His Royal Highness, Prince Albert of Sutherland, was not the kind of man Sasha had imagined him to be.

She had not been in any venue where she might have chanced upon his face—or any of the royal family. She only had the Sutherland Post to help her imagine what he might look like.

He was not handsome like West was, but his eminent presence was enough to make one stare with awe.

He was tall, his body fit. Not too lanky as what they said King Louis was. He had dark blonde hair that was almost brown in the dimly lit drawing room in Sasha's villa. His deep blue eyes looked innocent, yet there was a cunning glint to them. His nose was just as the drawings in the Sutherland Post drew them to be—perked up, as proud as the chin that was high in the air as he studied the room, turning about with his hands behind him.

Clad in a simple black coat over a white shirt and dark trousers, he donned nothing else to display who he truly was.

If Sasha had not been forewarned of the identity of her new flower, she would not have recognized him.

"Tell me, Sasha," said the crown prince, "how old are you?" His eyes veered back to her.

He just looked at her and she could feel the room start to get dark. Good lord, please, not now!

"Three and twenty," she weakly replied, blinking too often than necessary to fight off the darkness looming in the corners of her vision.

The prince nodded. "You are eleven years younger than I."

Sasha swallowed, panic starting to settle in.

What did he want?

Was he here seeking to be pleasured?

Or was he here for her mission?

Her question was answered almost instantly. The prince stood in front of her, while she sat in the winged chair, one he offered moments ago.

"I decided to speak to you myself because the task assigned to you is highly delicate and I find that it warrants my personal attention." He spoke with such eloquence that made Sasha wondered if it was acquired or learned. His voice was not so deep, his tone just at the right pacing. And when he spoke, his voice demanded attention, but never coercive. One simply found themselves listening.

"West Blackwood, your gentleman—and do not expect me to use the term you Belcourt ladies use to speak about the gentlemen of Belcourt for I find it funny my tongue cannot roll the word properly." Sasha nodded for she agreed. "West Blackwood is the only son of the former Prime Minister from the previous monarchy, Addison Blackwood, with his wife Elizabeth Blackwood." He paused to check if she was listening. "Elizabeth Blackwood was a former Belcourt lady. I am certain you have heard of Karolina?"

Sasha's breath caught in her throat. "Karolina was the first woman to have been re-courted."

The prince nodded. "I heard that it is not done often."

"It is not."

"And you are the only other person to have been re-courted," he added, his deep blue eyes glimmering with amusement.

"I am."

"I only know very little about Belcourt, yet I find these things truly amusing and quite... shall we say, intriguing?"

Sasha did not offer a reply. Belcourt was intriguing as he said, but it was difficult to explain the society they have inside the institution, much more to a man who was so far different from all of them.

"Elizabeth, or Karolina as you may know her because of the history she made in Belcourt, has given birth to another child that was not her husband's."

She remained unmoving, determined to keep her face straight as she was not certain how much Belcourt had told the prince about West's task for her.

"And you should know, Sasha, that Elizabeth Blackwood gave birth to the daughter of her husband's enemy."

Who? She wanted to ask.

When the prince spoke no further, she said, "Your Highness, Addison Blackwood made many enemies during his reign as Prime Minister—even after."

The prince nodded. "That is true. And imagine how he must have felt when he found out that his wife was pregnant with the child of one of those enemies." Prince Albert's smile was filled with knowing. He knew she desperately wanted to know who the father was. "But you need not know who the father is," he said in a teasing tone. "That is not your mission. Your mission is to find out what West Blackwood is planning against the kingdom."

Then why did he have to tell her about Elizabeth?

As if hearing her unspoken question, the prince said, "And you need to know why Addison Blackwood was adamant with his plans to ruin the kingdom after his wife left, choosing her daughter, leaving him with their son. And you must realize how Addison influenced his son throughout the years. And it was only recently that a sign emerged that West Blackwood may be continuing the plan his father started but never managed to finish prior to his demise."

Sasha moistened her lips.

"He joined Belcourt for a reason and it is probably to find his sister."

He didn't know. He didn't know about the agreement Sasha made with West.

Belcourt never told the prince.

Why?

The prince must have sensed they were holding out information from him which could have drove him to Sasha.

Was he here to get more information directly from her?

Her questions were merely muddling her mind. What was she to do? She was caught between too many traps that she could easily get lost in, confused with who to trust and who to be careful around with.

The prince turned around. "I do hate having a conversation with nothing else to do," he said, walking over to the chess table. "Should we play chess? You know how, yes?"

Sasha nodded. "Yes." But she did not feel like winning at that moment because she was having a feeling that she was just a pawn in an elaborate game.

And to make matters worse, Sasha was no longer certain she knew whose side she was playing for.

*****

The Garden Ball was the ball that greeted the new year and the most awaited Sutherland season.

Very much like the one observed in London, members of the elite class from all over the kingdom came to Coulway with their families in tow. With the parliament in session, esteemed people from the highest of stations come together for grand entertainment in the kingdom's capital from January to July, although it could be longer as most preferred to stay until the end of summer.

As a member of the House of Lords, West was expected to always be present in most of the grand balls, most particularly this one.

"Say, West," Tanner whispered beside him, barely opening his lips, "would you be so kind as to point me to the direction of your..." His friend looked around before saying the last word, "Belle."

West's jaw tightened. To be reminded of Sasha an inconvenience at the moment. He was focused on two things tonight: be seen and be left alone by the wolves who wanted to introduce their daughters to him.

But now that his Belle's name was mentioned, he was suddenly aware of his surroundings more than ever.

The Garden Ball was hosted by the Duke of Remington, cousin to the king, and the most influential member of the House of Lords. One word from the man could put the House of Commons in a precarious situation. To be invited to this ball was a dream to many, thus West doubted if his Belle was on the premises of the grand mansion.

Ignoring Tanner, West turned just in time to see someone walk into the ballroom.

"I am telling you; his presence here speaks highly of Remington's secrets," Tanner said, observing West's sudden attention on the newcomer.

"You and your bloody rumors."

"Inviting the owner of the Sutherland Post is one thing, my friend, but inviting the owner of The Grimes is another. Unfortunately for us, the bastard owns both, which makes me wonder what dirty secrets of Remington he keeps as a weapon."

"Willoghby is not—"

"What?" Tanner prodded.

West could not respond. His eyes were fixed on her. Not the woman standing beside Willoghby, but the one behind him.

Her presence in this bloody ball ought to be considered a sin, West thought as her entire feature was revealed to him.

She was a walking epitome of all things he despised yet yearned.

Her shoulders were bare, her neckline sinfully teasing. The crimson gown glorified her alabaster skin. The thick brown hair that had rendered him stiff countless of times were tied to one side, embellished with pearls he wanted to pick one by one.

Yet it was not her peculiar beauty that left him immobile, futile even. It was not her hair or the glow in her eyes as she turned to listen to the woman that walked beside Daniel Willoghby. There were fairer ladies in attendance tonight in more striking gowns.

There was simply something in the woman that extorted something in him. The mere mention of her reminded West of a sigh. The very sight of her carried her proud, strong voice to his ears. And to watch her move and talk from a distance conjured an involuntary desire to walk and be near her—just to hear her voice.

"Good lord," Tanner gasped beside West, "it is her, is it not?"

West was no longer listening as he watched the trio make their way into the ballroom.

The woman beside Willoghby once again turned to whisper something in Sasha's ear. Sasha's eyes widened before her mouth opened in a gasp West could not hear but still had the same effect as if he heard it breathed into his ear.

He cursed under his breath when his feet took two small steps toward her direction.

Peeling his eyes off her, he eyed Daniel Willoghby. He was not aware that the man was a gentleman of Belcourt. And there was no question that he was for he was with a woman Sasha was friendly with. But it was as though the man had his eyes not on the black-haired woman walking beside him, but on the other.

"You must tell me," Tanner spoke beside him, "why you are looking at them as though you are about to commit a heinous crime."

His jaw tight, West turned to face Tanner who was wearing an amused look on his face. "As you have said, Willoghby ought not to be here."

He turned and walked away, intent on putting a great distance between him and Sasha.

As was just.

As was agreed.

"Your feet could dig a hole into the marbled floors, West," Tanner continued to taunt beside him, keeping up with his pace. "So pray do tell, why is your Belle with Willoghby?"

"I do not know."

"He is a gentleman of Belcourt then?"

"I care not."

"I tell you, West, this is not good. If your woman is servicing the owner of The Grimes, you are in so much trouble. Have you seen that green gown? He must have brought it for her in exchange for information on you."

West made a sudden stop and so did Tanner. "First, she is not my woman," he snarled under his breath, looking about to make certain they were not being overheard. "Second, she is not in a green gown."

Tanner blinked in confusion. "She is not?" He looked over his shoulder in search of Willoghby. "Is it the other lady then? The one in red?" When Tanner turned back, West was already making his way to the refreshment table.

His friend easily caught up. "It was the other woman?" Tanner asked in disbelief. "But she—well, she is not particularly... well, you know what I mean."

For the second time, West stiffened.

Seeing his reaction, Tanner held up his hands in defense. "She is not bad in the eyes, West. No woman is. But now I understand why you did not even bother to approach her. She is... shall we say, imperceptible?"

If it would not hurt his reputation to blow his friend's face in the middle of this ball, he would have already done so. But since he had a reputation to keep and standard to adhere, West contented himself with digging a finger into Tanner's chest. "Three, you keep away from the Belle."

Tanner frowned at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Gladly, Your Grace."

West grabbed the drink served to him and emptied it just as fast. "I have someone waiting for me. Go and have your fun, Tanner."

As soon as he was out of Tanner's sight, West disappeared into the crowd, making his way to another refreshment table. Grabbing a drink which he intended to finish slowly, he eased through more guests, answering a few curtsies, murmuring a response to questions, but never stopping. If he did, he would immediately be surrounded by a hoard of guests who desired his attention.

At the last moment, he hesitated.

What the bloody hell was he doing?

Walking about, a part of him reasoned.

Looking for her, answered another voice.

Internally cursing himself, West decided to disappear into a corner, partly hidden by a large white column. Behind him was a window that overlooked the vast garden. Outside, the moon washed light over the snow, turning the darkness into a field of white.

With no Tanner to berate him, West easily found her.

She was still with Daniel Willoghby and the other woman who was talking, not caring that neither of her companions was listening. Sasha was absently looking around, her entire feature similar to a lady in her first season. Surely, this was not her first ball.

Willoghby could not keep his eyes off Sasha. Why? West wondered. Even Tanner would agree that the woman was plain compared to the other woman. Could it be assumed then that Willoghby saw what West could in her?

The thought did not rest well with him.

His eyes returned to Sasha only for his entire body to freeze and his heart to stop as he found that she found him. Their eyes locked for what seemed like an hour or more. Without realizing he had been holding his breath, West's brow twitched.

The only greeting he could offer.

She must have seen it for something registered in her eyes and she stepped forward.

Then she stopped.

She could not approach him outside.

For that one single moment, West regretted the bloody contract.

The other woman called her attention and Sasha hesitantly tore her eyes off him, paying her companion attention. She nodded to what the woman was saying and started to walk away.

West followed, slave to his own two feet.

She was walking toward the refreshment table.

"Eaton!" West thought he heard someone call out his name.

Willoghby had left his Belle and was now following close behind Sasha, eyes predatory, gait intent.

West quickened his pace, bumping into the host himself.

"Eaton!" West made the mistake of stopping. The host of the ball was standing behind him. "Good lord, Eaton, you are too young to be going deaf," Remington said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I was wondering when I would chance upon you. We have much to discuss!"

His eyes still on Sasha and Willoghby closing in on her, West said, "We could discuss more of this when the session starts, Your Grace."

"Ah, but the bill I wish to discuss with you is of great import. I am certain you have heard of the recent commotion in the Lord of Commons—"

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am very much wanted in the playroom." Willoghby had reached her. West turned to Remington, forcing a smile. "But if you would join us, we can discuss the bill everyone seems eager to talk about."

Remington nodded. "Of course," conspiratorially adding, "Would very much want a good reason to part from the wife."

West forced out a laugh. "Then I shall expect you for a game of faro."

The music for the first dance had started and West hurried across the ballroom before any of the dancers reached the floor for a dance, frantically searching for Sasha and Willoghby.

Both had disappeared from his sight while he was talking to Remington.

When he spotted them, Willoghby was leading Sasha out of the ballroom and into the main hallway.

With long strides, he managed to follow them from a good distance.

"And where is Ruby?" he heard Sasha ask, tone innocent.

"She is in the drawing room waiting," Willoghby replied as he led Sasha down one of the eastern corridors. "She says she has trouble breathing."

"But she was fine not a few moments ago!"

"She thought asking you to get her a drink was a good idea. She told me to go after you."

"Then you should not have left her side!" Sasha's furious voice echoed all the way to West. "You did not even escort her there, did you?"

"Another lady escorted her. She demanded for you and I obliged."

West frowned. He was certain he saw Ruby chatting with a few ladies back inside the ballroom.

He slowed down entered an empty room when the pair stopped outside the last door.

"Perhaps you should go call for a doctor."

"Not necessary. She merely wanted to go to a quiet place. I am certain she shall be fine the moment she sees you."

West heard her sigh. "Very well."

*****

When Sasha walked into the room, she immediately realized Willoghby's plans. There was no one there. The room was too dark.

"Mr. Willoghby—" she said as she turned, but the man was already closing the door. "I would not do that if I were you," she sternly said.

Willoghby simply smiled and went on to close the door.

"I would listen to the lady, sir," came West's voice as the door forcefully swung open, taking Willoghby with it.

His face was not clear in the darkness, but Sasha knew that angry voice too well not to recognize it.

She stepped back as West turned to face Willoghby who was letting out a nervous laugh. "I was merely going to scare her," he said. "And who are you—"

Willoghby was not given enough time to finish his question as West grabbed him by his collar, pushing him to the side and through the open doorway.

Sasha saw the recognition flash across Willoghby's eyes when West's face was revealed to him in the lighted corridor. "You—"

"I would suggest you play your games on your own Belle, Willoghby, for mine is easily scared."

The look of surprise on Willoghby's face vanished with the slamming of the door.

The light from the adjacent wing and the moonlight streaming through the windows was enough to show the furious look on West's face the moment he whirled around to face her.

Sasha took a step back, but then she realized she had nothing to fear. She did no wrong.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

She was used to the darkness, she thought, but she would never get used to the weakened state of her knees. She stumbled, glad that the darkness in the room hid the flush of embarrassment in her face. "I am not easily scared," she murmured weakly.

"I disagree. You look ashen."

Sasha swallowed. "You followed me," she said, voice slightly shaking.

Goodness, what if he had not arrived? What if Willoghby succeeded?

"I am not breaking any of our rules. You cannot approach me. The agreement never said I cannot."

"Very well, if that is how you wish to put it," she dismissively said in haste. "You can leave now, sir."

His eyes narrowed down at her. "I should warn you to stay away from Willoghby."

"I have already given myself that very warning the very first time I met the man. Thank you still."

"I mean that if you ever tell him anything about our agreement, I would hate to make you pay the price."

Of course, Sasha thought with dismay. The agreement. "You must know he is a gentleman of Belcourt. He would dare not break the rules as we Belles would hate to break the ones we live by. We do not talk about other Belles and our gentlemen in the presence of the others. You can be assured that I am being careful. After all, my eyes are on the price." She added the last sentence with a bitter taste at the back of her tongue.

Sasha moistened her lips, her eyes getting heavy as she stumbled back. The effects of Willoghby's wicked intentions earlier had not yet waned. Her mind was still filled with horrible images of what he could have managed to do if she fainted with fear and anxiety. Jesus, he would not have had to restrain her! He could have had had his way and she would not even be awake to remember any of it.

"Are you all right?" West's question infuriated Sasha.

"Yes," she snapped, aimlessly walking toward the nearest settee. She needed to sit down. "Please, I do appreciate the rescue, but I wish to be alone."

His strong hand came around her arm, keeping her steady and pulling her back. She whirled around, intending to demand release, but she crashed against his chest. Sasha placed her palm flat on his chest and pushed, albeit weakly. "Please, sir, I need a moment..."

"You are not fine."

"Of course, I am not," she snarled. "I was nearly attacked."

His hand tightened around her arm.

Sasha sighed and looked up. "What now?"

"You are shaking," he noted, his breath barely a whisper above her.

Sasha swallowed. Her tongue stuck out to moisten her lips and it did not pass her notice when his eyes moved down to watch her do it, his lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks.

Her palms were no longer pressing against him—they were feeling. His heart echoed hers, ramming fast and hard against his chest.

"You act so calmly," she whispered, eyes on his lips. "But your body says otherwise."

Ever so slightly, his head bent lower and Sasha gulped. Her lids felt heavy, her knees weaker. She leaned forward against his length for support. A definite mistake. She was not having a fainting spell; she was certain of it. She was experiencing something entirely different. Was this what Ruby was talking about?

Her eyes went to his. Was he experiencing the same thing?

"How can you tell?"

It took Sasha a moment to remember the statement that evoked such a response.

He bent lower and her neck instinctively stretched to meet. He was so close, his lips a hairsbreadth away.

"It mirrors mine," she breathed out.

It was only when his arm tightened around her that Sasha realized she was in his arms.

The breath that left her lips was shaky with a wanting she could not name.

"What are we doing?" he asked. No sarcastic note in his tone. No coldness. It was naught but mere curiosity.

"Teasing?" she tried.

His lips twitched.

A smile.

"Teasing."

"Like chess."

His brows cocked high. "Truly?" He bent lower and his nose played with hers. Teasing.

"You try to take as much as you can."

He stilled, his lips hovering above hers, barely touching. "That is not how I play chess, Sasha." His hand went to her nape, gently tilting her head up. "I go straight for the queen."

With those words, Sasha hardly had time to react to what he did next.