The preparations for the ball continued apace. By the time I was ready to leave my room (and my beloved vat of icy water), the entire mansion was decorated with colourful lamps and banners. In every corner, one could find a vase full of beautiful flowers filling the air with their sweet, welcoming scent.

The night came. Then the morning. Even more acceptance letters arrived, along with some servants who immediately started to prepare guest rooms for their esteemed lords and ladies. The manor's staff was putting on the finishing touches, polishing mirrors, waxing the ballroom floor and filling the chandeliers with fresh candles. Candles that were soon needed as the sun started to sink beyond the horizon and the evening of the ball arrived.

I stood at the window, gazing out at the sunset, when Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"It'll be all right, Mrs Ambrose. No need to be nervous."

"Indeed, Sir?"

"Indeed. And no need to climb out of the window with that rope of bedsheets you are hiding under your skirt, either."

Dang!

"Ahaha. Um..." Pulling out the improvised rope, I glanced over my shoulder to send him an innocent smile. "I have no idea how that got there."

He gave me a look. One of those looks. "Of course you haven't. Just like you haven't been trying to bribe the stable boy to provide you with an escape horse."

"Exactly!" Beaming, I nodded energetically and hoped he wouldn't notice my crossed fingers. "I would never do something silly like that just to escape a ball."

"That is adequate to hear." Tightening his grip on my shoulder, he pointed out of the window. "Because they have arrived."

It was only then that I saw them. Bulky, square-shaped shadows emerging out of the distance, silhouetted against the sinking sun. Only a moment later, the clattering of hooves rose to the half-open window. To me, it sounded like the approach of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.

"It is time," my dear husband stated right behind me.

Ah, and there's the devil himself, come to have his way with me.

Though, at the moment, I wouldn't have cared if the literal devil were in the room with me. Because even Satan couldn't compare with the pure evil radiating from the objects Mr Ambrose was holding out to me.

Dancing shoes.

Bloody dancing shoes!

Oh, and a tailcoat and trousers, too, but that was completely irrelevant in the face of the terrifying, dread-inspiring torture instruments that were the dancing shoes!

"No." I shook my head hard.

"Yes," came his reply as the first notes of dance music started down below. He stepped towards me. I took a step back.

"No. No. No."

"Yes." Raising the dancing shoes in his hands, Mr Rikkard Ambrose gave me a stern look. He took another step forward. "Triple yes."

"No. Absolutely not. I'm not going down to..." I wrinkled my face in disgust at having to utter the most horrific curse word I could imagine. "...dance."

"Yes. Yes, you are."

"But I can't! I...I..." Spotting my salvation, I snatched Berty out of his crib and clutched him to my chest. "I have to feed Berty. The poor boy hasn't gotten to eat in hours, he must be frantic with hunger!"

My words were followed by a pointedly peaceful snore coming from my darling boy.

Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "Indeed. I can see he is positively ravenous."

Dang it!

"Now..." Lifting the pair of shoes and pile of clothes in his hands, my dear husband gave me a meaningful look. "Get moving."

Desperately, I glanced down at the baby in my arms once more.

Come on, Berty! Be a good little boy and do what babies do! Cry! Yell! Tell us that you need your mama!

In answer to my plea, I received another snore.

He was so not getting a bedtime story tomorrow.

"Mr Linton. Shoes. Trousers. Now."

After a last, pleading look—which completely failed to work, incidentally—I took the offending articles and reached out to unlace my dress...until I realised that Mr Ambrose was still standing there, watching.

Throwing him a glare, I tapped my foot. "Well?"

He cocked his head. "Well what?"

Ha! Don't play dumb with me, Mister!

With a harrumph, I whirled on the spot and stalked behind the screen in the corner of the room. Divesting myself of my dress, I hurled it over the top of the screen and—

"Mmmph! Gagh!"

I grinned. Bull's eye!

Or rather, Ambrose's eye. It would be rude to call your husband a bull, Lilly.

Hurling my bloomers in the same direction as the dress, I smirked at the muffled curse from the other side of the room.

Unlike throwing underwear into his face. That's totally fine.

And, speaking of underwear...

Whistling, I slowly started to strip off the rest of my clothes, making sure to pose in such a manner that the curves of my silhouette, which motherhood hadn't exactly diminished, were clearly visible through the screen. With a flick of the wrist, I hung a rather skimpy lace corset over the top of the screen, where it was soon joined by the rest of my underwear.

"Mrs. Lillian. Ambrose."

Uh-oh...his voice was at minus five hundred and forty-six point three degrees Fahrenheit. This was serious.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Can you dress a little faster?"

I grinned. Now this was an easy question to answer. "No, actually, I can't. Because, no matter how many trousers you stick me in, I am still a woman."

There were certain laws of the universe that just shouldn't be messed with. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and women should be able to take all the time in the world to dress.

Judging by the low rumbling noise from beyond the screen that sounded like an pissed off arctic wolf, Mr Rikkard Ambrose did not really agree with that universal truth, however.

Well, too bad for him. If I'm going to have to pretend to be a man for the rest of the night, then I'm going to take my time being a lady!

Plus, there was the added bonus of teasing my darling husband till the very end. I still had several pieces of lacy underwear to take off.

Unfortunately, nothing could last forever. Finally, I removed the last bit of clothing and reached for the trousers that were draped over a nearby chair. Unfortunately, it took far less time to dress than it had taken to strip, and I stepped out into the open.

The sight of Mr Rikkard Ambrose decorated with various pieces of underwear was almost enough to make me laugh.

Almost.

Taking a deep breath, I met his eyes. "I really have to do this, don't I?"

It might just have been my imagination, but I could have sworn his eyes softened ever so slightly, from ice to snow. "If we want to protect Adaira? Yes."

"You'll owe me for this."

"Indeed."

"A lifelong supply of solid chocolate."

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Two years."

"Ten."

"Three."

"Eight."

"Four."

"Five."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mrs Ambrose."

I couldn't help but smile. How was it that, even when I was pissed off at him, he still managed to make me feel better? "I learned from the best."

"Yes." Stepping forward, he captured my face in one hand. "Yes, you did."

A gentle kiss brushed against my forehead. Under his touch, I felt the last bit of my resistance crumble.

"I will trample on everyone's feet," I warned. "Even Adaira's."

"Noted. She has already acquired some sturdy boots, I believe."

In answer, my grin only widened. "Then I will have to try extra hard, won't I? After all, I am a gentleman and can't disappoint my future wife."

"Indeed."

Another feather-light kiss touched my forehead. I closed my eyes for a moment, drinking in his presence. When I opened them again, Mr Ambrose the comforting husband was gone, and in his place was Mr Ambrose the cutthroat industrialist, ready to get down to business.

"I shall be going down first. It would be strange, to say the least, if two gentlemen were to appear arm in arm at a ball." Striding to the door, he glanced over his shoulder a last time. "Don't be tardy."

Then he was gone.

It was only a moment later that, through the thick door, I heard the musicians down below strike up a tune. A dance tune, to be precise.

I guess this is it. No more stalling, Lilly, eh?

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the landing. With trepidation in my steps, I approached the staircase. For a moment, I stared down into the hallway, where a large crowd of people was already gathering.

"Well then..." I murmured. "I suppose it's time to go down there and sweep my sister-in-law and future fiancée off her feet."

Now there was a sentence I'd never thought I'd utter.

Then again, since meeting Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I had done a lot of things I'd never thought I'd do. Like, risking my neck half a dozen times. Wiping shit off a baby's bottom. And now, worst of all, I would have to go dancing!

Voluntarily.

God, to what depths had I sunk?

Sighing, I started towards the staircase.

Well, look at it like this, Lilly...at least it can't get any worse, right?

That was when a door farther down the corridor opened and Ella emerged, followed by my four best friends.

With a silent curse, I leapt behind a nearby column and ducked down.

Crap, crap, crap! What the heck is Ella doing here?

I had managed to keep my male alter ego far away from her ever since she had arrived! Why did she have to show up now of all times, when I couldn't get out of these bloody trousers?

Considerate girls that they were, my friends were kind enough to unwittingly answer said question.

"...I mean, honestly, Ella," Eve's teasing voice reached my ears as they passed my hiding place. "I'm a little surprised that you decided to come to the ball. I thought you wouldn't even think of dancing without your beloved Eddie-darling. Does your husband know what you are up to, I wonder?"

A blush rose to Ella's cheek. "It's not like that! I'm not going to the ball to dance, I..." She lowered her head.

"Yes?"

"I...I've been looking for Victor everywhere this entire time, to no avail." Raising her head again, a fire lit in Ella's gentle eyes. "But he'll be coming to the ball to dance with Adaira, right? So I'll finally meet my long-lost brother!"

What was that my inner voice said about how things couldn't possibly get worse?

Well, Lilly, the bedsheet rope is still up in your room. As is the half-open window.

Before I could fall to the temptation of my inner voice, I shook my head and re-focused on the staircase. By now, Ella and the others were already halfway downstairs. Making sure to keep out of their view, I tip-toed after them.

"I wonder where he is," Ella wondered as she let her gaze sweep over the hallway down below. "Do you see him anywhere?"

Amy, the sneaky little witch, glanced over her shoulder straight at my current hiding place and winked at me. "Him? No, I don't see him anywhere."

Sending a glare in her direction, I lifted my middle finger. Generous girl that she was, she grinned and lifted both of hers in return.

All right...getting in a profanity contest with Amy Weston. Probably not the best idea.

So, instead, I simply put on my most undeniably masculine face, straightened my lapels, and continued to sneak after them. Soon, I was at the bottom of the staircase and quickly started across the hall, praying all the while that Uncle Bufford's socks would be enough to see me through this night.

There must have been a deity out there who heard my prayer. One that had a really heinous sense of humour.

"Ah, what a nice-looking young gentleman!" An unfamiliar voice exclaimed from right behind me. "I knew it wouldn't be a waste of time to accept the invitation to the marchioness's ball!"

Before I could react, an unknown arm latched onto mine with an iron grip. Glancing sideways, I spotted a nightmarish sight I thought I would never have to face again after getting married: a mother on the hunt. To be precise, a mother on the hunt for spawn-spouses.

"Um...hello there, Ma'am. I don't believe we've been introduced, so it might not be proper for me to converse with you. Perhaps I should go and—"

"Oh, such a polite young man! No need to be shy. Come, let me introduce you to my daughter!"

So it was the usual mother routine, was it? Well, I was used to dealing with annoying suitors. I would just have to stomp on the man's foot hard enough, and then...

Wait a minute.

Daughter?

Daughter?!

My head whipped around, and my horrified stare came to rest on a buxom blonde with a voluptuous figure who wasted no time in sending me a seductive wink. It was only then that I realised coming to this ball dressed in men's clothes and my uncle's socks might have a few more consequences than just having to dance with Adaira.

Aaaah! Please! Anyone, get me out of here!

This time, nobody heard my prayer. Nobody at all. Well...unless you counted the voluptuous lady who had grabbed me by the arm and was currently dragging me down the hall and towards the ballroom. That was not the direction I wanted to go!

"So, darling," the curvaceous limpet attached to my arm purred. I was fairly certain limpets shouldn't be able to purr. "Do you have much experience with women?"

I couldn't help it. One corner of my mouth twitched. "Oh yes. Much more than you would believe."

"Really?"

"Definitely. More than any man you know, I would venture."

Shut up shut up shut up! Lilly, you're digging your own grave!

"My my..." Somehow, the feminine menace at my side managed to tighten her grip on my arm even further. "An experienced man? How fascinating. Do tell, Sir, what is your name?"

"Um...excuse me, Miss, but last time I checked it wasn't very polite to ask for a stranger's name."

"Is that so...?" Smiling, the young woman pulled me closer. Far too close for my taste. "Then we'll just have to get to know each other really closely, really fast, right?"

Oh God, what did I do to deserve this?

It was just then that I caught sight of Adaira, my fiancée-to-be and future member of my sinfully scandalous harem, waving at me over the heads of the crowd. With a smirk, she gestured at the lady currently clutching my arm and mouthed "Have fun, stud!"

Thanks for reminding me, God!

My escort seemed to have noticed Adaira as well, and my less-than-pleased reaction. A delighted smile spread across her face.

"Hm...don't appreciate other women making their interest known, do you?" She preened. "I see you've already taken a liking to me."

"No. No, I really haven't."

"Oh my...so you're one of those cold, standoffish men. That is so attractive!"

My eyebrows twitched, as the image of a tall granite statue of a man invaded my mind unbidden. "It most certainly isn't!"

"Hm...you really are a tough one. So manly!" Drawing me the rest of the way into the ballroom before I could protest, the lady (who still hadn't bothered to introduce herself!) twirled me around and took a firm hold of me.

Oy! I'm the one who is supposed to be leading here!

A flash of bright, white teeth nearly blinded me. "Let's dance, shall we?"

No! No, let's not!

But before I had a chance to speak those words out loud, the quartet in the corner got going, and the voluptuous lady whose bloody name I didn't know even now swept me off my feet, twirling me across the ballroom floor. Though...was it just me, or was the melody those musicians were playing a little bit off?

"H-hey! I'm pretty sure they're still tuning their instruments!"

The nameless lady cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm supposed to open the ball with someone else!"

"Ah, but according to you, it hasn't even started yet." She pouted. "Besides, why her and not me? Did the lady give you her dancing card before?"

"No. She and I are about to be engaged!"

"About to be?" The evil vixen smiled. "So I still have time to seduce you."

A pox upon all women! Why couldn't I be in the company of nice, reasonable men?

...on second thought, I really had to get out of these trousers before they warped my mind.

Great idea, Lilly! Why don't you pull down your trousers right here and now? I'm sure that would get rid of your lady admirer amazingly quickly.

And I also had to make sure to never ever listen to the advice of my inner voice.

The sound of tuning instruments changed into a slightly less chaotic cacophony, and the two of us continued to sail across the empty, polished parquet. That earned us several stares from the crowd entering the ballroom, but the vixen who had me in her clutches didn't seem to care. With every step, I could feel her drawing me closer, batting her eyelashes and presenting her prodigious cleavage. She might have introduced herself at some point. I didn't really pay much attention, because I was far too focused on trying to avoid looking at the two globes that she was trying to thrust into my face.

On second thought...maybe I should just take my inner voice's advice. Better a painful end than pain without end.

Luckily, before I could go through with that idea, the musicians ceased, apparently having finished the tuning of their instruments.

"ThankYouVeryMuchForTheDanceSorryIHaveToGo!" I said in an elegant and not at all hurried manner before I disentangled myself from the blonde lady and fled. Dashing into the crowd, I vanished among the chattering mass of people, my head kept firmly down the entire time. I ended up behind a decorative column, holding my breath—until my tense shoulders finally relaxed.

Yay! I'm alive! I'm alive! I've survived the worst part of the evening!

Or at least that was what I thought before I heard a familiar voice from behind me.

"Having fun?"

Slowly, very slowly, I turned around until my eyes came to rest on a grinning Adaira.

"You!"

"Me." She gave me an innocent smile that almost made me not want to strangle her anymore. "Your beloved future fianceé."

Almost.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough." Her eyes twinkled. "How did you enjoy your time with Lady...what was her name again?"

One of my eyebrows twitched. She knew, didn't she?

"Cockfield," I answered. "Her name is Lady Cockfield."

"Oh, really?" Her eyes swept down to my lumbar region. "Are you sure it isn't Sockfield?"

My eyebrow twitched again. "Have I mentioned that I think you are enjoying this kind of thing far too much?"

"Multiple times," Adaira admitted smugly. "Still won't stop me."

"Really? And what's to stop me from stuffing you head-first into the nearest dung heap?"

In answer, she jabbed a finger towards the left, where I noticed a female figure in pink watching us with a sweet, hopeful expression on her face. "My mother."

That was...a good point, actually. Dammit!

"Now..." Smirking like a professional smirky smirker, my dear sister-in-law batted her eyelashes at me. "Won't you ask your beloved fiancée-to-be for a dance?"

"No!"

"How rude! If only my dear mother could hear how you treat her daughter, Sir!"

"You...you devious vixen!"

"Takes one to know one. Now..." Cocking her head, Adaira extended a hand towards me. "Dance?"

I opened my mouth, probably to tell my beloved fiancée-to-be where exactly she could stick her dance, when there was a sound from above and the entire crowd around us abruptly fell silent. Even the musicians, who had started playing a soothing Mozart piece to entertain the crowd while everyone was waiting for the first dance to officially start the ball, ceased their fiddling immediately.

Instinctively, I looked up—and there he was: William Alexander Ambrose, The Marquess Ambrose. He was standing high upon the gallery, looking insufferably superior. His son was at his side, looking as if he would prefer to be quite literally anywhere else. Like, say, on top of an exploding volcano at the bottom of the ocean.

"Welcome! Welcome, one and all!" Spreading his arms, the marquess looked down at the masses. Or should I have said looked down on? With him, one really couldn't tell the difference. "I am delighted that you were kind enough to accept my invitation to this ball in honour of my beloved daughter."

Beside me, I heard Adaira snort.

I couldn't help but agree. "In honour of my beloved daughter" my juicy dérrière! This ball was as much in her honour as a cattle market was in honour of the cows.

"Now," the marquess's powerful voice echoed through the ballroom, "why, you may ask, have I arranged this little festivity?"

To stroke your own massive ego?

"It is quite simple. My dear daughter has reached marriageable age and, loving father that I am, I chose to hold this little get-together to decide who should receive the honour of her hand."

Instantly, the eyes of the men in the crowd lit up with desire.

I clenched my teeth. Smart bastard. I thought this was just a part of his little contest...but no. He invited half the nobility of Great Britain. And if anyone better than the two main candidates shows up, he'll sell Adaira to them in a heartbeat!

To judge by the look on my sister-in-law's face, I hadn't been the only one to realise this.

"So with that in mind, without further ado," the marquess announced, his voice booming over the excited whispers of the crowd, "allow me to introduce the premier contender for my daughter's favour. Please welcome... Armand Odilon DeMordaunt, Vicomte de Saint-Celeste!"

"Is it just me," I whispered, leaning over towards Adaira, "or is this contest of your father's not entirely impartial?"

Eyes narrowed, she stared up at her father. "You don't say? I didn't notice."

I was just considering whether it was legal to squeeze that much sarcasm into a sentence when, high up on the gallery, a door opened and out stepped the vicomte, in all his glory. And he was glorious. I would have had to be blind not to see it. Glorious as a golden palace, inhabited by a tyrant. Glorious as a finely crafted sword, hanging right above your head. Suddenly, all the young men in the crowd looked a lot less confident in their chances.

Leisurely, the vicomte started to descend the stairs. He looked like he had all the time in the world. And yet, he was down the stairs far too fast for my liking. With a seductive smile, he approached Adaira and sank into a bow.

"Mademoiselle Adaira...may I have the honour of this dance?"

---------------------------------------------

My dear Readers,

An extra-long chapter for you today! I hope you enjoyed it :)

Those among you who are well-versed in science might have noticed me mentioning Mr Ambrose's voice being at minus five hundred and forty-six point three degreesFahrenheit - which is not in fact possible, since absolute zero, the lowest temperature possible, is at minus four hundred fifty-nine point six seven degrees Fahrenheit. Mr Ambrose's cold expression in just that amazing ;)

Oh, and in case you are wondering, "Cockfield" is an actual English last name, despite the mental image it might conjure up. The strangeness of language never ceases to amaze me.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob