If there was something Oliver was grateful for, it was having the best butler Sutherland could offer.

Truly, no one could come close to perfect as Jason, his ever-perfect companion in the villa. Shoulder-length black hair neatly tied at the back, dark gray eyes that were always clear and alert, perfect manners, and cared truly little about Oliver's shortcomings. He opened doors at the very right moment and closed them very quietly. In short, the man was the total opposite of his master.

Oliver did not hate the man, even if he knew that he was constantly being judged. The way he walked, the way he bounded down the stairs every afternoon, or the way he smelled. The man would not also bother him whenever he was in his study stripping bones of their muscles and ligaments, but he knew that everything he did was being listed down on a piece of parchment to be sent to his mother in Herst.

Jason was merely five years his senior, but the man's demeanor was as old as the kingdom. But he was truly the best, and the only butler who stayed with him for years.

"Doctor," the man said, interrupting Oliver's musing session, his presence only made known upon speaking for that was how good he was with the door. "Your mother has sent a letter of inquiry."

"Hmm," he said, his mind on Aliya's beautiful face. He always knew she would grow up as exquisite as he remembered her to be, but he never genuinely thought she still held the same effects on him.

"Doctor, your mother also conveyed her concern about your health."

"Hmm."

He could sense the man's frustration emanating from his person. Oliver could feel it at the back of his neck. "And I have to agree."

"Why?" he absently asked, staring blankly at the wall of paintings in the drawing room.

"You need to start losing weight."

"I am a large man."

"Yes, you are, Doctor. So is your... stomach."

His brows fused, and his gaze fluttered down to his abdomen. "The buttons of my shirt seem to disagree with you, Jason."

Jason clucked his tongue, a way for him to tell Oliver that he was wrong. "You also need a bath, Doctor."

"Unless you find me a more comfortable tub, Jason, I will bathe whenever I feel the need," he murmured, eyes narrowed at the carpet as his mind entertained another thought.

What should he do with her?

He just wanted to get to her, but he never quite figured out yet what he wanted to happen after.

Should they be friends?

"Your drinking has gotten out of hand as your mother claims."

"She can try to stop me," he replied, frowning at his thoughts.

Being friends with Aliya was something he could do next.

That would be useful.

He could spy on her.

"And she is also curious as to why we had to transfer to Strait."

"Because it is far from Herst," he replied, lifting his forefinger in emphasis. "And do be certain you write that down." He stole Jason a look. Good God, the man's face was as stern and cold as his mother's. "Are you certain of your mother's identity, Jason?"

Jason's lips thinned as he closed it firmly. It was not the first time Oliver tried to jest about him being his mother's first child.

His attention abruptly shifted back to his previous thoughts.

Spy on Aliya. Ah, but he was just the Circus doctor. He was not expected to do anything.

"Your mother also asked if you are here because of her, Doctor."

"Of course, I am," he replied, waving his hand to dismiss the man. "Tell her that. Tell her I am still obsessed with the same woman."

"Very well," Jason responded. From the corner of Oliver's vision, he could see a stiff board of a man walking toward the door.

Once he was alone, Oliver jumped to his feet in frustration, raking his fingers through his hair. They were especially greasy today. Perhaps he needed a wash, after all. But later, after his scheduled experiment.

He poured himself a brandy, felt the liquid spread out to his upper limbs.

He narrowed his eyes at the floor. Lord Darcy gave Oliver permission to proceed with his plan. Did that mean he was on a mission? Ah, bullocks! He ought to have clarified. Surely, even the Royal Master expected something from this little adventure at the very least.

But first, the next action to take.

Be friends with Aliya Guideville.

Again.

Did she still like monkeys, he wondered.

*****

Aliya was brushing her hair in front of the mirror when Fatima entered the room. The way her maid slipped through the door and quietly closed it told Aliya that the middle-aged woman had something to say.

"Give me that, my lady," Fatima whispered, taking her brush. Aliya waited patiently, looking at the woman's gray eyes through the mirror, reading the apprehension there. Fatima's wide forehead was creased with worry and deep thought. The way she dug and dragged the bristles of the brush against Aliya's scalp also indicated that she was angry.

Keeping her smile to herself, Aliya pretended to study the fingers of her injured hand which was resting just below her busts. There was no discoloration. Good. She could move them. Good.

Call for me if you feel any pain or notice discoloration! I will bring my saw!

Her upper lip bared her teeth as St. Vincent's voice echoed in her head. She could clearly remember the laughing bastard. Her nose wrinkled, suddenly remembering the stench of brandy. Her eyes closed for a moment and she shivered as his filthy hair flashed in her mind.

Then his hazel gaze crossed her vision. Aliya immediately opened her eyes and bit her lips. Suddenly she felt embarrassed and she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders as if someone caught her thoughts.

"You are hurting me, Fatima," she said to the woman to redirect her mind to something real.

Fatima suddenly dropped to her side, her gray eyes wide, and hissed, "We have to be careful from now on, my lady."

"Whatever do you mean? We are always careful, Fatima."

"No," the maid said, shaking her head. "I meant with Maya. She is new."

Maya, the new cook. "Of course," Aliya said, nodding her head.

"She cannot be trusted," hissed Fatima. "Oh, if only Shay did not have that fight with—oh, I hate to say that woman's name. I only hope Shay can go back soon." The maid looked over her shoulder, strands of her blonde hair falling from behind her ear. "I have trouble trusting a new member in our household, my lady."

"As do I, Fatima," said Aliya, looking the woman in the eyes. She had spent ten years in total with this woman. From the moment she was courted, Fatima, Carrie, and Shay were her only true friends. "Thus, we must take more precautions. Do not leave her alone in the villa. Do you understand?"

Fatima nodded. "In the meantime, you have to limit your time at Maple Row."

The maid sighed, eyes starting to water.

"Do not cry, Fatima," Aliya ordered. "We have been through worse." And that was true. In ten years, they had shared many secrets.

Her maid nodded. "Yes, of course," she murmured, quickly brushing her tears with her fingers. She stood up once more. "I feel sorry that I was not there when you had the accident."

"I do not think it was an accident. Carrie checked the spokes before we left for Maple Row and they were in pristine condition."

Fatima's eyes widened with her gasp. "You could not mean—" the woman covered her mouth with her hand, bent down, and whispered, "The Circus?"

Aliya shrugged. "Perhaps. I do not see any reason why they would sabotage the stagecoach. Unless, of course, they wish me to..." her voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Unless they wished you to what, my lady?"

"To go to Sinclair..." she whispered under her breath. Then she shook her head. "But why?"

"To meet the doctor? This is not the first time a man that is not a gentleman of Belcourt has done something outrageous. Carrie told me he was... horrible. He could be another insane fanatic. Another Willoghby, the man who nearly killed Lady Sasha months ago."

Aliya's face crumpled as she shook her head. "The Doctor was horrible, but I do believe he is proud enough to try to do something like this."

"Then why would the Circus—"

"They must have wanted to stop me from going somewhere."

Fatima's eyes widened. "Here? The villa?"

"You were here to welcome Shay, were you not?" When her maid did not reply, Aliya turned to look up. "Did you perhaps leave the villa, Fatima?"

Fatima blinked. "I was... I did for a few minutes. I wanted to wait outside for Shay. I knew this is her first assignment and she could have been lost—"

"Check if something is missing at once," Aliya ordered, standing to her feet. Her left arm in a sling, she walked to her drawers and checked its contents.

Fatima was already outside the door to go to the study.

Soon, the entire household was searching for anything amiss.

Aliya could only allow herself a sigh of relief when she was certain that all her journals were present. She found them a new hiding place and went on with her morning. There was much to do than think about the Royal Circus or that unkempt doctor.

*****

That afternoon, Aliya received a familiar visitor.

"I am grateful that you came," she greeted Sasha, giving the woman a peck. The brown-haired young Belle smiled at her. "I am only glad to come when you asked me to."

"I would have come myself if I was in a better condition," she replied.

Sasha's bluish-gray eyes landing on Aliya's arm, she asked, "How is your arm? I heard about the terrible accident from my maid."

Aliya's brows cocked high. She never indicated her accident in her missive. "Oh, truly? I was not expecting my accident to spread so fast."

"You are known around Strait, Aliya, of course, it will spread fast."

She watched Sasha gracefully take a seat as she did so.

"Did you call for a barber?"

"No, I had to go to Sinclair."

"Sinclair?"

"Sinclair has a hospital in Strait. Were you not aware?"

"Yes, I was aware, of course. But now that I am reminded, I am interested," Sasha said with a smile. "Did a bonesetter do it?"

"Yes," Aliya replied through her teeth. She shuddered at the reminder. Then she blinked, remembering the warmth of the brandy spreading in her chest and hands. And her hands... his hands holding hers. She nearly jumped in her seat at the woeful thought. Clearing her throat, she searched for something that would take the vision of the pair of hazel eyes from her mind. She forced a smile and said, "I cannot help but notice, Sasha, that you have changed. You have more..."

"Confidence?" the woman asked, her lips curling with an expectant smile. "You told me that our confidence is the only fashion we need."

"I did, and you are wearing it brilliantly well," she praised. She turned to find Fatima sashay into the room with a tray of fresh tea and biscuits. "How are you fairing in Strait?"

"Good," Sasha replied. "I find this city rather more fascinating. It is not as busy as Coulway."

"Strait is far calmer than Coulway and that is a fact," she agreed. "And your flower?"

Sasha shrugged. "We are yet to get familiar. He presented himself to me the day after I arrived the week prior."

"I heard he is the missing Marquess of Rothsker."

"The very same."

Aliya was intrigued. For years, the Marquess was rumored to have disappeared because of his debts. The worst story the gossipmongers were able to concoct was that the Marquess was being kept prisoner by Lady Renee, the wife of the Marquess' deceased uncle, and the host of the famous Humbrick Ball. "You must tell me, Sasha—How is he?"

Sasha shared her conspiratorial smile. "Quite younger than I expected, actually," Sasha shared, picking up her tea. "And quite a charmer," she added before she took a sip. "Soon, I intend to find out where her aunt kept him all these years."

Aliya laughed. "Ask what food he was served all these years and how he escaped."

Sasha chuckled, although her laughter did not reach her eyes.

"And your neighbors? I hope nothing like Compton?"

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, that horrid baron." Sasha shuddered. "No, no neighbors. My villa is a little different here. It is gated and the distance to the next villa takes a bit of a walk. I rather like it. No one to bother me when I am home."

Aliya nodded, studying Sasha silently.

Sasha was not exceptionally beautiful, but there was something about her eyes and her hair and everything else put together that made her look somehow intricately different. Barely a year had passed since the woman was recourted from the Court of Libraries, making her the second woman in Belcourt's history be transferred from one court to another, yet Aliya could no longer sense the naivety that she once saw in Sasha.

Was it because of what happened with her previous gentleman, West Blackwood? The man had turned out to be the Royal Master of the Royal Circus, after all. He had used Sasha, but Sasha was able to turn the cards just in time to save Belcourt.

It was not uncommon for a new Belle to fall for their first flower. Aliya knew that for she experienced the same. Sasha could have fallen victim to West Blackwood. She once experienced the woman getting jealous when she found Aliya and West taking a walk in the garden in Belcourt.

And a broken heart could change a woman.

Perhaps Sasha did change. She must have finally realized that being Belcourt's Belle meant more than just fancy gowns and parties.

Sasha had been transformed.

Aliya wondered if Sasha would pose as a threat in the future.

And she could not have this woman as a hindrance to her plans.

She had spent years waiting and planning for all be burned to ashes because of a fellow Belle, one as capable and smart as Sasha.

That afternoon, Aliya decided that her new cook may not be the only person she should be wary of.