Byron spent the night wondering why he allowed himself be invited in this party.

Ellie said that tomorrow would be spent playing games, yet he could not see the guests dressing down their pretty clothes to get dirty.

All he could imagine were more drinking, gossiping and perhaps a few more trysts with their lovers as he earlier learned. In fact, most of these people were married and having affairs as he was told.

They were not much different from where he came from.

One difference was that they are ignorant of the living world they were standing on.

With a sigh, he forced himself to sleep.

He would have to find a way to make Ellie McPhee give this place up.

-Above and Below

*****

Emma Everard must be playing him.

Frustration was not the perfect term to how he felt as two days came by and she had not yet appeared in Ulric. Paranoia soon followed as he began to recount everything he had done.

Had she caught up on him this soon?

Perhaps Lawrence was correct. He ought not to have exposed himself as the gossip writer to the woman. It merely increased her curiosity which led her to discover P. Wallace.

Pacing in his study, he fought with himself.

No, surely she would be stuck. P. Wallace was not a suspicious character. She would not find the Trilby connection.

She could be simply uninterested, a part of him suggested. Now that she knew the man behind Above and Below, her curiosity was satisfied. She could have moved on by now, having tea with her family.

But the look of excitement in her eyes was still very much clear in Wynne's mind. She was itching to be in Ulric and see the rehearsal. She loved the secrecy.

Sighing with frustration, Wynne rubbed his hands over his face and raked his fingers through his dark hair, brushing it over his forehead.

"Stop it, Lawrence."

"I am not doing a thing but breathe, my lord," said the butler with brows cocked high, looking offended and innocent.

Lawrence was indeed but a silent presence in one corner of the room, but despite that, Wynne felt irritated. He knew the man too well. The butler was singing in his head, "I did tell you so!"

"She could simply be trapped in that manor," offered the butler.

"She is not one who would let herself be trapped intentionally, Lawrence."

"Hmm..."

Wynne snapped his head at Lawrence. "What does that mean?"

Lawrence shrugged. "You know her too well now, my lord?"

"She is the subject of my aunt's current obsession. Of course, it is my task to know her well."

Lawrence nodded. "Whatever you say, my lord."

"Whatever does that mean?"

Again, the man shrugged. "Perhaps you are taking a fancy on the woman, my lord. And—" he added, lifting one finger to stop Wynne's outburst, "might I remind you that it is not to happen? You and she cannot be. Not in this lifetime. Never, my lord."

"It was you who has the idea planted in your head, you bastard."

"And it is you who has the idea growing in your mind," he heard the butler murmur.

Wynne grabbed the nearest book he could and threw it across the room, deliberately missing the man. "You bastard."

"The bastard whose job is to keep you walking the same right path, my lord, yes."

"I am!"

"You are currently displaying a very different demeanor, my lord. It is not you to feel frustrated over a chit."

"It is not the woman I am frustrated with—"

"Ah, her absence then. You are frustrated she has not shown herself."

He grabbed another book and this time it landed on Lawrence's feet. The man did not even flinch. "You have not finished this one, my lord," Lawrence said, bending down to pick up the book.

"Take it and read it."

Lawrence studied the book with a frown. "The Essentials of Acting."

"Yes. Study it word per word, Lawrence. It is about time you learn how to act as though you are actually a bloody butler."

"Hmm..." Lawrence uttered, walking to the door with eyes still on the book. "Does it have a chapter on learning how to act as though you are taming a man rather than a child?" Before the third book could hit him this time, the butler was already out the door.

*****

On the fifth day since the dinner held by Alex and Ralph, Wynne had calmed down.

Emma had not shown herself yet and he did not expect to see her again then.

Whatever she may have in mind, he was no longer interested. He could always find a way to get to her. If not now, perhaps soon. Or mayhap his aunt would find no need for him to do so. That would also be marvelous.

He spent the entire morning at the offices of the Herald and proceeded to Ulric after luncheon for the rehearsal. There, he noticed a horse tethered outside the tent, one he had not seen before.

He immediately became alert and nearly ran all the way into the tent but he tried to calm himself.

With composure, and with very little hope, he walked inside and found her amidst the crew and the actors. She was being surrounded.

For a moment he paused at the aisle he was standing on and simply watched.

Instead of the crew bombarding Emma Everard with questions, she was doing the questioning herself.

"Would you care to show me?" she asked the two men he placed in charge of the mirrors.

Jordan Smith was standing close by, observing Emma with interested eyes. Stella, on the other hand, was sitting in a chair looking quite bored. Knowing the woman, Wynne guessed that Stella was not in favor of Emma's presence.

Wynne cleared his throat and everyone turned to his direction. "Emma," he said nonchalantly, walking closer. "I see you have made yourself comfortable? You are welcome," he said in mock sarcasm.

"Yes, since you are tardy," she countered back with a smile.

"By an hour," he said, "which is incomparable to five days."

She chuckled. "I did not realize you have been expecting my presence—and counting the days."

He had no words to counter that one for it was quite true that he had been counting the bloody days.

"I apologize, of course. I had to spend a few extra days to convince my mother that she can leave me alone in the manor."

Wynne raised his brows. "She has left town?"

"To Kenward. Merely a few miles away."

"Ah, I heard Ysabella mention they are planning to visit Max."

"Yes. For a week, I believe, but—"

"Can we start now, Wynne?" Stella Marie's cold voice asked. "We are delayed by an hour."

"You could have started without me," he said.

Stella cocked an eyebrow and threw Emma a look before she returned her gaze to Wynne. "Yes, we ought to have started an hour ago."

"Oh, please forgive my intrusion!" Emma cried, jumping away from the group and to Wynne's side. "I did not mean to cause such delay..."

But Stella already had her back turned away from her.

"Do not bother to make introductions," Emma whispered beside Wynne. "I already did the shameless act myself."

Wynne nodded, taking off his coat. He stopped when he caught Emma studying the act. "What is the matter?" he asked.

She blinked and shook her head. "I still cannot fathom why you wear such large coats."

"They are comfortable," was his only reply. "Please, take any seat you want."

She nodded. "Do not fret about me. I have already made myself feel at home, my lord."

Wynne's gaze lingered on her longer than necessary. Then he slowly turned and climbed up the stage all the while wondering if she had been telling the truth. Was she late because she really had to deal with her mother?

It could be. She did not seem suspicious.

And she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself.

He looked over his shoulder at her one last time to steal a glance. She was beaming like a child, looking at the stage.

He faced the actors once more and realized Jordan was still standing where he was, gazing at Emma.

"Jordan," Wynne coldly said. "On the stage, please."

Jordan grinned at Emma and jumped on the stage.

"Position!" Wynne ordered, mind fully on the task at hand.

*****

Emma did not have the chance to see how the magic tricks were done as Wynne focused more on changing some of the dance steps and even the lines. She finally figured why people claimed one ought to see Above and Below repeatedly. It kept evolving yet never strayed from the main story.

When everyone was finally let go by Wynne, Emma stood to meet Stella Marie as the actress descended the stairs.

The woman seemed to have no intent to stop until she was forced to by Emma standing right in her way.

"Would you be so kind as to sign on one of the pages of my copy of Above and Below, Miss Marie?"

Stella Marie's blue eyes looked Emma up and down. Emma's smile did not waver. The woman did not like her, but it was fine. She did not like Stella Marie equally, although she had to agree the woman had great talent. And she was remarkably—and undoubtedly—on of the most beautiful creatures in the Town.

"You are an Everard," was the comment she did not expect.

Emma frowned ever so slightly. "And that is a bad thing?"

Stella merely shrugged and murmured, "Send the book to my tent. I'll sign it when I get the time." And without another word spoken, the woman stepped to the side and continued walking past Emma.

"I would gladly sign now, my lady," a voice spoke behind Emma. She turned and found Jordan Smith looking at her with his hands deep inside his trouser pockets. "If you want it, of course."

The man was more handsome up close, she realized, as he walked closer to her. His hair was not black, but a darker shade of brown. They were wavy but he managed to make himself look very appealing by tying them behind his nape, revealing his perfect, sharp jaws.

"Unlike Stella, my lady, I do like your presence here," Jordan said, tone low. He stopped in front of her, not quite too close, but enough to make her feel the heat emanating from him. The man had been dancing earlier. He also flew with the help of two ropes attached to his belt. "Having someone of your status during rehearsals is one I truly appreciate."

"Is that so?" was all Emma could say for she could not think of any other.

"It is admirable," he said, looking at her face. And then his eyes traveled down even further, as if he was stripping her of her clothes.

Emma clenched her jaw and blinked. She would let that pass, but if this man were to ever touch her, he might find himself on the ground. It would not be as painful as how he fell from stardom for it would be fatal. "How so?" she asked through clenched teeth as she forced a smile.

"It means you are not one to judge us by our professions and you are not one who sets yourself so high that we will find it hard to... reach you," he said, taking another step closer, his eyes locking with hers.

"Take two steps back, Jordan, and spare Lady Emma with your stench," Wynne's imposing yet nonchalant voice said from behind Jordan.

Emma was the one who took the steps back, surprising and hating herself at the same time. Never had she ever thought that Wynne Hastings could ever make her do such a thing. The worst was that his words were not even addressed to her.

Jordan had turned around to face Wynne who was putting his large coat back on. "I did not reckon you for someone who would bother with a woman," the actor said, now completely ignorant of Emma's presence, adding, "Is she yours?"

Wynne's eyes travelled to Emma at the question, his dark eyes taking hers prisoner. Her heart may either have skipped out of her chest or completely stopped beating for at that single moment she could not feel it. And she was not certain if it was at all bad—which was bad.

And then, as if on a snap, Wynne snapped his eyes back toward Jordan. "What does my silence mean, Jordan?"

Jordan shrugged and haughtily replied, "That she is yours and that I cannot woo her?"

Wynne sighed and fixed the collar of his coat before he stepped forward to roughly pat his hand on Jordan's shoulder, causing the man to take a half step back. Any image of the timid and shy Wynne Hastings Emma thought she knew evaporated out of thin when Wynne said the next words with lips barely moving, "It means, Jordan, that you get the bloody hell away from her or you will be facing one of my pistols."

Emma swallowed. Did he say pistol? A bloody gun? One that he had to actually shoot? Could he even hold one?

Jordan scoffed and shook his head before he turned to Emma to give her a bow. He retreated without another word and disappeared from the tent.

Emma turned to Wynne who started to escort her out of the tent. "You can hold a pistol?"

"Of course," he murmured, frowning at something ahead of them, but nothing in particular.

"How good are you with a pistol?"

He paused to steal a glance at her direction. "Too good." He continued walking and Emma quickened her steps.

"But I believe Sam once told me you cannot shoot."

"I opt to correct," he said, putting on his gloves. "I choose to not shoot."

"Why?"

Finally, he showed her how he found her questions by replying to her last. "Tedious."

"Hmm..." Emma said, nodding. Wynne had already walked out of the tent and she half-ran outside where she found him near her horse. "Stella Marie does not like me."

"She does not have to." Wynne said with a shrug. "Ignore her as she does you, my lady. She is a dear friend of mine and can get quite jealous."

Emma scoffed. "But we are barely chummy!"

Wynne's face was straight and bare of jest when he said, "Lovers do not always have to be chummy and women like Stella are too aware of that."

Emma gasped in disbelief. "Oh goodness, I cannot believe I heard that from you."

He smiled. "I am capable of saying and doing many things, Emma."

Emma nodded. "Yes, as I am discovering!"

He gave her a mocking bow and murmured, "At your service."

"But which is the real Wynne Hastings? The Herald writer, the gossip writer, or P. Wallace?"

"I cannot be all?"

"You typically act as though you are timid, shy and boring. But here..." she waved her arm around and dropped them to her sides. "Here, you are... different." Dropping her head to the side, she studied him. "You are as much of an actor as everyone else you direct. Although I do not find it bad, I find it curious."

"I do my best to keep my anonymity, that is all," he said. "Should I show everyone what I truly am, people will flock around my very presence."

She scoffed. "You think too highly of yourself."

"No, I merely know who I am." He reached for her horse's reins. "Now, off you go, my lady. You ought to be home at this hour."

Emma walked closer to her horse. "Does Sam know? Of any of this?"

"No, and I would appreciate if you keep it that way."

"Why?"

"He is only to know about Wynne Hastings the Herald writer."

"Why?"

"No one is allowed to know more than one facet of me." He helped her climb up her horse and when she was settled, he looked up at her. "You simply are lucky and nosy to know more."

Emma fought the urge to smile broadly. "And what do you do to those who dare to discover more of Wynne Hastings?"

He looked at her long and hard that she found herself holding her breath once again. Even though he was looking serious, his eyes seemed unsure. "I am yet to find out."