Calan Haverston, Lord of Easton, was amongst the most eligible gentlemen in the Town. His father, Charles Haverston, the Lord of Carnfield, was one of the ten Town Leaders and would have been the Prime Minister if he did not step down eight years ago. The very mention of their name summoned respect and praise. In fact, their bloodline had been amongst the most fortunate. Well, until Calan and his brothers were born, in Cressida's honest opinion.

The brothers did nothing but spend their wealth going around the Town, engaging in trysts that the gossip section of the Town Herald was only happy to feast on.

But they were gentlemen, and two had titles in their names. Those were enough to make all mamas drag their daughters to balls or gatherings, always hoping that the Haverston brothers would grace them with their presence. It happened throughout the four social Seasons of the Town.

The Willowfair Season always opened the Town Leader Convention for the first three months of the year. The Wickhurst Season, the most vibrant and scandalous, started on the second quarter, then Sheills and Granville respectively for the rest of the year.

Tiny Town was the only city that did not host a convention. In fact, Tiny Town was primarily independent, but for political and economic reasons, it had to take part in all crucial decisions.

While all ten Leaders and the Prime Minister convene with the members of the House of Lords and House of Commons during the four Seasons, the schemes to leg-shackle every possible unmarried gentleman brew on the surface through countless balls, operas, and tea parties, all officiated by the desperate mamas and daughters. While the men decide the fate of everyone, the mamas try to manipulate that of their daughters and sons. Most often, they were more successful than the conventions themselves.

But the Haverston brothers were elusive. It was very rare to find the three brothers in the middle of a ballroom. The most common questions were always whispered around: Are they not in Willowfair for the Season? Were they at the Theobald weekend party? Then will they be present in the Wickhurst Season?

When word got out that the eldest brother, the Lord of Easton, was finally getting married, Cressida's life turned from slightly bearable to grandly horrid. Not only was she subjected to ire and envy, she was also the favorite example of the mamas as they wagged their tongues on the subject of seducing the Town's most elusive bachelors like the Haverston brothers.

That last bit was the most infuriating thing for Cressida. There was no seduction. There was not even a dance shared between her and the Lord of Easton, an opportunity most ladies of her standing would grab for a chance to brush their gloved fingers with a lord as their grand attempt at seduction. And to hear rumors such as having been caught in a tryst with Easton was outrageous! No such thing happened!

There was merely a secret negotiation between her father and Charles Haverston, both of whom had worked together as Town Leaders, and thought it best that their eldest should marry each other. Her father, Lord of Belverst, doubled her dowry, while his wife, Lady Eloise, promised that Cressida would sire the Haverstons as many heirs as they needed although she herself bore an only child and the said child was nowhere near to being called a son.

As pathetic as she found the arrangement to be, Cressida knew that to throw a tantrum was not only unladylike, but it would also only strengthen her parents' resolve to marry her off to Calan. She knew her mother was thinking she had caused them enough trouble.

She had been to countless balls, dressed in the best dresses that Willowfair could offer, and yet she had not received a single proposal for marriage.

Not that Lady Cressida was unpleasant to the eyes. In fact, she could make a few gentlemen turn to give her a second look. But she surrounded herself with an air of confidence that most men would not want for a wife.

She spoke her mind too frequently than warranted, much to her mother's mortification. And when the poor woman would leave her for a few minutes in the presence of a satisfactory marital candidate, her daughter would always be alone when she gets back, having scared the man away with her honest remarks on politics and history. And sometimes, the smell of his breath.

And most often than not, she could not stand to be amid other ladies without giving an honest opinion about how their dresses were killing them, inquiring if they could breathe through their corsets at all. They would never hide their shock and distaste over her vulgar remarks as well, making matters worse for Cressida's marred reputation of being unladylike.

Many would say she was a scandal about to happen, but in Cressida's mind, the scandal had already happened. From the first time she tripped on her dress and smashed a rather humongous ice masterpiece, she had always been Cressida, the scandalous girl. Or mayhap it was that time she had joked about kissing Lord Preston's oily face for a natural gloss on her lips. Or perhaps it was when she accidentally drank a glass of brandy and made a fool of herself in front of a lord, asking him to please marry her so she did not have to suffer at least two Seasons of husband hunting.

Three years after her debut into the polite society, Cressida was a total failure, as her mother would regret to say. Therefore, Lady Eloise had said, it was only about time that Cressida be betrothed to someone of their choosing and that someone was no other than the elusive Lord of Easton. Well, no longer elusive because he had just been caught by an unwilling hunter.

With that knowledge in mind, Cressida was certain the man would at least consider her marvelous plan. But first, she had to face her parents and request a private meeting with Calan.

Lady Eloise's eyes widened when she saw Cressida and Meredith enter the large hall of their estate. "However did you manage to walk around the streets without a corset!" she hissed at her daughter. Before Cressida could answer, her mother turned to glare at Meredith. "You're supposed to make sure she changes into something proper."

Cressida rolled her light brown eyes and continued climbing the enormous staircase to go to her room. "I cannot breathe in my corsets lately more than ever, mother. I told you, I think I have a disease and shall die young." Her mother was behind her, having dismissed Meredith to prepare a bath for Cressida. "And if we're going to discuss my choice of wardrobe, perhaps you're also willing to discuss my choice of husband?"

Naturally, her mother ignored her. "You were gone almost the whole day, and it's not proper for a lady, especially one who is soon to marry, to wander around the streets at this late hour."

"I have it in honest opinion that the entire population of the Town, particularly Willowfair, has no qualms about me walking alone with a chaperone, betrothed or not." She reached the door to her room and added under her breath, "They would only be happy to witness me amid a scandal," which her mother's keen ears heard clearly.

"You may not go out of the estate until you're married."

She fixed a faint smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes and said, "And by then I shall be my husband's problem. Is that correct?"

Eloise Belverst's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

That you consider me your problem, she wanted to say but settled with, "Nothing, Mother." She opened her door. "I'm tired. And if my recollection is correct, the Haverstons will arrive in a few hours."

"Yes. Goodness, yes!" Her mother's face suddenly turned ecstatic. "I must make sure that everything is in order before dinner." With that, the lady turned and gracefully made her way downstairs, screaming for the housekeeper.

Cressida sighed and entered her room.

*****

As the evening went on, Cressida did not forget to remind herself to take a breath, as it was not graceful to kill herself around the dining table and in between courses.

"Did you invite your friends, Cressida?" the Lord of Carnfield asked.

She swallowed at the man and awkwardly nodded. "Yes," she lied. Calan's father was vibrating with confidence and power that she would have said yes in front of the vicar if one was present. He looked more menacing than his son, but his graying hair reminded her that he was getting old and may not be able to light the torch should she be in a pyre.

"Gertrude would have loved to be here," he said, turning to Lady Eloise. "My sister enjoys planning grand parties. But I'm afraid she's getting old."

"I enjoy planning it on my own, my lord, fret not," said her mother.

Lady Carnfield, Calan's mother, had long passed away after suffering a long illness, leaving Cressida's mother to handle all preparations for the wedding. Even without Lady Gertrude's help, Lady Eloise would manage the feat. In fact, she may as well plan two weddings at her current state.

Cressida sighed with relief, glad that the conversation had smoothly changed. What would Lord Carnfield do if he found out about her plan? He was powerful enough to ask someone to light a torch for him while Cressida stood in a pyre. In fact, he may not be too old to even tie a rope around her neck and hoist her up on a beam.

She was biting her lower lip in contemplation when a low, manly voice asked, "Are you feeling fine?"

She turned her head to meet the Lord of Easton's dark gaze from across the table, then stole her parents a look while they entertained the Lord of Carnfield. Both men were intently listening—or so it seemed—to Lady Eloise's grand plans for the wedding.

"I'm quite alright, my lord," she murmured, not because she was shy but because she was almost out of breath. Meredith must have put a lot of effort in securing her stays earlier after having heard an earful from her mother about Cressida's inability to hide a corset underneath her dress. "I was expecting to meet your brothers tonight."

"They have much better things to do." His tone dismissed the topic at once.

Cressida pursed her lips and assessed her future husband. Well, maybe, if her plans did not work out.

Even without his title and wealth, women would still stumble on their feet in his presence simply because of his looks. His dark hair looked like it would feel heavenly silky through their fingers, she heard one woman whisper once. His deep blue eyes, shadowed by long thick brows which naturally frowned, had always been a subject of interest amongst the female population. The decent height and broad shoulders, they said, would make them comfortable in a waltz. The straight nose made many believe he was not one who engaged in physical bouts with other men, therefore he did not have heavy hands. Cressida could not quite understand how they came to the last conclusion when she herself had boxed a man once straight on his nose. The brute was still going around balls, his nose pristinely straight to this day.

What many did not know, and what Cressida fortunately had the privilege to experience, was that he was a cold, know-it-all, arrogant man.

He never hid that part of him the first time they met years ago when his father held a party for his birthday when they were barely out of the schoolroom. She met him and his brothers after her mother almost literally pushed her in his direction, telling Cressida that Calan could very well be her future husband.

Cressida, still full of fairytale stories at that age, believed her mother. She had thought, in her little mind, that she would find a friend in him; that she would someday be his princess bride and they would ride a white carriage to their castle. But Calan had always been serious and adamant to be left alone, even as a boy. She had followed him around their Easton manor and to a pond nearby, where he pushed her into the water when she refused to leave when he ordered her to.

His dark hair and deep blue eyes could fool all women of all ages all over the Town, but not Cressida. She did not have to attempt to know him more after that unfortunate afternoon in the pond where she was brought in by her governess, crying, dress drenched, and swearing that Calan Haverston was no prince charming and that she would never marry him.

When the present and older Calan sitting across the table moved his head to see if their parents were still engaged in a conversation, Cressida was drawn back to the present and their impeding marriage.

"My lord, I know this is not the best of time to say this," she started, her eyes anxiously looking over at their parents, "but I would like to have a private conversation with you after dinner."

Calan's brows arched, and she could not even understand what it meant. The rest of his features did not even twitch, making Cressida even more uncomfortable. It was hard to read the man.

When he did not answer, Cressida raised her brows higher and leaned over her plate. "Well?" she whispered, impatient.

He was silent for a moment before he finally gave a curt nod.

Cressida smiled inwardly. It was settled then. She would ask him to help her, and if things went accordingly, they would not have to suffer an unwanted marriage.

*****

Calan noticed that Cressida was getting restless. The dinner went smoothly, and they were now in the sitting room having tea. He tried to reason that this marriage was sound. It would make things easier for him, and his father would be satisfied. And it would not hurt that his estate would gain a woman to look after it.

But he hated talking about the wedding.

He stood up just as when Lady Eloise was about to speak to him and announced, "If it is not improper, I would like to get some air in the garden." He turned to Cressida who was almost at the edge of her seat and added, "Would you like to accompany me, my lady?"

Lady Eloise clapped her hands together and with glee said, "The air outside is much better."

Cressida needed little prodding, for she stood after Calan and hooked her hand in his arm.

Their fathers were busy talking about business with their cigars to notice them walk out the doors that led to the gardens. Calan's eyes hovered over Cressida's father. The man seemed entirely unaware, appearing to be quite content with the upcoming union.

The moment they were out of eyesight, Cressida withdrew her hand and walked faster, far from earshot.

Calan calmly followed. He had to admit that he was quite intrigued with Cressida's sudden request to talk to him in private. It had always been his opinion that she was not one who could distinguish the word private from scandal.

When she finally stopped, surrounded by fake greenery commonly found in large towns like Willowfair, with a few actual plants here and there, she turned to him and said, "I do not want to marry you. At all."

Her brown eyes were almost dark and wide as she uttered the words, and Calan fought the urge to laugh. "I'm afraid the matter is already settled, my lady."

She shook her head in annoyance. "You very well know we dislike each other."

"Dislike is a strong word. We barely know each other."

"You pushed me into a pond. I disliked you ever since."

He chuckled with incredulity. "You're not good with grudges, I see."

She ignored his comment. "You do not want to marry. I do not want to marry you. That should be enough."

Calan cocked his head to the right and looked at her. Cressida was not physically dreadful. In fact, any man would agree that she had enough physical attributes that would do. If she could only behave like other ladies in their circle, she would have been married by now.

He was fine not marrying her, for he could always find ways for his plans, but this marriage was happening. The papers were sealed. And his father wanted this to happen and Calan wanted what his father wanted because it was the only way he could repay the man for what he did many years ago. If Charles Haverston wanted Cressida Belverst as his daughter-in-law, Calan would do it. After Calan's unacceptable betrayal, he vowed to be loyal to his father, and he shall do so by honoring his wishes.

"I suppose you already have a plan?" he asked because he was curious.

The smile that broke her face surprised him. It brightened her features, and he almost wanted to step closer and inspect her face. But then, what good would that do? Calan already had plans to get away from what was to come after their marriage.

"I do," Cressida said. "It will sound impossible, but I think it's not entirely so. However, I will need your help."

His eyes narrowed with curiosity. "My help."

"If you don't want this wedding to happen, you'll have to help me."

No, I need this union to happen, he thought. "In my thirty years, I have never been asked by a woman to help her escape a marriage to me," he said instead, almost with amusement.

Cressida scoffed, an act a lady avoided in front of a gentleman. But clearly, at four-and-twenty, Cressida was nowhere near those women. "Mayhap because you have never been engaged prior to this," she snapped sarcastically. "And do not be too arrogant about it, my lord, because not all women would die trying to be your wife. Include me on the list if it exists."

"Your plan, Cressida?" It was the first time he addressed her informally, and he saw that she was not at all pleased. Intriguing, really, because some women spent many waking hours dreaming to hear their names roll from his tongue.

She squared her shoulders and said, "I want to get out of the Town."

Her statement rendered him cold and speechless for a long while. His jaw tightened and he slowly blinked away the memories. "You mean you want to go up there."

She nodded her head. "Yes."

Calan stared at her for quite a while before he finally blinked, his mind reeling at the possibilities and what it would do to his plans. He shook his head. "You know it's impossible."

"Says who? It's merely never been tried enough," she corrected. "At least to my knowledge, that is."

Oh, it has been tried, he replied in his head. "And this is where my help comes in?" he asked aloud.

"Yes." She nodded, her eyes glittering with innocence and determination. "You will help me escape."

It was then that Calan allowed a mocking chuckle. "You know you can run to the other side of the Town, escape and hide somewhere far, but not really get out, Cressida. It's impossible."

"I will find a way," she strongly said, her head held high that for a moment Calan almost believed she could do it.

But not without my help, he thought.

He mentally shook the idea out of his head. No. Not again. "Is marrying me that horrible that you would want to risk the consequences of getting out of the Town?" he asked, his voice without offense. He was merely curious.

"Yes. Because I intend to marry for love. And I believe I will find it up there."

She had lost hope finding a match, Calan thought. And lost her mind along with it.

Marry for love? He almost laughed at the idea.

Unmoving, entirely comfortable in his spot, Calan gave Cressida a quizzical look. "If you get out of this place, can you assure me that my father would not marry me off to the next rich lady? For believe me, he shall," he said. "I know that you are desperate to get out of this marriage, but I'm not a fool to help you and get myself trapped in the same mess again. I'd rather marry you now than have another chit who might be worse than you."

He saw anger flare in her eyes and he was almost amused at how her face was too open for him to read.

Cressida slowly reasoned, "But if I disappear, they will look for me. You wouldn't have to marry another if your current bride is missing. That will buy you enough time to find a more suitable and tolerable girl. One better than me."

Calan saw her point and understood it. But the problem was, he needed this bride. Unless Lord Amery was keeping another daughter inside his estate, Calan had to marry this daughter.

Maybe it was because he gave no reply as fast as she wanted him to, or she thought he was not taking this matter seriously, that Cressida squared her shoulders and said, "Very well. If you cannot help me, I'll do it on my own. And I'm telling you, my lord, that if I fail, I'll make sure that you will suffer for the rest of your life because I will not be a willing wife."

She lifted her skirts and strode away. Calan realized then that she was indeed serious. And would most probably get in trouble if he would not step in.

As her plans—and the lack thereof—played inside his mind, he found no reason not to help her. Her disappearance would mean three things: First, people would give him years as he attempts to find his bride, all the while giving him time to do what he had to do; second, people would talk and think he was the reason she disappeared and his reputation would be ruined. No mama would want to marry their daughters off to a man who might have very well murdered his bride; third, his father might change his mind because of the second and focus his attention on his two other sons.

Calan's mind raced to calculations as Cressida walked away. Would it be worth it? Would helping Cressida escape the Town help him at all?

Before he could call himself stupid for doing it, Calan called out to her and said, "Wait."

Cressida skidded to a stop and turned, her face clearly showing him she was trying to mask the hope and expectation.

Bloody hell, this was complete suicide. But it would serve him well. He would not be directly defying his father's wishes for an heir, for it would not be his fault if Cressida disappeared, yes? And he could still stay close to the Belversts.

He did not like the plan, but it would benefit him. "I'll help you," he said to Cressida.

Her face broke into a very beautiful smile.

Calan's jaw tightened. He would help her because, by God, he knew a way to get out.