Alice was shaking.

She could hardly breathe, the constraints of her gown not making it anymore easier. She walked down the corridor, stumbled once, and kept walking. Her legs were like water flowing down a stream—fluid, unstructured. They would give in soon.

The music from the ballroom was growing near. Willing herself to stop, Alice leaned one hand on the wall and took a long breath. She closed her eyes, feeling their dampness. Bloody hell, she was not certain if her unshed tears were due to anger or fear.

She slowly let out her breath and opened her eyes. Two women were on their way down the corridor, about to cross her path, and she immediately straightened and pulled her shoulders back. Lifting her chin, she met the women's curious gaze, her lips pursed with the little strength she had left.

Alice walked straight back into the fray, welcoming the dancing and the music.

But it felt like an attack. There were too many people. So much that she wanted to shout and demand for everything to stop. She wanted silence. But she was not the mistress of this ball. She was a mere woman from the country who was utterly failing the simple quest of hunting for a husband. The only accomplishment she had so far was cause to a man to limp at least for the duration of the evening and she could not even brag about it to anyone.

With one swift motion of her head, she scanned the room for Eva and Martin. Her friends were still dancing to another dance. Brandon was nowhere in sight.

A group of women turned to look at her direction, their gazes knowing. Did they know? What did they know? Why were they staring?

Alice swallowed.

She could feel the sweat running dripping down her spine and temple. Her hands were also damp. She let out a quiet, shaky breath.

What was happening to her?

Escape. She needed to escape.

Almost pushing her way through the crowd, Alice struggled to reach the grand hallway where there were less people and she was finally able to breathe a little better.

She wiped the dampness off her temple and blinked.

"My lady, do you need anything?" someone asked. She blinked again but she could hardly see his face.

She started to shake her head.

"You do not look fine, my lady," said the man, voice concerned. Alice blinked and realized she was facing a concerned footman.

"N-no," she stuttered. "I... my carriage... please. For Lord S-surley."

"Right away, my lady," said the man who called another footman and gave orders. He faced her again. "My lady, perhaps you would like to rest while we wait for your carriage to be drawn to the front."

Alice shook her head again, but it only made the dizziness worse. What was happening to her? It was only Sebastian!

Everyone will soon learn what a whore you are!

Alice swallowed as Sebastian's voice echoed at the back of her head.

You give your reputation very little weight, but see until you witness it completely ruined.

Good God, why did she provoke him?

You will pay for this. See what I can do.

She should not have dared him.

"My lady, are you all right?" the footman asked again, muffling Sebastian's threats in her head.

"I will take it from here," his voice said from behind Alice.

"Of course, my lord," the footman said, bowing at Harold.

Alice blinked until her vision cleared. She took another lungful of air. She needed to go outside. The hallway was not enough.

She walked and she knew Harold was walking beside her. But she could not find the voice to tell him to go away.

"What is wrong? Are you ill?"

She was more than ill. She was desperate to go away. She was bloody afraid. Alice had never been this afraid.

They finally reached the outdoors and she was finally able to breathe better.

"Alice, you look—"

"I am fine," she snapped, giving him a quick, darting look before she looked ahead. There was a long line of carriage waiting for their masters. She would have to wait for long. "I need to go home."

"You look like a bloody corpse," he hissed beside her. "What happened?"

"Simply a little dizzy," she lied. "Please, leave me be." She did not wish to be seen with him. Sebastian was right when he said he could easily ruin her. Harold did not have to suffer as well.

"I will take you home."

"The best you can assist me is to go back inside and find my friends for me. Inform them of my sudden need to go home." When he did not move, Alice added, "Please."

Harold continued to look at her and she did her best not to meet his gaze. "That's it," he said with finality in his voice. "You saying 'please' is out of norm. You are definitely not all right."

Alice inhaled sharply. She had no time for this. "Truly, my lord, you—"

"And we should not wait for the bloody carriage before you start to faint," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the stairs.

"My lord!"

He looked over her shoulder as he pulled her along the line of carriages. "You do not have anyone at the moment concerned enough to take you home, Alice."

"And you are?"

*****

Harold did not respond, nor did he utter another word until they reached his own carriage and nearly forced her inside. He gave a hasty order to his footman to inform Lord Surley of Lady Alice's condition before climbing inside to join Alice.

The carriage pulled out of line and drove them away from the ball.

With only the lamp outside the carriage the only amount of light, Harold stared at Alice sitting across him. She turned her face away from his, but he could see that the color had started to return to her lips.

Was she ill? Was her reason to have not joined them that afternoon at the café true? Was she suffering from an illness of sort?

Or had something happened?

She had suddenly disappeared in the ballroom earlier. He decided to leave her be and not concern himself with her for a while, but when he did not see her return, he decided to look for her. He searched in the gardens, in the nearby corridors until he found her in the grand hallway looking like death.

The sound of the carriage wheels against the cobbled street was reminding Harold of the long journey he had to suffer from Tiny Town where Alice ignored him and deliberately considered him invisible. Such was happening now.

"What happened?" he asked again, breaking the silence.

"Nothing," she murmured.

Harold sighed. "Alice, something must have caused you distress—"

Alice's head sharply turned to face him, her eyes burning blue. "Nothing." Her word struck him and Harold found himself unable to move or speak. One word and it managed to get her message across.

Nothing. He had nothing to do with it. He had nothing to do with her.

His jaw tightened and he stiffly leaned back into his seat. Alice looked away and not another word was spoken until they reached Martin and Eva's estate.

*****

"Thank you," she said as Harold guided her out of the carriage. "I am feeling better. Go home," she added when he lingered by the door.

"I go home only if you tell me what happened," he said, voice stronger, almost angry.

Alice opened her mouth to speak but the door opened and the butler greeted them good evening. She gave Harold another glance before she turned to follow the butler inside.

But Harold was fast and he managed to chase her through the door, down the hallway and up the staircase.

"Go home, my lord," Alice said over her shoulder. "Or go back to the ball. Do whatever you wish, but leave me be."

The butler stopped following Harold when he threw the servant a sharp glance, following Alice up to the second landing.

He finally reached his goal when she whirled around in frustration, glaring at him. "Have I not said enough? I said nothing happened. I am simply feeling unwell."

His eyes narrowed at her as he stepped closer. The corridor behind her was empty and dark. "You are lying. Something happened. Did Downworth do something? What did that bastard do, Alice?"

She incredulously scoffed. "Why would Brandon do something?"

Harold's brow arched high. "Ah, so you now address each other informally?"

"As I do with people I wish to address informally," she snapped. "Go home. As you can see, I am standing on two feet. Two strong ones at that. Would you care for a sample?" she asked, tapping one foot on the wooden floor.

Harold ignored her question as he swiftly ran his eyes over her. Her hair was haphazardly put into place, obviously disarranged prior. Color had returned to her now angry face and her lips...

As if by some magic, Harold found himself drawn to her lips. And it took one tiny movement, a small angry curve, for him to lose control and close the distance between them.

Within seconds, he had her head trapped between his palms and his mouth covered hers, drowning whatever she was about to say. His tongue delved inside and he nearly collapsed to the floor in relief. She was answering his kiss with as much hunger, as much intensity.

Their feet danced a dance they never had the chance to share in the ball, taking them to the nearest wall where he pressed her with his length, breathing her scent, hearing her soft whimper.

The months apart had never cinched the desire and it was foolish for them both to have believed one night was enough. And they are even more foolish to believe they could easily forget about that night in Tiny Town for another night would never satiate the hunger. Harold would need more. More of her.

One hand left her cheek, traveling down her shoulders, her arms and then her hand. Palm against palm, fingers intertwined. He clasped her hand, strong and hard and brought it over her shoulder, beside her head.

Harold would have dragged her to the nearest door and hell would have to freeze over if the same door ever led them to it, but the little amount of sanity stopped him.

Good God, she was not feeling well and he was ravaging her in his friend's estate.

As if scorched, Harold tore his lips off her and with a groan, buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder, his back hunched over her.

Their rough, heavy breathing echoed down the silent and dark corridor.

"What did you do?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

"I attacked you," he replied against her neck, voice without remorse.

"Why?"

It was the most difficult question, Harold thought. One he could not bring himself to answer because there was more to the answer.

He heard her sigh and she gently pushed him away. Harold stumbled back, his emerald eyes looking straight into hers. She was no longer angry. In fact, her eyes were blank again.

It was only fair, Harold thought. She could not get an answer from him so she might as well show him nothing in return.

"As I guessed," she sighed, voice laced with disappointment. Harold was not certain if it was deliberate or mocking. Any weakness he saw from her earlier was no more as her unwavering gaze held his. "Good night, my lord. I hope that you can control yourself next time for both our sakes. Be the gentleman that you are and make up your mind. If you want me, you will have to have me, but you will have to learn to compromise for I will not have just another night. Otherwise, we are playing a very dangerous game where you end up the champion and I the sore loser." She let her statement sink in before adding, "And I hate to see you win as much as I abhor losing."

*****

Most gentlemen who wanted to extend their fun would more likely spend time in a gentleman's club such as Grey's. That night, Harold was not alone.

After he left Martin's estate, Grey's was the only place he believed to be conducive for his self-destructive thoughts. None of his friends were present as they must still be at wherever balls they had to attend to, but a few familiar faces were present tonight.

He sat alone in one corner, grueling himself for acting like a bloody stupid schoolboy. He should have known better. Alice Archibald was on the top of women he could not touch if he wanted to stay unmarried.

He drowned a glass of liquor and raised his hand for another serving, wincing at the pain that followed the trail of brandy.

But Alice Archibald was also on the top of women he wanted for himself. In fact, she held the throne. None would be worthy to take it from her, he bitterly admitted.

"The bloody bastard was seen limping out," he heard a drunken lord whisper loudly to a friend. A queen of hearts was tucked between the tip of two fingers and he waved it about as he spoke, caring less for the game. His companion looked more interested in the gossip as well, having laid a set of winning cards face up. "'Twas at Walkelin."

His friend guffawed. "I would have loved to see it. The buffoon!" The man's shoulders shook with laughter. "Wait. Could it be another finger incident?"

Harold's drowsy eyes opened wider as his interest grew. He leaned a little to the side to hear clearly.

"Well, hell be damned it could be!" the gentleman with the queen of hearts said. "Lady Ice was there."

"The bastard never learned his lesson, eh? Wanting a woman for three straight seasons!"

"I'd be as frustrated, to be honest."

"Why? It's not as if she is the best catch there is." Harold's hand balled into a fist at the words.

"Exactly my point, my friend. Her reputation is not helpin' either. She has no chance this season. And the next. And the next. Why deprive 'erself of the future heir of Henry?"

"Because Sebastian's a bloody arse?"

"Anyone in her position would kiss that kind of arse."

"He would not marry her. He just wants her for a bloody tumble."

"Some mistresses are richer than the wives," countered the other man.

"Like yours?"

"Bloody hell, yes!"

The two men laughed harder and soon, the subject changed to the richest mistresses in town.

Harold, on the other hand, was in a rage. Even greater than the one he earlier endured.

*****

"Alice?" Eva's soft, worried voice asked in the darkness.

"Yes?" Alice asked, sitting in her bed.

She heard the door open wide and then close. Eva's footsteps drew nearer and soon her friend was sitting by her bed, peering at her through the darkness, face filled with concern. "We came home as fast as we can the moment we learned you had gone home. What happened? Are you feeling all right? It must be the strain of being in Wickhurst and the balls."

Alice was already shaking her head before her friend could finish her sentence. She wanted to say she was fine, but she was not.

Being reminded of the ball again, the fear resurfaced.

And the tears flowed.

"Oh, Eva, I am not sure what to do anymore. He would not leave me alone!"

Eva gathered her in her arms and Alice cried harder, her shoulder shaking. "Tell me what happened," her friend gently whispered.

Alice recounted her encounter with Sebastian save for the last part where he threw his threat. As she did so, she felt her friend grow stiff with fury.

"Then why are you crying? You kicked him. It must have hurt."

"Oh, God, yes, I hope it hurt."

"Are you crying because he kissed you?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Alice sniffled. "I'm crying because I can't believe I was affected by the encounter." And I fear for what he will do next.

Eva was silent for a little while. Gently, she withdrew her arms, holding Alice by the shoulders and pulled away just a little to look her in the eyes. "Alice, you should know that it is fine to show you are weak."

Alice shook her head. No, it was more than that. She blinked away her tears and wiped them with her fingers. She met Eva's gentle gaze again. "I am afraid I will soon get tired of having to fight for myself, Eva."

"Then, perhaps, my dear Alice, it is about time you allow others to do it for you. It will not show your weakness." Eva gathered her in her arms again. "Learn to trust others once in a while, Alice. You will be surprised what they are willing to do for friendship, loyalty and love."

Alice was not very convinced. All her life, she had no other but herself. Her parents were there, but for some reason, she never shared any of her troubles with them for she always found a way to resolve them on her own.

She knew how to trust, but she never learned how to fully do so without fear.