"Where do you think you're going, Mav?"

Leo's little brother stopped in the nursery doorway, looking back at him with wide eyes.

"No wonder your governesses leave. You keep trying to sneak off the moment I turn my back to grab something." Leo gave him a severe glance, his patience dwindling that morning. He loved his brother dearly, but the last few hours had been long.

Maverick gave him an ashamed look, slinking back toward the table that Leo sat at. Sighing, Leo felt his face soften. It was hard to stay mad when Mav wore that expression.

"Sorry," Maverick said, sitting down again. As usual, his speech wasn't quite right, and the word came out sounding more like, "Sowwy." It only made it more challenging to discipline him.

Leo took another deep breath, steadying himself.

"It is fine, Mav. But you cannot give up. You have to keep trying." Leo pointed to the page of sums that they had been working on. He'd done the same lesson with Maverick countless times. Mav would always figure it out by the end, but the next day they'd sit down to do it again, and it would be like his entire memory of it had been wiped clean.

"It's hard," Maverick pouted, pushing the parchment with the numbers on it away from him. He crossed his arms dramatically over his chest.

"I know you can do it," Leo continued to encourage him. "You did it yesterday."

Maverick shook his head. He had blonde hair just like Leo, and it was sticking out in all directions. That hair was the only thing that had kept their family sane when Maverick was born. His face...well, his face looked completely different than anyone Leo had ever seen. In particular, it was the smallness of his eyes that had concerned everyone.

Leo would be lying if he hadn't wondered for a moment if Maverick had a different father than him. What else was he supposed to think? But then Leo had looked at that hair. Silver-blonde hair from birth. Leo's mother had dark brown locks.

Not to mention that Lord and Lady Aston were unwavering in their love for each other.

Any thought of infidelity was immediately pushed away, and instead, Lord Aston had put all of his efforts into figuring out why his son had been born... differently. Most aristocratic families would have sent such a child away, worried what others would say and how it would affect their reputation. But not Leo's parents.

Oh, Maverick was undoubtedly kept separate from the world of the ton. A secret, if you will. When he traveled into the public view, it was usually with a well-trained servant or with his friend, Langdon—never with Leo or his parents. All of his governesses were sworn to secrecy and continually paid handsomely for it. Lord and Lady Aston feared that Mav would be made a spectacle otherwise. And Leo knew what people would assume about his mother.

"I do not want to," Maverick said, continuing to pout. His feet swung below him, rocking back and forth. He was much shorter than other nine-year-olds; his feet did not reach the floor when he sat.

Leo didn't feel in the mood to argue with Maverick today. "Shall we take a break and try again later?"

Maverick nodded his head quickly.

"You promise to work hard when we come back to it?"

Maverick nodded again.

"Fine," Leo relented, and Maverick immediately shot from his chair, a smile spreading on his face as he assaulted Leo with a tight hug. It only lasted a moment, though, because then he was racing through the doorway as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Leo couldn't help but chuckle as he stood and also made his way through the door. Maverick was gone from sight, but Leo wasn't too concerned. He had likely gone to find Langdon, who was probably lounging in the library, reading. It was almost as though the other boy lived at Aston House, too. But no one complained because they were all happy that Maverick had such a good friend.

Leo instead walked to the parlor to give his parents an update on his tutoring session with Mav.

They weren't there.

Leo nearly turned around to search them out, but an issue of Mischief in Mayfair caught his eye, sitting on a table.

Leo grabbed it, his eyes racing over the text there.

The ton flocked to the opera last night, but not all eyes were on the dramatics of Don Giovanni. Many theatre-goers had their sights set upon the royal box instead. And it wasn't necessarily our beautiful queen whom they were looking at, nor her family. Although they're all worthy of the highest attention and praise, it was Lady Humphries who drew stares and whispers. What connection does an unprincipled countess have with the royal family? Though she keeps her conquests close to her chest, we can only assume the lady to be unchaste, can we not? Which leaves us wondering of her position in the royal box. Do any of my readers know that which I do not?

Why the bloody hell would Scarlett write about herself like this? Leo felt his temper rising at the words she used to downplay her own self-worth. Scowling, he strode back out to the foyer.

"James. My coat, please."

His butler handed the garment to him quickly, his brows rising at the tension on Leo's face. "Would you like me to ready the carriage, my lord?"

"Please," Leo mumbled. "There's someone I need to speak to."

In less than a half-hour, Leo was pounding on the door to Humphries House. For the third time. Leo frowned. Even if Scarlett was out, there should be a servant here to see to the door. Most homes in the ton had someone posted continuously at the entrance, ready to welcome a visitor the moment they approached. Why the hell was he still standing here in the cold?

Leo knocked for the fourth time and then forced himself to count to ten before testing the doorknob to see if it would open.

It did, so he entered.

He could not bring himself to walk away with all the questions stewing in his head.

The house was eerily quiet as Leo stepped over the threshold. Scarlett was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any servants. Leo's frown deepened.

"Scarlett?" he called out. Silence responded.

After a quick internal debate about his next move, Leo made his way toward the parlor. He would only check the front rooms, and then he would simply leave a message and retreat.

Stepping into the richly decorated parlor, Leo spotted the back of Scarlett's head in an armchair facing the fireplace, wisps of her hair falling over the top of the chair. Leo stopped, leaning against the frame of the door.

"Where the hell is that butler of yours, Scarlett?" He knew that she'd likely be annoyed that he let himself into her home, but Leo was too annoyed himself to care.

But Scarlett was quiet.

Leo rolled his eyes. So she was giving him the silent treatment again, was she?

"When has ignoring me ever worked, my dear? I want to talk to you about that little piece you published this morning," Leo said as he casually strode to face her, walking around an olive green settee with golden embroidery.

But he halted abruptly as soon as the rest of her came into view. Scarlett was...sleeping? Her head was leaning back against the cushions on the chair, her mouth opened ever so slightly. Her eyes, usually so bright and perceptive, were resting, closing her off from the rest of the world.

But he'd been making quite the racket. How did she manage to sleep through that?

Leo walked a little closer. "Scarlett?" he whispered.

He wasn't sure why he'd said it so quietly. She just looked so angelic sitting there.

Scarlett still did not stir. It was then that Leo noticed the small tin she held in her hands. Bending over, he plucked it gingerly from her lap, popping it open.

"This is laudanum," he murmured. Once again frowning, Leo glanced back at Scarlett, investigating. The drug was often used as a pain reliever, but why was Scarlett using it? And how much had she taken that she had passed out in her parlor?

"Oh!"

Leo's head jerked upward to see a maid standing in the doorway, looking distinctly alarmed at the sight of Leo lurking above Scarlett. But Leo did not much care about that.

"So there are servants in this bloody house!" he exclaimed. The maid's eyes widened even further, but Leo was finding it hard to regret his harsh tone. "Were you even aware of your mistress' condition?"

The maid took two steps closer, peering around the armchair to see Scarlett laying there, still deep in slumber. Then the maid looked back at Leo and said carefully, "My lady will sometimes fall asleep after her morning doses. You needn't be alarmed, Lord..."

She trailed off, her expression turning suspicious as she assessed Leo.

"Lord Farrington," Leo supplied. "No one opened the door, so I let myself in to find Lady Humphries like such."

He scowled.

"Eugene has been ill for some time. My apologies that no one was at the door, Lord Farrington," the maid said, almost defensively. Leo still didn't quite understand. If the butler was ill, then why was some other footman not posted there in his absence?

But that was not his biggest concern at the moment. He looked back at Scarlett.

"What did you mean when you said morning doses? She takes laudanum every morning?" The thought made Leo scowl again, worry seeping into his chest and making his heart beat faster. "Whatever for?"

The maid shifted from foot to foot, indicating that she wished to depart from their conversation. "I cannot say, my lord."

"Fine," Leo huffed. "Well, it is likely that she can barely breathe in the position she is in. Not while wearing a corset. She should be lying down."

The maid's eyes widened again, likely at Leo's reference to a woman's undergarments, but he ignored the expression. Bending down, he slid his arm beneath Scarlett's knees and another behind her back. Then in one swift motion, he hoisted her up against his chest.

Leo would not lie; the task wasn't easy. Scarlett didn't have a particularly slight frame. She was voluptuous and well-rounded, and those curves were currently covered in dense, midnight blue skirts. But that wasn't to say that her weight in his arms didn't feel amazing.

"Where are her chambers?" he asked the maid.

The small woman stared at him in shock.

"I haven't all day," Leo urged her.

The comment did not seem to help. In fact, the maid appeared a bit frightened, glancing from Scarlett's unmoving form to Leo's face.

"For Christ's sake," Leo said, beginning to feel exasperated. "I am not going to do anything to harm your lady. I wish to lie her down." He shifted Scarlett in his arms. "Soon, please," he added, trying to keep his voice from sounding strained.

The maid hesitated for one more moment before turning stiffly around and guiding Leo up the stairs. She did not say anything when they reached the top, merely opened the door to her left, and walked through it. Leo followed her into a large, sparsely decorated room. He quickly made his way to the four-poster bed that was covered with crisp, white bedclothes, setting Scarlett carefully on top. After making sure that her head lay nicely on the pillow and her breathing was steady, Leo took a step back.

There was such an innocent look about her at the moment. It tugged at Leo in an entirely different way than he was used to.

"I shall wait here until she wakes," he said to the maid as he settled himself in a corner chair.

"Here?" the maid squeaked.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Yes, here. You may stay as well or leave the door open if you do not trust me," he offered. The maid flashed one more skeptical glance and then retreated...leaving the door wide open behind her.

Leo was confused about all matters of things this morning. First of all, there was still the question of why Scarlett had written so disparagingly about herself in this morning's issue of Mischief in Mayfair. Then, there was the laudanum concern. Why the devil was she taking so much laudanum and passing out in her parlor with no one around to care? 

He took in his surroundings as he sunk lower into his chair. And now there was this odd thought about Scarlett's bedchamber. It was like this room was in a different house with how...simple it appeared. It was all fine and well; the chamber was nice and clean. But nothing compared to the furnishings downstairs.

Leo wasn't sure how long he sat there thinking about everything, but after some time, his head began to droop, his eyelids fluttering shut. As soon as he realized he was falling asleep, Leo jerked his head up.

Scarlett was still sleeping soundly. He watched the rise and fall of her chest carefully, searching for any signs that she was unwell. But she appeared fine.

Looking longingly at the bed, Leo wondered how annoyed Scarlett would be if he rested beside her. The bed was huge, after all. They would not even be touching. The chair he sat in was awfully uncomfortable, and that bed looked so inviting after a long morning of tutoring Maverick.

The floorboards creaked as Leo tread lightly across the room. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the mattress, stretching out languidly. Just a few minutes, he told himself...

Just a few minutes.