Margaret only meant to stay in Sheills for a week, but the arrival of her mother with the twins and Ralph changed her plans. Her brothers could not be more disappointed either. But the twins were ecstatic to join the social season, and because of the magic they could conjure, everyone agreed to extend their stay.

It was the arrival of Benedict and Agatha that made everyone curious. However, when Levi and Tori followed a day later, it was certain that this was a well-orchestrated Alice Everard Plot.

They stayed in Sheills' largest hotel, and when their mother came down that evening in the dining hall, she smiled. "Ah, what a lovely sight," Lady Alice said, settling in her seat. She looked around at her children. "What?"

The innocent look on her face did not convince them.

"You are planning something," said Nicholas. "I can taste it in my wine, Mother."

Lady Alice blinked her blue eyes at them. "Well, of course, I have a plan. In light of the recent events," she said, emphasizing the word with eyes traveling from Nicholas to Maxwell, "I want to be assured that everyone has not yet killed each other." She smiled at the rest. "And that you can still all stomach each other's presence."

"No one had a squabble, Mother," Nicholas droned. "Is that not right, Maggie?"

Margaret sardonically smiled at her brother, but did not reply. Beside her, Ysabella whispered, "What happened?"

Her question was whispered to her by Emma, who got the answer from Ralph. Levi and Tori were left ignorant of everything until someone approached their long table. Nearly every person in the room gasped, including Margaret.

Not because of his face, but because of his very presence.

"What are you doing here?" Margaret's question was drowned by her mother's, "Oh, good Lord!" and Tori's loud gasp and Levi's, "What in the bloody hell." Ysabella and Emma both cried in unison. "Lord Ashmore!"

Nicholas turned to Ralph and whispered, "We did that," with pride.

Alice Everard clutched her chest as she stared at her sons with murder in her blue eyes. Maxwell looked away and Nicholas cleared his throat and loosened his cravat.

"What are you doing here?" Margaret repeated, standing.

"I had to come," he said under his breath. "Your mother sent for me."

Margaret groaned before she turned to her mother to force a smile.

"Let us talk later, dear," Lady Alice said with a wave of her hand. "Ralph, make room for Cole."

"Why me?" Ralph asked.

"Because you wagered with your brothers. Don't think I don't know," snapped Lady Alice.

Fuming, Ralph stood and dragged his chair to the side while servers placed another setting for Cole.

"Very well, since you are here, you might as well eat," Margaret said, pulling Cole by the arm. "Let's just hope the food is not poisoned," she added, slanting her eyes to her brothers.

Moments later, Margaret was the most uncomfortable as she stared at Cole across the table sitting between Nicholas and Ralph. Benedict had been quiet all throughout while Levi stole Cole a look every now and then with a grimace on his face, as if he could feel the pain of his injuries. Maxwell remained unbothered, attention on his food. The twins barely touched their theirs, and unlike Levi, they stared openly at Cole. Tori shot Margaret a look now and then, while Agatha entertained Lady Alice with stories of the school she and Benedict were building in Devonshire.

Other than the fact that his right eye was nearly the color of black and his left cheek a bit bigger than the other, he seemed to be doing quite well chewing his food.

"Mother," Margaret said, breaking the silence, before their mother could announce whatever plan she may have. "You do know that I have not yet given my answer to Lord Ashmore, yes?"

"You cannot be serious," Maxwell spoke for the first time. He frowned at her from across the table.

"There are matters I need to attend to first," Margaret lied.

"No," Nicholas said.

"But—"

"Remember where we found you, Maggie," Nicholas interjected.

Margaret's face flushed as she gaped at her brother. The twins cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

Lady Alice frowned at them. "What are you all talking about? We're only here for dinner."

Nicholas and Maxwell rolled their eyes. Ralph asked in a whisper, "I still won, right?"

Margaret saw Benedict giving her a quiet, knowing look. He knew why she was doing this.

"What?" Lady Alice asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Lord Ashmore is here for the social season. And no, Ralph, you have not yet won." Winking at Margaret, she added, "I don't know what wedding you're all talking about."

Relieved, Margaret smiled at her mother and ignored Nicholas' glare.

***

When dinner was over, Margaret made her way to Cole. "Are you staying here?"

"Yes," he replied. Checking where her brothers were and satisfied that they were occupied by Ysabella's story, he looked down at her with a smile. "I missed you."

She scoffed. "It has not even been a fortnight."

"You know what I mean." As she chuckled, he asked, "What have you been up to here?"

"Oh, not much," she lied. "Boring balls."

"You're not being followed?"

"Not that I'm aware. I'm always surrounded by my brothers."

"Have a glass of brandy before you leave, Devitt," Nicholas said, squeezing himself between them. "I'm quite sure they can serve the worst kind here."

Margaret scoffed in disbelief, watching her brothers lead the way to the drawing room of the hotel.

"Let them drink first," she warned after Cole. "If they drop dead, run away."

Ralph laughed, Maxwell scoffed, and Nicholas snickered.

"Does he know about the League?" Benedict asked beside her, both of them watching the group disappear into the drawing room.

She sighed. "No. Not yet."

Benedict nodded. "I suggest you tell him before you say yes."

"I intend to."

"When?"

"Once I can."

He did not ask more. Everything about the League could only be discussed vaguely and her brother respected that. He left her side to join Cole and the others.

"I don't know how they can do it. It always baffles me," Emma said, hooking her arm around Margaret's.

"Do what?" Margaret asked as they followed their mother to another drawing room where tea was being served for the ladies.

"Share a room and drink, all the while wanting to kill each other."

She laughed. "They're men. And women do the same thing. Take our mother for example. She hates half of this room."

"Well, you're quite right," Emma said. "But unlike her, I'm going to retire and spend the rest of my evening with a book." Emma kissed her cheek and said, "Good night, Maggie. Know that whatever you choose to do, I'll always support you."

She smiled at Emma. "Thank you."

As her sister escaped to the grand staircase of the hotel, another arm looped around hers. "Yes, Ysa?"

"Please, do not judge me," Ysabella begged, warily stealing their mother, who was currently being kept occupied by Tori and Agatha, a glance.

"What is it?"

Ysabella's fretful look morphed into a grimace. "I wrote Wakefield a letter."

Margaret waited for her sister to continue without showing any reaction, but her steps slowed down. "And he replied."

"But?"

Ysabella winced. "He doesn't know it's me."

Margaret blinked in surprise but she did her best to keep her mouth shut.

"It started with a very silly note about a cat."

"A cat."

"Yes. A missing one."

Margaret hid a smile.

"And I had told Emma that I would not be sending another letter as Lady Weis."

"Lady Weis?"

"She is a character from a book I had been reading," Ysabella explained. "I did break my word and wrote to him. See if he replies again."

"How did you send the letter?"

"A friend picks it up from the post."

Understanding that this friend's identity had to be kept a secret, Margaret decided not to prod for now. "Continue," she said.

"And he replied."

"And what did you talk about?"

"A cage?" Ysabella said. "I asked him if he believes a cage is necessary for the cat."

Margaret could not stop the snort that came out of her lips.

"It is silly, is it not? But he did reply. With amusement!"

Margaret stopped walking and stared at her sister for a long time, this time assuming a serious mien. "I would not go as far as judge you for your actions, Ysa, but I do believe that keeping a secret as this will merely tarnish your relationship with Lord Wakefield once everything is out in the open. I will also not go as far as forbid you to stop this infatuation, but I do strongly advise that you be careful. These silly exchanges with the man may indeed be exciting and fun, but it is still a form of deception. And deception eats at you, sister. No matter how big or small."

Ysabella's shoulders dropped and she sighed. "I know I must stop this nonsense. I mean the letters, of course, for I'm still quite resolved to the idea of marrying him in the future."

Margaret could only smile. Her sister would get over the man in due time. "Do what you must, dear," she said. "You are old enough to think for yourself. But I'm glad you shared this with me."

Her sister nodded, clearly still fighting an internal battle. Ysabella let go of her hand and made a move toward their mother and sisters-in-law.

"What did he say? About the cage?" she could not help but ask.

Ysabella stopped at the threshold of the parlor to answer. "He did not like the idea. He said the cat might simply be lonely, thus the disappearances. Caging it, he said, would not take away the loneliness, but it would take away its freedom."

"Wise man."

Ysabella's smile widened. "I know. And thank you, Maggie."

Margaret smiled and watched her sister, hoping that Ysabella would find someone else other than Wakefield. She deserved someone who cared more about her than a man who had done naught but chase skirts.

Shaking her head, she joined the ladies in the parlor for tea.

***

There were many things her brothers were terrible at. One, of course, was getting foxed. Everyone else in the drawing room had retired, or went out to attend another ball, but the Everard men stayed. With Cole.

Her mother and Ysabella had long retired after tea. Margaret spent another hour or so with Agatha and Tori, catching up on things they had missed to share with each other since their succeeding marriages to her brothers. For once, Margaret was able to forget about the case. Shifting their drinks to sherry, they reminisced stories of the past they all shared. Back when Agatha still worked for them as a governess, and Tori when she was still in her stepmother's clutches. They even recalled all couples the twins had matched, which included Agatha and Benedict, and Tori and Levi.

They were discussing the match between McKenzie Haverston and Belinda Carrington when a loud thud, followed by collective laughter from the drawing room reached their ears. All three of them stood and rushed to find all Everard men in terrible shape, except Benedict and Cole who were sitting across one another in one corner, playing chess.

Ralph was laughing at Nicholas, both of them on the floor. Maxwell was asleep on the settee. Levi was laughing at Nicholas as well, and somehow, he had landed on top of Maxwell, who was still sound asleep.

"Goodness, Levi," Tori said, stalking toward her husband to pull him off Maxwell. "Let's go upstairs."

"No, I'm fine, Tori. Just tripped."

"Fine," Tori said, letting go. He landed back on Maxwell. "Find another room."

"Tori," Levi said, pushing off the settee to stumble after Tori with a grin. "See? I'm walking."

"Then keep walking," his wife hissed over her shoulder. Walking past Margaret and Agatha, she said, "We're retiring." She took Margaret's hand and squeezed with a meaningful smile. "We had not had the chance to talk. But we shall, yes?"

She smiled at her best friend. "Of course."

Tori rolled her eyes when Levi reached her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Tell me again why I didn't choose Chattoway?"

"He left you in a bloody maze garden, darling," Levi drunkenly droned. "Where I came running to rescue you."

Tori smiled and rolled her eyes at Margaret. "Well, he did."

As Tori whisked her stumbling husband away, Agatha tried to help Nicholas up her feet, but Benedict said, "Leave him, Blair." To Cole, he added, "I'm retiring with my wife. We can continue this on the morrow."

Margaret stepped over Ralph, who saw her and said, "Thank you for helping me regain my membership at Grey's, Maggie. You're the best!"

As she rang the bell, Benedict said, "Margaret, it's time you retire." He stood at the door where he was holding his wife's hand.

"I will," she said, waving her hand at the rest of their brothers. "After I've seen to their proper end."

Benedict scoffed, his version of a laugh. His eyes landed on Cole for a moment, but he said nothing as he turned away. "Good night, Maggie. Good night, Lord Ashmore," Agatha said.

"Good night," they both murmured, waiting until the couple was gone. Cole stood beside her to look at her three brothers.

"The fools," Margaret murmured just as a footman appeared. "I hope it's not too much of a bother if you can assist my brothers to their rooms," she said.

"No, of course not, my lady," the footman said, gaze sweeping the floor. "I will go find help."

"Splendid. Thank you."

"Where are you going?" Cole asked when she crossed the room to the door, stepping over Ralph, then Nicholas.

"Upstairs, of course."

"But—"

"They will be fine." She tilted her head to the side with a smile. "Are you not escorting me to my room?"

He scoffed, chuckled softly, and he moved to follow her outside.

As they climbed the stairs, she asked, "You are not asking me for an answer. I wonder why."

"I told you I'm willing to wait." He stole her a look. "I hope you have accomplished what you came here to do."

"I did, and I did not." Smiling faintly, she added, "I will tell you once I can. How is Fiona?"

"Impatient, I believe. Remember—you promised to come back with the twins."

Margaret laughed. "I did. And I will."

He did not ask when and she appreciated that. They walked in silence and Margaret took his hand in hers when they reached her door. He grinned and cocked his brow. She laughed quietly, pushing the door open, and pulling him inside with her.

She pressed her back against the door, closing it. Cole followed, hand cupped around her face, the other at the small of her back to pull her into his length. The sound of the lock echoed around the bedchamber along with their soft chuckles before they fell quiet, their lips finding each other in the dark.

"It's entirely possible we shall grace the Herald," she said against his mouth. "Too many people saw you during dinner. The gossipmongers were feasting on your face more than they did their meals.

"Are you worried?" he asked, his eyes on his finger tracing her lips.

"No." She let out a dramatic sigh as she worked on his cravat. "You know, I once fancied myself being on the gossip section with you."

"You have always fancied many things." His eyes glistened with a reminiscent smile. "If I do recall correctly, you fancied yourself a spy and acted as though you were one." She stiffened but immediately hid it with a laugh. "And I believe your first mission was to know the source of the noise you often hear during the night."

Margaret frowned. "I do not recall that one," she said, kissing up his neck.

As he craned to give her access, the back of his hand teased her breast over her dress, almost mindlessly. "You invited me to investigate with you. I had to wait outside your house for you to come out in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping."

"We did many things in the middle of the night." She smiled into his skin. It was nice, she thought, that they could now talk about the better years of the past.

"Do you not really remember?" he asked, voice low. Margaret bit her lip when he cupped her breast. "Or are you simply trying to forget what we found out that night?"

She raked his hair, arching into his touch. "No, I honestly do not remember."

His hand stilled and he leaned back just enough to cock his brows at her. "We went to the stables."

At the mention of the stables, Margaret buried her laughter in his neck.

"You remember," his chuckled, kissing her jaw.

"It was our footman and the maid."

He pulled at his loose cravat. He nudged one leg between her thighs and Margaret moaned, biting her lip while his mouth opened on her neck and suckled. A shiver ran through her spine as she arched to help his hand find its way under her skirts, her drawers.

She buried her face in his neck, mouth open, her gasps hot on his skin. Her fingers grew restless, digging into flesh. His kindled a fire that had burned her too many times. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt the release surge to her center, and when it came, it was powerful.

Their clothes followed their trail to the bed where she lay, bare to him in complete abandon. Cole gathered her wrists in his hands and looked into her eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked, voice thick with passion.

Margaret swallowed and nodded.

With the cravat, Cole tied her wrists together, the feel of the fabric tightening around her skin sending shivers down her spine, an odd feeling of pleasure and anticipation. And wariness.

With brown eyes dark with passion, Cole tied her to the head of the bed.

"I don't think I'll enjoy this though," she said as Cole trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his hands tracing her lines and slopes. She squirmed in his touch, the sensations heightened even more now that she could not touch him.

He just laughed when she gritted out, "Cole, I want to touch you."

"Later, darling," he said, kissing down her navel.

***

Margaret woke first. She twisted her wrists. They did not hurt, but she could still feel the cravat digging into her skin earlier, the cloth straining as she helplessly pulled while her body burned from his.

He set her free when she begged to touch him. As they drove each other to oblivion, he whispered how he missed her like this, how he burned for her every night since they last saw each other. He took her with such intensity that was both scary and overwhelming.

Yes, it scared her, this passion they had. It was too good, too real. And that's the scary part. Because it was real and could be easily taken away again.

Margaret rolled to her side. He looked peaceful, she noted with a faint smile.

"You're staring." She started in surprise at the sound of his raspy voice.

She slapped his arm. "How long have you been awake?"

He opened one eye with a grin. "Long enough to see you check if your hands are still attached to your wrists."

She laughed and pushed him away.

Laughing, he drew her closer to him and buried his face in her hair. Then he sighed. "I like waking up like this. I don't have to think of other things when I have something warm and mine to delay my journey to the door."

She chuckled. "Yours?"

He grinned. "You will be. I know you'll give me the answer."

"I will not argue for now, because I'm too tired."

"I'm disappointed," he said with a dramatic sigh, kneading her hip. "I was hoping to use the cravat one more time."

She planted a lingering kiss on his mouth. His hand found hers and lifted it to his lips. She kissed his in return, the act bringing back more memories.

Her smile died as her secrets slowly made their way to the forefront of her mind. "What would you do if I turn out to be someone different? Someone you may potentially abhor?" He started to frown and she immediately wanted to erase it.

However, if he questioned her sudden inquiry, he did not voice it. Instead, he humored her and shrugged. "I would let you defend yourself, of course. That's what I do as a man of the courts, is it not?"

She smiled against the back of his hand. Her eyes searched his face, the evidence of her brothers' fists still clear. But she scowled when she noticed his good eye. "You have not been sleeping well."

"You know the work I do in Ashmore. And there's Fiona. And there's you." He grinned at the last word.

She smiled faintly, letting the quiet reign a little while longer. She broke it with a question. "Sometimes, do you wish you can just stop? Pass everything to someone else and move on? You're going beyond the scope of your duty, risking your own reputation in the process. It must be exhausting."

Cole was silent for a while as he stared at their hands. "As people who took a vow to serve everyone, we tell victims that our doors are open should they decide to come for help," he started. "But rarely do we step outside of our own doors to seek out these victims. We show everyone our sense of morality; we let them hear of our strong convictions when we discuss it with friends in balls or in clubs.

"We make them believe that we care and all the while we all go around ballrooms wearing our fancy clothes and drinking wine, chatting about people we know, never talking about those we don't—those who stay unknown simply because they're not within our circle."

Margaret kissed his hand as she listened.

"We speak strong words that justify our humane values, yet our actions are too frail to be felt by those who need them the most. We sit behind our desks, convincing ourselves we're doing our duties, waiting for victims to come to our doors. But truly, how many of us actually realize that the door is not merely for the victims to enter, but also for us to step out, to go beyond the comforts of society and do the actual work?"

He squeezed her hand.

He kissed her hand. "These people, these slaves would never reach our doors for they are not capable. They can't send me letters like Leah did. Do they even know how to write? They're locked away somewhere and it's our duty to stop wagging our tongues, making ourselves and others believe we are fighting for them, but in truth, we are merely waiting for them to escape and fight for their lives, if not for their rights."

He paused to take a long breath, sighed. He leaned over to kiss her mouth. "It's about time someone bloody shut up, go out there, and truly be there. The Guards and the League could only do so much, and what they cannot do I will do. I'll make and support laws. I'll bring justice."

A tear rolled down her eye.

"Why are you crying?" he asked with a laugh.

She pulled her hand free from his hold and cupped his face. "I promise to work with you on this. You shall not find me in your way because I will be there with you," she promised.

"And that's even scarier, Meg. I want you safe."

She smiled into his kiss. "You know you'll lose this argument, yes?"

His arms wrapped around her and he rolled on his back, carrying her with him. Margaret bit her lip as she moved her hips and planted her knees on both sides of his hips. "I'm starting to love losing to you," he said against her mouth.