Charles and Cecilia re-entered the ballroom just as Juliette's last bolt of lightning left her hand. There was a thunderous applause from the crowd as she took a few bows, grinning all the while.

Thomas Monroe led the applause, clapping his large hands together. "Marvelous," he said, stepping forward and shaking her hand. "You, my girl, are an extremely talented child."

Juliette looked a little worse for the wear—hair a bit disheveled, fingers coated in soot from her lightning work, cheeks flushed with fatigue—but she grinned wildly, shaking his hand back in earnest. "Thank you so much, Mister Monroe."

Monroe turned and surveyed the room, pausing when his eyes fell on Charles. He approached him and shook his hand as well. "Charles, she is a wonder. Thank you for the show. I'm sure Thaddeus charged you an arm and a leg for her."

"Ehhh..." Charles said, realizing it wasn't worth the lie; they both knew about Mister Barnes' prices.

Although everyone seemed to be waiting for Monroe to step away from him, the retired battle mage lingered. "Actually, Charles, do you mind coming up with me to the library? There's something I want to discuss with you.

"Right now?" Charles asked, acutely aware of how many eyes were on him. "I don't want to pull you away from your guests—"

"Nonsense," he said. "It will just be a few minutes, a short chat before we return to the festivities." He gestured at Cecilia. "Cecilia can keep an eye on Juliette if you're worried about leaving her unattended."

"Go on, Charles," Cecilia said, shooing him away. Then she looked down at Juliette and gave her a warm smile. "Shall we find that ice mage again? I think you've earned another bowl of ice cream."

Juliette's eyes lit up. "Yes please!" She scrambled to Cecilia's side and hardly looked back as she was led away.

With Juliette safely in Cecilia's care, Charles let himself be led away by Mister Monroe. A few people tried to intercept them as they made their way out of the ballroom, but Monroe was able to brush them to the side, promising he'd return shortly. Charles caught a dark glare from Mister Morgan, but did his best not to let it ruffle him.

They traveled up the grand staircase to the second floor, pausing at a tall door engraved with flowers and swirling vines. Monroe reached into his pocket, pulled out a sachet of herbs, and sprinkled them as he muttered an enchantment. When he finished, Charles heard the lock click open, and soon they were both inside.

Charles loved his home office. Despite how cramped and disheveled it was, it was one of his favorite rooms. He and James had shoved as many bookshelves as they could to fit in the small space to house the volumes they had accumulated over the years. But the Monroe library put their small collection to shame. This library had two floors, with the upper balconies accessible via spiral staircase. Each wall was packed with books, but there were also several display cases throughout the space, housing select volumes that one could admire through glass.

Mister Monroe went to the front of the library, where there was a collection of leather arm chairs and a side table with several glasses and a decanter with brandy. As he started to pour them both drinks, Charles paused by one of the glass displays. Inside was a book bound in what appeared to be wrinkled, brown leather. Words were imprinted in the cover, but time had worn it down so much that Charles couldn't make out what it said.

Monroe caught Charles looking at the book and chuckled. "Be careful with that one. I paid an arm and a leg for it. Then again, nearly everything I've acquired from Mister Fox costs me an arm and a leg." He gestured at another glass case closer to him. "This one right here? Collection of first century poetry. I'm too ashamed to say how much I handed over for that thing. But it reminded me of Adelaide and I couldn't quite say no..."

He trailed off, and for a moment, Charles thought his eyes looked glossier. But then Monroe shook his head and held out his arm, offering Charles the glass of amber liquid.

Charles crossed the room and took it. "What you've been doing with the orphanage, Mister Monroe, in Adelaide's honor, is remarkable."

Monroe smiled, although it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Really, it was all Cecilia. She's the one who's been volunteering all those years. She's the one who told me to use my influence to try to make things better." He sipped from his glass and nodded. "And now, all our work over the past year is paying off. Big things are finally happening."

Charles realized this was his chance to see if anything odd was going on at the orphanage. "How have the adoptions been going?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. "You mentioned there have been record numbers of adoptions, but how are the children doing—after they're adopted, I mean."

Monroe paused, considering the question. "I'll be honest, I'm not as involved with the day-to-day runnings of the place. I function more as a beneficiary, offering suggestions and donating to the areas I believe need improvement. But Madame Levy—she is the woman who meets with potential parents and cares for the children—she seems very on top of these things."

"Ah," Charles said aloud, while thinking, Could this Madame Levy be involved?

"But speaking of the orphanage," Monroe said, "that's precisely the reason I wanted to talk to you this evening. Charles, I want you to be involved."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "In the orphanage?"

Monroe nodded. "Yes. But not just the orphanage. I want you to be involved in everything. All of my ventures: investments, philanthropy, the mage exhibitions, you name it. You're going to be a Monroe soon and I want you to be on board." He paused. "I'll be honest, if I didn't think you were to the task of all of this, I wouldn't offer it to you, marrying my daughter or not. My businesses are very important to me. But I trust you Charles, and I think you could do a lot of good work with all of this."

Charles suddenly found he was having trouble coming up with words. Of course he had hoped that one day Mister Monroe would invite him to join the family business. He just hadn't expected that day to come so soon, and with such a ringing endorsement. "I... I'm not quite sure what to say."

"I know it's a lot." And now Monroe sat down in one of the leather armchairs and gestured for Charles to do the same. "And I don't expect you to be involved in everything all at once. But I have a lot of people at my ear, Charles. A lot of people who want to get to know me, help me, befriend me... but not a lot of people I can trust. But you, Charles, you are a shining example of someone I need in my life. The fact that you came from nothing, but made a name for yourself—I actually see a lot of myself in you."

"Thank you, sir."

"You have drive. And also importantly—you care. I see that in the way you treat my daughter."

"Well, your daughter is easy to care for, sir. She's brilliant."

"That's Adelaide's doing, of course," Monroe said with a laugh. "But what do you think? You don't have to say yes right away. And if we were to get you involved, we would surely wait until after the wedding—I know you both have a lot going on with the planning. But I think having you on board would be an asset to us all."

"I would be honored to be involved in the family businesses, Mister Monroe," Charles said. "And I'm honored you've placed your trust in me."

"Of course, Charles. Wouldn't want it any other way."

Charles sipped his brandy, hoping it would slow his racing heat. This was it. This was everything he had ever wanted. But now, with his life entangled with the actions of this cult, Charles couldn't help but tense at the news. If this gets out, of how close I truly am with Thomas Monroe, with the orphanage, with all of his power and influence, I'll be singled out as an even bigger threat.

And threats were sure to be acted upon swiftly.

When they climbed into the carriage at the end of the evening, Charles' head was a little soggy from brandy, but he couldn't help but look at Juliette and James and grin. "Well, I have to say that the evening went more smoothly than I expected." He looked at Juliette. "Although I'm sorry you had to perform."

Juliette's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Are you kidding? It was amazing! I got to perform for Thomas Monroe. I even got to touch him." She looked down at her hand as if her fingers were made of gold. "I don't think I can wash this hand ever again."

Charles laughed and then looked at James. "Where were you all evening?"

"The garden," James said with a smile. "Wandering the grounds, appreciating the scenery."

Juliette chuckled under her breath, and Charles had a suspicion that she knew something that he didn't. I'll get it out of her later, he thought to himself.

"Oh Mister Abbot!" Juliette said, all excitedly. "Now that we're alone, we can talk about what we saw! Still nothing from the memory?"

Charles shook his head. "No, still nothing. Although definitely a few people who could be involved."

"Like the Hughes," Juliette said. "Or that Mister Morgan—he seemed like an ass."

Charles had to stifle a laugh. "Juliette, you shouldn't call him that—although you're right, he was an ass." James slapped him lightly on the arm, but Charles shrugged him off. "What? He has a corner on the textile industry, and they employ a ton of children. Those machines are great for little fingers."

"And a great way to lose an arm," Juliette added cheerily.

"But also," Charles added, "I've been thinking about another place the cult could be getting children from—or at least a place they might target: the orphanage."

Juliette's grin suddenly faded. "Silvers?"

Charles nodded. "Everyone at this banquet wanted to get close to Monroe for one reason or another. Who knows who could be at his ear, trying to gain access to the orphanage off the record?"

"You gain access to Thomas Monroe," James said quietly, "you gain access to a lot of children."

"Precisely," Charles said with a sigh. "I've been trying to keep Cecilia out of all of this, but she spends a lot of time at the orphanage. Perhaps I can ask her tomorrow if she's noticed anything odd while she's been there, or if any of her father's associates have been stopping by and making inquiries."

"Speaking of your fiancée, she was really nice," Juliette said with a smile. "I was kind of disappointed when you told me she wasn't a battle mage, but when you were gone with Mister Monroe, she took me on a tour of the grounds and got me some extra ice cream—she even had a servant melt down some chocolate and drizzle it on top! It was so good."

"That reminds me, what were you doing with Mister Monroe?" James asked. "I couldn't find you at one point and someone said you were up in the library?"

"Yeah. It was just Monroe and myself. We spoke for a little while about the wedding. And then he told me that once Cecilia and I are wed, he wants me to be involved in the Monroe affairs. The whole business, the orphanage, his other charitable works... everything."

"Oh wow," James said, eyes wide. "That is incredible."

"I know," Charles said, reliving the moment. "I honestly couldn't believe what I was hearing."

James shooed the thought off with a flick of his wrist. "I'm not surprised one bit. You've worked hard your whole life, Charles. It's no wonder why Mister Monroe trusts you with the family business." James patted the front of his suit. "If we hadn't eaten so much already, I would have suggested that we have a little party to celebrate."

Charles could feel the weight of the four-course meal in his stomach. "I don't think I can eat anything ever again."

"I could have more ice cream," Juliette said with a grin and a more-than hopeful look in her eye. Charles laughed, and made a mental note to bring her back to the ice cream parlor.

When the carriage finally stopped in front of their house, Charles helped Juliette down from the high step—not that she truly needed it—and then walked with her and James up the path. As the front door swung inward, Charles took a deep breath, breathing in the scents of his home—wood polish, old books, the lingering scent of lunch. But he suddenly stopped short when he saw Lillian standing at the top of the stairs, frozen, with eyes as wide as a deer.

She looked exceedingly nervous, and it took Charles a moment to realize why.

She was not wearing the threadbare dress that he had met her in, the only one—to Charles' knowledge—that she owned. Instead, she was wearing an emerald gown with a low neckline and a full train.

The dress hugged her body, giving her slender frame gentle curves. The emerald color complemented the deep brown of her skin. And she looked strangely comfortable in it. Where Juliette had been poking and prodding at her dress all night, clearly eager to trade it back for her britches, Lillian looked calm and regal, as if she had worn a gown like this hundreds of times before.

It's my enchanted gown, Charles realized, the one Madame Gray had given him in exchange for the memories of her husband. He had kept it in a box in his office.

"I'm sorry," Lillian said quickly, coming down the steps. For the first time, Charles could hear a nervous patter in her voice. "I saw the gown and was curious, so I tried it on and was surprised that it fit perfectly and I... I didn't know you'd be back so soon. I was going to put it back, I swear. I'll change out of it now..."

Charles' first instinct was to yell, but then he caught the look in James' eyes, and the subtle shake of his head, and he knew he had to keep calm. Losing his temper meant losing Lillian's trust. And although he was furious that she had clearly been snooping while they had been out, he needed to keep her as close as possible. Otherwise, they all could be dead.

"It's okay," Charles said, keeping his tone as steady as he could. "It...looks nice on you. You should keep it."

Lillian's brows furrowed at his response, but slowly she nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

James clapped his hands together suddenly, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I think I'm going to head to bed. I am exhausted from the banquet. What about you, Juliette?"

"I feel like I could stay up all night! I never want this day to end!" she gushed. But then she betrayed herself when a yawn escaped her lips, and with a bashful grin, said, "Well, maybe I could settle for a nap..."

As James and Juliette headed upstairs, blocking Lillian from his view, Charles quickly made his way down the front hall, turned the corner, and entered his office.

I'm such an idiot, he thought to himself. He had forgotten to seal the door before they had left. Lillian's willingness to share her side of the story earlier in the day had made him careless, and that had been his mistake. Despite the small amount of trust they had built up, she was still an unknown.

He surveyed the room from the doorway to see if anything obvious had been moved, but the office was so messy that it was hard to know.

Next he checked his collection of memories, but thankfully, each vial was in its proper place on the shelf, their swirling colored contents glowing more brightly in his presence. His scrying bowl and magnifying glass were also in their spots, sitting amongst the crumpled papers and scattered bits of change on his desk. The only notable difference was the white box that had held the dress was no longer there.

He turned to his bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines. As he looked for gaps that might indicate that Lillian had snagged herself a copy, he heard some noise from out in the parlor. He paused—it was a woman's voice, but muffled enough that he couldn't quite make out who it was or what was being said.

Pausing from his quest, Charles stepped out of his office and walked down the hallway. As he drew closer, he recognized the voice: Cecilia.

"Cecilia," he said, turning the corner, "What are you doing...?" But the words fell out of his mouth when he saw that Lillian was there in the front entry as well.

"Hello Charles," Cecilia said, holding up a covered food tray. "As soon as you left, I remembered that I had promised to put together some food for your cousin's mother." She tilted her head towards Lillian. "I was just talking with Lavinia."

Charles looked at Lillian. Just minutes ago, she had seemed nervous, ashamed at having been caught in that emerald gown. But now, all of that was gone. She was tall, confident, and beaming warmly at Cecilia. It was as if she was a completely different person.

"You're too kind," Lillian said, and even her voice as different, lilting with a higher class accent that she didn't normally possess. "Thank you for thinking of a stranger in a time of need."

Cecilia shook her head. "You won't be a stranger for much longer—soon to be family," she said, passing her the dish. As she accepted the plate, Charles thought he saw a look of confusion cross Lillian's face, but the expression was fleeting, vanishing as soon as it had arrived.

"Anyway, I'll make my exit," Cecilia said, giving a nod as she stepped back over the threshold. "Lovely to meet you, Lavinia!" And she disappeared into the night.

As soon as she was gone, Lillian's smile melted away, and her voice return to its normal clip. "Where's the icebox?" she asked, walking briskly to the kitchen. "My mother's asleep right now. I'll have her try some of this in the morning and I don't want it to spoil."

Charles followed her into the kitchen and pointed to the wooden cabinet. As Lillian slipped the tray of food into the icebox, she seemed determined not to make eye contact with him.

"What happened?" Charles asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I was on the staircase. Your fiancée knocked on the door. I wasn't going to answer, but we locked eyes through the window, so I let her in."

"Okay," Charles said, watching as Lillian flitted throughout the kitchen. He was so intrigued by her transformation in the front entry. Who exactly is she? he wondered. "You... handled that very well. Your acting as my cousin was very convincing."

"You too."

Charles' nose wrinkled. "Sorry, what?"

"Nothing. I'm tired," she said, leaving the kitchen. "I'm going to retire for the evening." And before Charles could say anything else, she darted up the stairs.

Charles' gaze followed her, and for one quick moment, Lillian hesitated on the upper landing and looked back at him. It was hard to make out her features in the dim lighting of the upstairs hall, but he could tell the look she gave him wasn't one of kindness. But before he could ask her anything else, she disappeared into her room.