wide.

"What should we do about Sheridan Garmont? Her articles are raising curiosity."

"Watch her for now," said Leila, rising to her feet.

"It is a challenge as it is, Your Highness. She is heavily guarded. She jumps from one estate to another. We suspect she has quite a few around Sutherland, most of them we are unaware of."

Leila frowned, taking her doll to the dollhouse. She tucked it in bed and turned to face Arielle. From the corner of her eye, she saw her Elected, Venus, watching them closely.

"Then we must watch the person who feeds her the information."

"It might not be Robert Dior."

"Arielle, we know it is Robert Dior."

"We have Soldiers watching him."

Leila shook her head. "If he is the Royal Master, he will know we are watching. We have to do better."

"Better?"

"Yes. Fret not, I will take care of it." Seeing the confusion in the Maiden's eyes, Leila giggled.

"How?" asked Arielle.

Leila turned to where Venus was silently standing, observing. The girl had been more than a friend to her. They grew up together. They were sisters. If there was anyone who could replace her as High Priestess, it was she.

Venus read what was on her mind and nodded.

Leila smiled at Arielle. "I have a plan."