"How long do you believe we should continue to do this?" Oliver asked Aliya one evening as she tied his cravat.

"Until we get a knock on the door," she replied, stepping back to frown at her work. "Should we use the black one?"

Oliver shook his head and escaped her grasp by turning on his heels to take the seat across their bed. Crossing one leg over the other, he tapped the armrest with his fingers. "We have been doing this for five straight nights, darling. We dress up for a ball only to strip each other."

She laughed and settled in front of the dresser. "It is very rare for the Mistresses to leave Belcourt. In Lady Mariam's case, she goes out during random nights and we must be prepared when she does."

"Supposing Carrie—her name is Carrie, yes?"

"Yes."

"Supposing Carrie manages to force a derby hat with a red ribbon around it on another driver, how certain are we that the woman is carrying this Lady Mariam?"

"Darling, the Mistresses have their personal carriage driver and it is the same one all the time. Carrie, I believe, is a cousin to Lady Mariam's current driver. They came to Belcourt together as children. And yes, she can definitely force her cousin to wear a derby hat with a red ribbon around it."

"And how certain are you that she will be coming to a ball?"

Aliya sighed. "I have been to countless balls during my time as a Belle. I know people who knew her during her time as a Belle, most of them former and current flowers. They have always claimed they saw her at least once. But she never reports where she goes after the ball, or why she goes missing during a ball."

He looked at her quizzically. "Surely, you know that this is all but one wild guess."

She shrugged. "I am telling you, Ollie, Lady Mariam has a lover. A woman who had one can always tell."

His face went grim. "Do not remind me of your first flower, darling. I told you I am quite possessive."

She scoffed. "And you absolutely and without question, show me every time you get the chance," she said, holding out one hand, "but not now, darling. We just got dressed."

"Where are you going?" he asked when she stood.

"To the parlor where you are less likely to debauch me."

He howled in laughter and followed her downstairs.

*****

They waited nearly two hours and by the time the parlor door opened, Aliya and Oliver were already discussing retiring for the night only to stop and find Tanner MacMier striding inside, clad in a black coat and derby hat.

Both husband and wife jumped to their feet.

"The Mistress has just left Belcourt."

Oliver grabbed Aliya's fur coat and wrapped it around her, asking, "Where to?"

"The Kinsley Ball."

Oliver and Aliya snapped their head in surprise. "It is a royal ball," Oliver said.

"Yes," Tanner replied. "And you do not have an invitation."

Aliya haughtily lifted her head. "We do not need one," she said, walking past Tanner. "Come, darling, we have a royal ball to attend."

*****

"You see, my husband and I were in a ball not far from here," Aliya started to explain to the footman who was guarding the door of the large Kinsley estate. "And what time was it, darling? When you and I were approached?"

Oliver pretended to think as the innocent footman looked at him. "Perhaps twelve? We just finished a waltz."

Aliya nodded, and feigning urgency she said, "And a footman informed us that my husband is badly needed here at Kinsley." Again, she turned to Oliver with her innocent-looking gaze. "What was the incident, darling?"

Oliver sighed and rolled his eyes. "Someone poisoned or something, I care very little. I would rather go back to our ball—"

"Oh, nonsense, someone here claims to have been poisoned! Poisoned!" Aliya said, her eyes wide with horror. "Imagine how that would refect to Lord Kinsley. He is cousin to the king and it will be quite horrible if our dear King Louis will be pulled into a scandal!"

The footman suddenly seemed distressed, almost in a panic. He jumped to his feet and stammered, "I c-can have you escorted directly to the said individual, Doctor," he said, turning to another footman, but Oliver suddenly pushed his way through the man, saying, "I know where to go. It is in one of the drawing rooms to the left—"

"The right, darling," corrected, Aliya. "Oh, bother not, I will come with you." She turned to the footman with a sweet smile. "I hope you do not alert anyone. We do not want to stir gossip when there might not even be one."

The man blinked. "O-of course!"

"Now, act as normal as you possibly can. You know my husband is the best. He even raised a man from the dead once. I am certain you have heard."

The footman nodded with wonder.

Oliver entered the hallway and said over his shoulder, "Are we going to let this man die, Ali, or not?"

"Coming, darling!" Aliya said, giving the footman one last smile of gratitude before she turned and hurried to her husband's side.

"I quite enjoy this mission of yours," murmured Oliver as he looked over his shoulder at the now unassuming footman. "It is quite exciting," he said, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

She slapped his hand away and said, "Focus, darling. We need to find our target."

"You seem to know where you are going," he noted when she passed the entrance to the ballroom and continued down another corridor filled with other guests.

"I have been here twice. With my first flower."

She smiled as Oliver growled behind her.

Taking another turn, Aliya found the garden and the side entrance to the ballroom. Oliver was fast behind her.

She scanned the large room with disappointment. There were too many guests. "Search for a curly blonde with blue eyes. She is in her fifties."

Her husband groaned beside her. "Darling, it is almost every bloody woman in this room."

"She could be wearing something red."

"That is nearly half of the crowd."

She sighed. "Then do go around. We have to separate."

He nodded and he turned to the right while Aliya turned left to cruise along the side of the ballroom, trying to be invisible.

"Aliya!" Lady Winthrop said with wonder when their path crossed amongst glittering gowns and suits.

"My lady," Aliya greeted, surprised that at the great amount of relief she felt to have another Royal wife at the party.

"This is a surprise! Whyever are you here—" Lady Winthrop started but stopped as understanding dawned on her. "Ah, of course."

Wrinkling her nose with apologetically, Aliya said, "Please forgive me, my lady, I am in a rush."

"Of course, dear! Go on! I will be here if you need me."

A few more people recognized her after she left Lady Winthrop, and she was stopped a few times before she made a full circle. By then, she spotted Oliver holding a glass of brandy. Her eyes narrowed as she sashayed toward him. "How many glasses?" she nonchalantly asked.

"One—" he started to say, "One before this, which makes this glass number two," he said.

Aliya sighed and shook her head, turning away to look around once more.

"Just two, darling," he said. "You said I can drink."

"Yes, I did."

"But I cannot get foxed."

"Yes," she said, craning her neck with more urgency. She had to find Mariam tonight for they may not have another chance until next week.

"Are you angry?"

"No. You can drink as much as you want, darling," she sardonically murmured under her breath. He gave his glass to the passing server. Without warning, Aliya crossed the ballroom, her eyes on one woman.

"Is that her?" Oliver whispered beside her.

Ignoring him, Aliya veered to the right to stay out of Mariam's sight.

"Are you still quite mad?"

"Not now, Ollie," she said through her teeth. "We cannot lose her now."

He fell silent beside her and they both turned away when Mariam's head veered to their direction. Thinking fast, Aliya searched the crowd once again and murmured to her husband, "Do not lose sight of her," before she retraced her steps to look for Lady Winthrop.

The woman was standing with three friends and Aliya had to signal with her eyes, which the woman gratefully understood.

Leaving her friends, Lady Winthrop joined Aliya and murmured, "Dear, I am the best woman to ask for help. What can I do for you?"

Aliya could not help the smile that broke on her lips. "I need to have an eye on someone who cannot recognize me here."

"Ah, invisible stalking is my specialty, dear, fret not. Who is the target?"

Aliya had the widest smile as she led Lady Winthrop back to Oliver.

*****

Aliya and Oliver stayed near the garden for almost an hour with Aliya not talking to him, always watching the scene inside the ballroom through the glass window.

"You are still clearly mad," he said while Aliya walked to the other side of the doorway.

"No, I am not, Ollie," she said, her eyes spotting Lady Winthrop standing in the doorway of the ballroom entrance. "Come," she said, reaching for her husband's hand to guide him through the sea of guests toward Lady Winthrop.

"Take the right corridor, make a left, and go up the flight of stairs directly to your right. From there, take another right. Third door on the left."

Aliya nodded. "Thank you, my lady. See you in The Coffin soon."

Lady Winthrop just nodded and nonchalantly sashayed back into the crowd.

"What Coffin?" her husband asked.

"Our waiting area in Sinclair," she replied, rushing down the corridor.

He chuckled. "Quite creative, really," he said with awe. Then he paused. "And you were able to follow her instruction?"

"Yes, of course."

They took the flight of stairs and turned right.

Then Aliya stopped.

"What?" Oliver asked.

"These are bedchambers," she said.

"Yes."

"The third door to the left."

"Yes."

Aliya nodded and walked down the corridor and stopped at the second door. It was locked. She then continued, passing the third door, much to her husband's confusion. She tried the fourth door and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open, she looked inside the room and found it dark and empty.

She motioned for Oliver to follow her and closed the door.

He lit a lamp and she took it from him to study the wall that separated them from where Mariam was. Disappointed that it had no connecting door, Aliya pressed her ear against the wooden wall.

Her husband was looking at her with a smile. "They are making lust, are they not?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Apparently, they just started."

He groaned and followed her to the foot of the bed. "If you are to not make love with me for a week, how long do you suppose you will last?" he asked in a whisper.

Aliya scoffed and shrugged. "I believe the question should be addressed to you, Ollie. A woman can last five minutes and be quite ready the next. It all depends on how long a man can—"

"I would either prolong it to give you pleasure," he said, "or I will, unfortunately, uncontrollably satisfy myself first and start giving yours with other things," he said, smiling and waving his hand at her.

Aliya cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "Let us not discuss this for now, or I might end up failing this mission." When his hand searched for hers, she pulled away. "No, do not even attempt teasing, Oliver St. Vincent!" she hissed.

He raised his hands and said, "If you say you are not angry, I will not touch you."

"I am not angry. I have told you that you can drink on the condition that you control yourself."

"And I was controlling myself."

"Good."

Thirty minutes later, Oliver jumped from the window where he had just leaned into. "They are taking their bloody time," he said, while Aliya pressed her ear against the wall. "Or," he whispered beside her, "he may be taking some time to get it to work, you see."

Aliya bit her lip to stop the laughter that threatened to roll out of her throat. "Stop it," she hissed. Then she stiffened, pressing her ear back against the wall. Her eyes moved as she concentrated on the sounds coming from inside. "She is changing," she said, rushing to the door and opening it a crack so she could see into the corridor.

Oliver stood behind her and many minutes later, they both watched Lady Mariam walk out of the door fixing her curly blonde hair. She stopped once to pull the skirts of her blood-red dress.

And as soon as Mariam was out of sight, Aliya slipped through the door and without warning, entered the room her former Mistress had exited.

And then her eyes widened.

******

Oliver had no time to stop his wife. It was reckless of her, but it had already been done and he had no choice but to lean against the wall beside the door she entered, and listen.

"What are you doing here!" a man's voice boomed and Oliver winced.

His eyes narrowed when his wife stayed silent for a while. And when she finally spoke, his shoulders shook with silent laughter. "I'm serryyy, serrrr..." she paused and burped. Oliver's hands went on his hips, his head falling back in mirth as he listened to his wife act like a foxed wanton. "I'm lookin' ferrr me hus-hiccup-band."

Oliver turned and leaned his hand on the wall, his head bent in laughter. She must probably be waiting for his rescue, but he could not muster an act at the moment.

"Are yeee him?" she asked. "Ye look smaller..."

Oliver let out a silent laugh once more before he quietly cleared his throat and took a lungful of air, a laugh escaping him twice before he finally regained control. And then he burst into the same room, his eyes landing on the gentleman standing half-dressed at the side of the bed, and shouted, "Wife!"

Stumbling into the room, his arm snaked around Aliya who swayed in his arms with a dramatic cry of surprise. "Ah, there ye are," he said, kissing her fully on the mouth. "I found us a chamber," he murmured against her neck, loud enough for the scowling man to hear. Turning on his heels, he took his wife with him, and over his shoulder, he said, "Apologies, sir!"

The two of them rushed back to their previous hideout and stumbled inside, finally letting go of their act.

Aliya whirled around to face Oliver, the small lamp by the bed showcasing the frown on her face. "I do not recognize him," she whispered.

"Of course, you do not," he said, locking the door. "But I do." He pulled at her hand and sent her crushing against his chest. "Darling, that was the bloody prime minister."

Aliya's eyes widened with surprise. "Then we caught a big fish?"

He grinned. "We caught a shark, love."

A second passed before they both realized what they had just done and snorted, bursting out with laughter in each other's arms, his mouth covering hers, his feet leading her to the bed. "Now, what do you say to a tryst?"

"This is not just a tryst, Ollie," she said, climbing backward on the bed. "We are at Kinsley. This is a royal tryst, darling," she finished, grabbing his cravat and pulling him toward her.