A Trilby.

Edmund Trilby did not only share the same name as Osmond Trilby, but he had been spending quite a good amount of time with the man suspected of his murder as well. It was too much of a coincidence.

By mid-afternoon, Margaret found herself sitting on a bench not far away from Tori and Wittlock, still utterly confused of the murder case and the sudden appearance of another Trilby.

She had thought—and mayhap the League believed so as well—that Osmond Trilby's death was a political one. After all, the suspect was a head of the Men of Courts. Yet Edmund Trilby was too young to be associated with anything political, leading Margaret to believe that the cause of the murder could very well be close at home.

This might turn out to be a challenging case, considering the family Osmond Trilby belonged to.

She knew of the Trilbys. They were among the families who went down to build the Town centuries past, making them one of the oldest and influential families. Townspeople considered them still to be powerful, despite being rather odd. They very rarely engaged in social affairs, selecting only the most extravagant of balls to attend to. They hid their children until they were old and capable enough, probably to keep them safe. Their preference led even the richest gentries to believe that the Trilbys thought themselves too high in society to mingle with just anyone. They kept to themselves and any surrounding scandals were hushed.

Dark and mysterious gossips had been whispered about them, but none was proven to be true thus far. There were whispers of dungeons where they punished their servants—and even their own; stories of changing their names so they could spread their influence and power. There were even ghost stories to scare the children. Such stories were still told with enthusiasm and no one cared whether they may be true or not. The Trilbys were the epitome of a good scary story. The most recent one was, of course, the one that involved Belinda Carrington and her sister, Julia.

Belinda had been banished out of Willowfair many years ago after a big scandal here in Theobald. Julia went on to marry Noah Trilby, elevating the Carrington family status in society. But a few years ago, Belinda escaped from where she was banished and returned to Willowfair. Things went insane from there and the varied stories were a little confusing. To this day, it was unclear what truly happened. Even Calan Haverston, her mentor, whose brother eventually married Belinda, could not say much about the matter. Margaret only knew enough because Belinda, after the horrors that happened to her, worked for the Everards as the twins' governess. And all she was willing to say during her short time with them, before McKenzie Haverston came and swept her off her feet, was that Julia killed their mother and tried to do the same to her. Her sister was pregnant when the Guards captured her, and was persecuted after giving birth.

The Town was not nearly as curious as to why Julia wanted Belinda dead as they were to what happened to Julia's child after she was hanged. The Trilbys never made any attempt to explain themselves, nor did Noah Trilby.

Margaret was aware that Belinda tried to gain custody of the child after she married McKenzie Haverston. And it was in vain. Not a soul had seen the child. The Trilbys had kept it to themselves like how they did with most of their personal lives. Their ghosts and demons, their ugly truths.

She wondered now how many secrets the Trilbys hide. How many children could they be hiding? What was Edmund Trilby's relationship to the Prime Minster? And how did he know Cole Devitt?

She knew little of Osmond Trilby. He was brought to power simply because of his name, that's for certain. He was a widower. Noah Trilby was his younger brother.

Margaret sighed. She should look more into the Trilbys.

***

"Margaret Everard asked for my name," Edmund Trilby informed him, face even paler than it usually was. "I thought it wise to provide the truth."

Cole's jaw tightened and he looked around the empty corridor.

"I already compromised many things for you, my lord," Edmund said when Cole did not reply. "You should keep your promise."

"Any sacrifice you make would also reflect upon me," he said. "Was it not you who brought me into this mess?"

"What I brought you is aid to your cause. It was you who brought yourself into this mess," the young man said. "With or without my help, you are still a suspect to the murder."

"Keep your voice down," he snapped. "Go home," he said to Edmund. "No one could see us together again. The last thing I would want is a nosy witness."

"But—"

"You delivered what you wanted to say in private. Be loyal to our plans and I shall keep my promise."

Edmund looked at him with uncertainty. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes."

"I do not wish for another death, my lord."

"None shall happen if you do what I say and go back to Willowfair."

Edmund gave a curt nod. "Be wary. The League has eyes and ears everywhere."

"They are the least of our concern."

"But they can be a hindrance to your cause."

He walked past Edmund Trilby and stopped, a frown on his face. "Why did Margaret Everard ask for your name?"

Edmund shook his head. "I don't know, but I believe she deliberately sought me out."

Cole's jaw tightened.

"You must not forget what I told you. They have placed someone to watch your every move."

Nodding, Cole muttered, "Thank you for the caution, but I know what I'm doing. And you being here is only causing us both harm. Go home, Edmund. I mean it."

Cole swiftly strode away. He had to be careful from now on. He was the League's leading suspect to the murder and they had every reason to believe so.

***

Mayhap she had been thinking too much of Cole Devitt that fate had led him to find her in the garden on the day the guests were departing the Theobald estate. Or mayhap he had been seeking her out, she thought as he strode through the garden, his steps purposeful.

Forcing a smile on her lips, Margaret watched his flat, unreadable face.

He had always had a mysterious side, one of the many things that drew her to him. But it was not the same as the empty look she was seeing now. The first night they met in that ball while she was eighteen and he was six-and-twenty, Cole Devitt's eyes were filled with naught but mischievousness and wonder. His lips curved into a secretive smile and he easily laughed.

Their courtship started that night when she asked if he intended to teach her to dance. It took three days for them to discover that he was Benedict's best friend. Her brother was never one to talk about his friends, particularly in the presence of Margaret and the much younger Ysabella and Emma.

"Would you ever tell me your name?" he had asked her that night, his eyes looking into hers as though he was studying a rare piece of gem.

"I'm not one to give away my identity to anyone so easily," had been her reply.

"How do I address you then?"

Her eyes had been filled with mischief as she answered, "Meg. Call me Meg."

Before her mind wandered to the day Benedict had discovered them three days after that night, Margaret met the eyes of the present man that won over the Cole Devitt she knew and loved. Her eyes locked with his just as easily as years before.

He was adamant to put a good distance between them. Why did he seek her out now? For Margaret, it meant only one thing: he knew she sought out Edmund Trilby and his relationship with the man was too important that he was willing to confront her, or at least coax the truth from her.

"For someone who does not wish to be friends, you seek me out too often," she said in the best teasing tone she could muster.

She could hear the thudding of her pulse as he shortened the distance between them. Hearing her words, his face began to soften. An act? She wondered.

He stopped at a good distance, eyes seeking hers. For a moment Margaret recognized the look. He had used it on her many times in the past when he suspected she was lying or hiding something. And many times, she never knew if he knew the truth—if he ever knew she was lying when she claimed she had countless suitors when they met, or when she lied about having been kissed before him. And in the many times she had tried to trick him or lead him to believe something otherwise, he had the same look in his eyes as he had now. And she never knew to this day how many of her little lies he caught and ignored.

"Mayhap I was merely seeking out someone else," he said, tearing his eyes off hers to look about the garden. "Perhaps you have seen him?" he asked, giving emphasis on the last word.

Feigning confusion, Margaret asked, "Whoever do you mean, my lord?"

His gaze hovered over her and like many times in the past, she couldn't read his mind.

"Hm," was all the sound he made.

"Do you intend to find this friend of yours?"

"No. He must have already gone home," he replied.

He started to bow but Margaret grasped his arm and pulled herself closer to him. She had clearly caught him off guard. "If that is so, mayhap you could join me for a walk."

Her mind was telling her to let him go, to allow him to leave, but she reasoned she should dig deeper.

This is stupid, Maggie, said her rational brain.

Just this moment, another part begged.

And while her inner self battled against itself, Margaret heard Cole say, "Margaret, please—"

She smiled. "Just a walk in the garden," she said, taking a step forward. But he remained stiff as a rock.

Having had enough of the pretense, she dropped her hands to her sides and sighed. "Very well," she murmured, looking around.

"Why are you here alone?" he said, his tone serious as though he was talking to one of his subjects.

Margaret lifted one shoulder. "Levi and mother saw Tori and her stepmother off and I do not wish to be there." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm rather irked at how this party ended for my friend, you see. And I needed more time to think."

"Think?" he asked.

"How to help Tori land a husband, of course. She needs my help, and as a friend, I'm obliged to help her find a husband who would suit her and not her stepmother's needs."

He was silent for some time before he finally asked, "Why are you determined to find Lady Victoria a husband when you ought to focus on finding one yourself?"

"Ah, there we go again about my marriage plans," she said in jest. But as he opened his mouth to defend himself, she hurriedly provided an answer. "I had long given up."

Something flashed in his eyes before he expertly managed to conceal it. "So, you came to the garden to think about Lady Victoria's problem and how to solve it."

"Yes. Tori needs time to deal with her disappointment."

"I cannot fathom why she would be disappointed. She seemed to have been spending quality time with Lord Wittlock."

Margaret was surprised that he noticed Tori's activities. "She proposed to Wittlock in desperation yesterday and he vehemently said no."

For a moment, his passive demeanor broke as his brows arched in surprise. "Rather bold of her."

"You do not know what a desperate woman could do, my lord," she retorted. "And Wittlock thinks everyone is a nancy, including me."

His eyes widened a tiny bit in surprise. "You? How did you find out he thinks of you that way?"

"Oh, I do have keen ears." Margaret did not mention she could read lips and she had read it in Wittlock's when the man told Tori what he thought of the Everards. Margaret turned her head to the direction of the manor. "I'm afraid it's time to leave."

Cole nodded and stepped aside.

"Good day, my lord," she said with a smile. "If I should pick one pleasant thing during this weekend, it must be meeting you again. It has been a long time."

He simply kept silent and belatedly nodded when she waited.

"I shall be seeing you around Wickhurst then," she said as goodbye, whirling around to leave.

She thought she heard him say, "I'd rather not," but decided to ignore it.

They would be seeing more of each other back in Wickhurst. And there, she would be on top of her game.