They arrived in Dartridge very late. The village was not as busy as the others for many reasons. Not many travelers go through Dartridge because there were better and faster ways to reach Tiny Town which was often the only place people from other parts of the Town would visit on this region.

Apart from those who wished to visit the White Rocks, Henry House or Gailey, very few strangers came by the village. Thus, it was understandable why people stared as the pair strode into the place.

Dartridge was a familiar place to Alice, on the other hand, for it was where they bought most of their much needed necessities. Not many knew, but the village produced better goods as they had direct access to an active river.

"Do they have a tavern?" asked Harold, riding the very much exhausted Benjamin beside Camel.

"Of course," she replied, leading the way. She led Camel down a narrow cobbled road up until the lone post lamp.

"Is this the place?"

"Yes," she retorted without looking at the wooden door in front of them. She was already climbing down her horse when she noticed that he looked rather discomfited. She frowned. "What is the matter?"

He was not looking at her. Rather, he was glaring up at the facet of the tavern. "You cannot be utterly serious."

"If you wish to move along your journey, you can do so," Alice said in a deadpan tone. "But leave Benjamin. He needs rest."

"Alice..." he called out when she pulled Camel to the side of the tavern which led to the stables. She had once stayed here with Janet and two of their footmen when they had to buy supplies. That was many years ago, when her parents left for Willowfair, leaving her alone in Langworthy to care for the estate. "Alice!" Harold hissed behind her.

"Oh, do shush, my lord," she hissed back over her shoulder. "You will wake everyone else!" Her words were followed by loud boisterous laughter coming from inside the tavern hall.

"No one seems to be asleep at the moment, my lady," he said, following her. He had already jumped down Benjamin.

"They shall not be sharing a room with you, if that is what you are worried about."

He had no chance to argue since a stable boy approached them giddily, happy to meet new customers.

"I'll take yer horses, Miss," the boy said, reaching out to take Camel's reins.

"Are there rooms available for the night?" Alice asked as she turned over Camel.

"Tons, Miss!" the boy replied, leaning to the side to look behind her. "Come follow me," he ordered Harold.

Alice turned around just in time to witness Harold's appalled look. She smiled and said, "I shall see you inside." As she walked past him, he stopped her.

"I cannot allow you to enter that place alone—"

She brushed his hand off her arm. "I can handle myself, Harry," she said, looking over her shoulder to add to the boy, "Please allow my brother to help you with the horses. He will give you a decent tip if you promise to take care of them until the morrow."

"Aye!" the boy jovially replied, motioning with his head at Harold to follow him.

*****

"Say, young man," Harold broke his silence after they secured the horses inside the small stable, gently grabbing the boy on the shoulder, turning him slightly to face him, "have you ever happened to take sight of my friend? I am looking for him."

"Which friend, Sir?" asked the boy.

"Brown hair, brown eyes... a fairly good-looking man. Slightly smaller than I?" When the boy merely frowned in contemplation, Harold added, "He was with a... my... uh... other sister. She had black hair—very beautiful."

The boy continued to look at him blankly and shook his head.

"Brown eyes?"

The boy shook his head again. "Nae. Haven't seen one o' those, Sir."

Harold sighed.

"Has yer sister eloped with this friend o' yers?" the boy asked with a snicker. "Is that why yer 'ere with yer other sister?"

Harold cleared his throat. "Perhaps."

The boy laughed.

"What is funny?"

The young man shook his head, his laughter dying down into chuckles. "Ye must've lost yer way then."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Oi, go te yer sister, Sir. There are many foxed men in there. Ye go and guard her. So long. See you in the mornin'." The boy turned and ran away, crossing the street where four other boys were waiting for him.

"What about—" Harold started to shout but the young man was already running away with his friends. Harold looked back at the stables. "—the horses?" he finished his sentence.

A few moments later, he found Alice talking with a woman who seemed too young to be in a tavern, only to realize as he took another glance that she was not young at all. She was simply small.

She smiled brightly at Harold as he stood beside Alice, saying, "You must be her brother, Harry."

Harold cleared his throat and sighed. "I am afraid I am," he said, giving Alice a mocking smile.

The woman handed him a key. "Your room is right next to dear Alice here. Fret not, this tavern is safer than any others you must have been to around the Town."

Another round of loud laughter from drunken men behind them erupted as though contradicting the woman's words.

"I have asked for our supper to be delivered to my room," said Alice.

Harold frowned. "Your room?"

"Yours do not have a dining table, I am afraid," said the lady. "The only room with a window, a bath and a dining table was chosen by your sister."

"Hmm," was all Harold could muster. "Very well," he said with a loud sigh. "I shall go and change in my room and join you for supper."

Alice nodded at the woman who immediately jumped to guide them up the stairs which creaked with each step.

The laughter and loud talking from the men below slowly ebbed away as they ascended up the second landing of the tavern.

In all fairness, Harold thought, the place was not as shabby as he expected. For a small village like Dartridge, one would even find it impressive that they managed to keep a decent tavern such as this. Yet despite the rather acceptable accommodation, it was not enough to feel at ease. There was still the fact that Alice was a woman—and very obviously rich—and that there were more than a dozen of men downstairs who could have taken notice of her.

Ah, this was a problem he never imagined to encounter. This was why he avoided women, most particularly women such as Alice Archibald.

"This is your room," said the lady, gesturing at the first door next to the landing. She then turned to Alice with a wide smile. "This way, Miss Alice."

Harold frowned at their retreating back as they walked further away from him. Why would she want a room far from his?

Without thinking, he followed them. Alice noticed when they reached the room at the end of the corridor. "Were you not saying you had to get ready?" she asked as the lady opened Alice's room.

Harold ignored her, stepping into the room before Alice. He stood in the center and scanned each corner with narrowed eyes.

"What are you looking for?" Alice asked.

"That window seems frail. Anyone could break in," he pointed out, glaring at the glass window overlooking the alleyway below.

"We have never had any break-ins since we opened twenty years ago, Sir," the tavern lady sternly said. "And it shall remain so for the next decade."

Harold looked around and murmured under his breath, "If this building holds."

Alice cleared her throat and smiled at the woman. "This is a very nice room. Thank you. I am looking forward to a good bath and a fantastic dinner."

The woman gave Harold one last look before she turned to Alice and smiled. "You are such a darling. Of course, you will find no reason for complain after your stay here. I assure you."

"I am quite certain," Alice said, smiling broadly.

Harold frowned at her. Was it an act? Alice Archibald never smiled wider than a flinch of the lips.

The tavern lady turned to Harold once again and without a smile on her lips, she stiffly curtsied and walked off, chin high with pride.

Harold looked around the room again, not quite sure how sturdy the walls were. Perhaps he should also inspect for hidden doors. One could never be certain what taverns such as this could be hiding. Dartridge might be working with bandits as what some other villages did.

"My bath is soon to be available. I would like to be done with it privately," Alice's voice spoke behind him. He turned and found her face once more bare of any emotion, her shoulders stiff as it was the day he met her.

Harold shook his head and went to the door. "Lock it," he ordered as he walked past her.

The door shut close behind him the very moment his feet stepped out of the doorway. Harold turned and faced the door. He reached out for the knob and tried to open it. It was locked. Unconvinced, he tested the door by pushing with his shoulder. It remained sturdily attached to the doorway.

He sighed and walked to his room.

*****

"And how far is Gailey?" Harold asked.

Alice replaced her empty wine glass on the table. "If we can gain access through Henry House, we could travel through White Rocks and into Gailey in a matter of a day. We should finish this wine. It is a bit expensive."

Harold's eyes widened in disbelief. "A day! Are you bloody crazy! We do not have a day to spare."

Alice sighed and poured herself another glass of wine. Their dinner had just been cleared and now, they were talking as he adamantly demanded earlier. They needed a plan, he said. Well, she did have a plan. She was currently working on it as they spoke. He, on the other hand, was simply clueless.

"You cannot have another drink. You may not make it through the morrow," he said, reaching for her glass and drowning it down in a few gulps. He swallowed and stared at her. "You are saying we have to waste yet another day to get to Tiny Town? Bloody hell, Alice, those two could already have given birth to their first child by the time we reach them."

"Then we shall be in time for the christening."

His eyes narrowed. She poured the glass in front of him with more wine. "Ha. Ha. I am having a hard time trying not to laugh. Enough with the jests. Is there any other way to reach Tiny Town faster?"

"Of course," Alice said.

"Then we have to take that."

"If you like crossing the river and climbing a giant mountain rock across Lingholm, then have a safe journey. I am not risking my life to stop a bloody wedding."

When Harold remained silent, Alice looked up from pouring more wine into his glass. She frowned at his astounded look. "What?"

His eyes were getting droopy, but he still managed to look at her with amusement. "You just cursed."

She blinked. "I know how."

He scoffed in astonishment. "You know how to curse."

"I am quite fluent at it, much to my mother's horror."

He picked up his wine once more. Alice took her glass from beside his and sipped.

He winced after he finished his glass.

"Have you always enjoyed drinking?" Alice asked as she began to witness his eyes losing their angry flare, replaced by something calm as he looked at her.

He burped. "Not always. But I am not one who turns down a challenge. I cannot lose to a lady."

He was starting to slur, she noticed. And she was starting to get lightheaded herself.

She should pour him more wine, she thought. She reached for the bottle and found it empty.

Should she ring for another one? It seemed he needed more to sleep the entire day tomorrow.

"Now, I wonder who gets foxed first," he said with a smirk.

Alice scoffed. "I am quite ready for another bottle."

He shrugged. "I am not going to yield. I need to win this."

"If Camel is the prize, I am winning this."

He shook his head and pulled the bell right next to him. "I am not spending another useless second on Benjamin."

Alice shrugged, copying him. "When you enter the stables tomorrow, I shall be there."

His gaze kept hers prisoner. "By the time you reach the stables on the morrow, I would be there grooming Camel."

Their eyes battled for a long time until another bottle was delivered into their room. Soon, they drank half of it without a word spoken.

While they both felt the effects of drinking too many too soon, Alice thought that however this wager ended, Alice was quite certain Harold would still lose. They would still leave quite late tomorrow.

Alice reached out for the bottle of wine to pour more drinks for both of them and as she did, Harold lifted his arm and wrapped his hand around hers holding the bottle, gently gathering it around his palms.

"What are you doing?" Alice demanded, blinking lazily. Ah, she was getting foxed. Utterly so, she feared.

He was studying the palm of her hand, tracing the lines with his finger. She tried to pull away, but the warmth his skin offered was soothing. It was traveling up her arm, warming her even further, helping the wine.

"You shall have a looooong life," he said looking up at her, back hunched and eyes drooping.

Alice swallowed. She was not interested on reading palms or whether or not he knew how to do so. She was focused on staring at his beautiful emerald eyes. He was handsome. Why was he here instead of chasing skirts in Wickhurst or Willowfair?

"Why do you always..." she started, blinking away the sleep that lurked in the corner, "you always insist that I am the best choice for Martin?" she finished with a burp. She swallowed and took in a lungful of air. Was she foxed?

No, she couldn't be. This was not the plan.

He was looking into her eyes, still holding her hand in his. His thumb was rubbing gently on her skin, caressing, tingling. Perhaps they kept her awake.

She fought the urge to close her eyes and sleep. He had to leave the room first. She still needed to lock the door.

"Why do you ask?" he finally asked, emerald eyes as curious as her blue ones.

"Merely curious," she said, lifting one shoulder into a shrug. "I think we are foxed," she said, standing up. She started to sway on her feet and her free hand reached for the table to steady her. "The wine was a bad idea. The room is moving."

"Hmm..." Harold muttered, pulling her closer toward him. Alice realized he was still holding her other hand.

"I... I need to lock the door. After you leave." Her words came out a whisper as she looked down into his eyes. She swallowed. "You leave now."

Harold blinked slowly, drowsy and foxed as Alice had intended him to be. But he ought not to be holding her hand. He ought to be foxed in his own bed and never to wake until late the next morning.

But why was she swaying toward him.

Why was he standing up?

Why was his face too close?

Alice swallowed and tried to push away.

She had no strength left. She was quite foxed. Oh, this is bad. Bad indeed! She cleared her throat and tried to speak. "Too foxed."

"Too foxed?"

She shook her head. "No, two foxed strangers," she corrected. "Not good."

"Alice," he said, letting out a low chuckle. "We are not strangers."

She shook her head. Yes, yes they were. This was a bad idea. Why did she challenge him this way? She did not have to delay their trip. She was certain they would be late for the wedding.

"And I am yet to answer your question," he said. No, he whispered. His lips were almost touching hers now. His breath smelled like wine. "Why do I insist that you are a better match for him?" he asked, but it sounded more like he was asking himself the question. His emerald green eyes looked into hers and Alice was lost in their beauty. "Because if I were to pick, I would have you," came his answer. Her heart hammered fast and strong. Did she hear him correctly? "You are not perfect, far from it," he continued, pulling her even closer against his chest. Alice could barely breathe. "But you are a different kind of imperfect and any man ought to see that you are the choice."

Alice blinked and did the unexpected.

She rose to her toes and kissed him.