When the scandal blew, it signaled the opening of the Wickhurst Season. And of course, an Everard was in the heart of it all.

The eldest of the eight children, Benedict Everard, Lord of Devonshire, announced his engagement to his sisters' governess, Agatha Blair. It would have been an easy one to deal with for the affluent family, but Agatha's questionable reputation was making it a challenge.

This time, the Everards had to come together for their eldest and his fiancée because there was a fair chance they may not survive this one.

What this meant for Lady Victoria Ashdown, however, was the absence of her best friend Margaret. As the oldest daughter of the Everards, it was Margaret's duty to be in constant company of their mother who could be as unpredictable as the rest of her own children.

I am afraid she will do something if I leave her side, Tori, was the worry her friend relayed in her letter yesterday. Please pray that things will return to how they were. And pray for a bigger scandal this Wickhurst Season. It shall be the only one that can save us all. Should I expect you at the engagement ball?

With Margaret preoccupied with family matters, this meant that Tori was alone to crawl under her father's old bed in search of a missing document.

"Milady!" Sarah, her maid, hissed from the side of the bed, right cheek inches away from the floor.

Flat on her back, Tori rolled her head to the side. "Well?" she asked under her breath. Her fingers were absently continuing their search, feeling the underside of the giant bed above her.

"She's leaving, milady."

"And?"

Sarah checked to make sure they were alone and conspiratorially whispered, "We heard little, but we heard enough."

"And?"

"You were right, milady. It was Lucas Rowe."

Tori's jaw tightened.

Rolling her head straight, she stared at the dark and dusty paneling above her.

"Did you find anything, milady?"

"We are rich of cobwebs, Sarah," she murmured with a sigh. Giving up, Tori slid out from under the bed and scrambled to her feet and let Sarah help dust her morning dress down.

"I will order a bath for you, milady," the maid said, carefully picking a silky line of cobweb from Tori's dark blond hair.

"It is Wednesday, is it not?" she asked, turning on her heels to rush to the window. Below, her stepmother's carriage was waiting in the driveway.

"Yes, milady."

Tori stepped back from the window and looked around her father's old room. His scent was slowly being replaced by the drafty smell of dust.

Sarah opened a drawer to do her own search, but they both knew there was nothing there. They had searched this room thrice.

Tori's gaze wandered back to the bed.

It had been three years since August Ashdown passed away, but it had been nineteen long years since Tori first witnessed her father spend the rest of his young life there, slowly wasting away until he finally gave in.

Since she was nine, she would sit here, right where the window was, in a chair that was still sitting in one corner. It was the best angle to watch him because his face would not be too pale. With the light from the window, his eyes seemed alive then.

It was easy to see whenever he was happy, for his gray eyes would glimmer and squint just a little. But whenever he stared at her as though trying to talk, it hurt.

Betty, the chambermaid, drew her back to the present by poking her head into the room to whisper, "She has left, milady. But we are uncertain for how long. Mr Anton is standing guard. James and Ed are already inside."

Tori left the room with Sarah and the two of them went to the study, where Anton, the butler, was standing guard.

"Thank you, Anton," she said to the butler before they disappeared into her stepmother's study.

They had searched the room twice before and both times had been fruitless. Today was merely a desperate attempt. They combed every corner for hours with the help of two footmen. By the time they gave up, Tori knew they would never find the copy anywhere in the manor.

"She must have hidden it somewhere else," Tori said.

"She must know you have the loyalty of some of us, milady," Sarah agreed.

Running her fingers through her hair, Tori sighed. She was tired. Too tired, in fact. She looked around the study with a bitter smile. This was where her father spent most of his time before the accident. She would hide from her governess here, and her father would pretend to have not seen her whenever the woman would come looking. Then he would throw her a wink from where she was hiding behind the door, and they would both muffle their laughter once the governess closed it.

Again, that was too long ago. And soon, this room, and everything else in the manor, would be gone—taken away.

They slipped out of the room, thanked Anton and the two footmen, and returned to her bedchamber where Sarah helped her change. "Tell me about Lucas," she said to Sarah. "What did he want?"

"As you suspected, milady, he wants to marry you."

It was not even surprising. She was not too ignorant not to notice.

Lucas had always been more than just a gentleman around her. He always paid attention whenever she talked, always angling toward her to listen with interest. Most often, when he was around, he would always ask how she was faring. He was the first to jump to his feet whenever she needed something.

But then, that was how her stepmother also was before her father's accident. Clarice treated her like her own child, cared for her like she bore her into this world.

That was nineteen years ago. Merely a week after her father fell from his horse and began his slow journey to death, Clarice took Tori to the Everards and would have forgotten she was there if Lady Alice did not send a note five days later telling her that Tori was missing her father.

Since then, Tori was a mere nuisance Clarice easily disposed to their ever-welcoming neighbors, the Everards, while she went on with her life, living it as if she was a rich widow while her husband wasted in his bed, a prisoner with no need for chains.

Then victory came to the woman three years ago when finally, Lord August Ashdown peacefully died in his sleep with the solicitor's announcement that they were yet to find the closest heir to the title. They had been searching since then, and it seemed futile.

August Ashdown had but one brother and the man had long perished. Not one male relative could be found, much to Clarice's satisfaction. What Tori found—or discovered—however, was the gambling debt August Ashdown left behind, one that her stepmother had been trying to evade for years, but one that was coming soon to haunt.

And just this year, Lucas Rowe, Clarice's nephew from a distant cousin, slowly injected himself into their life. And now he wanted to marry Tori.

"What did she say?" Tori asked.

"She refused," said Sarah.

"Of course, she would. She would have to let go of my dowry. What did Lucas say?"

"Not much, but he said he shall give Clarice a week to think about it."

"She will never allow it. The wench has too much to lose," Tori growled under her breath. She rarely spit out any form of expletives, but Clarice was always a good excuse to be coarse. Pacing and worrying her lip, Tori murmured, "We have to find the papers fast, Sarah."

The two of them froze and held their breath when they heard muffled footsteps outside.

"I cannot lose the manor and Papa's collections," she continued in a lower tone, even when the footsteps faded away. She did not have to lower her voice because Clarice was not home, but it had become a habit. There was a war in the Ashdown household, and it had been going on for years. Some servants may be loyal to Tori, but most were devoted to the one who had control of the money.

"Did you tell Lady Margaret, milady?" Sarah whispered back, brown eyes fretful.

She resumed her pacing. "How could I ask for her help? She is facing an enormous scandal with her family."

Sarah's gaze followed her movement. "Are you going to try talking to Mr Frasier again?"

Tori gritted her teeth. "No," she said. "I think I have to play a different game, Sarah."

"What, milady?"

"I have to marry."

Sarah blinked rapidly. "B-but you dislike Lucas Rowe, milady!"

"I have to get my dowry, Sarah. If we cannot find the documents, my dowry is the only chance I have in saving the estate."

***

Levi Everard did not look back as his carriage rolled away from his Standbury estate.

He did not say goodbye to the disappearing crops on both sides of the road as they were slowly replaced by the dreary sloping walls of earth.

It felt like a forewarning. He was leaving behind the only place that had been his solace for the past two years for what seemed like a promising road to doom.

Benedict, the besotted fool, had decided he had been such a proper gentleman all his life, so he took it to himself to create a scandal. Who would have thought that the Benedict Everard could stir such scandal?

If Levi was not coming home to Wickhurst to ensure their mother's sanity, he would have carried with him a crown for their big brother. Benedict deserved to be honored for his daring act. Marrying a governess after he ditched his fiancée! Good Lord!

There was no way around it, he thought. As one great Lady Alice Everard said in her letter to him, one she delicately penned to summon guilt and loyalty, they must face this scandal with pride and stubbornness.

As one family, she wrote. For I fear I will not live long should one of my children suffer the wrath of society. I am but one woman, Levi. I would find no need for support if I have your father by my side. He is no longer with us, but he left me eight children. Eight, my dear boy. I only see seven here in Wickhurst. One is in trouble and the other is missing.

He grimaced, remembering his mother's words. Ah, the adorable scheming witch. Why did he have to fall for it every bloody time? She still had the power to always say the right words and make them heed her requests.

And he was doing exactly what she wanted.

He was traveling back home to Wickhurst.

Or was it home?

For now, it was, but only because his family was there.

Pulling the sleeves of his coat down over his wrists, Levi sighed.