"How certain are you that he will come?" Eva asked Alice.

Alice looked through the crowded Café Royal, through the glass windows and shrugged. "His note said so. He is tardy."

Eva scoffed. "He is not giving a good impression for a suitor."

Alice frowned. "Who? Brandon?" Her eyes widened at her friend's expression. "Oh, Eva. No, you are mistaken. Lord Downworth is not a suitor."

With a frown, Eva asked, "Then why are we here?"

"He has asked for my help," Alice explained, face impassive. "It seems that my help from yesterday's ball has proven to quite successful."

"Help with what?"

"Pepper."

"And who is Pepper?"

"Well, I am not sure. We have not met yet. But she is Brandon's object of affection."

Eva's mouth dropped open. "Alice! I cannot believe you have the time to play matchmaker when you barely have any prospects of your own!" she hissed at Alice.

Alice waved her hand to brush Eva's statement aside. "And why would I deprive others of my help?" She sipped her tea and grimaced at the horrible taste. "And you know how I rarely make friends. Brandon has proven to be highly qualified to be one and I intend to help him however I can."

Her friend shook her head in disbelief. They heard the door open and they both turned to find the breathless Brandon rushing toward them.

"Ladies," he greeted breathlessly with a bow. "Apologies for being late. My carriage had a mishap on the way."

"No worries," said Alice, motioning for him to sit. "Do you wish to call for tea? I would not recommend it."

Brandon smiled and called for a coffee.

Alice introduced Eva to her new friend. "We have decided we are better off as friends, which is why he is here."

Brandon nodded as Eva only looked at them with both disbelief and awe in her eyes. "I have heard you have recently married," Brandon said to Eva. "I am acquainted with Lord Surley."

"How? Grey's?"

Brandon's face lit up. "However did you guess?"

Eva rolled her eyes. "He practically lived in Grey's before we married."

Brandon chuckled, causing the ladies around them to look on with curiosity. Alice later realized that their attention on Brandon was momentary as their gazes transferred to her. With a haughty lift of her chin, she ignored them and focused on the conversation at hand.

"No, my friend," Alice said, looking at Brandon seriously. "Do tell... how did it go? The dance, I mean."

Her new friend's smile widened. "It was as I had hoped it would be."

"Which is?" Eva asked.

"I told her of your intentions on Pepper. I hope you do not mind. We need inputs from a woman who is... well, as what they would call it, thinks normally—no offense intended, Eva."

Eva and Brandon shared a look and laughed.

"Tell us," Alice insisted, "how did she react to your confession?"

"Confession?" Brandon asked.

Alice frowned. "You did not confess?"

"Well, not on the first dance!"

Eva nodded. "Yes, not on the first dance."

Alice stared at them, face blank. "Whyever not?"

Brandon shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "That might scare her."

"And why would that scare her, pray tell? It is not as though you do not know each other. You are friends."

"Alice, there are certain steps they must take to—"

"You and Martin skipped quite a few steps."

Eva's face colored.

"Forgive me. That was out of line," she said to Eva. "But do you see my point?"

"Yes," Eva and Brandon chorused.

"So? Why can you not confess now?"

"Well," Brandon said, clearing his throat. "I... well..."

Alice sighed. "You fear she will reject you."

"And lose her friendship."

Alice thoughtfully looked at Brandon. "Well, I can understand your fear. But what do you wish to do with it? Cultivate it or conquer it?"

"The latter, of course."

"And that is where we come in," Eva said, now sounding enthusiastic. She clapped her hands together. "You should do it in a subtle manner, but not too subtle that it will confuse her."

"How do I do it?" asked Brandon, looking at Alice helplessly.

Alice shrugged. "Do not ask me." She motioned her head at Eva. "She knows better."

Eva chuckled. "Women like flowers."

"No, not all," Alice said.

"But most appreciate them," Eva insisted. "Now I see why you wanted me here."

Alice nodded. "Yes."

Eva sighed. "Very well, Brandon—I can call you Brandon now, yes?"

"Of course, my lady."

"And call me Eva. But let us not tell my husband. He was not allowed to address me informally right away." Eva scooted closer to the table. "Now, is there a chance you can invite her for a friendly walk to the park? Or an afternoon somewhere like... well, Café Royal."

"Yes."

"Good. We can chaperone."

"Her mother will provide one."

"But not her mother," Alice interjected.

"Yes, not her mother," Eva agreed. "Now—why do you look frightened? We barely even started!"

"I fear that—"

"Brandon, if you succumb to your fears, you will never get to know if you stand a chance," Eva said. "If she will want you, she will have you no matter what. Martin, for example, had insisted to take pianoforte lessons from me when everyone knows I am the worst at it."

Alice snorted. "Her pianoforte skills never improved since we were young." A sudden idea came to her mind.

"And Martin enduring that was enough to tell me that he liked me," Eva said. "Your Pepper will endure anything she is uncomfortable with if it meant spending more time with you. Do you understand?"

Alice leaned closer and with her flat face, she said, "If you want her, you will have to show her sooner or later. Do not fear the end of your friendship because you will still lose it no matter what you do. One, you will never get the chance to confess to preserve the friendship, but you will suffer through it all your life and that is not the kind of friendship you will want. Two, you will confess and lose the friendship because by then she will become your lover and your friendship will morph into something deeper and beautiful, or you still lose it because she will refuse your offer and I tell you, Brandon, your friendship will never be the same if that happens."

"Do not scare him even more, Alice."

"Well, he has to know the truth."

A groan escaped Brandon. He looked around the room. "I am not certain I wish to go through with this."

"No!" Alice and Eva hissed in unison.

"You go through with this," Eva insisted.

"We should go shopping. What color does she like? I am certain there are better things than flowers," Alice said, already standing up. "Well, come along, you two. We do not have the entire afternoon to hunt for gifts."

*****

Harold moaned, slowly coming awake.

Someone was deliberately and strongly shaking him.

"Go away," he groaned.

"You do not tell your father to go away," said the authoritative voice above him.

He opened one eye and sure enough, the brooding presence of the man was over him, blocking the light coming from the window.

"Oh, good God, you have finally ascended from hell. And you are here to entice me back to your lair."

Albert Everard, the Lord of Devonshire, ignored his statement and pushed him to his back. "Get up."

With another groan, Harold pushed away from the bed. He ruffled his hair and squinted at his father. "Whyever are you here, Father?"

His father frowned at him. The man was not one would consider handsome, but he had his charms. He may be brooding, but he was very charismatic. As a large man with features fitting a tyrant, it was not commonly achieved.

"And why, pray tell, my son, are you still in your bloody bed?" The Lord of Devonshire sniffed the air around him. "Have you been drinking again?"

"No," he said, slipping out of bed to get his robe. "I was drowning in a few bottles."

"How is this season?"

"I talked with a few gentlemen. They wish to extend their contracts with—"

"I am not referring to the business, my boy. It will prove to be useless unless our lineage is preserved. I am asking if you have been dallying with the right women."

Harold cleared his throat. "Ah, bloody hell. Of course. I should have known." He poured himself a drink of water and gulped down. "No woman has yet dared express her desire to be dead, Father, if that is your question."

His father turned to face him fully. The man had never dared raise a finger on him, but if he ever did, at his age now, Harold was quite certain it would render him limp for the rest of his life.

"Find someone fast, Harold," Albert Everard ordered. "I am getting old."

Harold could see that. The man's hair was almost entirely white now. "But I do not see it, Father," he said instead and added in jest, "As a matter-of-fact, you will outlive me. Just look at you, having all this energy to shake your foxed son awake!"

His father pointed a finger at him. "I am sick."

"Of worry, yes."

"No, I am sick."

That stopped Harold. The word sick was never in his father's vocabulary. "You mean you are ill?"

The man walked to the nearest settee. "Why do you think I am not present during this season?" He stared at Harold sternly. "I am dying, son."

"We all are," he tried to jest again.

The man narrowed his eyes at him. "I want you settled before I pass, Harold."

He had to admit this conversation was getting odd and it somehow caused him concern. But then, his father could be a very manipulative bastard. Was he manipulating the situation now?

"How are Martin and that woman?"

"Eva," Harold wryly uttered. "They are quite happy."

When his father did not say a word and simply looked at him, Harold sighed. "What?"

Albert Everard shrugged. "You must feel uncomfortable, son. Everyone of your acquaintance is getting shackled."

"I am quite happy, thank you."

"And I am not," said the man, standing up. "Come down to the breakfast room. Let us continue this talk downstairs. It is bound to be quite long."

As the man walked out his bedchamber, Harold shouted, "Should I expect threats?!"

His father's reply echoed down the corridor. "More!"

*****

"What are you doing here?" Martin asked when Harold barged inside his study, dressed haphazardly, hair a mess and with dark circles around his eyes.

"My father is in town," was the only explanation he offered as he dropped in the winged chair. He looked around. "Where is your wife?"

"You mean Alice?" Martin droned meaningfully, head bowed over a piece of paper.

He let the comment pass and waited for the answer.

"Out for tea with Downworth."

Harold cocked a brow. "You allowed two women under your care to meet a man they barely know on their own?"

Martin was still focused on what he was reading and murmured, "Downworth is an acquaintance. He is a member at Grey's."

"The very same reason why you cannot trust the man," he irritably retorted. "Could he not call on Alice the proper way?"

Martin looked up and stared at him meaningfully. "You mean barge in my estate under the pretense of escaping an old man?"

Harold's eyes narrowed. "You are provoking me. It is not working."

With a shrug, Martin looked down on his paper again. "Another very distant uncle of mine passed away."

"This must be your year then."

"You know of Lettice House, yes?"

Harold frowned. "But Lord Lettice has an heir."

"That heir is stripped of his title, apparently, if I read correctly." Martin waved the paper in his hand. "Joined the rebels."

"Pain the arse, those rebels. Tried to rob one of our cargos from the mines." Harold let out a long breath and grinned at Martin. "Lettice is bigger than Surley. Does this mean you will change your title again?"

"Well, if I am proven to be the next heir, then I believe I will."

"Lord Lettice never sounded right, but then, who are you to complain?"

Martin sighed and leaned against his chair. He closed his eyes and groaned. "I should have accompanied my wife and Alice. I would be having a better time."

"You should have."

"But after last night, I believe Alice will want to be alone with Eva." Martin opened his eyes and stared at Harold. "Has she told you what happened? You took her home, after all."

"Mayhap," he lied.

Martin shook his head, face registering anger. "I cannot believe Sebastian would dare attack her again. Is he bloody insane? He already suffered one finger from their last encounter. Why would the man force himself on Alice? The woman has her limits, I tell you. She cried in Eva's arms last night and my wife did not even have to tell me. It could be heard down the bloody corridor." Shaking his head again, he added, "Can you picture Alice crying? I wager she was really furious for that is the only reason I can come up with for her to shed tears."

Harold had gone stiff in his chair.

No, she was not merely furious, he thought, remembering Alice's look from last night. She looked afraid.

Bloody tarnation. This confirmed the gossip he heard at Grey's.

It was true then. Something happened and she did not even shout for help. What could she have been thinking keeping it all to herself?

*****

Harold and Martin had retired to the drawing room to play a game of chess when the commotion in the hallway started. They were both already on their feet when Eva burst inside in panic. Behind her was Downworth, breathless and in as much panic.

"Where is Alice?" Harold asked.

"We cannot find her," Eva said in a rush, coming to her husband. "We were out shopping with Lord Downworth when she excused herself to find more books."

"How long had she been gone?" Harold demanded, glaring at Downworth. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Harold interrupted by adding, "Or had you done something? How could you have allowed her to—" Martin's hand stopped him from going further.

"Harold, enough," said Martin, turning to his wife. "Where was the last you saw her?"

"Along Brose Street. We were shopping for gifts."

"An hour," Downworth said, answering Harold's first question. "We had been searching for an hour until we decided it is best—"

"Then you should have let Eva or one of the footmen to inform us about your ordeal and kept searching!" Harold roared, already striding toward the door. "If anything happens to her, Downworth, I swear to God!"

Harold did not bother to wait for the carriage.

He demanded for a horse.

*****

Alice did not realize she was lost until a woman tried to trick her into buying a parasol with someone's initials embroidered along one edge. It was obviously stolen.

She looked around, hugging her newly procured book.

It seemed that she was on another side of Wickhurst that she should not be. It was a different world. The smell of stench was evidence enough.

Three men standing outside a narrow alleyway whistled as she walked by. Without flinching, she moved along.

"Ye lost, missy?" one of them asked, following her.

She ignored the man, concentrating on the road. She quickened her pace.

Where could she be?

"Ye need help, missy?" She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the man, but did not say a word.

"No," she snapped. She looked ahead. She could see a brighter path ahead.

"Yer lost, ain't ye?"

"No," she snapped again, briskly walking now. The man quickened his pace and laughed as his friends from afar hollered in encouragement.

"Come on, missy. Ye need help?"

Alice stopped abruptly, surprising the stranger by facing him. His crooked teeth disappeared as his sneer disappeared at her stare. "Twenty townsends now if you can lead me back to Café Royal. Twenty more upon my arrival."

The man did not need another second to think. He immediately nodded. Alice took out twenty townsends from her purse and handed it to him who immediately snatched it.

"Well then, go on, lead the way," Alice said, handing over her book. "And carry this for me."

The man grabbed the book from her and motioned with his head. "Come on, missy."

Alice was cautious as she followed the man, doubting his ever step. But as they walked on ahead, she realized that he was leading her to the right direction. She could now feel the air getting better and the lampposts were more frequent.

When she finally saw a few people dressed more presentably, did she begin to feel relieved. The man before her looked over his shoulder. "Come, come, missy. We're near."

Alice was finally able to breathe. She looked behind her and at the horrid place she had lost herself into. The stark difference was enormous.

"What was that place?"

"Haram, missy," said the man.

Alice followed him as he turned to the right and finally she saw something familiar. The bookstore she was in earlier was just across the cobbled street. They went further forward and Café Royal slowly emerged.

"D'ye see it?" the man asked excitedly over his shoulder. "We're in Bose Street now. Yer safe."

Alice nodded. She was planning to tell the man that she could continue on her own but a strong force held her back, pulling her backward, snatching her breath away from her.

She whirled around to realize that her arm was being gripped by a strong hand and she looked up to find a very angry Harold Everard.

"Oi! What are ye doin'!" Alice's guide demanded from behind her.

Harold threw daggers at the man with his eyes before his eyes returned to Alice. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

Alice pulled away from his grip. "Haram," she calmly said.

The mention of the place sent his fury to an even greater height as his hand caught her arm again to pull her to his side. "You are not going anywhere," he ordered.

"You cannot order me about." She moved toward the man, swift enough for Harold to catch her again. "My book, sir."

The man handed her book to her with an expectant look on his face.

She opened her purse and took out thirty townsends. "Here. As promised."

The man saw the extra ten and grinned at her. "Yer an angel, missy." He circled around Alice and tipped his head with his finger at Harold. "So long, guv. Don't lose 'er again! I'm not always 'round te help!"

Alice did not bother to check Harold's reaction. She decided that putting a distance between them would be safer for them both.

But as she had expected, he was fast to follow.

"Do you know that everyone is searching for you as we speak?" he hissed, his head bent so he could level with her.

"No and I apologize for the trouble. It shall not happen again."

"Bloody hell, Alice! You ventured into Haram!"

Alice was irked. She stopped walking so she could look at him. "And why are you looking for me?"

"Because I was with Martin when Eva and your dear Downworth came looking for help!"

"Hmm," she muttered. "You should not have obliged yourself." She continued walking. He followed.

He gaped at her in disbelief. "Are you bloody out of your mind? What has gotten into you? How did you find yourself in Haram? That place is dangerous, Alice, even for us gentlemen!"

"I know. I have been there."

*****

Something was not right with her, Harold could tell.

She was acting more indifferent that she already was.

Losing his patience, he reached for her once again, this time grabbing her wrist and pulling her gently to a stop.

"What?" she snapped.

"Surely, something must have happened. You are not one who would easily get lost."

Alice sighed and their eyes locked. "Martin told you about Sebastian."

His jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Then you must understand why I would demand that I do not want to talk about it?"

"It still obviously bothers you. You are keeping it to yourself and look what happened. You got lost in Haram and damnation, Alice, something could have happened—" he stopped himself and took a long breath before he tried again. "Why did you not tell me last night? That bastard—"

"My lord, please," Alice interjected, placing her hand over his to release the other from his grip. He allowed her. "Stay away from me."

He frowned in confusion. "Why—"

"You are causing me distress." When he simply stood there looking at her, lost for words, she sighed. "You do not even intend to offer for me. I am correct, yes?"

He was frozen.

"So, unless you can stop acting like you own me, do keep your distance. I have enough people whose concern for me is welcome." She started to turn to walk away when she stopped. Harold did not realize he had been holding his breath until she added, "And unless you plan on building something out of your bloody random kisses, stay out of my life because I intend to find someone who can at least bear to take me as his wife."

As she walked away to the direction of Café Royal, Harold found himself only able to stare.

He should have known from the start that he was doomed.