The engagement party was filled with activities prepared by all Stratfords. The ladies went on picnics into the woods, the men on rides and outdoor games. Even the earl hosted parlor games. However, the most exciting parts of every evening, and one that many of the guests loathe to miss, would be the play series written and directed by Freda and Roxie.

Geneva, on the other hand, almost missed all of it because on the first night of the ball, she changed her mind. She reasoned her dress was hideous, which Gwen said was not. Then she was not feeling well, might be coming down with a flu, which Helene immediately brushed aside as nothing but a symptom of staying indoors for too long.

"We've been working on your dress for days, Miss," Helene said. "It would be a shame to not wear them."

Gwen had fallen silent during the exchange. She watched Geneva pace around in her chemise and drawers. "If you don't mind, Miss, I will attend the party in your stead."

"What?" both Geneva and Helene asked.

She smiled and lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "If you do not go, these dresses we've worked hard on would not see the light of day ever again. And I've always wondered what it would be like to dance with a Stratford."

Geneva blinked at her companion. Gwen was younger than her by a few years, and more beautiful, too. With her dark brown curly hair, she could fit right in with the Stratfords. Even her bubbly character would be welcomed in that family.

Gwen sighed, dramatically dropping her shoulders. "But who would want to dance with a maid?"

"The Stratfords would not bat an eye. They have no boundaries," Geneva nonchalantly said.

The two servants shared a look while Geneva's mind reeled at an idea. She grabbed Gwen's hands and said, "You must attend with me."

It was Gwen's turn to blink. "I was merely jesting, Miss." Letting out a nervous laugh, her eyes jumped from Geneva to Helene, then back. "I was merely jesting!"

"You can come as my companion," said Geneva, stepping back with a more confident smile. "I'd be much comfortable going with you in the party. I'm not well-acquainted with the female Stratfords, or any of them, really."

"B-But Miss, I do not have anything to wear-"

"Of course, you do," Geneva said. "Try one of the dresses we remodeled." Turning on her heels, she gathered her black hair, adding, "Now, Gwen. We must prepare for the ball."

"But what if the mistresses find out-"

"I will take full responsibility," Geneva said, looking up from the wash basin to smile at Gwen through the mirror, renewed excitement bubbling inside her.

Gwen and Helene looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"We shall not get caught, Gwen. I promise."

***

Damon waited outside the courtyard, leaning against the wall as Harry and Webster greeted the guests. Simone and Daniel Cavendish were already inside, enjoying the first ball of the engagement party. Some guests would be staying in the manor, others were just neighbors who could come and go as they pleased.

"And what did she say again?" asked Webster over his shoulder before facing two guests with a greeting. Harry was doing the same beside Webster, blocking Damon from view.

"She was speechless," he replied. "I think it is hopeful."

"Or not," Webster said.

"She did not say she's against the courtship."

"No matter. Her aunts would definitely be against it," his brother pointed out.

"Miss Withers can think for herself, brother," he droned.

"Have you seen her anywhere without her aunts except these past few weeks?" Webster turned to face him. "It doesn't take an idiot to know that they have her on a leash."

"She is learning her way around that leash. I can be patient."

Harry turned and patted Webster's shoulder. "I believe Damon knows what he's doing." The man was looking at him with amusement in the corner of his eyes. "And he most definitely knows where the brandies are if he finds a need for them."

As Webster chuckled, Damon rolled his eyes.

"Fret not, cousin," Harry added, turning to greet another approaching guest. "We shall court all older Withers if the need arises."

"Count me out," Webster said. "If you haven't noticed, they stare at us like we're spawns from hell every Sunday. I can't imagine dining with them around a table."

"Our grandfather will do the courting once he gets wind of this. And we're Stratfords, Web. We can learn how to dine with angels," Harry retorted with a laugh. "Why don't you come and join us here, Damon?"

"I'm fine where I am, cousin. Thank you," he murmured under his breath as he glowered at the ground. Geneva Withers was already a challenging suit, and the thought of also wooing her aunts bothered him a lot.

"Very well, suit yourself," Harry replied. "Good evening, Miss Withers. Welcome to the party."

At the sound of her name, Damon pushed away from the wall and slipped between Harry and Webster, skidding to a stop a mere foot away from her and her companion. "Hello," he greeted, straightening to full height.

If she had been surprised by his sudden appearance, she only blinked it away before turning to her companion, saying, "I hope none of you would mind that I came with a companion. This is Miss Gwen Halloway."

"No, of course we do not mind," Damon said, looking over at Harry and Webster whose faces were unreadable. The silent taunting, however, played in their eyes.

"No, we don't," Webster finally replied, extending his hand to Gwen Halloway. When she offered, he gave it a light kiss. "Would you care for a tour of our marvelous manor, Miss Halloway?"

"Very much, Sir," Gwen replied, then hesitated, looking at Geneva. "But perhaps later."

"You may go and enjoy the evening, Gwen," Geneva said, smiling at the young woman.

Webster offered his arm to Gwen and they walked away chatting.

"Shall we?" asked Damon, offering his arm to Geneva. She took it and without much of a backward glance at Harry, he guided her into the courtyard. "You look beautiful in your dress."

"I was certain you would say that," she said, giving him a wry look. "Tell me honestly."

Damon chuckled. "You do look beautiful. I can't say the same about the dress if I see it on its own."

She groaned.

"It would not become anyone else. However, it strangely and exquisitely looks good on you."

"You lie."

"You're free to believe what you may," he said once they crossed the courtyard. "You'll realize what I mean once we enter the party."

The ballroom was somewhere in the maze of corridors in the odd manor. Upon entry, Damon smiled and whispered beside her, "See?"

She frowned at the crowd. "I don't."

"They're all wearing the same thing," he said. "Same shade of green, courtesy of our dear Sisi. I believe she wore a lime green dress in a ball two weeks ago. Everyone else simply followed suit." He guided her around the ballroom. "You seem to be the only one wearing blue."

She froze and looked around. "Do you think anyone would recognize me and tell my aunts? If so, how should I even-"

"There you are!" Price jumped in front of them. When he saw Geneva, a curious frown formed on his face. "Miss Withers."

"Good evening, Mr. Priest," Geneva greeted.

"Happy to see you here," said Price, veering a meaningful and curious look to his brother. "The Vernons are here. And if I remember correctly, you've been concocting a plan for Matthew." Damon felt Geneva's hand stiffen in his arm. Price stepped closer and whispered, "Now would be the perfect time for that. Mr. Vernon is in a much better mood." His brother stepped away with a smile at Geneva. "They're in the eastern parlor with the devils and Gale. I can escort Miss Withers while you're not around, if you wish."

"No," Damon said, looking down at Geneva. "I'm certain Freda and Roxie have matters to discuss with her."

"And what do the devils have to discuss with you this time, Miss Withers? The redemption of their souls?" Price asked with laugh.

Damon pushed his brother away before guiding Geneva across the ballroom.

"I don't think I should go," she said, pulling at his arm. "I can stay here."

He frowned. "Whyever not? Don't you wish to meet them?"

"We've been trying to meet my brothers every morning in Windsong, but they never showed. It is the heavens telling me it's not a good time."

He considered her words. "Then if the heavens tell you tonight is not the best time, perhaps the door will be locked. Or a fire may break out. Or they simply disappear before we arrive."

"No. I can't. Not tonight."

Damon looked around, thoughtful. "Come with me," he said, pulling her through the threshold that led into a corridor.

"I'm serious. I do not wish to go."

"We will not meet the Vernons if that's what you wish," he said. "I'm taking you somewhere else."

"But Gwen-"

"I'm certain she's enjoying her evening." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the corridor, turning into another, and up a narrow flight of stairs.

He heard her nervous laugh behind him. "Is it another favorite?"

"Of course."

Of course, it was another odd favorite. It was a window. And the window opened to the roof. And the roof led to a deck that overlooked the woods.

"Relax," he said with a smile when she remained rooted in the middle of the viewing deck. "It is the sturdiest thing ever built."

"I don't feel it is," she said, looking nowhere but his chest.

"Perhaps you wish to sit? It might help."

She nodded and he guided her lower to the floor. Standing over her, he arched his brow. "Better?"

She nodded. "This is not how I imagined spending the ball."

"We can return later once you're comfortable to be seen," he said, settling beside her.

"And what do you suppose we should do for now?"

"Nothing. I only wish that you get acquainted with the fact that you're here attending a ball against what we all assume would have been against your aunts' wishes. Now, think of the consequences and judge if you think this would be worth all of it."

She turned to frown at him. "Is that what you do if you're about to do something that breaks the rules?"

"Of course." He turned so he was facing her. "Now, close your eyes." She did without question. "Imagine walking around the ballroom. What is something you are quite certain might happen?"

"That people will recognize me and they'll tell my aunts."

"What would be the consequences?"

Her jaw hardened. "A lot."

Sensing she was not going to tell him, he nodded. "Now, try to imagine the many possibilities that may happen during the week of the party."

She was silent for a long time, her brows fused as she thought. Then her eyes opened. "I don't know."

"There will be dancing."

She scoffed. "I'm not a good dancer."

"And there will be picnics and parlor games," he added, ignoring her words. "Freda and Roxie are going to showcase their plays for the duration of the week and they've promised everyone it's going to be fantastic."

She bit down a smile. "I will have to see to believe."

"Of course, you will." He let the quiet linger a little, holding her gaze before adding, "And you may finally meet the Vernons. All of them." Fear flashed before her eyes. "Just possibilities, Geneva."

She slowly nodded, looking around and beyond to the woods. "Just possibilities."

"Yes."

She stole him a glance and took a deep breath. "But I can't meet them tonight."

"If you wish."

"Maybe tomorrow."

He smiled. She was thinking of going tomorrow. That's good enough. "Of course."

"And I can't dance tonight."

He chuckled. "We can just watch the play."

At that, she nodded with a bit more enthusiasm. "We should."

***

Days later, Geneva regretted not letting Damon introduce her to the rest of the Vernons. They did not attend the succeeding days of the party, just as when she had gathered the courage to meet them, even just as a governess. They were busy tending their farm and animals, Matthew reasoned to Damon through a short letter.

Her disappointment, however, eventually waned as she and Gwen eased into the daily activities of the party. Every day, they looked forward to joining games and picnics with Gwen's new friends, and every morning, they would tell Helene of their adventures in the Abberton House. Helene particularly enjoyed the night they both got lost in the maze of corridors.

Joy would be too much a word to describe the rest of the week. Happiness, perhaps, yes. She felt utterly happy every morning when she woke up and she looked forward to dressing up to go to Abberton House. And every afternoon, she would come home, flushed from a trip into the woods with Damon or Gwen's new friends, and after an hour or two of rest, she would have enough energy for another night at the ball. She had never imagined she would look forward to a play created by Freda and Roxie, but she did.

But with everything was also the confusion.

Damon never talked about his confession, nor did he treat her differently after that. He was the same man towards her. But she had to admit he was different in her eyes now. Much different. She could now understand why he treated her as a friend. Why he was trying to help her.

He liked her.

He adored her.

But did she?

She didn't know. That's the frustrating part. What was it like to adore someone? How could one tell if they were falling in love?

"I'm curious as well," Gwen said one afternoon as they traveled to the Abberton House. They were wearing walking dresses to join another picnic in the woods with the guests. "How does one know?"

"You don't?" she asked.

"You don't?" Gwen blinked with confusion. "I'm certain you do. You are a lady of privilege, Miss."

"What are we talking about, Gwen?"

"The Royal Library in Coulway, of course! You've been there before, yes?"

She blinked away. "Yes."

"Is it as majestic as they say?"

"Too grand for one visit."

"I hope to go there one day. That is, if I find Michael Stiles." Gwen peered out the window of the carriage. "I think he's left Abberton a long time ago. If he's still here, he would not be missing these parties. The last town he went to, I almost caught him."

One of the reasons Geneva had grown fond of Gwen, apart from her cheerful bearing, was that they were both in a search. Her companion was unaware of hers, of course, but Geneva was privy to Gwen's story. Her parents were merchants who disappeared many years ago in a shipwreck. Gwen grew up with her grandparents and was forced to work to support them when she was old enough. Years ago, she discovered that her parents had an attorney whom they entrusted with the money they saved for Gwen's future. The woman was still looking for that man.

"Will you be leaving me then?" she asked Gwen.

"Well, not quite soon, of course. I need to save more for my next journey."

She smiled. "Or you may land yourself a husband after this week-long party, one who will support your search. Perhaps you'd land yourself a Stratford?"

Gwen's laughter echoed in the carriage. "Oh, Miss. I only jest about such things. Never take them seriously. I know my place in society very well." Her smile disappeared as she wrinkled her nose. "And I think it would be taxing to marry into these rich families. Don't you agree? They have protocols to follow."

"The Stratfords don't have protocols."

Gwen laughed. "Well, quite true. They don't marry anyone under their station either."

She smiled and said nothing to contradict the woman's words, for it was true. The Stratfords may be unconventional, but it was yet to be seen for one of them marry someone in Gwen's station.

"Take Harry Stratford, for example. Everyone believes he's courting Arabella Poppet. He's being slow, isn't he? Or he's hesitating," continued Gwen. "Because the Poppets are mere commoners."

"I believe they're just friends, Gwen."

"Then he should not stick to the lady's side that often. The fact that he does only fuels the rumors."

"It's time that men and women can be friends and not have people paint it differently," said Geneva.

"Like you and Damon Priest?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes."

Gwen just chuckled with a knowing smile. "I have to admit I've been enjoying these parties," her companion continued, changing the subject. "Wearing this dress I could never afford, eating the same food they do, and dancing with men who think I'm one of them!"

"But I thought you said you told Webster Priest who you are."

"Well, not really. I assumed he assumed I'm a servant at first, but I think he assumed I'm a friend of yours. Anyway, there's no point correcting him. He never asked me for a dance again."

"Perhaps because he doesn't want people to talk."

"Precisely. Or maybe he was overcome with guilt."

"Whyever so?"

"I told him about my parents."

Geneva's eyes widened. "You told him about your parents?"

"I did. And maybe that's why he assumed I'm rich. I told him they were merchants," Gwen laughingly said. "And it wasn't even a lie."

"B-But why would you tell him about your parents?!"

"It was the only topic we both share in common. I told him while we were dancing. I was babbling because I was nervous and you know how I babble, Miss."

Geneva shook her head. "You were in a party. Why would you talk about such tragic thing?"

"Because I didn't have anything else to talk about with the man. He knows everything about being rich, and me about being poor. We had no common ground apart from losing our parents in the same shipwreck."

"Oh, Gwen," Geneva said with a shake of her head. "You're crazy."

"Now that I think of our conversation, I think I am indeed," Gwen said with a laugh.

They arrived in the manor before their conversation ended. And before the doors even opened, she saw Damon already waiting outside the courtyard.

"He is definitely courting, isn't he, Miss?" Gwen whispered.

"No," she lied.

"I think he is. Which is why I'm leaving you alone."

Geneva shook her head as Gwen rushed off, calling out another woman's name. A mere few days and the woman had already made more friends than Geneva had in her lifetime.

"Are you joining the picnic as well?" she asked Damon as he approached.

"No."

"Busy?"

"Freda and Roxie are conducting an audition with the duke."

"For?"

"The role of the princess."

"Your princess?" she teased. He had been forced to play the role of the prince for three nights now, one of the reasons why she enjoyed the play more. To see him suffer in the role was quite entertaining.

"You're helping me," he said, stepping closer with his hands in his pockets.

"With what?"

He bit his lower lip and grimaced with fearful anticipation. "Audition for the role."

Her eyes widened. "N-No!"

"Please," he said, lowering his stance to catch her eyes. "The women who auditioned are insane."

She scoffed. "Insane how?"

"We believe they're out to get me and not the role."

Her brow arched as she looked him up and down. "Why?" And as he let out a frustrated huff, she laughed. "You're Damon Priest. Everyone is out to get you."

"Do it for me," he begged. "Please. I can't act opposite any of them."

She sighed as she witnessed his desperation. "For what price?"

"I'll take you to the Vernons. And this time, the heavens shall will it."

"I know you'll do that even without me asking," she murmured, shaking her head. "I can't act. I don't think I can speak in front of people."

"But you enjoy the play. You adore it."

"I said I do feel a connection to it, yes. I never said I'd want to be the princess!"

He brushed his fingers through his hair, then stilled, his brown eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

She blinked a few times. "What?"

"I dare you," he said, grinning. "Just try it. Audition."

"In front of the duke?"

"Daniel was once an actor. He's seen the worst and the best, Sisi being one of them."

"Simone auditioned?"

"I told you the women who auditioned are insane. She tried and she was terrible at it, but she did not die trying to audition." When she merely looked around, at a loss for words, he stepped forward. "There may never be another chance to do something like this." He paused, peering down at her with a hopeful look. "Just try."

She tried to say no. Her mind wanted to say no. But how could she when he was looking at her with that smile? "But don't blame me if-"

She was not able to finish her sentence because he suddenly grabbed her hand and ran with her into the manor. Mayhap this was what it meant to adore someone, she thought as they crossed the courtyard, walking past chickens and a goat.

You would do stupid things for them.