"You will not take back your word, will you?"

It was not her question that intrigued Calan so, but the way she said it. It sounded desperate, telling him she was that determined to go through with it, and for a second, he doubted his decision. Now that he had given his word to help her, he could not very well take it back. But looking at Lady Cressida Belverst standing there in her blue satin gown, a strand of her hair dangling beside her face, her light brown eyes almost black in the darkness, Calan could not help but wonder how she would survive the world outside the Town.

She may be unconventional herewith her outspoken mind and uncaring attitude toward her reckless actions, but she had always survived because she was privileged. However, out there, she could very well be a danger to herself. Stripped of her lavish gowns and her parent's riches, even Calan was uncertain of what awaited her aboveground. He may have an idea, but that did not mean he knew how people would treat her there.

Up there, she would be utterly alone to fend for herself.

Alone.

Good God!

How would she fare alone out there with no maids to do her bidding, no status for protection?

Make up your mind, you bloody idiot, a voice whispered to him.

"Calan." Hearing his name from her lips snapped him back to his senses. "How do you plan to help me escape?"

Escape. Was that how she would call it? Was the Town a prison for her?

"Do you know of a way? I'm certain there's a way somehow. How else had the Founders gotten here in the first place? How else could they have built those walls outside the holes? There must be a way out. Given time, we can do our research and I'll be out of here before the wedding."

He was not quite hearing her then because he was too transfixed on her lips as they moved. Why had he not noticed those before? Had they always been flushed with color?

She had now walked back to stand before him, her eyes curious and excited. "Calan. Easton!" she called out again, her voice tinged with impatience now.

Finally, Calan tore his eyes from her lips and blinked to gaze directly into her eyes. That must have been a mistake as well because he almost—almost—made a grab for her shoulders and it was not very difficult to imagine pulling her toward him and learn if her lips felt as good as they looked...

He shook his head once, removing the vision from his mind.

He could have other women that would take only what he could offer. He did not have to ruin this one.

But her very presence, standing too close before him, opened him to surprising realizations. He had seen her in her best ball gowns, seen her in rare occasions with better lighting, and yet it was the first he acknowledged she was a woman, one who had the potential to make his blood boil with desire if that was not yet happening now.

She was a danger to him, he realized. Lady Cressida was no longer the girl he pushed into a pond. He could not deny it any more than he wanted to maintain the image of a spoiled, careless girl in his mind.

Mayhap the Town would be better off not having Lady Cressida Belverst in it. The Town Herald could very well do with more pages of something more interesting than her recent scandals.

She was narrowing her eyes at him now, her face full of doubt. "You are not considering marrying me, are you, my lord?"

Calan held back his answer, for she would not like it at all.

"You know of my reputation, and though it's a wonder why your father ever approved of me, you know I will taint your good name—your title. I will not be a very good wife for you. I'm a walking scandal and you know that. I've been on the Herald far more than you and your brothers combined, and have been caught in the most undesirable situations before and it would continue to be so if I stay here and be your wife."

With great effort, Calan took a step back, hoping the action would ease the alarming effect of her nearness. He cleared his throat and gazed at her with what he hoped to be a wry look. "There's no need to make a list of your scandalous traits. You are by far the last woman I would think for a wife, Cressida." He was proud of the coldness in his tone, and it was good that she did not take offense at all by the contented smile on her lips.

"And that's why you are going to help me," she whispered with a secret, knowing smile. "So you can keep as many women as you want without having to bother with a wife."

It was his turn to smile. "I can have as many women as I like, even with a wife."

He got a response from that last sentence. She arched her brow and eyed him with distaste. "Spoken like a Haverston."

He cocked a brow. "Would you like to elaborate that statement?"

She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, you know what your reputation is around Willowfair—even the entire Town, my lord. I find no need to elaborate."

"You mean my brother's reputation."

She gave him a mocking look of surprise. "Do not tell me you are not the rake Lord of Easton everyone is talking about. I beg your pardon; I must have been betrothed to someone else with the same title."

"I may like women in a more private setting, Lady Cressida, but I'm not a rake."

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, that may be true." She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him with curiosity. "Now that I think of it, your reputation only precedes you because of your brother Adrien."

"Precisely," he answered, thinking about the youngest of the Haverstons. He never hated being placed in the same category, for it actually benefited him in a lot of ways in the past, most particularly when he was doing one of his special tasks.

"But that doesn't entirely dismiss the fact that you keep mistresses. And still plan to, even with a wife."

He looked at Cressida for a long time. His eyes went to trail down the slender curve of her neck and the soft-looking skin her dress allowed to spare, down to the curve of her breasts that offered a lot of promise. He may not need a mistress if she was his wife.

But he could not want a true wife. Not in this lifetime.

Addressing her statement, he asked, "And you want to find true love?"

Despite the darkness in the garden, he could see the color flush her face. "You are mocking me."

"I am merely curious why you believe you cannot find it here."

"The answer is actually simple if you are not as stupid as I am thinking you are now," she snapped at him, tearing her eyes from his to look around the quiet garden.

"No, I believe I do not know the answer to that, my lady. Do enlighten me."

When her eyes returned to match his gaze, Calan saw...pain? Helplessness? But that could not be. And before he could make another assessment, it vanished, and she was saying, "Because I'm betrothed to you and I have no way to escape you. And I'm already thoroughly judged here."

*****

Cressida hated that she had to admit that, and much more so to the man standing before her. He looked at her as if he could not understand. Of course, he would not. He had never been judged by anyone, at least not so brutally. He was never paraded like a doll by his father, looking for a love match for countless Seasons. Most of all, he was not judged for having mistresses and was even chased for the lack thereof. She, on the other hand, had to exhaust all efforts to be strong against the prejudices of society merely because she was born with a slightly different anatomy!

"Do not look at me like that," she snapped, taking a step back.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking at a child struggling to tie a ribbon around her hair."

"Forgive me, Cressida, but that's exactly how I see your problem."

Cressida scoffed. Of course, as a well-rounded man, he would think her problems were too miniscule compared to any issue that was at par with his intellect and interests. For men like him, her concerns were never a problem.

"You know nothing about my problem except the one that involves you, and that is us getting married. Shall we focus on that, yes?"

His gaze was slowly stripping her of her façade, utterly ignorant of her struggles.

The Lord of Easton did not have to suffer the same scrutiny she had to go through from the moment she came out in society. He need not have to hear the harsh judgment of the people of the Town, the people who thought they knew her better than she knew herself, the people who expected her to make a scandal at every ball. And she had proven herself to be just that, no matter how she tried to change their minds, no matter how she followed the rules and etiquette to be a lady. Because she could never tame the passion in the moments she felt them, and every time she would open her mouth or do something spontaneous, she was judged because the judgement was prepared in advance. The women shook their heads whenever she'd go out without a corset, whenever she would use her hands when food proved difficult with a knife and fork. The men would find her intriguing at first, then they would start to step back whenever she offered her opinion. Her parents...her parents were willing to give her away without asking if she agreed to it.

She was judged because she was amongst the flock of women who had to find a husband of suitable background; because she had to compete with others for future security. That was all that mattered, after all—security. Not love, not even friendship. Security, which in Cressida's opinion, meant prison. For marriage in the Town meant having naught but what your husband was willing to provide. You might gain his name, but you shall never have his riches. What more his affections? There might be a lucky few, but she was not amongst those who would do nothing but pray for it.

She needed the affections before surrendering her own freedom, not the other way around. If she could not find it here, then she would find it elsewhere.

And it would not be here. She wanted to do more, and though she could do so here, she would merely ruin herself further. She could not just go around the Town for an adventure. No, that did not happen for a woman. Society was not forgiving to women who dared for more. And that was precisely what she wanted—more. She wanted to experience much more than the Town could offer.

Out there—up there—was a promise of endless sun not confined in a small, circular park or a country estate with their own holes, a promise of real plants in the garden, of wind so fresh, of real bright light, of rain, of oceans and mountains...of magic; of love not bound by societal standards, of people who would accept her passion for the simplest and dumbest of things.

Out there...out there was her place. Out there was her adventure.

Looking back at Calan, her determination was made certain. She could never marry him. He was arrogant, a know-it-all, and he would never love her the way she wanted to be loved. He had no other passion other than his title and his own desire to please himself the way he saw fit. She would never have a place in his life, and it was not a life she wanted.

Yes, perhaps she was judging him too much, but why could she not judge as well? Men judged her freely. She could very well judge them the same.

"Let's not talk about my problems. I'd rather we discuss our problem," she reiterated, breaking the silence. "I know you're eager to get yourself out of this mess our parents have agreed upon. Let's get to work as soon as possible, Easton."

She saw him take a deep breath. "What do you have in mind?"

"I was hoping, actually, that you have suggestions. Surely, you have encountered stories during your travels that might help us?" When he did not open his mouth to answer, she continued, "Very well, I will have to do a bit of research on my own then. I shall have to call for you if I need you and let us hope that by that time, I would have found a way out of here."

He started pacing, his head bent in consideration. Finally, he stopped, and he looked up. Looking over her shoulder once, he asked in a low voice, "Have you heard of The League of Founders?"

"Of course. Who has not? They're the Town's secret—not so secret anymore—group of men tasked to ensure everyone's—" She stopped short when realization hit her, and her eyes widened. "You're a—but that's impossible!"

His eyes returned to her, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm not saying anything. But do not speak of this again or I'll be forced to consider making certain you disappear for good."

She took an involuntary step back, her hand over her mouth in shock. "You're a Leaguer. But...you... How is that even possible?"

He looked around the garden like an apprehensive man on a tryst with a secret lover. "I suggest, Cressida, that you keep your voice down," he snapped at her. "And I have not affirmed it. You better think twice before repeating such information to anyone else." The warning and threat in his voice made Cressida gulp. And then her eyes lit up with more hope than ever.

"You know of a way out. You must, yes, Easton? You are a Leagu—" The glint of warning in his eyes made her pause, and when she spoke again, it was lower than a whisper. "You know of a way out."

She had always known that the League of Founders kept valuable secrets. And she had always wondered if amongst them was a way out of the Town.

Although no one would willingly talk about them, particularly the women, she heard from whispers and gossips that they were more powerful than the Town Leaders themselves. They held the Town's secrets. They had been protecting it for centuries since its foundation, but the identity of their members had always been a kept secret. One could only guess, and no one would dare admit it.

And now she had to find out that the Lord of Easton was amongst the League of Founders! Suddenly her mind was full of questions. She wanted to find out more about the mysteries of the Town. She wanted to know if Mr. Jones was real. She wanted to know if The World Above spoke of truths.

"Calan, you know of a way out. Tell me. Please, you must know. Is there really a way out?"

He did not even blink, his face impassive. "Where do you think the waters in the ponds come from and go to?"

Cressida merely blinked. Of course. They must have come from outside and lead outside.

Did that mean that someone in the Town could easily come out and back in without notice? How many people knew of it? Did the Leaders know? Was she the last person to know of this, or was she the only one outside the League of Founders to be aware of it? Or perhaps... "How far had the League gone to keep these secrets?" she wondered aloud.

So many questions, yet she could not voice them all. She could barely wrap her mind around the fact that all of those things were possible. A way out of the Town! Bloody hell, there could be dozens—hundreds even!

Calan broke the silence and without answering her last question, said, "If I show you a way out, Cressida, you must know that there is no turning back. You cannot return." The finality in his voice was clear that she almost had second thoughts.

Never return? To the Town?

When she could not utter a reply, Calan continued, "Do you hear me? You cannot go back."

She met his dark blue eyes. "Why?" she asked.

He did not answer. Instead, he held her eyes and said, "Think about it for a day or two but repeat no word of what we have discussed here to anyone. I do not wish for this secret to spread for I abhor damage control." She gulped upon hearing his last words. She could already picture herself imprisoned in a dark dungeon or worse, hanged by the Leaguers themselves. Or burned in a pyre with Lord Carnfield holding the torch.

Calan's voice snapped her back to the present. "Think about this very carefully, Cressida. I can marry you and still have what I want. Or I cannot and lose nothing. You, however, have much to lose either way. I will come find you after some time." He let his words sink in and added, "It is here or up there, my lady."

Up there. She blinked, her mind reeling with the adventures she would find aboveground.

It was here or up there.