If Ellie were to seduce someone, she would rather do it on someone like him.

He would be easy.

She would have fun while doing so.

He could never take away what she had for he would lose himself in her and he would not even recognize it until it was too late.

As she approached him, she smiled.

She could read the lust in his eyes.

He would be easy.

-Above and Below

*****

"How are you handling her, Wynne, dear?" asked Amelia Trilby. She brushed her fingers over his desk as she passed, pacing slowly around his study.

"I am taking it slow," Wynne replied nonchalantly. "Samuel is making it quite easy for me, as a matter of fact. He is too involved in his current propaganda that he barely has time for the woman."

His aunt sharply whirled around and dramatically rolled her eyes. "I am very close to giving him a taste of excruciating pain."

"It would be a foul move. Uncle Noah's reputation will suffer."

"Which is why you must find the Leaguer, my dear, and infiltrate," the woman said, walking toward the window. "And while you are at it, threaten Samuel Theobald. Take his woman so he can get his mind off your uncle."

Wynne nodded. "Whatever you wish."

"Could she be the Leaguer amongst the Everards?"

"No, I believe she is not."

"It could be Benedict, the Lord of Devonshire."

"I will have to learn more. It is not easy to get into their circle as Wynne Hastings. I already have a reputation to be awkward and boring. I cannot simply change and be likable."

"If it is the eldest brother, it would be easy to manipulate him. He does have a wife and a little girl, yes?"

"Yes."

"But it could also be the others. The husband of your cousin, Maxine, seems to fit the profile as well."

"You mean the woman you tried to kill."

"It was Osegod, dear. I would dare not hurt my own blood."

Wynne smiled in amusement. "Truly?"

"Of course! It is sad, really, that she chose the Theobalds and the Everards over us, but she chose her own way and I have chosen to forget about her."

"I heard your pride was hurt, dear Aunt, when you asked her to join us."

Amelia Trilby simply stared at him and Wynne chuckled.

"Nothing good comes out when a Trilby's pride is trampled on."

Amelia sighed. "We do not deserve it, but we must bear it."

"And what of the child?"

"Who?"

"The child who is in the care of Margaret Devitt."

His aunt's face darkened. "Oh, that child." Wynne saw the raw hatred flash before his aunt's face before it disappeared. "She is not one of us."

He doubted she believed that. Noah Trilby may not claim the child as his, but she looked very much like him. And if she was one, that child could be in danger for Noah Trilby never liked it when something was taken from him.

Although he would love to know the story behind the child, Wynne thought it best not to dig deeper. Whatever his aunt and uncle were planning, he would not want to know. His goal here was to please them as long as he could before he disappeared and be on his way. To hell with everything by then. He would dare not look back when that time came.

"By the by, do give me more time. It is hard enough to deal with one Everard, much more so all of them," he said, changing the topic.

"Is she gullible enough to be seduced?"

"No, for she can be smart. And she had always been determined never to marry."

Amelia's lips curled into a smile. "But that does not mean she is not willing to enjoy flirtations."

Wynne nodded. "Perhaps."

"And how will you do it?"

The corner of his lips curled. "I have my ways."

*****

Merely an hour after his aunt left, Wynne had another caller.

"Why do I get so many visitors today?" Wynne wryly asked, putting on his over-sized coat. "Hurry, Durley, for I do have somewhere to be."

The owner of the Town Herald made certain his mocking smile showed. "I can take all the time that I want."

"Then do feel at home. I hope you are patient enough to wait until my return."

The man sighed and dryly said, "I am here to warn you. Be careful. Samuel is a smart sort."

He returned the sarcastic smile. "Your kind warning is not required, Durley. I know everything my dear friend is doing so fret not."

Durley stared as he buttoned his coat. "You are truly in a rush."

"I am."

"Very well, I might as well go. You, as always, prove to be a bad company." But Durley stopped at the door to add, "I intercepted another article from Samuel, but I am afraid he will soon start to suspect me as well. For all they know, I am on their side."

"My uncle will not appreciate more nasty articles."

"He is planning a different way to reach his growing audience other than the Herald."

Wynne stopped. "He is?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"God, do I want to know," Durley said, tipping his hat at Wynne and left.

Wynne rode his horse moments later, his thoughts on Durley. The man was hazy. As a matter-of-fact, he simply came out of nowhere and now was friends with the Trilbys. Although he did kill Osegod for Amelia, Wynne could not trust him enough to know he was not playing them all. He had the habit of dropping by without warning with no sensible motive other than a few reminders. If he was trying to check on what every Trilby was doing, he was doing it quite poorly.

Perhaps there was a rational reason why the Trilbys had always kept to themselves all these years after all. Nobody could be trusted.

He rode all the way to the Everard mansion, feeling both excited and irritated. The reason for the former was that he would once more see the disappointment in Emma Everard's face. As to the former, he truly would rather be somewhere else.

He had more important things to do than deliver gifts for Samuel. Yet he ought to play his parts. His aunt was expecting him to be wooing the youngest of the Everards and his friend was using him as a delivery man for his tasteless gifts.

People were waiting for him somewhere, but he had to do what he was expected of for now. Soon, they would have his undivided attention.

*****

My love,

I am certain you are disappointed, but may we move the picnic on the morrow?

I do not wish to be late and spend lesser time with you. I would rather enjoy the entire activity with my attention undivided. The Herald gave me articles to write (and they are not even worth my time) and I must do them, otherwise I will lose the platform of my voice.

As disappointed as I am, I must deal with the responsibilities.

Do forgive me.

I shall be waiting for your reply while I suffer the horrid assignment about the upcoming Light Festival. Perhaps I can add a few interesting historical details?

Always yours,

Sam

Emma sighed as she watched Tori read the letter.

Her sister-in-law was frowning when she was done. "Lindsay would be utterly disappointed."

"We can always go now," said Emma.

"Ah, but we should go on the morrow. Samuel says—"

"Tori, Samuel always promise he will be there and then he will not be. He had always been that way."

"I never noticed."

"Well, of course you have not," Emma chuckled. "As far as I do remember, the only moments he rarely missed were drinking and playing cards with my brothers at Grey's. Do you remember when we told you we asked for his help when Ysabella gave up on Wakefield?"

"Yes, of course. He came by to delay Ralph."

"Well, I was truly and honestly surprised he arrived on time. Barely, that is."

"Oh." Disappointment was plastered all over Victoria's face.

"Oh, you will get used to him," said Emma.

"Are you not bothered?"

"By his constant absence?"

"Yes."

"Well, if I put that into consideration when I finally decide to marry him, I believe it would be convenient."

"How could it be convenient, Emma!" Victoria cried in horror. "He will barely be there!"

"And I will have all the time for myself!" Emma retorted with a laugh. "But then, of course, marriage is no jesting matter and I do have to find more things to consider other than that tempting fact."

"Emma, please seriously consider matters," Victoria seriously said. "When you commit yourself to someone, be certain he is one you would want to spend most of your time with."

"But I do love my time alone, Tori."

"That will change when you are in love, Emma," Victoria said with a knowing smile. "I am telling you, it will."

"Samuel is one of the best men that I may ever encounter in my life."

"He is ideal, is he not?" The smile on her sister-in-law's face widened. "He is rich and has title but cares less about it. His articles make women swoon in a different sort of way because his passion to fight for his cause shows a different side of masculinity. His reputation is growing and influences other powerful individuals. I can see him sitting as a Head of the Leaders in the very near future, as a matter-of-fact." Her smile faded and Victoria looked at Emma squarely in the eyes. "But do you see yourself with him? Do you see yourself standing side by side the hero of the Town? If you do, then he is for you. But if you still see yourself in a completely different life, Emma, perhaps you should spare Samuel the wait. I believe Levi would not be bothered and so will your other brothers. They will not like it, but they will still support you."

"You and Ysabella have different opinions of Samuel. She believes he is the one for me. He has been in love with me for a long time, Tori. She stands by Samuel's side for she knew what it felt to be in love with someone who does not recognize it."

"He was indeed in love with you—perhaps he still is," said Victoria, "But that does not seal your future happiness if you cannot reciprocate it."

"Ysabella managed to make Wakefield fall in love with her."

Victoria's face lit up with understanding. "Ah, so you are waiting for the day that Samuel can manage to do the same."

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

Victoria shook her head. "Ysabella waited two years for Wakefield. I do hope Samuel can be as patient."

Emma laughed. "Oh, I believe I will grow impatient with myself should it last as long. I will make up my mind before the year ends."

"And when you do, know that we will support you," Victoria said, gently cupping Emma's face. "You deserve happiness, Emma, with whoever it may be with."

"And we ought to finish our tea," Emma said, suddenly alight with energy. "We cannot allow Samuel to dampen our afternoon. He will have to pay dearly on the morrow. Lindsay would have to tire him until he cannot use his feet."

"Yes, of course!" Victoria said, sitting upright and reaching for her teacup. "And oh, I must tell her the disappointing news—and the good news that she can have Uncle Samuel all to herself tomorrow."

The door to the parlor opened and Jefferson announced the arrival of Wynne Hastings.

"Another delivery, I assume," said Victoria, standing to her feet. "I will go and leave you two alone. Perhaps Samuel has a good surprise for you. Margaret told me he gave you a book on insects!"

"Go and wrap up a plan with Lindsay for tomorrow," Emma said as she stood ready to welcome Wynne.

The very moment Jefferson closed the door to leave them alone, Wynne reached inside his coat to hand Emma a box.

She was still processing the fact that she was standing in front of the Herald's gossip writer when he said, "No letter today, I am afraid, Emma," he said. He rarely addressed her by her name and Emma just realized it sounded different coming from him. Had her name always been that good?

Shaking the thought away, she composed herself and smiled. Would he write about Samuel's horrid gifts in one of his future articles? Would she be a mystery woman in one of them?

Bloody tarnation, she was being anxious the more she spent time with the man now that she knew his secret! Should she tell him she was aware? Surely he knew she knew? She was there with him when they witnessed Lady Gedge pay that woman. And Wynne must surely be aware that Emma was not stupid to not realize the truth.

Ah, but she could always say she had not read the article! She once claimed she was not fond of the gossip section, had she not?

"Thank you, Wynne," she said, taking the box and settling back into the settee. He patiently waited as she pulled at the ribbons and opened the top lid. Inside was a handkerchief. Emma blinked. "It is pink."

"It is pink," Wynne seconded, his voice etched with amusement.

She looked up at him as he stood there, his hand behind his back. He looked very much lanky with the oversized coat. His hair was a mess, perhaps he rode on horseback.

He was not sitting so he must be in a hurry.

Suddenly, Emma was alert. Was he in a hurry to go somewhere?

"Did you pick this one?" she asked, raising the box in her hand.

He shook his head almost immediately and said, "I would never have touched the thing."

Emma snorted. "It could have been white, but..."

"It is too pink for you, yes," Wynne said with a forced smile.

He seemed quite restless than ever, Emma noted.

"By the by, should I offer you some tea?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I would love to have some, but I have somewhere I ought to go to."

"Oh. The Herald?"

"Yes," he replied and Emma noted the lie in his voice.

"Ah, very well then. Please, should you bump into Samuel, do tell him I mentioned I love white."

"Yes, of course. And I shall deliver it in a way that he would not realize you asked me to say it but enough to make him sense the subtle reminder that you hate pink."

Emma smiled up at Wynne and for a while they simply stared at each other.

Until she blinked.

And he blinked.

And then he was rushing out the doors, saying he could see himself out.

Emma slipped out of the side door, escaping the servants, and into the stables. She was still in the dress she intended to wear for the cancelled picnic, but she had not time to change into her breeches.

She might lose track of him and she could not have that if she wanted to know why he rode his horse to the opposite direction of the Herald.

*****

Emma feared that she lost Wynne, but when she saw a figure of a horse running down the paved road leading out of Wickhurst, she only had to assume it was Wynne.

And it was the only horse down the road.

When she was about to exit Wickhurst, Emma hesitated. He might go far away.

And it might not be even him.

But she had nothing to do and she had already wasted enough energy trying to figure out what he was really up to. She could not stop now, could she?

The Town was naturally dark with merely lampposts to light the roads, making it easy for anyone to stalk someone without their knowledge. Emma could not help but smile in excitement. It had been years since she felt this kind of elation—this sense of adventure. Ysabella passed her mind, remembering their secret trips to the woods. And then she shook her head. Her sister was better off spared of this adventure. This one was all her own for now.

Placing a good distance between her and the horseman ahead, Emma decided on when to stop. Perhaps in an hour or so? If he meant to travel far, Emma would have to eventually give up.

A carriage was approaching from the other side of the road. She bent her head, hoping whoever was inside would not glance out and recognize her.

Almost an hour later, Emma was getting disappointed. She would soon have to go back to Wickhurst if he kept on.

But he did not.

She slowed down as the horseman suddenly turned to the right towards Ulric.

Even more curious now, Emma willed her horse to slow down as the rider entered the rocky field.

The gigantic tent stood lonely in the middle of many other smaller ones. With no show at that hour, there were no people in sight. It was eerily quiet with merely a few lampposts turned on. From somewhere in the distance she could see other tents set up and voices could be heard from there. They must be the living quarters of the workers and entertainers. The distant laughter and chatter echoed and died around the vast open ground.

Emma could not help but note that the presence of the play in Ulric had changed the place's reputation for the time being. It was no longer the feared place for duels. It did not even enter her mind that this was the same venue where her brother, Benedict, almost lost his life in Cole Devitt's hands.

Emma pulled at her horse's reins until it stopped. She jumped off to the ground and led the mare behind a small, empty tent that would later house an entertainer.

Her heart began to race in her chest when she finally recognized Wynne as he climbed off his horse and tethered it to the side, just near the entrance of the big red-and-white tent.

Could it be that the woman paid by Lady Gedge be working for him? Could it be that he was playing Lady Gedge so he could write gossips about her?

But it did not seem as though Wynne Hastings would go low as that.

Emma waited until Wynne entered the tent. Noises could be heard from the inside. As she moved closer and cautiously, Emma realized there was a rehearsal going on.

Perhaps he was simply recognized as a big admirer of the play that he was given the honor to observe the rehearsals.

As she started to think of herself stupid for having even suspected the man, and even going to such length to know his secrets, Emma heard his voice shout from inside the tent and the place went quiet.

Hmm...

Perhaps he was more than a fanatic.

Squaring her shoulders, Emma slipped inside the tent and hid underneath the bleachers. Peeking through the longitudinal gaps, she saw Wynne standing in the center of the stage, pointing Jordan Smith to the left side of the stage and Stella Marie to the opposite end. Both actors followed his command.

The dancers made a small circle at the center of the stage.

Emma recognized the scene. It was when Ellie walked up to Lord Byron to seduce him.

"From the beginning!" she heard Wynne's authoritative voice. "I did not write this bloody thing for you to play with! I expected you would have at least perfected the changes by now..." He turned and jumped off the stage and settled at the lone chair to watch. He had thrown his over-sized coat to one side, revealing a lean, lithe form. He was fit enough to even come to par with Ralph's physique yet he hid it underneath those horrid, huge coats.

"Act your part, Jordan, for heaven's sake! A luscious woman is coming toward you and your mind and flesh are in conflict! Most may not see your face, but should be able to feel what you project! I did not see that last night."

Emma covered her mouth with her hand in disbelief.

He was simply not the secret gossip writer.

Bloody tarnation, he was the writer and director of Above and Below!