They galloped through the woods and Geneva could not think of anything else but her dark bedchamber where she was sure to spend the rest of her days if her aunts discovered what she had been up to. What would they do this time? She wondered as she tightly clung around Damon's waist, her eyes closed.

He was not saying anything, his attention on the journey.

Leaning her forehead on his back, she forced herself to think of the possibilities without fear.

If she was found out, she would be punished. But she had been punished before. She had been locked in her bedchamber many times for days and was always let out. Her drawing articles were kept under her bed. She could spend her days drawing or writing. It would not be so awful, really.

Another possibility was that she would not be caught. She would enter the back garden, enter the servant door, and stay in Helene's room where she could change out of her gown. And once her aunts retired, she and Gwen could sneak out and return to the Abberton House just in time for the play.

As she played more scenarios in her head, both good and bad, Geneva started to laugh. She also began to feel the wind against her hair, the sound of hooves against dirt, the snapping of twigs, the brush of leaves against her gown. And she felt Damon's warmth in her arms, her cheek.

She would not have experienced this if she stayed indoors. She would be bored in her room if she did not allow this man to dare her to do this.

"Do you want me to help you up the window?"

Geneva blinked in confusion. "What?" She pulled away from the warmth of his back to looked to the side. They were nearing the Withers House. "No!" she hissed. "I will not be climbing windows."

"Then where—"

"The back garden will do. Stop. I'll get down here," she hastily said when she saw one of their footmen pacing outside the house.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He slowed the horse down just in time for the servant to spot them. "Miss!" the young man said, running up to her. "The back entrance! Come!"

Geneva jumped down with Damon's help. The footman was frantic, jumping from one foot to another as he looked over his shoulder.

"Are you going to be all right?" Damon asked from atop the horse.

She smiled at him. "Yes. I'll see you later."

He seemed surprised. "Are you certain?"

She nodded as the footman groaned beside her in growing panic, begging with a, "Miss, please, we must go."

Laughter bubbling through her lips, Geneva turned and ran away with the footman. She looked over her shoulder before they entered the narrow pathway alongside the house, and found Damon still watching her. She threw a small wave goodbye before disappearing.

Helene was already waiting by the service door, dress hanging over one arm. "Hurry!" the housekeeper hissed, pulling her down the service corridor, down the stairs and into a room where two other maids were already waiting to help her undress. "You dare laugh now?" Helene asked when laughter rolled up Geneva's throat. "See what happens to all of us if your aunts find out!"

"Helene, this was your idea," she pointed out, chuckling as the gown was stripped off her. She almost squealed when the housekeeper narrowed her eyes and threw the other dress over her head and pulled it down. When her head emerged, Geneva was grinning. "Now that they're back, you all go back to your old flinty self? I'm disappointed."

She could tell that the housekeeper was biting off a smile. "We should have been more careful, I admit," Helene said, pulling out the pins from Geneva's hair while the two servants buttoned the dress from behind.

"I'm coming back for the play. Please keep them," she said.

"No, you're not coming back!" Helene said, eyes wide with horror.

"Of course I am," she said, pulling her hair free so she could tie them tightly behind her nape. "Now, help me make my boring bun. Where's Gwen?"

"Upstairs with your Aunt Deborah."

At the grim look on Helene's face, Geneva's laughter slowly died. "How is she?"

The housekeeper's eyes moistened with tears. "Not well, Miss. Not well."

***

Damon watched as both Freda and Roxie paced the small parlor.

"The guests cannot know that we have a problem," Roxie said, scowling at the floor.

"It would highly reflect on our play if they learn about this," said Freda. "They will think we have not thought this through."

By the door, Daniel Cavendish leaned on the wall, hands crossed over his chest while trying to mask the amusement on his face by fixing his gaze at the window.

"We should have thought of having a spare princess," said Roxie, stopping to look at Freda. "We should look for one."

"It cannot be Sisi."

"No, of course not. What about Miss Piper? She was decent."

"But do you think we will merely be giving her false hopes if we ask her?"

"No, of course not. I'm certain she can be a professional."

"I'm certain Miss Withers will arrive on time, cousins," Damon droned, rolling his eyes. "She promised."

"Promises can be broken," Freda said with a wave of her hand. "I need assurance."

"Isn't that the same thing?" When they glared at him, Damon sighed. "Very well. If she doesn't arrive two hours before the play, I will personally ask Miss Piper."

"Very good," said Daniel. "For now, I believe there is the issue of the venue. We did not expect the number of people who came in just for the play. We need to prepare the stage in the courtyard."

Freda and Roxie collectively groaned. "We've been talking about this. No one listened!"

"We're sorry if we underestimated the play," Damon wryly said. "Now, tell us what else you need."

"The animals, of course," said Freda. "And you'll need your horse, cousin."

"Of course."

"And we'll need a tree," Roxie said as she rushed to the door Daniel opened for them. "Where's Price? Price!"

Daniel waited until both girls were out of earshot before he chuckled. "They're quite serious, aren't they?"

"Don't let them hear you," Damon said, walking down the corridor with the man. "Have you talked with Sisi of any plans after the wedding?"

"No," Daniel said, smiling at the thought of his future wife. "I think I'll let her tell me what she wants before I start negotiating."

He smiled. He waited until they reached the end of the corridor before he spoke. "Please take very good care of her." Daniel turned to him, a gentle smile playing in the corner of his lips. "Contrary to what they may tell you, I'm not the brother who will make things difficult."

"I've already figured that out."

"And despite him being the mastermind of this match, you should know that it shall be Price who will hunt you down if you make our cry."

Daniel laughed. "I have not figured that one out. Thank you for the warning."

"He made the match because he wants the best for Sisi. We all do. And you know what that means."

His future brother-in-law nodded. "Your sister is among the best things that happened to me, Damon. I will spend every moment of the rest of our lives making up for those years I never wrote back."

With a scoff, Damon shook his head. "But I'm glad you did not make her the princess."

"She was terrible."

"She's not perfect."

"She's perfect enough for me."

He gave the man's back a pat and with nothing much to say, they moved along.

They spent the rest of the afternoon being ordered about by Freda and Roxie. The earl was also there to witness everything. His two angels were after all in the center of all the chaos.

"I heard the beautiful Miss Withers is our chosen princess," said the earl when Damon settled in the chair next to him, pushing aside stuffed animals for later's play. "And I heard she's missing. Not good, my boy."

Damon sighed. The sky was clear, turning orange as dusk settled. "She'll be here." Honestly, he was not certain. Even without her aunts, Geneva could barely take the courage to do what she wanted. With them back, the leash attached to her may have gotten shorter. He wasn't even certain if she was doing well. She may have gotten caught and was trapped. Just like the princess.

"And I heard you are courting the young woman." The earl laughed when he snapped his head. "Everything slithers into my ears. You should know that by now." When he merely shook his head, the earl added, "Is it supposed to be a secret?"

"I'm hoping it shall remain so until I'm certain of the outcome."

"Ah. Saving your skin from shame if she rejects your affections."

"No. Saving her from what her aunts may do before she realizes she wants me."

The earl grunted as he shifted in his seat. "Perhaps the way to a favorable outcome is understanding the enemies."

He laughed. "I do not consider them enemies, old man."

"You are correct. They're more like villains." They chuckled for a while, watching Freda and Roxie give Gale and Price orders to transfer a plotted plant from one side of the stage to another and back. "The three Withers sisters are the way they are for a reason."

At his grandfather's serious tone, Damon turned his head to listen.

"They've always been a little odd, if I must say. Ever since we were young."

"Do you know why?"

"No, of course not. We weren't friends. But as I said, words slither to my ears even if I don't want them."

"Pray tell."

The earl sighed. "Their father was a baron. He had always wanted a son for one reason. Unfortunately, he did not get them. His title passed to a distant relative when he passed."

"He did not give the sisters the love they would have otherwise received from the baron if they were born males?"

"No, I do not believe so. He was always surrounded by them. But for some reason, he started to retreat from society. Would not go outdoors, not even for church. His wife would, taking their daughters with her everywhere, giving excuses for his absence. When she passed after giving birth to their youngest daughter, we saw him even less. Until we didn't. Years later, he was taken away."

"Where?"

"Not quite sure."

"And the daughters?"

"Oh, they stayed with their youngest, Adeline, and raised her like their own. She was far younger than them and they doted on her. But Adeline was different. She had a certain spirit in her. Always smiled and loved being surrounded by friends. There was a time when Barbara went away for a while. She married but soon returned after her husband died. And not long after, we found out the baron also passed.

For years, we would see the sisters together. Always inseparable. Until Adeline came of age and started exploring. She made friends like everyone else. I believe she was caught sneaking out many times as well. Eventually, she did the most scandalous thing. She eloped."

"She did?"

"Against her sisters' wishes. Married a gentleman from Parlton, I believe. We never saw Adeline since then, but we heard she gave birth to a girl. And many years later, the three sisters came home with another little girl."

"Geneva."

"Yes. Adeline's granddaughter. We didn't know what became of Adeline, or that of her daughter. The Withers never talk about it—not that they would tell me," he added with a chuckle. "And like how they were with Adeline, they raised her."

Damon mulled over the story the old man just shared. "I still don't see what made them what they are."

"That's my point, Damon," his grandfather said. "You don't see. You may never see."

"Then how will I understand them?"

The earl let out another grunt as he pushed higher in his chair. "You understand grief, my boy. You understand what it is to lose someone and the fear that comes with it. The fear of losing more. You're surrounded by people who have dealt with it. And each of us did it differently."

He slowly nodded. "Many of the things we do are out of fear."

"The Withers dealt with grief in so private a manner, so secretly that they've created a barrier of fear around them and they feel safe in it." His grandfather patted his knee. "It takes a fearless man to change that fear. You're lucky you're a Stratford."

"I'm not sure, old man," he said with a chuckle. "Being a Stratford is what makes it difficult."

"That's because they don't know us well as much as we don't know them. They don't understand why we are the way we are. Families are built differently." By that time, Gale and Price jumped off the stage angrily, claiming they were not moving another plant across the stage. "I think it's not the plant," the earl said, standing slowly with his cane as Freda and Roxie shouted after the two young men. "Darlings, I think you've exhausted Gale and Price," the earl said to his angels. "Have tea. Relax. The play will be perfect wherever that plant goes."

Damon escaped before either Freda or Roxie spotted him. He checked the time and sighed before he disappeared into the manor.

Two hours before the play, however, he started to get a little worried. There was no sign of Geneva yet, and everyone involved were also starting to get anxious. Freda and Roxie had gone alarmingly quiet, sitting in one corner.

All of them were dressed for the play, even Damon. One dress remained hanging in the other room waiting for its princess. The guests had started to show up, most if not all eager to see the end of the story. Price and Gale were watching Freda and Roxie with worry etched in the corner of their eyes. Even the servants fretted. The last they heard from the pair was how they were disappointed that Miss Withers would break her word. And maybe this was her way of paying back for all the troubles they caused her in the past.

Damon checked the time again. She may not make it, after all. Daniel, who had been terribly patient, finally spoke. "Well, there's no time to waste. We should inform our new princess and get her ready."

Freda and Roxie looked up and mournfully nodded their heads. Damon sighed. It was time to find Miss Piper. He was on his way to the door when it burst open and a grinning Gwen Halloway stumbled inside, chest heaving. "We're late, we know, but we had to run all the way here!"

Right behind her was Geneva, breathlessly tucking strays of hair behind her ear. Her eyes searched the room and landed on Damon. She was not grinning like Gwen. In fact, she looked like she had been crying. "Hello."

Freda and Roxie jumped to their feet and ran toward Geneva in tears. "Oh, we knew you'll come!" Freda said, wrapping her arms around Geneva. Roxie followed, burying her face in Geneva's coat, murmuring incoherent words of relief.

Damon was crossing the room, but was immediately blocked by a rush of people trying to get to Geneva. He watched two maids pull her toward the adjoining room. Freda and Roxie were back in spirit, throwing orders here and there. Through the commotion, Damon found Gwen Halloway and asked, "What happened?"

The woman shook her head. "Oh, nothing. We almost did get caught, but thankfully, the mistresses were too tired after their journey and retired early." Looking around the room with excitement, she clapped her hands together. "The last night of the play. How exciting! I should go and secure front seats with my friends."

"Damon, go with the others," Roxie ordered. "You can't see the princess. Your reaction later should be genuine."

He frowned as Daniel laughingly patted his shoulder and steered him toward the door.

The play started in a fine weather. The earl was seated front row and center, hands resting on his cane. It was probably the first time Damon saw the courtyard so filled since they lost their parents. The entire town came to pay their respects and offered condolences back then. This time, however, they came to be entertained. And they were.

Damon played his part as he practiced and as advised by Daniel. Women sighed when he fought the evil nightmares that plagued the forest. They gasped when he fell and cried out in pain, when the trees bent and carried him in their limbs to save him. They clapped when the animals appeared and fought alongside him. Cheers erupted when finally, the witch, played tremendously well by the maid, Susan, fell to her knees in defeat.

The veil of nightmare (a sheer cloth from Simon's studio) finally fell, revealing the world the witch trapped the princess in. Dream and reality finally merged into one.

Then out came the princess.

The entire courtyard fell silent. Damon was equally still, arrested in awe. She was dressed in a flowing white dress, the sleeves long, giving just a glimpse of her fingers. Tiny pearls adorned the waves of her hair. Like a goddess from the ocean who came to land.

Their eyes met and locked and a knowing smile curled at the corner of her mouth. She knew what he was awed and she was pleased. He took a step forward, his line at the tip of his tongue but he could not seem to give it voice.

"You," Leroy, who was once a footman but now a tree, murmured his line for him under his breath. "You are a dream." When Damon merely blinked, Leroy hissed, "Sir, your line!"

Damon swallowed and bit a smile because Geneva was also fighting a smile, having heard Leroy. He took another step, realizing that the woman before him was the same one he had spent many hours with, recognizing she was not a dream and that she was here, brave enough to do this with him as she promised. "You," he finally managed. "You are a dream," he said, then shook his head. "My dream," he added.

Her brows cocked high at the last line because they both knew Freda had not written that. "I am no dream, Sir," she said, moistening her lips, turning away from him to face the guests and all Damon could do was stare in wonder, his chest swelling with pride to see Geneva Withers brave the crowd she barely knew, and when she spoke of her nightmares, of the days that seemed to stretch into nights of deceptive dreams cast upon her by the witch, he felt her pain as well. So did the guests who were not shy to sniffle in tears.

When she turned to the wounded witch and knelt before her to cup her face, gently resting her forehead against hers, Damon frowned. They had not rehearsed this part, nor had she been instructed to do it. But she delivered the same line to the witch, only this time it was different from when she first read it when she auditioned. Her delivery was laced with both regret and compassion.

"For years, I've loved a nightmare," she said, sobbing in front of the witch. "Because I thought it was a dream." The guests were sniffling more frequently now as Geneva planted a kiss on the witch's forehead. "But I will have none of your dreams now," she said, standing and turning away to face Damon with a tearful smile. "I will seek mine."

"Oh, wonderful!" someone from the guests sobbed as Geneva approached Damon.

"Hand! Hand! Sir, take her hand!" Leroy hissed at him.

Damon did not need much urging. He was already meeting her strides and without a word, he offered his hand in hers. His horse, Maple, emerged from the back of the stage to the front, stopping right in front of the earl. The guests gasped as Damon mounted and pulled Geneva up. Then they stood to their feet in applause.

"Where are you going, Sir?" hissed Leroy, the tree, when Damon guided his horse out of the stage, leaving the poor witch crying in despair. "Sir! It's not over!"

"What are you talking about, Leroy?" he asked with a grin, sharing Geneva's laughter as she tightened her arms around his waist. "This is the perfect ending."