Ellise jumped down from the carriage in her shirt, buckskins, and boots. Her coat flew behind her as she rushed to the stairs and through the doorway of the villa. Her hair, tied tightly high above her head, swung its tail as she navigated down the corridor that led to the office.

West Blackwood left the villa for the Royal Circus to use in whatever way they saw fit. By far, they had been using it for naught but short meetings.

"I do not have much time. I am already late for the family dinner. My mother will wonder where I've been," she announced to the two men sitting inside.

"Blackwood sent a missive," said Dior. "They are on their way back."

"With Reginald, I suppose?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Good. They will be here in two months. I will only have to look after you children for that long."

"You are still Darcy," Tanner Macmier pointed out.

"And I will not be needed until I am needed once the Royal Master is here." She turned to Dior. "I heard Napoleon is planning to enter Russia. How true is that?"

"Quite," replied Dior. "Sutherland soldiers are being withdrawn from the side of Britain."

"Sutherland is joining the French in Russia," supplied Tanner. "Esther is not happy about it."

"If she can kill her father next to stop it, please extend my gratitude," Ellise wryly said, dragging a chair to a window.

"It is not the king who wants to side with the French," Tanner argued. "It is the Prime Minister. For some reason, the king trusts him."

"He has always been a puppet from the moment they overthrew Reginald. The puppeteers are the true king of this kingdom," Ellise replied with a scoff. "What do we know about Magnus Westwell?"

"He does not hide the fact that he sides with the French. He had been working closely with Albert before the prince died, making us suspect they have been planning something. The former Mistress of the Court of Flower before Sasha was his lover," said Dior.

"And Belcourt killed Mariam when they found out. I wonder why."

"To threaten the Prime Minister, of course," said Ellise. "To show him what they can do to him if he betrays them. Magnus Westwell was Mariam's flower when she was a Belle, and they kept their affair even after she became Mistress. She must have gathered enough of his secrets, and now, Belcourt controls the Prime Minister."

"What do you want us to do?" Tanner asked, raising his brows.

"Pay the Prime Minister more attention." When the man nodded and said nothing else, she dryly added, "You can go now."

Tanner sighed and jumped to his feet. He looked at Dior and then Ellise, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then thought better of it and gave a curt nod before leaving the room.

Dior's eyes followed the man out the door.

"You still do not trust him," she said.

"Yes, I do not," he replied, turning to meet her gaze. "My mother believes I should find a wife."

Ellise frowned. "You can barely keep a lover. How can you keep a wife?"

"The law will bind her to me. I will surely be able to keep her."

"Why does the duchess insist on it now?"

"Because she does not like that I am being followed."

"By Belcourt, you mean."

"Yes."

"Then why would she risk another life by getting you shackled?"

"Trent and Caroline's marriage has brought them a good amount of convenience. For one, they are not being spied on."

"That is because they were never suspected in the first place."

"I told her the same thing, obviously."

"And what does your father have to say?"

"He agrees with her."

Her face crumpled. "You, married."

"Siring an heir," he added.

"I am certain you will enjoy the act if you find a good wife, but yes, I do agree you will find it a challenge to rear one."

"Who says I will have to rear it?"

"And you expect your wife to do it all by herself?"

"Yes, because that is what wives—" he stopped, seeing her reaction. "I yield. I see your point."

"Good. Who is this woman your mother wants you to marry?"

"She does have one in mind. You."

Ellise blinked at him. "I can see why she would want me as her daughter-in-law, but I cannot see why she would want me as your wife."

"I told her the same thing."

"I am not even titled."

"So was she before she married my father."

"You have a problem, but it is not the most alarming. Set it aside for now. I am certain your mother can wait."

"I plan to set it aside." She stood, and he added, "I will go fencing on the morrow. Would you like to join?"

"I will have to see."

He nodded, and she walked to the door.

"How do you do it?" he asked behind her.

"Fencing?"

"No, pleasuring yourself," he said.

Ellise turned to study him. He looked incredibly curious, and she frowned. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Curious."

"Then stay curious. I refuse to divulge intimate matters, even to you." She scoffed and shook her head. "You need a lover more than you need a wife. Go find one fast. But it cannot be Sheridan Garmont. We cannot lose her."

He sighed and joined her to the door. "I am fine pleasuring myself thus far."

*****

Oliver St. Vincent regarded his sister with a curious look. "Have you been feeding off my corpses in Sinclair?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and looked around the table. Her sister-in-law, Aliya, and her mother, were wearing similar curious gazes. Her father, on the other hand, was bent on his food without care.

Everyone, save for her father and brother, knew the real reason she was staying in Sinclair. For her mother and Aliya, they thought she was studying to become a doctor.

"You look a little pale, Ellise," said Natalia St. Vincent, light green eyes narrowed in disapproval. "The social season has started and you are yet to grace a ball with your presence."

"And you should be looking for a match this season instead of studying corpses in Sinclair," added her brother. Behind his beard, she knew he was wearing a sneer. He never approved of her being Darcy.

"I do not need to find one this season," she said. "Is that right, father?"

The large man at the head of the table looked up from his food and grinned at her, hazel eyes glimmering with adoration. "You can do whatever you want, my dear," he said, slanting his eyes to his wife. "But you should also listen to your mother, of course."

The young boy sitting beside her mother was looking at her with a smile. "What is it, boy?" she asked Mason.

The five-year-old child continued to smile at her, blue eyes glimmering the same way her father's did.

"How do you study corpses?"

"I cut them, of course," she replied.

Aliya nearly choked on her food and coughed. "Let us not talk about—"

"How?"

"I saw them off. But sometimes a knife works," she replied.

Mason grimaced. "That sounds awful."

"Smells awful too," she added and stopped when her mother threw her a look. Looking back at Mason, she frowned. "What happened to your hair?"

The boy touched his shorter blond locks. "Natty," he replied, pointing at Natalia St. Vincent.

Her mother pursed her lips. "He needed a haircut."

"Do not let her control your hair, boy," Oliver said to Mason.

"You let Aliya cut your beard," countered Mason.

"You only let someone you are afraid of cut any hair on your body," Oliver countered.

"Ollie," said Aliya, eyes narrowed. "Mason is not afraid of Natalia."

"Not afraid enough to call her Natty," droned Ellise.

She was satisfied that Mason was in their care. The child's mother, Aliya's former maid when she was still a Belle, was trapped inside Belcourt. To this day, he was still waiting for his mother to return. While doing so, he was a good distraction for Natalia St. Vincent.

And he was doing so satisfactorily. Her mother was once more distracted by Mason, now asking the child how his lessons went, allowing Ellise to finish her food in peace.

Later, after the family dinner, Ellise sat in the playroom with Aliya. Mason was playing with Alannah on the floor, letting the little girl tug at his hair.

It took Ellise merely fifteen minutes to get bored, and she sighed, looking at her sister-in-law. "You never told me why you married Oliver."

"I love him," said Aliya, her beautiful face becoming more radiant as she said the words.

"You are telling me why you are still married to him," Ellise pointed out. "Surely you did not marry him because you loved him then."

Aliya chuckled. "There were other matters that were beneficial to me when he proposed."

"Such ask?"

"He was willing to help me. I needed help. I had to admit that I needed one, even from a man." Then she leaned closer and whispered, "And of course, the intimacy is another matter."

"You mean he satisfies you in that regard?"

Aliya bit her lips and nodded. "More than I can ask for. But you did not hear that from me." Her sister-in-law studied her with a curious look in her light brown eyes. "Why do I have a feeling that you are interested in marriage?"

"Marriage has always been interesting," she said. "It is a different kind of war on its own."

Aliya laughed. "I cannot say I do not agree. Every day is a different battle."

"Two people who want to kill each other one moment, then kill for them the next. It is interesting."

"You will understand it once you experience it."

"Caroline said the same thing."

Aliya smiled. "Do you have someone in mind? One you have quite taken a fancy to?"

Ellise blinked. "Not that I can tell." She paused and they watched the children play on the floor. "How do you tell you fancy someone?"

"You pay particular attention to them, of course," said Aliya. "When you realize they changed the standard you have set."

"I have no standard in particular," she said with a frown.

"Then mayhap he will become one." Aliya faced her. "Does someone come to mind? A face?"

There was, but Ellise would never reveal that. "None," she lied, jumping to her feet. "I should leave and study dead bodies. Enjoy the little humans."

That evening, alone in her chambers in Sinclair, Ellise faced her open closet. She drew the clothes aside and studied the messy map of names and plans.

*****

Surprisingly, and Ellise would never admit this to anyone, being Darcy was not at all as chaotic and grueling as she first believed. Everyone else did as she ordered, leaving her with nothing else to do but think and wait.

That morning proved to be the same. Her brother was not in Sinclair which interpreted to his wife having someone to look after their daughter should she find the need to go out.

If she were in Herst, she would be out in the woods hunting or out in the sea to swim. But she was not. She was trapped in Coulway until the Royal Master returned with Reginald.

Remembering Dior's invitation, she went to his villa only to be informed that he went to Brierwell, the estate of the Duke of Remington. She ordered her carriage to take her there and sure enough, she found Dior with another Royal, Trent Durham and his wife, Caroline.

"Why are you here?" she asked Caroline.

The Countess of Chalbarth laughed. "Should I not be asking you the question?"

"Is the fencing match happening here?" she asked instead, dropping on the chaise in the parlor. "Where are they?"

"No fencing today, I'm afraid," said Caroline. "Trent is with Robert in the library."

"Mission?" she asked.

"Most probably," her friend said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "How is your Season?"

"Good. Are you here in Brierwell because of it?"

"Yes, of course. Finally glad to be leaving Battenwell."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Battenwell is a very nice place, but it can get lonely. I do not have much friends there."

"But Battenwell has good woods for hunting. You can always go hunting, Caroline."

Caroline rolled her eyes. Then she fixed her forest green eyes on Ellise. "Are you here because Robert is?"

"He invited me to a fencing match yesterday." She looked out the window. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

"Is something bothering you?" asked Caroline, perceptive as always.

"No," she lied. "Maybe."

"Is your mother forcing you to find a match again?"

She would love to tell the woman she was bothered about the lack of outcomes in the current Royal missions. She wanted to ask if it would be humanly possible to kill a member of the royal family—or even a prime minister. And she was also wondering if she could change a few things as Darcy without the approval of the Royal Master.

But her friend was not the best person to discuss this with. She could not. And so she just sighed.

"You should just marry Robert."

She blinked, taken aback. "You are not the first person to suggest that. Interesting."

Caroline looked surprised. "I am not?"

"His mother suggested he should marry me," she said with a shrug. "I know her reasons. Yours, however, is a mystery. Why do you suggest it?"

"The two of you seem to be the only people who can tolerate each other."

"You are saying you cannot tolerate me."

"No!" Caroline cried out with a chuckle. "I mean as a man and a woman."

"My brother, who happens to be a man, can tolerate me. So does my father."

"I am not talking about that—" her friend paused in frustration. "Never mind. Perhaps my suggestion is absurd."

"Not entirely," she said with a shrug. "Dior is a good candidate. Should I have a list, he would be the only name I would consider."

Caroline's eyes widened. "Then do it!"

"Do what?"

"Marry him."

She blinked. "Do you like being married?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"What about it do you like?"

"The intimate relationship," Caroline shamelessly said with a naughty smile.

Ellise nodded. "What else?"

"I have someone I can talk to, knowing he will never divulge everything to anyone. I have someone to do my bidding," her friend said with a laugh. "And someone to grow old with."

"A friend."

"Yes, that as well."

"No, I mean you are talking about a friend."

Caroline blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You can do all those things with a friend. Including the intimate activities if you both wish."

Carline gaped at her. "Ellise, marriage is—"

"A relationship, yes?"

"Yes."

"So is friendship."

Her friend's face was now flushed as she struggled to explain. "Yes, but—"

"I am jesting," she said, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Do not look so flustered."

Caroline laughed. "Oh, Good." Then she added, "I missed you."

Ellise crossed her arms over her chest. "We should go riding."

Caroline sighed and jumped to her feet. "Perhaps we should. I have not yet visited the cabin."

"You mean where your dead daughter is?"

Caroline's shoulders shook with laughter. "Yes, where my dead angel is."

"We should get flowers along the way, then."

*****

Robert looked over at Trent and his wife, catching the two as they shared a glance. Sitting across from him was Ellise, quietly eating. There was no one else around save for the four of them. Caroline's younger sister was on a vacation with Trent's mother and brother in Birth. The Duke of Remington had gone to Strait with the duchess to meet with friends, among them Robert's parents. It only meant a Royal Circus meeting.

The mission their parents had to deal with were more delicate, deeper into the politics. Now that the Season had begun, they needed to get more help from both the House of Lords and House of Commons.

"Is our decision to stay a bit of a bother?" he asked when Trent and Caroline shared another look.

Trent turned to him with a dubious look on his face. Ellise had looked up, staring straight at the man. "Are we a bother?" she asked, equally curious as he.

"No, of course not," Trent replied incredulously, his eyes darting to his wife where a silent message was surely being passed.

"Then why do I feel as though we are interrupting something?" he asked.

"Are we?" asked Ellise, looking at Caroline innocently.

"No!" Caroline said. "Whyever would the two of you think you are bothering us? You are very much welcome in Brierwell."

Ellise looked at him. "Did you do something?"

"No."

"Said something?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"There is no one bothering anyone," said Trent, flustered.

"Then we can stay?" Ellise asked.

"Of course!"

Robert frowned. "Then why do you keep looking at each other?"

"Because we—" Trent paused, then sighed. "We have been planning to stay the night in the cabin."

Ellise turned to Caroline with a frown. "The cabin where—"

"My dead angel lies, yes," said Caroline. "And we were about to tell you," she added to Robert.

"You mean you meant to announce that you shall leave us here in the manor," he said.

"Yes."

"Is there a problem with us being alone in the manor?"

"No," said husband and wife. "Yes," Trent ultimately said. "We cannot leave our guests—"

"We can stay in the cabin some other day," said Caroline.

"You should go on with your plans," said Ellise, spooning her soup.

"Ellise and I can manage ourselves," Robert said.

"Yes, that's perfect, but it would be rude—"

Ellise scoffed. "Are you both thinking Robert and I may engage in something that is not friendly?"

Caroline's eyes widened. "N-no, of course not."

Robert frowned at her. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"They must be thinking we are going to continue the fencing match," she said.

Trent snorted. "No—I mean, yes, we were afraid you would do so." He shared another look with his wife and the two of them bit their lips to suppress their laughter. Truthfully, he could not find the source of their humor.

"But it was clear Robert won earlier," said Ellise.

"Yes, I did."

Caroline opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. "Very well," she said instead. "Trent and I shall go to the cabin tonight as planned."

"We are?"

"Yes."

Trent glanced at Robert. "What?" he asked when the man did not say anything.

"Nothing," his friend replied, shaking his head.

*****

"They must be thinking I am a sore loser," said Ellise later that night. They were alone in the drawing room holding a glass of bourbon. Trent and Caroline had gone to the cabin not an hour ago with no sign of the hesitation they displayed at dinner earlier.

"Considering you were a little tired earlier after your ride with Caroline, it was understandable."

"Stop patronizing me," she ordered, her hazel eyes looking straight at him.

"What are you thinking now?" he asked.

"Belcourt."

"What of Belcourt?"

"It is too quiet."

"Something must be going on."

"Yes."

"And I am also thinking about the Prime Minister."

"And what he is planning."

"With the French."

She let out a sigh. "But most often I have nothing and it is odd. I barely have ideas coming to me nowadays."

"Because we hit a plateau," he reasoned. "Everyone is waiting for something to happen."

"Which we cannot do. We have to prepare Sutherland for Reginald's return."

"And we are doing that."

"Quite slowly," she murmured as she sipped from her glass and swallowed. "I am also thinking about you."

He blinked in surprise. "Me?"

She nodded. "And your lack of a lover."

He rolled his eyes. "You are more obsessed with my lack of sexual relations than I am, Elle."

She looked regal sitting in the winged chair, a candle burning not far away, washing half of her slender form in a yellow glow. Still in her buckskin and white dress shirt, looking utterly woman, Robert swore she could slay anything that may barge through the door in a glance. There was not a sign of vulnerability where Ellise St. Vincent was concerned. Sometimes, he envied her for it.

"Clearly, there is something between us that we cannot see. Your mother and Caroline both have the same idea that we should marry."

"You mean you wish to marry me?" he asked, frowning, trying to imagine her as a wife. He could not.

"No, of course not. Since you do not have a lover, and since I have learned from both my sister-in-law and Caroline that sexual activities can help one have a better disposition, both mentally and emotionally, I suggest we reap the benefits of one and become lovers."

Robert slowly took her proposition as calmly as he could, although his groin had an instant reaction. He carefully lifted his hand and sipped from his glass, swallowed, and let the burning sensation travel down his throat, through his throbbing heart, and further down.

"I am trying to form a very good argument, but I cannot, if I should be honest," he pointed out.

"We have kissed before and we both liked it."

"You were thirteen and I was fifteen when we kissed, Elle."

"As experiment and we both found that we liked it."

"I agree, but what you are suggesting now requires more than that."

She shrugged. "Are you saying no?"

"If I am, will you find someone else?"

"I might, yes." Her eyes locked with his. "Or I may settle with what I know."

He shifted in his seat. "You mean settle with pleasuring yourself."

"On my own, yes," she said. "And the pillow."

He blinked twice, then more. He took another swallow. "A pillow."

"And sometimes the edge of the bed," she said, a small smile curling her lips.

His eyes narrowed. "You are provoking."

She scoffed. "You are a man after all. And you are curious how I do it." Her eyes traveled down to his hand holding the glass. "Which is understandable. You only have one tool to satisfy yourself when alone, after all," she said with pity.

"For the sake of argument, I am inclined to defend the male species. We have another tool we use when we pleasure ourselves."

"You mean your mind," she said. "Of course, you have to use it to imagine someone's bosom."

"Not everyone imagines bosoms."

"Of course. Sometimes you also imagine parts lower."

He shrugged. "Other times we imagine sounds."

"You do?"

"Whispers, sighs, grunts..." he said with a lift of his shoulder.

"Now you are taunting."

He smiled. "Sometimes I think about you."

Her brow cocked high. "How?"

"Nothing in particular. Just you saying something witty."

"You desire my mind?"

"In an odd way, I do."

"Who else do you desire in—"

"Not many."

"Someone I know?"

"My previous lover."

"Then among the people in our circle, you desire me?"

"Not as often as you think. And not in the way—"

"But still enough to make you do what you do in private," she pointed out.

He could just lie, Robert thought. But what was the use? "Yes."

"Then there goes your argument. You can be my lover."

He blinked away and looked out the window. It was dark outside and he could see nothing but their reflection. She was still looking at him, waiting. "Yes."

"Yes, you are in agreement?"

"Yes, we can try."

"You cannot tell your family, most especially your mother."

"I would not dream of it," he said with amusement. "If you do not tell yours."

"Unless we wish my mother to drag you down to the nearest bishop, I shall keep mum."

"When do you suggest we start?" he asked, thinking this was absurd. But then, it made sense. She was the perfect lover.

"Next week. Monday."

"Will my villa be fine?"

"Of course."

"Monday it is then."