"He became a gentleman of Belcourt merely a week ago. We were not aware of his plots until the crown prince himself came forward and personally asked Belcourt to accept Blackwood's application into Belcourt so we could spy on him. The prince has reasons to believe that your flower joined Belcourt as part of his plot."

"But the prince has no proof of the plotting. He has intercepted a letter addressed to the Blackwood from England, but it is not enough to put him to trial," Lady Eastwell added to Lady Mariam's statement.

"What letter from England?"

"The letter did not provide anything, but the fact that it answered a question regarding people that had been involved with the previous monarchy is enough to make us assume that Blackwood is up to something."

"And you should know, Sasha," said Lady Mariam, "that the previous king of Sutherland was dethroned twenty-nine years ago and it is believed that he fled to London before he was made to answer for the crimes he did during his reign."

Everything was starting to fall into pieces for Sasha. Except for one thing.

"And where does my flower fall into this? He could simply be curious about the previous monarchy and its allies. The letter intercepted by the prince could be from someone else entirely—a scholar from England. Anyone."

"You are indeed the right woman for this task," Lady Eastwell said with a smile. "You ask the right questions." She gestured with her hand as she answered Sasha's question. "Your flower is the son of Addison Blackwood, the previous prime minister of the previous monarchy. He was very loyal to Reginald and was believed to be the man who helped the fallen monarch escape Sutherland."

A small gasp escaped Sasha's lips. She knew of Addison Blackwood as they were taught of Sutherland's history, and she wanted to slap herself for not having made the connection when West introduced himself.

Addison Blackwood died in 1798, leaving behind a tarnished title. And it meant only one thing.

She tried to stifle her groan as she murmured, "Good lord."

Lady Eastwell smiled in understanding. "You must now be feeling the weight of this mission, Sasha."

Sasha closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. When she opened them, her eyes locked with Lady Eastwell's gaze. "He is a duke."

"Yes, he is," Lady Mariam said, "but do not let his title scare you, dear. It is just a title. He is still a man. And they can be controlled and manipulated just as easily as anyone else."

"You were chosen because you are smart, Sasha," the Mistress of the Court of Arms said. "We trust that you can fulfill this mission."

"You wish me to find proof of treason," said Sasha. "And if there is none?"

"No harm done." Lady Mariam shrugged. "We will be proving his innocence and the crown prince can rest his mind."

"And if I do find proof?"

"You deliver it to us immediately and the king shall deal with him. He still has his title because his father was never proven of any crime. Since his father's death, West Blackwood had been working hard on polishing the tarnished reputation he inherited from his father. He may have succeeded, but the fact remains that the man is his father's son. Addison Blackwood died believed to still be in correspondence with Reginald. If he had plans with the previous monarch, his son could very well have taken his place."

Or not.

Sasha could not help but give her flower the benefit of the doubt. Just as in any studies, she had to find proof and facts. She could not just rely on theories.

But she did not tell the Mistresses that.

She just nodded for that was what they expected.

"Seduce him until he is willing to tell you all of his secrets, Sasha."

Sasha doubted that. The man did not want her for anything but find—

She paused in her thoughts. The hairs at the back of her neck stood.

He was looking for someone in Belcourt.

Should she tell them?

She knew it was stupid, but a voice in her head told her no. The voice told her to wait.

And Sasha trusted her instinct more than anything or anyone for it was what saved her every time. It was what saved her that night fifteen years ago and took her here at Belcourt.

Listening to the voice in her head, Sasha instead asked a question. "And if I succeed in this mission, is there any chance that I can be returned to the Court of Libraries?"

Her heart was hammering against her chest as the two ladies stared at each other.

"Surely, you only need me for this mission," she added, voice almost pleading.

Lady Eastwell slowly nodded. "Perhaps we can have a discussion with Lady Aisling. She may agree to re-evaluate together with Lady Mariam."

"But no promises, Sasha," said Lady Mariam. "It was not our decision to officially transfer you here."

Of course, Sasha thought. The Palace made the decision. The High Priestess gave the order. Or it could be the seven Maidens. These women held the power in Belcourt. The High Priestess was the queen of Belcourt, the seven Maidens her loyal servants, the only women to have personally laid their eyes on the High Priestess herself.

The heart of the colony deserved to be protected.

No one else knew what she looked like or where she currently was in Belcourt for it was a fact that the entire estate hid many secrets and Sasha, in her years being here, had not been to many of them. Not because she did not wish to, but because certain parts of Belcourt were not open to all.

They all had to blindly follow her lead for it was all for the best of Belcourt—for all the children and women who had nowhere else to go.

Sasha left Belcourt with renewed determination.

She had to either prove West Blackwood was innocent or not.

And then she could return to the Library.

She could return inside Belcourt.

Away from the outside.

Safe from the outside.

*****

The blond young valet watched West finish washing his face.

With face drenched, he looked up. "What?" He knew the valet too well.

"Nothing, Your Grace."

West turned and grabbed the washcloth from the man's outstretched hands. He roughly wiped his face and brushed the damp locks of his light brown hair off his face to join the dry waves before he glared at the young man. "Out with it, Darren, or I will have you roasted for supper."

Darren's blue eyes looked away as he answered, "It is nothing, Your Grace. It is just that I noticed Lord Keene was... simmering last night."

"He is always simmering with rage. That is how much he hates the world." He threw the towel aside and walked to the set of clothes Darren had laid out for him.

"He does not like your plan, Your Grace?"

"And what do you know of my plans, you innocent lad?" he asked, turning to face Darren, eyes narrowed.

Darren's face turned white. "N-nothing, Your Grace! Lord Leighton was talking about your 'plan to damnation' after he exited your study."

"Were you pressing your ears at the wrong doors again?"

"N-no, Your Grace! I was merely waiting for you outside."

West scoffed. "My friends may not agree with my plan, but they will support me."

"If you say so, Your Grace."

"I say so because they are my friends."

"If you say so, Your Grace."

He scowled at his valet. "I would wish for nothing but to throw you out in the gallows of Coulway, Darren, but the knowledge that you have too much information about me is more frightening."

Darren nodded. "If you say so, Your Grace, but should I remind you that Coulway or Sutherland has long expunged the gallows?"

West pointed at the door. "Get out."

"If you say so—"

"Bloody get out, Darren!"

The valet jumped and rushed out of the door. Knowing the man was still outside, West collected himself. "Now, should we start again with you acting like a valet for once, Darren?"

"If you say—Yes, Your Grace!"

"Enter." The door opened again and Darren stepped inside. "Not a bloody word."

Darren nodded, but the words 'if you say so, Your Grace' in the valet's voice still echoed in West's head. "I can never get rid of you, can I not?"

Darren was fighting a smile as he nodded. Again, his words rang in his master's ears.

"I shall be out tonight," he informed the valet. Darren blinked multiple times than necessary. West let out a breath of despair. "Speak."

"May I know where you are headed to, Your Grace?"

West scoffed. "Wouldn't you want to know now, yes?" He turned away from the valet. "It is best you do not know. You know too much for your own good."

"If you say so, Your Grace."

"Has there any letter for me from my attorneys?"

"Is this about the new villa, Your Grace?"

West glowered. "Of course, you know. Yes, Darren, this is about the villa. Well?"

"The letter is there, Your Grace." West looked around and snatched the letter lying on the table beside his bed. "And I have you know that it has remained untouched since I received them."

"You do not need to touch anything to know everything, Darren. You see through doors. You can very well see through letters," he murmured as he opened the letter.

"My eyes and ears are quite normal, Your Grace. I am merely overly sensitive."

Dismissing the valet's explanation, West allowed the man to put on his coat while he read the letter from his attorneys.

A small smile curled at one corner of his lips.

"Good news, Your Grace?"

West's eyes slanted toward Darren whose gaze was already on the letter. He folded the letter and reveled at the dismayed look of his valet. "Yes. Pack me a few clothing articles."

Darren blinked. "You are staying at this villa?"

"No, not alone. You are coming with me." Darren may be the most annoying man, prying on his business when he ought not to, but he could be trusted. God knew how much the man knew about West and his plans but had not shared it with anyone. West picked up Darren from the streets many years ago and since then, the young man had been nothing but trustworthy. His propensity to eavesdrop was merely his way of trying to protect his hero.

"And why would we need to live in a villa, Your Grace?"

"I am quite sure you will find out soon enough," West said with a sigh, eyes fixed on the window.

Snow started to fall again.

"Will you stay long where you are going?" asked Darren.

"No, but no need to wait on me." He knew that would never happen. Darren always waited until he returned safely.

West's estate was not far from the city of Coulway, but it still took nearly an hour for him to reach the town center and a few more to reach Sasha's villa.

He looked up and down the street before he stepped out of the carriage, certain no one was about to see him enter the villa.

This was why he needed the villa in Coulway, he reasoned as he waited for the door to open.

The same young woman greeted him with a smile.

"Lady Sasha is waiting, sir," said the woman.

West wondered for a split second if the woman knew who he was and was merely feigning ignorance by addressing him as a common gentleman. The thought quickly vanished. Soon, he would not need to come here.

Belcourt would never know of his plans.

But whatever his plans were, vanished into thin air the moment he saw Sasha standing in the middle of the parlor wearing something different.

Her thick brown hair was down, touching the bare shoulders that her dress allowed. It mattered not to West that she finally decided to have a new dress, but it very well caused him alarm that she looked quite stunning.

It was not the gown.

It was the way her brown hair cascaded down freely, teasing her shoulders, teasing him.

On the two occasions that they met West had been fighting an internal battle. She was not as beautiful as many other women he had laid eyes on, but she was the most interesting. The way her bluish-gray eyes looked at him, wary one moment and confident and furious the next, often crossed his mind. Her bow-shaped lips moved with control and he had wondered what it would do to her face if they were to allow a genuine smile.

She was not the most gorgeous, but her face had been a constant image in his mind and her proud, angry voice a constant whisper.

And now she decided to put her hair down.

Blast the dress.

She could wear rags and still be as enticing.

His jaw clenched, and his body tensed.

He had to remind himself that this woman was trained to seduce men and he hated the thought that Sasha had to do the same to others before him. Had she been forced? Or was she willing?

Now, she was paired to him and sent here in Coulway to please him in bed.

That was not going to happen.

He knew enough of Belles to know what they were capable of.

They could ruin a man and he could not let this one do the same to him.

No, not him.

Especially not him.

"I am quite surprised you called for me," he said, striding into the parlor.

"Please, sit," she said, motioning her hand to the seat next to the settee where she settled. He noted the awkward gesture. Was she not used to this?

Curious, he thought.

He settled in the winged chair and looked at her. He could not help it. This woman looked interesting, acted interesting, and thought interestingly.

Who had thought that women were all the same?

Or perhaps this was her way of seduction. And he was falling victim to it.

He had to tread carefully as she knew he was facing a rather cryptic Belle. Not one he had expected at all.

It did not pass West's notice when she stuck out her tongue to moisten her lips. His eyes stayed at those longer than necessary and only left to gaze into her eyes when she started to speak.

"I have given your proposal another thought," she said, drawing him back to what was important. Not her lips, not her face, her hair, or the way her hands absently played with the skirt of her dress. His mind came to full alert at the mention of his proposal.

"And?" he asked rather impatiently.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at his tone. She looked around the room. They were alone, but her action told him she, too, was being careful. "I accept it."

West did not show the triumph that burst inside him and instead said, "Then I am pleased."

Speaking louder, she said, "Your proposal to find a different venue for our... rendezvous is a reasonable one."

West immediately picked up her hidden message and nodded. "I am pleased that you do find my proposal to your liking, my lady," he said with a smile. "I have purchased a villa in town and I hope it is fine with you that it is staffed by me."

Her eyebrow cocked high. "Of course."

"I appreciate that you respect the privacy I require for this... relationship to work."

"Of course."

"A carriage shall come by on the morrow. I will tour you around the villa myself."

"Very good."

He knew she was itching to get rid of him by the way she shifted in her seat.

He stood and gave her a slight bow. "Very well, good night, my lady. I shall see you on the morrow."

*****

Sasha paced around the parlor long after West left.

She shook her hands in the air, trying to control the shaking.

She was truly doing this.

She was engaging in a scheme with the man and Belcourt was not aware of it. She was on a mission to spy on him and he was not aware of it.

Of course, she was shaking.

A voice in her head told her she was being stupid. She should tell Belcourt.

No, the other voice whispered. Know more first. Know what his real plans are. Gather all information you can before you present your study.

Because this was what it was. A study. She simply had to treat this as one of her research.

"Are you truly going to let him procure a villa for your rendezvous?" Iyana's voice asked, causing Sasha to jump in surprise.

"What?" Had Iyana been listening?

"Please, do forgive me, my lady," Iyana said, face flushing. "I was on my way to serve tea when I heard."

"It is fine, Iyana," she said. "Yes. He... well, he is not quite comfortable here. He would rather we meet in a place he owns."

"But he must have an estate."

"Yes, but he takes pride in his title. He does not wish it to be tarnished by me."

"Because you are a Belle?"

"I am afraid so."

Iyana's face crumpled in distaste. "I do not like him."

Sasha sighed and looked out the window. "You do not have to," she murmured.

If she insisted that they take their meetings here, she would merely be drawing him into her world. And that was not her mission. Her mission was to walk into his.

He procured a villa for them to meet because he did not trust her staff. But it was one step closer into his life, was it not?

Hopefully, soon enough, she could grace his home where his secrets lay.

*****

Of course, it was not at all painless to sashay into a home that was not her villa where she knew she would be with trusted people.

It was unspeakably scary that for a moment Sasha feared she might faint in the hallway, but it was the presence of the young, smiling valet that gave her a semblance of ease.

At the very least, she was welcome here, she thought as she followed the blond valet further down the hall. The young man kept looking over his shoulder at her, smiling whenever he got caught. Never apologetic, just smiling.

He must be curious as to who she was. Or he could be used to this. After all, it was not uncommon for any men of West's status to have a place such as this for their mistresses.

She was suddenly curious. Did he keep his own mistress—or mistresses?

Sasha shook her head. Why would she care?

Sasha was not surprised by the room the valet revealed.

Of course, it was the study.

And West looked so... important and untouchable where he sat behind the desk.

He looked up and nodded at the valet who just smiled at Sasha before leaving the room.

"Please, sit."

No 'Good morning to you, my lady. I hope you found the carriage ride comfortable. Are you feeling cold? Would you like some tea?'. No, nothing of the sort.

Sasha squared her shoulders and stiffly walked to the chair. She had not worn her red cloak today. An obvious mistake as she was freezing to death. She stared longingly at the lit fireplace across the room. "Is it possible to take our discussion near the fire?" she hastily asked, afraid that he could hear her teeth chattering.

He frowned at her.

"I am freezing," she coldly explained.

He blinked. "Of course." He stood.

Sasha hurried near the fire.

"Forgive my ignorance."

"I expect less from you, sir," she said as she settled in the chair nearest the fire. She noted that his face hardened. "I meant that I do not expect you to look after me," she explained. The warmth from the fire did not melt the coldness in his eyes. Good lord, this man could be the god of winter. He truly lived up to his title, didn't he?

He held out a piece of paper. Sasha took it and began to read. He watched silently as she did so, her expression changing with every statement. Chagrin. Amusement. Agreement. Anxiety.

She looked up at him with a frown. "No sexual endeavors."

"It simply means that we cannot engage in any sexual activities. I free you of that obligation." He tilted his head to the side. "Why? Do you not agree?"

"I do," she replied too hastily than necessary. "It also states that I cannot approach you outside of this villa."

"As I have already expressed—"

"You do not wish my reputation to tarnish yours," she finished, frowning at the paper. "Provide results within two months."

"I believe that is reasonable enough. Belcourt is not that big of a place for you to find one person."

Sasha scoffed incredulously. This man did not know what he was saying.

"Belcourt is—" then she stopped herself. He did not have to know. Two months ought to be enough to collect any evidence of the crime the crown prince believed he was involved in. Two months ought to be enough for her to keep him distracted by this task while she was working on her true mission. Sixty days would be long enough before Sasha could go back to the Court of Libraries, one she intended to do. "Very well, two months shall suffice."

"You cannot tell Belcourt or anyone that is connected to the place."

"Of course."

"You shall receive your initial payment the moment that you sign the agreement. You will receive more after you fully deliver what I ask of you."

Sasha shrugged. She did not need his money, but if that was how he wanted it done, she would not stop him. He had to believe she needed the payment.

She looked up at him. "I am pleased with this agreement. I had thought that you might want something else from this relationship of ours."

She thought she saw disdain flash before his eyes as he stared down at her.

A forced smile curled her lips. "Apparently, you do not wish to be serviced by a whore in the way whores typically service men. I am very fine with that." When he remained impassive, Sasha added, "After all, I do not need a lover who cannot give me pleasure because he cannot will himself to do so." He opened his mouth to speak but she raced him by quickly saying, "It is agreed then—our relationship is nothing but business. You pay me to find the person you are looking for. And who will I be looking for?"

"I will not tell you until you sign."

Sasha held out her hand. When he merely looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes. "I would need a pen."

His jaw tightened.

"Should we ring for your valet to get it for me?"

Stiffly, he turned and walked to his desk. When he returned, he held out a pen with a metal nib and she stared at it with renewed genuine interest.

It was rare for one to own one for they came at such a high price. Her goose feather quill would be put to shame by this piece of magic, she thought as she held it, containing her smile of satisfaction as she held it between her fingers.

While she signed her name at the bottom of the paper, she enjoyed the act rather than the task. She now had an idea of what she should procure with the payment she shall receive from him.

Once done, he grabbed the paper from her, along with the pen which she reluctantly returned, and said, "This agreement has as much weight as any contract. My attorneys will keep this safe."

Sasha shrugged. "Well?" She looked up at him. "Who do you wish me to find in Belcourt?" He took his time answering.

For a second, he hesitated. "A woman."

Sasha could not help the incredulous laugh that escaped her throat. "A woman? Are you trying to be funny, sir? You know Belcourt is infested by women." She scoffed, shaking his head. "I would need for you to be a tad more specific."

"A woman who shares my blood," he replied in a deadpan voice. His face lacked any hint of what he felt for the task he wanted her to fulfill or the woman he wanted her to find. "My sister."