"Just Faye," the child added before Margaret opened her mouth to ask.

"How old are you, Faye?"

"Seven—Eight. I don't know," the child replied, shaking her head.

Margaret nodded to show her understanding. From the corner of her eye, she could see some servants staring at Faye with distrust and suspicion.

"They're searchin' for me, milady," Faye said, lips quivering, fresh tears welling her eyes.

Margaret pursed her lips and straightened to full height. Her questions would have to wait. Turning to the housekeeper, Charlotte, she ordered, "Feed her and see to her wounds and bruises. Let her rest." She looked around the room at the expectant faces of the servants who had been in their family for years. "She's telling the truth until she proves otherwise." They nodded, some eagerly, others not so. "Speak of this to no one while I figure out what to do next."

Again, everyone nodded.

Margaret looked at Faye once more. "They will take care of you, Faye. For now, you're safe here. Do you understand?"

Faye nodded, a tear dropping straight on the ground.

"You will not tell them?" the child asked, voice barely a whisper.

"Who, dear?"

"Them. The men chasing me."

"Who are chasing you?"

"Bad men," Faye said, closing her eyes and fisting her skirts.

She could ask the child everything, but now was not the perfect time for that. If Faye was telling the truth, then she may be in danger.

"Don't tell them."

Margaret nodded. "I will not. I told you—you're safe here."

Faye's light blue eyes went wide, imploring. "Will you take me? I can work here. I can clean and mop the floors. I can do anything. Just let me stay. I won't even go out."

"I'll see what I can, Faye."

Margaret turned to Jefferson. "No one should know of this, not even my brothers."

Jefferson blinked, startled. "My lady?"

"If Faye says the truth, I do not want any of my brothers telling anyone at Grey's or wherever they spend their drunken stupors at about her. I shall be the one to inform them should I have enough details. For now, see to her wellbeing. I will be in my study." She started to leave but remembered something. "Have the carriage be taken out early on the morrow. I shall be out about town the entire day."

"Yes, my lady."

Margaret gave Faye a comforting smile before she walked out the kitchen.

Their mother had not been gone for long and strange things already started happening in the household. And she was the one left to take care of it all. And all the while she thought she had avoided such responsibilities entirely when she decided never to marry!

***

Samuel Theobald was too young and too rich to be among the writers of The Town Herald. The Theobalds were not merely known for their extravagant yearly weekend parties every end of the Wickhurst Season, but they were also known to be the most influential. They had two sons. One was married and residing in his own estate with his wife and children. The other one was Samuel. He could have chosen to do nothing. But for years now, he had been proving to everyone, including Margaret, that he was more than the name he was born with.

Apart from being her youngest brother's best friend, Samuel was also privy to many things around the Town, including the gossips. One he'd pick up every night at Grey's with Ralph and the other Everard brothers.

"What brings you here, my lady?" he asked, leaning back against his chair. "Did Ralph send you?"

"Why? What happened?"

He blinked and considered her for a moment. "Never mind. I assume he still thinks we can handle it ourselves."

"Are you both in trouble?"

He shifted in his seat with a grimace. "Not really, no."

Margaret narrowed her eyes. "I came to ask a favor," she said, wondering what trouble Samuel and Ralph had gotten into now.

His brows cocked high with interest. "Favor in exchange for another?"

Her eyes narrowed even further. "What trouble are you in with Ralph now, Samuel? Is that why you were not in the Theobald Ball?"

He scoffed. "Ah, those weekend parties are all but the same. Tell me—Were there more beautiful women this year?"

"Do not change the subject, Sam."

Samuel groaned. "It's nothing." But he eventually conceded when she continued to stare at him. "We might have been blackballed from Grey's."

"Well, wouldn't that be a joy?"

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"Precisely what anyone guilty of something would say."

"But it's true. We didn't do anything. We were simply in the right place at the wrong time."

"The place being Grey's?"

"Yes. The time being is when two of our friends started throwing fists at each other and accidentally boxed the manager."

Margaret smiled. "And what made you think I can do something?"

Samuel cleared his throat. "Well, I, for one, am aware that you have a special bond with Mr. Crawford."

Her brows lifted in mock surprise. "Truly?"

"Yes. I know you're friends."

"He's the manager, of course, we're friends," she wryly said.

Samuel was starting to look uncertain. "I know."

Margaret sighed and slowly nodded. "And you wish me to do you some favor."

"Yes. Well, since Ralph did not come for you for help, and if you truly think it's best that he doesn't maintain his membership to the club, maybe you can just save me."

She laughed. "You are one good friend."

"Well, I know he would do the same for his best interest." When she did not say anything, he added, "Please, my lady. My membership at Grey's is a big part of my job. It's where the best stories start, see?" He straightened in his seat, pale gray eyes pleading in a way Ralph's would if he was attempting to manipulate his older sister. "And if you save me—and maybe even Ralph if you wish—I will grant whatever favor you came here for."

"Very well." He almost jumped out of his seat as she straightened in hers to deal with business. "I have knowledge that Lady Ashdown is planning to pay for the announcement of Lady Victoria's engagement to Lucas Rowe."

Samuel cocked an eyebrow. "Hmm. I might have heard of such contract."

Margaret glared at him. "I'm certain you have."

His lips quirked. "I cannot tell, really."

She sighed. "I ask that you postpone the announcement."

Samuel Theobald blinked a few times. "Why?"

"Because Tori is not marrying Lucas Rowe."

"I cannot simply—"

Margaret cocked her brows at him. "Then perhaps I cannot also simply sashay into Grey's and talk to my dear friend Mr. Crawford."

He groaned. "I do not own the Herald, you know that."

"But there is no such law that prohibits you from postponing any announcements, yes?"

"Yes."

"Or one that would hold you liable for such postponement?"

"Yes, but our credibility—"

"Shall remain intact. If anything shall not perish, it is The Town Herald."

"My lady—"

"Ten days," she said. "Give me ten days."

Samuel's raked his fingers through his blond hair in frustration. "Why do you people ask this of me?"

"Because we are friends and I am also friends with Mr. Crawford."

"Your brother is my friend," he said, tone filled with intent.

"Of course. So are my other brothers. And the twins."

"Only because they agree to make Ralph's life a living hell whenever I wish for it," he countered. "And since you're making me risk my position, I should also ask for something more."

Margaret sighed. "Very well. I shall talk to Mr. Crawford and profess the innocence of both you and my dearest brother."

"Perfect." He stood as she did. "Ralph will owe me."

Margaret shook her head. "Good day, Samuel. Always glad to see you." She sauntered to the door. "And visit your parents. They do miss you."

Samuel Theobald merely stared at her wryly before she closed the door.

***

Her next order of business was to walk right into the Men of Courts. The large stone building was located in the heart of Wickhurst, an epitome of justice for everyone to beheld.

"I wish to make an inquiry," she declared, startling a young man behind the desk.

"M-my lady?" he stammered, looking around him to make certain he was the one being addressed.

"I'm talking to you, Sir," she said, lifting her chin haughtily. "As I have said, I wish to make an inquiry."

"What about, my lady?"

"I wish to know the legalities there is in taking a child as a servant in my household."

"A child?" The man paused, thinking. "How old is this child? My lady," he added hastily.

"Eight."

The young man cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, assuming a professional and confident air. "Well, the law does not have an age limit to servants so long as they are paid, given food and shelter."

"No particular law on child labor?" she asked, surprised.

Another clearing of throat. The young man before her was starting to look uncomfortable. "As of this day, there is none, my lady."

"That is rather odd. I was expecting a special law is present. One specific to children."

The man behind the desk blinked in confusion. "But they are of the same class servants, I mean. Child or not, if they opt to work as such, they shall have the same privileges as the others." As Margaret tried to absorb everything, the man added, "But the current head of the Men of Courts in Wickhurst is looking into the case."

Margaret raised her brows in surprise. "He is?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, he supported a law that would require all households to register the names of every servant they have under their wing. It is currently being lobbied in the High Courts."

"Hm," she uttered with a nod. Then she smiled. "Thank you for your assistance."

The man bowed as she turned to leave, only to realize that it was not she the man was bowing to, but Cole Devitt himself. He was standing merely five paces away.

Margaret was unprepared for another encounter, but she managed a small curtsy. "I'm not here to see you, my lord—if that is what the frown on your face indicates," she said before he could say anything. "I came for an entirely different matter."

Cole nodded, face unreadable. And stepped aside. "Good day, Lady Margaret."

"You did not even bother to greet me and now you're saying goodbye," she murmured as she walked past him.

Aware that he was watching, Margaret could not help but wonder how long it would take before she broke down. How many more encounters could she endure?

Before leaving Theobald, she was hopeful and confident. Wickhurst was her turf. She should be comfortable doing her mission her. But one encounter with Cole Devitt and she was still the same woman back in Theobald. She was still clueless on how to approach this case. In fact, she was uncertain if she wanted to pursue this case. Calan Haverston must have a bigger plan if he requested her presence in Willowfair. Whatever it was, Margaret found herself feeling quite ambivalent.

She knew Cole was a man of honor. He was a man of truth. Whatever tragedy they may share in the past, however he had hurt her, she knew in her heart he was a good man. She knew now that he was innocent, that there may be a reason why he went to Osmond Trilby that day. But how could she prove it when everything else pointed to him as the murderer?

***

"What did Lady Margaret want?" Cole asked.

The man lifted one shoulder. "She inquired about child servants, my lord."

Cole nodded and retraced his steps to the entrance of the building, careful not to be seen by Margaret as she crossed the street to where her carriage was waiting. He bounded down the steps and found his own carriage and coachman.

"Follow that carriage," he ordered before he climbed inside.

When had she started to go about town without a companion? Had she no care for her own safety? A lady of her status could very well be a target of robbers. Or worse...

Cole shook his head before his mind could give voice the worse. She was eight-and-twenty. She could do whatever she wished.

His carriage followed hers down the road.

It was odd that she came to the Men of Courts to ask about child servants. Could she not have simply sent a letter of inquiry as commonly practiced? Or asked someone else to do it?

But why was he questioning how she did things?

You want to know what she's up to, a voice in his head answered.

He should be careful. Anyone could be watching him and he could be putting Margaret Everard in danger as well. The League would wonder why he was constantly in her presence and the last thing he'd want is for them to pay her attention.

Her carriage rolled on. His followed not far behind until they stopped.

Cole looked out the window and watched Margaret climb out and walk up the stairs that led to a large doorway.

The Archibald estate.

Of course, she was here to pursue her plans for her friend. Cole had heard that Jordan Archibald had been paying special attention to Victoria Ashdown.

With a scoff, Cole shook his head when he realized what Margaret was planning to do. What better way to convince a man to get leg-shackled than be close to his mother?

Margaret Everard was still the same in some ways, he thought. She was still the calculating, wise woman he knew.

He knocked on the ceiling of the carriage. She was keeping herself busy.

So should he, he thought as he gave an order to return to the Courts.