Ellie McPhee knew naught about anything else but herself. Even her mother was once caught saying she would die with her daughter not knowing about it until the fortnight after.

She was as selfish as anyone can be, taking more from those who were willing without expecting them to await for her to return the favor, an act she rarely did and one she would only force herself to do if it would be on her advantage.

But one ought to give her credit for she was good at what she did. Even men respected her. She made a name for herself and she had everything anyone wanted. Except that one thing—happiness.

"But what good would it do if one had to live in constant strain every single day?" she would reason.

She had the comforts of a princess. And she had just acquired herself a castle—a new estate.

Little did she know that the said estate in the middle of a forest aboveground had a secret.

Ellie would soon find out what.

-Above and Below

*****

Emma was in the middle of reading when she heard a knock.

The sound did not come from her chamber door but rather from the window. The windowpanes rattled once more and Emma sighed.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped her robe over her nightgown before walking to the window.

Opening it, she narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here at this time of night?" she hissed.

Samuel flashed his wicked grin and pulled himself over the windowsill and into her chamber. Breathing quite heavily, he walked amiably over to the washstand to wash his hands. "You are supposed to be horrified over my mode of entry, Em, not why I chose the middle of the night for a tryst."

"A tryst?" she asked with a scoff. She looked out the window before closing it and by the time she turned around, she found Samuel half-lying in her bed. "Get out of my bed, Sam."

His pale grey eyes twinkled as he chuckled with mirth. "Are you scared?"

"That you might pounce on me?" she asked, walking to her door to check if it was locked. It was. Of course it would be. After her brothers caught her naked in bed with a man, it had become part of her nature to always leave doors locked. "Why are you here, really?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "You are in a foul mood tonight," he murmured, fishing for something inside his coat pocket.

"No, I am not," she retorted, "I simply do not want another reason for my brothers to murder you. And by the by, they will succeed this time."

He lifted his hand and showed her a book. Emma suddenly remembered why she liked Samuel. He always knew what would keep her mind off other things. "And what is that?" she asked, trying to act nonchalant.

"A very rare one, of course," he said, lifting his arm away when she attempted to take the book from him.

Emma placed her hands on her hips. "And what do you want in return?"

"A kiss would suffice." When she rolled her eyes, Samuel pointed out, "Do remember that we are to be wed, Em."

"And it gives me the obligation to kiss you whenever you ask for it?"

"What other reason should there be?" he asked with a frown.

"'Because I want to' will be one good reason," she hissed incredulously.

"Well, do you not want to?" he asked in a low voice.

"I want the book, that is what I want at the moment," she said, diverting the subject.

Samuel let out a dramatic sigh before he gave her the book. She snatched it away from him. Studying the cover, Emma frowned. "This is not old." She turned it over. "And this is not rare."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. She allowed him, fixing him a curious glance. "Well, it is rare considering it is always out of stock. Today was my lucky day. And you have mentioned it in passing a week ago, have you not? Surely you are interested."

She blinked. "Yes, but I was talking about the play, not the book."

"I assumed you would want to read the book first before the play," he said with a shrug.

"Sam," she said, looking down at him with mock patience. "I would not have expressed my desire to see the play if I have not read the book."

He stilled, his expression stunned and disappointed. "You already have a copy."

"I have read it countless of times. As a matter-of-fact, you are sitting on it."

He let go of her hand and pulled the book from under his weight. He groaned and stared at her wryly. "Ah, where else should I crawl to find one you have not laid eyes on?"

"Aboveground?" she asked in jest, answering his question.

"That, I might consider," he jested back.

She chuckled and playfully patted his cheek. For a split moment she wondered why a part of her mind demanded that she ought to feel more other than amusement and the feeling of familiarity with the act. Surely for others, this level of intimacy ought to mean more?

How in the bloody hell did she end up in bed with him? Why? Did she feel different that night?

*****

Samuel entered Grey's and almost everyone in the room turned their head to acknowledge his presence or steal a quick glance.

"It was merely last night when the Everard brothers came in and not a single person bothered to lift their heads," Wynne Hastings spoke when Samuel settled across from him.

"Because their appearance here is akin to going home seeing the same bloody butler for decades," Samuel retorted with a scoff.

"They are not here tonight," noted Wynne, looking around the room. Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ah, they still refuse to accept you back into their pact. Which is why I am here."

"No, you are here because you also happen to be my friend."

"You mean the only willing friend." When Samuel ignored the statement, Wynne added, "The only one who does not wish to kill you."

"Cease it," Samuel snapped, looking about. "You do know there are ears hovering about."

Wynne scoffed. "Because you are famous now."

"No, simply known," he said, snickering. "Now, what you say to a game of cards?"

"You know you only win with the Everards, yes?" Wynne asked, taking out some notes, accepting the challenge.

"Yes, which is why I am here with you. It is one of my life's goals to beat you once, at the very least."

Wynne leaned back against his chair and studied his friend. Samuel cocked his brows high, looking expectant.

When Wynne stayed quiet, he said, "Come on, my friend. Ask."

Wynne signaled for a new deck of cards to start a game. While they waited, he returned his gaze to Samuel who was patiently waiting. "You have not shared what actually happened that night."

Samuel frowned incredulously. "Why the bloody hell should I? And why in tarnation would I now?"

Wynne shrugged. "I am not asking for the actual act, Sam. I am no pervert. The image of you stripped of your clothes is quite ghastly." The server came and served their cards. They both waited patiently until they were left alone with their glasses of brandy refilled, fresh cards at the ready.

Wynne laid down his first set before he said, "I am asking how you managed to seduce the woman. You have been chasing her for years with very little success if none."

Samuel looked up from his cards. "Are you saying you do not believe I was able to sway her?"

Again, Wynne shrugged. His dark eyes looked at Samuel's before he returned them to the remaining cards in his hands. "I am simply asking how, my friend."

Samuel did not meet his eyes when he lifted them again for he was once more focused on the cards he was carefully picking out. "We have been meeting in secret even before it happened, if you must know. She would not have allowed it if she was not starting to see me in a different light. And that night we both had had quite more than a few brandies, is all. The next we knew, we were naked and her bloody brothers were standing in the doorway."

Wynne's lips curled into a smile. "And you nearly died if not for Lady Emma."

"You laugh now, but you will soon learn how it feels. Just you wait, you bastard," said Samuel, throwing his cards on the table.

Wynne looked at Samuel, shaking his head, a few of his dark hair falling off to hang before his forehead. He carefully brushed it over to where it belonged, his smile even wider. "I can barely get a lover. And I doubt I would ever find myself in the same situation you found yourself in."

"You barely manage a lover because you do not take care of yourself. You can barely recognize the proper size for your clothing. Whoever your tailor is ought to be hanged," Samuel retorted. "And why the confidence of not landing into the same fate as I?"

Wynne smiled, laying down the rest of his cards on the table. "Because I can calculate ten steps ahead of most men." Samuel glared at Wynne's cards and groaned in defeat, throwing the rest of his face-down on the table. Wynne chuckled, reaching for his drink. "And I am careful with my secrets."

Samuel sighed. "Bloody bastard."

*****

"Your coat is baggier than it was yesterday, my lord," Lawrence stated in a voice laced with one akin to disgust.

"You know how I feel about my coats, Lawrence," was Wynne's wry reply. As his bald, middle-aged butler grumbled under his breath with his large coat in one arm, Wynne went straight to his desk, fingers already unbuttoning his collar.

"If one would consider picking up cravats from the floor an art, my lord," Lawrence further added as he bent down to pick up the cravat Wynne threw on the floor, "I would already be called a master at the act."

That received a short chuckle from Wynne. With two upper buttons undone, he felt easier and lighter. He spared a few seconds to watch his butler carefully folding the cravat before he veered his eyes down.

"Letters from Hastings, my lord," Lawrence answered his silent question without even throwing Wynne a glance.

Wynne immediately found the stacks. Opening the letter from his father's solicitors, Wynne could not help but smile.

Lawrence paused in his task to study Wynne. "Good news, my lord?" Lawrence expectantly asked.

Wynne raised his brows, shrugged and let out a very long sigh. "Yes."

"Does this mean I ought to start packing, my lord?" the butler asked, face now filled with excitement.

Wynne shook his head. "Not quite, Lawrence," he said loudly, pushing his chair back and leaning back with ease. Crossing his legs, he tilted his head back to blankly stare at the intricate carvings of the ceiling. "But I hope it would be soon."

Lawrence cleared his throat. "You said the same thing 2 months ago, my lord,"

"I know," he murmured.

"Should I expect to hear the same thing four fortnights from now, my lord?"

"Your sarcasm is inspiring, Lawrence, but no. I believe this time it is truly going to be soon. I simply need to polish a few things."

Lawrence nodded and made a sharp turn.

Frowning, Wynne turned his head and followed the butler's stiff strides. "Where are you going?"

"I decided I ought to start packing anyway, my lord."

"Why?"

"I will have to win dozens of fights against your humongous coats, my lord."

"Not even quite funny, Lawrence!" he shouted with a chuckle as the butler walked out the door.

With Lawrence gone and his study filled with silence, Wynne looked through the rest of his letters.

He rolled his eyes after seeing the smallest one sealed with golden wax.

He stood up without opening it.

He knew what his aunt's letter contained and now that his ultimate goals were starting to set nicely, he did not need any more urgings from Amelia Trilby.

But first, he would have to stir a few things. The Everards would not appreciate it. And Samuel would hate him for it.