The carriage drew to a stop outside Dior's villa. Ellise jumped out and stopped to watch a slender woman in a black dress standing outside the villa merely a few paces away, overseeing two footmen carry boxes from a nearby carriage. The woman's brown skin glowed in the afternoon sun and her face lit up into a bright smile when she caught Ellise watching her. She waved her gloved hand in greeting just as a little girl ran out the door and pulled at her hand.

"Miss St. Vincent," Mr Warren, Dior's aging butler, called from the door he held open at the top of the front steps.

She moved and continued up the stairs and walked through the doorway. "You have new neighbors, Mr Warren," she said, pulling at her gloves and tucking them in the pocket of her breeches.

"Yes, Miss," the butler said. "They arrived this morning."

"What happened to the old couple?"

"Moved to the south, Miss."

"Hmm," she said, "Odd."

"Right this way, Miss St. Vincent," said Mr Warren.

The butler did not have to guide her, but she allowed the man, her thoughts running to several things.

It was Monday. Did Dior's short missive mean they had to fulfill their agreement at this hour because he knew she had dinner to go to later? Or was it something else?

She frowned when the butler guided her straight upstairs.

Was he leading her to Dior's bedchamber? Then her first guess must be right.

She cleared her throat, looked down at her clothes, and clucked her tongue. She should have at least put on a dress. She heard from Caroline that men find it thrilling to unlace a corset. Making sure Mr Warren was not looking, she reached for the tail of her hair and sniffed. She should have also taken a bath.

"Doctor St. Vincent has also arrived," said Mr Warren, stopping Ellise from smelling her collar.

She skidded to a stop. "Oliver?"

"Yes, Miss," said the man, pausing outside a door. "Is something the matter."

"Why would he be here?"

The butler merely smiled and pushed the door open. Extending his arm through the doorway, he bowed.

With a frown, Ellise stepped into the room and just as Mr Warren said, her brother was inside, hunched over the giant bed. At the foot of the bed was Dior, who turned when he saw her.

She cocked her brows at him in question, closing the door behind her.

"Good, you are here," murmured her brother, still hunched over something—or someone—on the bed.

She tore her eyes away from Dior and scanned the room. This was not his bedchamber. She could tell because it did not have his scent. Her eyes landed on the bed and she frowned. Her brother was blocking the view, so she walked over and she snapped her head back to Dior in question when she saw the pale child lying on the bed, the lower part of her left leg being wrapped in a long strip of bandage by Oliver.

The girl's light blue eyes rolled down her nose to stare at Ellise.

"That's just my sister," Oliver murmured to the girl, "She's human. Fret not."

The girl's dirty blond hair was splayed around her head, her sickly frame almost nonexistent underneath the covers.

Ellise slowly walked beside Dior and turned to him.

Following Oliver's order, neither of them spoke, but her piercing gaze was demanding answers.

He sighed and lifted one hand to hold her arm and guide her to the door.

"Don't worry, darling, they're just going out to talk," said Oliver to the girl.

Ellise caught the reassuring smile Dior sent the girl as he led her away and out of the room.

"Who is that?" she demanded the moment the door closed.

"She says her name is Leila," he replied, letting go of her arm.

"And?" she asked, peering up at him.

"She says she is from Belcourt."

Ellise blinked. She took a step back to assess if Dior was jesting. "She was sent here to spy on you."

He nodded.

"Did you confirm it?"

He shook his head. "She told me a different story."

"What story?"

He looked down the corridor and turned. She followed him into another room five doors away from where the Belcourt child was in. At their entrance, they saw three maids putting down the red curtains.

"Continue that later," ordered Dior. The three women exited the room, heads bowed, and closed the door.

"This is your room," Ellise said, staring at the curtains.

"Yes," he said, walking to another door subtly hidden to the right of the giant white bed.

She followed him into a secret room and waited while he lit the lamp. "Why are you changing the curtains?"

"The room is getting too drafty," he replied as the lamp ignited and warm yellow light spread around the small room. It looked like a study, only that it looked too perfect and unused. "This way," he said, gesturing with his head.

"Warning on—" He was not able to finish because her foot already tripped on the uneven floorboard. She steadied herself on the table, head bent to check her shoe. "Sorry for that," he said, offering his hand.

She just stared at it and straightened to full height. "This is a dilapidating room, Dior," she said as he dropped his hand and walked to the corner of the room.

"I know," he absently said as he pulled at the shelf and it swung open, revealing another dark room. "But it serves its purpose." Turning to her, he offered his hand again. "This time you have to take my hand."

"Why?"

"Because I would hate to see you fall."

"Fall how—" He did not let her finish and grabbed her hand, clucking his tongue.

"Careful," he said, stepping through the doorway, pulling her into the room and almost against him. "Do not move."

"You are standing too close." Her voice echoed around them, the light almost too blinding.

"Because this is the only space we have."

She frowned, looking down. And then she realized they were standing on a platform. She looked around and realized the platform was hanging in midair. "Dior, this is—"

"Hold this," he said, handing her the lamp. When she took it, he reached to close the door. "Don't move," he said above her as he reached for the rope tied to the side.

She looked up at him and moistened her lips. "You know I hate heights," she gritted out.

A small smile twitched on his lips. "I know."

And then the jerk came. Her heart leaped from her chest and she leaned closer against him as the platform slowly descended. She snapped her head up, scowling at the squeaking pulley somewhere above them. "This is bloody insane."

"This is how I enjoy my privacy," he murmured, his face filled with concentration while his arms worked with the ropes.

Finally, the platform touched ground and Ellise stepped away from him, wiping her palm on her breeches. He took the lamp from her, his fingers lightly brushing against hers. And then he moved away to push open another door that led to another small room which housed nothing but a chair, a lamp, and a small table. And hundreds of books piled on the floor against the wall where a giant board with names and dates hung.

It was Dior's back closet, Ellise thought, walking over to the board.

She heard him set the lamp on the table, his shadow looming over her on the wall. "Do you like what you see?" he asked as she stared at his work.

"I see things I'm willing to debate on, but that's not why we are here," she replied, turning to face him. He was leaning against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. He was not wearing a waistcoat. He only had on a white dress shirt tucked in his trousers, the sleeves rolled high just below his elbows.

"Did she stumble into your doorsteps?"

"Yes. The maids found her unconscious outside the side entrance yesterday."

"And you only called for me now."

"Yes. Because I had to check a few matters first." She waited for his next words. "I had to have my men search the surrounding area for any Belcourt spies before I could invite you here."

"To protect me or something else?"

"Both," he said. "If Belcourt sent this child here, then they must believe I am the Royal Master. Or they have already confirmed I am a Royal. Either way, you cannot be seen entering my villa. That's why I had to call for your brother first. You are studying to be a doctor, after all. You are his apprentice. Or so everyone thinks."

She rolled her eyes. "And your other reason?"

He smiled, a small one, just enough to make a drastic change on his face. He was a dashing devil, Ellise thought, if he only knew how to use it wisely. "Today is Monday."

Somehow, the word caused her heart to pick up pace and race against her chest. Her eyes locked with his.

He blinked and said, "You now have a good reason not to go to that dinner."

"We cannot do it tonight," she said, stepping forward. "We have a bloody child from Belcourt under your roof. We need to think of how to deal with her."

He slowly nodded, his eyes shifting from her eyes down to her mouth. Then back again. "Next week has a Monday."

Ellise narrowed her eyes at him. Then she blinked away, turning around to face the board, a small smile forming on her lips. "How did she get here?"

"You mean her story."

"Yes."

"She says she escaped through the forest."

"Sasha barely escaped Belcourt, and it was not even through the forest. There are watchtowers everywhere. Whoever is running Belcourt must be getting dense to think we would believe this child."

"She has an innocent charm about her, I agree."

"Do not fall for it," she murmured, facing him again. "Have you investigated on your new neighbors?"

"I have. A widow and her little girl from Hartmour. Husband died in Trafalgar."

"A young widow."

"Yes."

The silence rang in her ears as their eyes met once more. "She's beautiful. I saw her."

The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes narrowed just slightly. "She is?"

"She is conveniently close."

"Are you suggesting I should turn her into a lover and spy on her?"

"No, I am suggesting you should investigate her further because it is such a marvelous coincidence that your new neighbor arrived merely a day after a child from Belcourt landed in your doorsteps," she snapped. "As to your lover, that has already been determined."

His chuckle rumbled around the room. "I am investigating her further."

"And tell Sheridan Garmont she has to increase her security. If Belcourt is finally making a move, she may be in danger." Then she stopped because he was frowning at her. "What is the matter?"

"Leila is a child, Elle."

"I know."

"And we have to be careful how to deal with her. We cannot treat her like how we would any of the ladies from Belcourt."

"You mean we should give her toys and expect her to give us her utmost loyalty?"

"Her injuries are real. She has a broken leg and scratches on her back. She could very well be telling the truth."

"You are saying you believe that she escaped Belcourt and found you—the same man who had Belcourt spies following him months ago?"

He sighed. "We need to treat her like how a child should be treated."

"You mean we should manipulate her into hating Belcourt for making her believe that the prison she had been in all her life is heaven?"

He sighed. "I mean we should—"

"A child can still be a monster, Robbie," she said, using his old moniker. "Monsters know no age."

He shrugged. "We could debate on that, but I prefer to save it for later." He pushed away from the table and straightened to full height.

"Sometimes you act like my brother."

"And sometimes I think you are only trying to provoke me," he shot back, brow arched in challenge.

Ellise stepped closer and leaned in. Looking up at him, she smiled. He met her gaze with a taunting smirk. And then she grabbed the lamp behind him and turned to the door. "Let us see how good this child is, shall we?"

As she turned, his hand caught hers and he tugged, just hard enough to make her turn. His face was serious as he stared into her eyes. "No barbaric interrogations in my household."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not intend—"

"No barbaric interrogations to a child," he rephrased.

She scoffed. He held her gaze, a penetrating force that compelled her to reluctantly nod. "Then are you going to take her somewhere—"

His eyes narrowed. "No barbaric interrogations to a child anywhere."

"Now, that is something we should discuss as—"

"I cannot be your lover if you cannot respect my authority."

"Authority that you should not shove down my throat—"

"I respect your authority as Darcy and as my friend."

"Thank you. I am yet to decide if I should reciprocate."

He scoffed in disbelief, but he broke into a smile when she did. Then she went still. She was so used to how he looked, but ever since she entertained the thoughts of him being her lover, she began to see him as one. And the thought brought a shiver down her spine and a tingling sensation at the pit of her stomach.

She realized his smile had slowly died down as his gaze searched hers before slanting down to her mouth again.

Ellise stepped back just as he did.

"No barbaric—"

"Shut up, Dior. I know how to deal with a child."

*****

"And how did you escape?" Ellise asked the girl sitting in the giant bed.

The child's gaze was almost unnerving, and Ellise frowned. She could very well be staring straight at a full-grown adult who had seen enough of the world. Yet there was also an innocence about her—a discomfort.

"Why are you asking?" Leila asked, voice that of a child, smile that of a conniving angel. "Doctor Oliver said you are here to assist him. It means you are his apprentice."

She saw her brother open his mouth to speak from beside the bed, but she threw him a look. He was done with his task and he should leave this matter to her.

Titling her head to the side, she said, "I am, but—"

"Then you are not yet a doctor."

"Yes, and—"

"Then it explains why you ask the wrong questions," Leila said, eyes jumping from her to Dior. "Is her presence necessary?"

Dior's hand went to settle on Ellise's shoulder, squeezing it before he stepped away to walk closer to the bed. "Miss St. Vincent is as capable as Doctor Oliver, Leila. And like Doctor Oliver, she wants nothing but your safety and fast recovery."

"I will recover soon. I don't want anyone else here."

"I did not realize someone else owns this estate, Dior," Ellise said, eyes never leaving Leila.

"She has been through a traumatic time. She is not well—" Oliver started to say but both Ellise and Leila said, "No."

"She looks terribly fine," Ellise said just as Leila intoned, "I am fine."

They looked at each other, trying to read each other's thoughts, both of them hunters staring straight at their prey. "Are you part of the Royal Circus, sir?" Leila asked, her gaze on Ellise, her question directed at Dior. When Ellise did not say a word, the child veered her gaze to him. "I have heard much about the Royal Circus."

Dior only frowned at the child with curiosity, tilting his head to the side, his hands deep in his pockets. Ellise waited until Leila grew impatient and threw her and Oliver another look. "You are not leaving, are you?"

"They are my friends," said Dior. "They know people who can help you find a better home."

"You mean another orphanage."

"Doctor Oliver knows many people who can help you once you have recovered. Miss St. Vincent will assist him as well."

Panic crossed the girl's light blue eyes. "But I cannot go anywhere—"

"But we can also find you appropriate help if your story is indeed true."

Leila scowled. "You do not believe me."

Dior shrugged. "I may or may not. I may know about the Royal Circus or I may not."

Ellise crossed her arms before her, watching as the child's gaze wavered. Leila moistened her cracked lips. "I am not from the orphanage." When no one said a word, she swallowed. "I mean to say I am not from the Common Court, the orphanage of Belcourt."

Dior frowned but said nothing. Oliver shifted uncomfortably on his two feet, looking concerned for the child. Ellise merely waited because that's all she could do. She could not impose her authority as Darcy on this child, nor could the girl discover anything more.

Leila moistened her lips again. Then her right hand went to rest over her bandaged right leg, the one with the broken bone. "I am from somewhere deep in Belcourt. They call it the Palace. It is where the members of the High Court take residence, as well as the Elected children, the ones groomed to replace the Maidens and the High Priestess."

Ellise blinked, restraining her surprise.

"Things went out of control in the Palace and I escaped with the intention of finding you, sir, because I know you are a member of the Royal Circus."

"You are one of the Elected children," Dior concluded.

Leila threw her injured leg another look before she looked up, eyes strong and confident. And something else was there—a fire of fury. "I was the High Priestess."