Benedict's scarred face was bare of any emotion, save for the curious rise of one eyebrow.

"He is the head of the Men of Courts and I'm a spy for the League," she finally brought herself to speak in a practiced, calm voice. "My interaction with Cole Devitt is purely professional, although you appear to not believe it."

"As a matter of fact," Benedict said, pushing away from the carriage door, opened it and gestured for her to climb inside as he continued, "You are correct. I do not believe you."

"Of course," she said with a sigh. "And as much as I would love to explain my mission, Benedict, I'm afraid I cannot. You must understand."

Benedict climbed inside and closed the carriage door. The carriage drove them away from the park, the silence growing as the distance to the estate drew closer.

She focused her attention on the passing view outside, mindful of any stranger following her. Her head snapped when her brother finally spoke. "I'm sorry for what happened in the past, Maggie."

She rapidly blinked her eyes, as if fighting back tears, but really, there was none because she'd spent them all years ago. She set her teeth together and squared her shoulders. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak but found she could not think of a word.

They never brought up the past, but Margaret ever blamed her brother. If she lost Cole and their father in that distant past, Benedict lost a father, his child, and its mother. And his best friend.

"You did nothing wrong, Ben," she said in a voice that was surprisingly strong. "We have all been victims of ill fate."

Benedict's green eyes stared at her, his eyes assessing hers like Cole would. He was very much like his former friend, really, both of them too good at reading her.

"If what you say is true and you're merely on a mission, Maggie," he said, breaking the silence, "I suggest that you be careful." Before she could offer a rejoinder, he added, "You cannot allow him to hurt you again."

His words were laced with warning only a brother could muster. He would not say more. That's how Benedict was. His very words were always considered law, although he never meant them to be.

She had heard him say the same words when Cole asked for her hand. That time it had been very different. Cole still considered Benedict his best friend by then and her brother had not acquired his scars yet.

Margaret bit her lips, wishing to tell Benedict that it might be she who would end up hurting Cole Devitt if she succeeded with her plans and he turned out to be innocent.

***

The day of Levi and Tori's return as a married couple finally came and the Everards were once more the topic of every gossipmonger in town.

Yet it was not to be missed that the newlyweds cared not for the scandal they had caused. That gossip would soon fade because Levi and Tori did not intend to stay long. They shall reside in Standbury and would never be seen by most of the people in Wickhurst again anytime soon, as Levi had put it.

Still, they had to agree to attend the Seymour Ball as a family.

Margaret wanted to tell her friend about Cole Devitt, but she knew Tori would merely be concerned. Her friend witnessed how she suffered years ago. It was Tori who dragged her out of her bedchambers and suffered balls after balls, musicales after musicales, with her until she was strong enough to regain a semblance of normalcy. And it was Tori who slapped her when she voiced her thoughts of ending it all.

Margaret cleared her mind of Cole as Tori walked the side of the ballroom with Levi beside her, both of them looking as though they were suffering the ball. The guests were gawking at the pair as if they were a piece of confusing artwork. Questions were being whispered around.

When had it even began?

Did he compromise her?

Did she seduce him?

But they were supposed to be just friends!

Tearing her eyes away from the couple, Margaret searched for Cole. There was no sign of him. She decided to spend her time with her mother who was adamant to those willing to listen that Tori and Levi had always been in love and that it was almost too late for the two when they realized it.

"My son may be a charmer, but he is a fool like most men. He realized he wants her almost too late."

Margaret chuckled with the other ladies and as her eyes raked the ballroom once more, she finally saw him standing in one corner talking with Lord Seymour.

She moistened her lips in anticipation as she thought of a way to get his attention.

"Excuse me, Mother. I see one of the twins about to make a fool of herself," she whispered in her mother's ear before she sauntered away to go straight to Ysabella who was blocking Lord Wakefield's path.

"—and I'm asking, my lord, why you refuse to have this dance with me," Ysabella was demanding when Margaret arrived. Wakefield's handsome face looked like he was praying he was in some other place than this ball.

"Because, my dear, sister," Margaret said, standing beside Wakefield, "he has promised this dance with me."

Ysabella looked outraged. "He did?" She shot the startled Wakefield an accusing glare. "You did?"

"I—I... Well," Wakefield stammered before he finally recovered and smiled. "I did, did I not, Margaret?"

"You did," she said, giving Wakefield her hand. "Go find Emma, Ysa. Mother is looking for the both of you," she lied as Wakefield led her to the middle of the ballroom. "And you owe me," she whispered to him.

"Thank you," he said with relief, looking over his shoulder at Ysabella's retreating form.

"She can be very persistent, but I'm quite certain she'll get over you faster than she could steal a pie from the kitchen," she assured him.

"Steal pies?" Wakefield asked as he positioned her in front of him for the waltz.

"Yes. She keeps them in her bedchamber. She often wakes up in the middle of the night hungry."

Wakefield chuckled. "That's rather odd."

"Quite," she murmured absently as her eyes searched for Cole. And when she spotted him, she realized he saw her first and his eyes met hers from across the room. Without warning, Margaret laughed, startling Wakefield.

"Did I miss a joke?" Wakefield asked.

"No, no, I was..." She grimaced as she tried to think of something. "I just remembered the story of Ysabella and Emma climbing a tree in the woods."

"What of it?"

Margaret turned her head to look at Wakefield in the eyes, as though her entire world depended on him, all the while aware that Cole was watching. "They climbed, intending for one of them to jump and acquire an injury so they could summon for Doctor Johannes."

"Why would they want to summon for the doctor?"

"They wanted for the doctor to meet Agatha."

"Benedict's Agatha?"

"She was still their governess then and they were planning to match her with the doctor," she explained. "Well, let me tell you about the tree."

"Please, amuse me," Wakefield said with a smile.

"You see, they climbed and were fighting who should sacrifice herself for their plan, but Benedict and Agatha saw them before they could execute. Finally, they admitted to themselves they could not go through with it and wished to climb down."

Wakefield's brows rose with increasing amusement.

"But they couldn't! They knew how to climb up but were too afraid to climb down. Benedict had to help them and ended up injuring himself instead." And as Wakefield broke into a fit of laughter, Margaret laughingly added, "And the doctor was summoned."

"Did that truly happen?" Wakefield asked.

"It did! Oh, my lord, you would not wish to hear the rest of their misdeeds, truly."

"I'm afraid you've simply made me want to hear more."

And for the duration of the dance, she told him of how the twins managed to match many of their servants. Wakefield seemed amused and wanted to hear more even as the dance was ending.

"Ah, mayhap some other time," she said, taking note of the music.

Wakefield let out an exaggerated sigh. They both slowed to a stop with the other dancers before them. He led her to the side of the dance floor and bowed, giving her gloved hand a kiss. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Margaret. And for saving me from your mischievous sister."

"You're welcome, my lord. Although next time I might not be around to do so again. Be safe from my sister," she said before turning to walk away.

She was smiling and chuckling at Wakefield's horrified look when suddenly a voice whispered beside her, "Garden."

A shiver ran through her as Cole rushed past her and disappeared into the crowd of evening suits and gowns. She looked over her shoulders and found her family scattered around the ballroom, all preoccupied with something or someone. Without thinking, Margaret rushed to the garden without notice.

***

As the ball had merely started, there were nearly no guests around. Margaret did not know where Cole wished to meet, but in the past, he always found her.

And he did. And without much of a greeting, he asked, "Tell me the truth. Why do you truly want to be in this case?"

His brooding look did not make him any less criminally handsome in black evening clothes. She smiled. "I believe I told you my reason. I want to save the rest."

"If we work on this—once we start this—you may not just be putting yourself in danger, but also your family."

"I know of the consequences," she said with a wave of her hand. "And my mind is already made up. Now, did I pass your test? Do you have more questions before we can proceed to the actual work?"

He seemed to struggle for a moment before he finally said, "There is nothing more."

Margaret cocked an eyebrow. "And so now what, my lord? How should we proceed?"

His jaw tightened. "Your servant's papers will be ready soon. We need her new name."

"I will ask her what she wants. And?"

"And what?"

"What else is there to do about this case? Do you need to question Faye?"

He shook his head. "We need to know who is following you first."

She stiffened. "I have not seen the man again."

"Maybe because he discovered you found him and now someone else is following you." He was not looking so happy the longer he talked.

"Well, if he is intent on following me, then I may not spot him easily this time. But maybe you can."

His lips pursed.

"From a distance, of course."

"I can hire someone else."

"If you wish it to be so." She smiled again. "This means we are working together, yes?"

He stiffly nodded.

"Good. And once we learn more about the person following me, we might have a lead, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall make certain I am always out and about so you—or your men—can spy on my spy."

His jaw tightened as he took a long breath. There was no question he still hated the idea of working together.

"Is there more?"

Cole's eyes hovered over hers for a while before they traveled down to her lips. It was clearly painted on his face what he wanted. The question was: how long would it take him to lose the battle?

But, of course, he was the one with his wits still intact and he stepped back.

"You did not reply to my last note," she said, not yet willing to let him leave.

"It was a pathetic note," he murmured under his breath.

"You ordered your butler to ban me from your estate," she accused.

"Rightly so," he said, lips pursed, fighting a smile. Shaking his head, he looked around the garden before his gaze locked on hers. His brown eyes were no longer rebellious. They were mellow, as a matter of fact, and he said, "You ought to be finding yourself a husband inside that ballroom instead of trying to save the world with me."

Margaret prayed the pain brought by his words did not show in her eyes. She forced a smile on her lips. "I do not need a husband as much as you do not need a wife. Am I correct?"

His hands slipped deep into the pockets of his trousers. He bent his head, as if waiting for a miracle to sprout from the ground. "If we do this," he said, voice grave as he looked up to find her gaze again. "If we do this, Meg, know that nothing can happen. Nothing." He sounded desperate.

The pain radiated to the tips of her fingers. "Of course," she said with an empty smile. "Nothing."