Coming back to Wickhurst meant confronting more work.

And the twins.

"Well? How did it go?" asked Ysabella as she sashayed into Margaret's room with Emma in tow.

Margaret stared at her sisters. They were both eighteen, the same age as her when she thought the world was wonderful. Their faces glimmered with the same light as hers when she and Tori spent their time with naught but ideas of love and balls.

"Do you mean the Theobald party?"

"No, we meant Tori and Levi."

Margaret narrowed her eyes at them. "There is no Tori and Levi, sisters. There is just you, little devils, planning and playing games on people. Do not make Tori and Levi your next victims. I'm warning you. Tori does not need games. She needs a husband."

"Oh, very well," Emma said with a sigh, walking out the door, followed by Ysabella.

"I told you she'd say that. Maggie is the most predictable, isn't she?" Margaret heard Ysabella say to Emma.

Shaking her head, Margaret locked her bedchamber and proceeded to the connecting door that led to her private study and went straight to work.

Picking up her pen, she dipped it in the inkwell and began composing a report to Calan Haverston. She told him about Edmund Trilby and his curious connection to Cole Devitt.

After the report, she began her own inquiries.

If it would not be against the instructions of the League, I would like to request a few more details about Osmond Trilby. Any information on his connection with Edmund Trilby would be much appreciated.

-M

Once done, Margaret called for the butler, Jefferson, the only person she entrusted her letters to all these years.

There was no time to rest for her, she thought, as she watched Jefferson leave. Tori was in dire need of help. And there was Cole Devitt walking about Wickhurst, doing whatever it was he was doing and she wondered how she could spy on him without getting caught. He knew her more than any of the others she spied on before, which could be a problem. As the twins said, she was predictable.

But she wasn't. Ysabella only said that because she didn't know what Margaret really did.

"Or what I'm capable of," she said with a smile.

***

Wickhurst and many other affluent places in the Town relied heavily on the service people. Lords and ladies could barely live a day without a maid to dress them, change their linens, pour hot water into their tubs, fix their hair, serve their food—among many others.

For most of these servants, their entire day was spent working. If they were lucky to have landed into a good-natured home, they could obtain a few weeks of vacation to spend with families and friends.

But, sadly, not all could be considered lucky. Some had spent years—even their entire lives—in the service of their masters and mistresses. Most never married and those who were could barely keep their families together.

The service people could very well outnumber their masters, but they were still amongst the poorest of the population.

But they were paid still, their masters would argue. They were given roofs over their heads and food to nourish their body. The few townsends they earned were not the only things they got from their masters and they were not considered as slaves, the gentries would say.

True enough, after some lawmakers fought for the rights of servants, it had become a law that all servants should be paid fair amount for their services. Slavery was abolished.

Yet there were still those who managed to gain profit by selling slaves to areas of the Town where law was overlooked. Women and children disappeared in their villages and were never found. Many argued they had been banished to other parts of the Town, but no one bothered to take the disappearances seriously because they were not important enough to warrant attention. They were not worth a townsend. Why would the Town waste time and money to find them when it was already apparent that they willingly left their villages and sought better chances elsewhere?

For years, Cole Devitt had thought the same. They've had servants in Ashmore disappearing, eloping with lovers, or taking another post in another household.

But that was before he learned the other side of the truth. Five years ago, he found evidence of cases that should have been given attention but were never given a chance. Such cases had uniform claims: illegal slave trade.

But they were cases filed by servants—relatives of the people who disappeared and who had reached out for help. But servants were rarely given voice even in an institution such as the Men of Courts, whose very purpose was to be fair to all.

As Cole dug into the cases, he found more disturbing statements and proof. And two years ago, he stumbled upon the most incriminating evidence in the last place he could have imagined: his own home.

He trusted no one from then on, never told a soul about his secret investigation.

Yet he still got caught.

The product of his investigation landed him in Wickhurst. Someone got word of his interest in the illegal slave trade and was powerful enough to displace him from his previous post in Dartridge. And with his authority there no longer recognized, he had to leave nearly everything he gathered behind, including witnesses.

Wickhurst was an affluent town and slavery was not a common practice, if not absent. Law was practiced and imposed here. Whoever was responsible for putting him here knew he would not find anything significant.

He ought to be out there where the trade was active, he would often think to himself whenever he was in the privacy of his chambers.

He sat in his chair, buried behind a pile of old records he ordered be taken to his chambers for him to study and review. They were trying to bury him with new cases, including the one that concerned Agatha Blair, the former governess of the Everards and now the wife of his former friend, Benedict.

Powerful people forwarded Blair's case to the Higher Court and obtained an order for her arrest. He merely received the order for the arrest on the same day they were to take Blair to prison. Had he known, the poor woman would not have had to see or smell the stench of the cells. It was nothing but a social prosecution without basis of the truth. Witchcraft was a thing of the past.

Agatha Blair had been lucky to have had the Everards to support her. They were able to clear her name without a trial and Cole was merely happy to give it rest. He had more cases of much import to study than witchcraft.

People were disappearing from villages every day and no one cared. He could not stay still when the voice of the minority was silenced by those who were in power. Cole would not rest until those responsible stood before him in court. Many had lost their lives because of the greed of the few. Some were the victims themselves; others were just innocent people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Just like Leah.

***

Days after they returned from Theobald, they attended the Archibald Ball in Wickhurst. And since then, Margaret started to question Levi's true motives. Her brother had the gall to cheat at a Faro game to sabotage Tori's chances with Lord Archibald, another man on the list of prospects, the same list he made for Tori.

Margaret did not suffer that ball and that horrible game for nothing! Tori did not swallow her pride and allowed her company be the prize to the winner of the game. And her dratted brother cheated—and won! And got caught! A drama ensued between Levi, Archibald, and Tori. And also, between Levi and Margaret.

And now, merely days after the said ball, Tori sent a missive for help. Her stepmother had locked her inside her bedchamber with every intention to marry her off to Lucas Rowe.

Pacing around her bedchamber, holding Tori's missive in one hand, Margaret devised a plan. Tori would have to disappear for a while. And while her friend was gone and away from her stepmother's control, Margaret had to do all the work and convince Lord Archibald that Tori would be the perfect wife. But she could not go with Tori. She had to stay in Wickhurst for her assignment.

Margaret groaned. She would need Levi's help after all and she must end their silent war. And if they had to take Tori out of Wickhurst, she would need a companion. Her mother would not agree to her plan. Ysabella and Emma would not go without the other.

She groaned. The twins both had to go. But the two young ladies did not like Levi's Standbury estate, where Margaret planned to hide Tori.

She cursed under her breath. She had to use one of the promises she had secured from the twins to make her plan work.

Setting aside Tori's missive, she picked the one that came in moments ago.

M,

Need to talk in person. Be in Willowfair.

-C

Margaret sighed as she stared at the ball invitation that came with the missive. Calan Haverston rarely requested to meet in person, but whenever he did, it was undeniably serious.

***

I'm back in Willowfair. Be wary of her. She is very wise.

Cole crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire. He hoped not to hear more from Edmund Trilby, but he could understand why the young man would keep on sending him the useless missives.

Paranoia was not healthy, but so was not having anyone to share it with.

Turning around, he saw the pile on his desk and for a brief moment he wished he was somewhere else. Or sometime else.

Odd, really, that he could not erase a specific event from the past in his mind since that morning—the day Benedict Everard caught him and Margaret kissing in the garden. It had been her first kiss despite her insistence that she had had enough practice. He was able to tell, yet he never told her so.

Benedict's shocked and angry face was still fresh in his mind. Margaret had claimed that she did not know he was friends with her brother, and to this day, Cole was not certain whether she lied. But it was one of the things he liked about Margaret Everard. She was no easy woman to read. She had always been a good kind of mystery.

But the same thing was confusing him now. He had hoped to discover why she sought out Edmund Trilby in the Theobald Ball, but all he got was an innocent smile. Was it truly an innocent one, or was she pulling off one of her tricks? Had she gotten better over the years?

He let his head fall back and sighed. One could never know with Margaret Everard.

***

Their mother's departure for Devonshire to visit Benedict and Agatha was perfect for their plan.

The twins were hesitant at first, but when Margaret informed them both of the details of the plan, they immediately agreed. Margaret had to remind them that Levi and Tori were not to be subjects of their matchmaking games.

"I cannot go with you, but do drive to Ralph's residence in Dosett where Levi is," she ordered the twins before they departed. "He would know what to do."

"But what if he does not wish to come?" asked Emma.

"He shall come," Margaret said.

"Can you not come with us? You might convince him to—"

"No, I cannot, sisters," Margaret said in haste. "I have more preparations to do. Once Tori is out of Wickhurst, her stepmother would make a move and I should stop her or slow her down. Do you understand?"

Both ladies nodded.

"Just go to Dosett, get Levi, and rescue Tori."

"What should we do if we're caught? Lie?" asked Ysabella.

"You always lie." She waved her hand and said, "Now, please. Go. Tori does not have much time. And do be careful. No games!"

Ysabella and Emma grinned. "Yes, of course!"

Margaret waited until her sisters climbed into the carriage before she turned to the footman. "Do not take them out of your sight until you reach Dosett. Once there, make certain that Levi comes with them. Should anything go wrong, you take them back here."

"Yes, my lady," said the footman.

Margaret watched the carriage drive away. The street was dimmer as night had fallen aboveground. A perfect time to escape Wickhurst, she thought, silently praying her siblings would succeed. They would, of course, she thought with confidence as she turned to find her way back to her study.

"My lady," Jefferson met her in the hallway.

"What is it?" she asked without pausing.

"You must see something, my lady," the man said, walking beside her.

"I do not have time for household—"

"It is rather important," Jefferson insisted.

Margaret stopped and sighed. She gave a curt nod. "Lead the way."

She began to frown as Jefferson led her to the direction of the kitchen. Once there, she found that almost all of their servants were gathered in the center of the large room, all looking concerned. All turned when they heard her enter with Jefferson.

"The scullery maid found her outside the service door, my lady," Jefferson said with a flick of his hand, ordering the other servants to step back.

Margaret's eyes landed on a black-haired young girl. Her face was smeared with soot, grime, and tears. Her pale blue eyes stared at Margaret with a look of innocence, but Margaret saw more behind them.

This girl has been through so much.

"She refused to leave, my lady," Jefferson was trying to explain. "She claims to be lost and that she is in grave danger. She has no one, she says. Of course, she could be lying, as they all do, but I thought it better to call your attention and—"

Margaret raised her hand to silence the man and took one step toward the child. "She is not merely covered in grime, Jefferson," Margaret said, looking at the child closely. "I'm not going to hurt you, child," she softly said when the girl stepped away from her, fear in her eyes. "She's covered in bruises."

"Terrible fate for anyone, much more so a child," someone was crying behind her.

Margaret looked the child in the eyes. "I'm Lady Margaret. What's your name?" she gently asked.

The child licked her lips, swallowed. And as if it pained her, she croaked, "Faye."