Maxwell walked into the building, his footsteps echoing though the quiet hall. It stopped when he reached the desk to face the man that could compete with his bored, passive look.

"Good day, my lord," said the man, looking at him curiously. "How may I be of service?"

"The wo—" he paused to correct himself and continued, "What did the man dressed in a valet uniform look into?"

"You mean Lord Whiston's valet, my lord? Lord Whiston your brother, my lord?"

He nodded.

"Articles, my lord."

"Articles of which?"

"The Town Herald, my lord."

Maxwell frowned.

"Said your brother required him to look into them."

That was highly unlikely. "What were the specific articles he looked into?"

"I cannot truly point out, my lord. The young fellow did ask for articles dating twenty-five years past."

His brows cocked high. "Months?"

"Nearly the first half of a year, my lord," the man replied. "I do have still the list."

He held out his hand for the list. The man hesitated. "Well? Give it to me," he ordered.

"But I do not believe I ought to—"

"Is there a law that prohibits one to hand over a list of Herald articles?"

"None that I can think of, my lord."

"Then give it to me."

The man swallowed and handed him a piece of paper. He studied the months and frowned. This was merely giving him more questions to think of.

Why was she looking into these articles?

"Is there anything else?"

The man frowned at his question.

"Anything else that the valet looked for?"

"None, my lord."

"Good," he said. He started to leave but not without saying, "You did not see me here today. Understood?"

The man blinked and nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Maxwell turned and walked out of the library.

This matter was turning out to be more baffling by the day.

*****

There were far more reasons why Maxine was eagerly waiting for the day that Nicholas would depart from Wickhurst.

One, and the most paramount, of course, was her anticipation to reach Willowfair. Amelia Trilby, if she was not mistaken, was one who would not miss as big a ball as Macy's.

Second, and the most comforting, was that she could be away from Maxwell Everard. The man would be at the Macy ball as Nicholas had shared two days later, but she was hoping he would be quite busy what with his family around.

Third, and the most ridiculous of all, was that she could be free of the enormous tension amongst the servants. Molly and Oscar had a big fight three days prior, the same day she had gone to the library to look into the Herald articles. Molly did not appreciate Oscar's insult toward Lottie about books and reading. Maxine had to come back to the estate that day with Molly and Oscar shouting at each other, Lottie crying in one corner and Fanny trying to settle the situation. It was Albin who shouted for the two to keep their voices down as his lordship was still asleep.

Since then, Molly would take every chance she could to throw a word or two toward Oscar's direction every time the young butler would show himself in the kitchen.

It was quite perplexing though that Oscar dared not throw a single word of insult at Molly, a matter expected of him. He would simply flush with fury at Molly's incessant words of anger, but his mouth would simply remain tight.

One afternoon, while Molly was finishing a snack of tea and biscuits, Oscar rushed inside and immediately stopped in his tracks upon seeing the maid. Molly scoffed, stood up and said, "I must leave as I fear that someone would find it disappointing that I do not smell like books!"

Oscar's face had gone scarlet with fury but he did not comment. He merely watched as Molly disappeared from the kitchen. Catching Maxine and Fanny's gaze, he snapped at them, saying, "Go back to work!" and disappeared as well.

"He is besotted with Molly, dear," Fanny later said to Maxine when they were alone in the kitchen. The housekeeper sighed, shaking her head. "And he does not know what to do with it."

Maxine was staring at Fanny with surprise. "I thought I was the only one who noticed!"

Fanny chuckled. "Well, Max, you can say that now there are two who know of the fearsome butler's secret." Fanny winked and stood up to go back to work.

*****

That evening, when Nicholas was out to spend the night at Grey's, the tension between Molly and Oscar was as strong as ever.

Molly had finally gotten quiet and Maxine was not certain whether or not she preferred the woman's angry spats or the eerie silence. The maid excused herself after dinner, escaping into the room she shared with Lottie. Lottie joined her a moment after.

Albin, quite not sure what to make of the situation, shared his sentiments. "This bloody situation is not for me," he uttered before he, too, disappeared to retire for the night.

Maxine stared at Oscar who seemed unperturbed. "Do you think you ought to do something?" she asked him. This could not go on forever!

Oscar snapped his eyes at her. "Mind your own business, valet," he said, dropping his fork and standing up.

She and Fanny let out a heavy sigh after the butler disappeared.

She came back to her room and found Albin still awake. His arms were folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He turned when Maxine entered the room.

It was quite funny, really, to be comfortable with Albin in the room. In the many nights that she had spent fretting over getting caught by the footman, Maxine had finally come into terms with the fact that Albin was no nosy roommate. He never ventured to her side of the bed, nor had he opened her closet. It was not unusual for her now to openly talk to him about matters in the household.

"I did try to talk to Oscar," she said, sitting on her bed.

"I wager my income for this month that he brushed you off," he said with a scoff.

Maxine did not comment.

"This is the first time, you know," Albin shared.

"It is?"

He nodded. "No one had dared to speak against Oscar before. It was quite a surprise Molly did. She had always been naught but sweet and understanding, see?"

She sighed. "Then this might not be good if it is the first time."

"That bastard deserves to know that he is not always on the right," Albin muttered. "Molly was right to defend Lottie."

Maxine studied Albin's features. "What if he decides to do something? Kick her out?"

"He could not do that. Fanny has authority over the maids," he said. "But should he do something that would lead to that, he would have to face me then."

A smile crept up her face. "You do fancy her, do you not?"

Albin turned to her. "Molly? Of course, I do. She is aware of that."

Her eyes widened. "She is?"

He nodded. "But I fear she does not feel the same, see?" He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Do not take this the wrong way, Max. Do not think as well that I do abhor you, but I am aware that Molly fancies you."

Maxine choked on her breath. "Not possible!" But it was. She knew how Molly would bat her eyes and flirt at her. Bloody hell.

Albin laughed. "Do not look so horrified, lad! Molly is not that bad!"

"I—I know, but—but I do not feel the same!" she sputtered. "I see her as naught but a friend."

"If ye say so," Albin said with a chuckle.

"I do not have feelings for her, Albin."

"I understood you the first time. No need to say it again."

She let the silence linger for a while. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"'Bout what?"

"Molly."

"Nothin'. I do have things I must focus on. I dream to be a butler someday, see? If she does not wish to be with me, I cannot do anything 'bout it."

Maxine sighed. The personal conflicts between the servants were getting quite dramatic. Never had she thought that they too had their own problems to deal with. She had always believed that all they did was complain about work.

How naïve had she been! Of course they had their own lives!

Now she had more questions in mind. How do they manage courtship? Marriage? Children? How could they manage all that while serving their masters almost the entire day?

"I'm certain that she would soon see and appreciate who you truly are," she assured Albin before she stood up. "I shall be in the kitchen to wait for his lordship."

"Good night, Max," Albin said. "And I am glad you are not one besotted fool!"

She snorted before she closed the door behind her.

She met Lottie while she was on her way out of the servants' corridor. "How is Molly?"

The scullery maid sighed. "Still angry. I am afraid this is my fault, Max."

"Of course, it is not. Oscar insulted you. Molly found the need to defend you as her friend."

Lottie smiled. "I still believe I must do somethin'."

"Things shall settle at their own course. They always do."

The maid sighed once more and smiled at her. "I heard that you shall be joining his lordship in Willowfair for the Macy ball."

"Yes."

The girl pouted her lips. "I envy valets. You can all be with your masters all the time!"

Maxine narrowed her eyes. "You mean we can also be in the presence of their brothers," she teased.

Lottie's face flushed. "Oh, do not tease me, Max!"

She chuckled. "I still do find it strange. You fancy Maxwell Everard. Why?"

Lottie shrugged. "He is different."

She frowned. "That is all?"

"He seems kind."

Maxine snorted and patted the woman's shoulder. "Mayhap you should try being a valet. You might just discover more things about the masters."

Lottie smiled. "Good night, Max."

"Good night, Lottie."

*****

Nicholas arrived in the wee hours of the morning. His demeanor, Maxine immediately noticed, was not as light as she was used to. He had a serious look on his face and he seemed to be very sober. It was as though he did not go to Grey's at all.

She anxiously looked out the door. Nicholas was alone.

Good, she thought with relief.

She escorted Nicholas up the stairs and into his bedchamber.

"Are my things ready?" he asked in a serious tone as he let her help him with his coat.

"Yes, milord," she said.

"Good. We leave first thing on the morrow."

"You mean later, milord?"

"Yes."

Maxine nodded. This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She would be on her way to Willowfair!

"Go and get your rest, Max. It would be a long and difficult journey."

"Yes, milord." After ensuring that he had everything he needed, she walked out of his room and down the stairs to bolt the doors.

She returned to her room and found Albin deep in sleep.

She would be in Willowfair soon.

*****

The long and difficult journey Nicholas was talking about may pertain to the actual journey on the road, but for Maxine, she soon found out it would be long and difficult for her for merely one reason: Maxwell Everard.

The man arrived just as Maxine was loading up Nicholas' luggage on top of the carriage with Albin.

He had stepped out of his carriage and his eyes immediately found hers.

Why was he here?

Her question, of course, was immediately given answer as Maxwell's driver unloaded two large bags from the carriage and dropped it beside Maxine.

"Do be careful with them," Maxwell ordered before he rushed up the stairs to enter his brother's estate.

Maxine gaped at the open doorway. She looked up at Albin perched on top of the carriage. "Did he mean for us to load his luggage up there?"

"I believe so, yes," Albin replied.

"In Lord Nick's carriage?"

Albin grinned with amusement as he nodded his head.

"This carriage?" she pointed to be certain.

Albin laughed. "Give 'em to me, Max. You cannot change the fact he is joining ye!"

Maxine stared down at the bags.

Bloody tarnation.

*****

"You fret too much, brother," Nicholas said, drawing Maxwell's attention.

"I do not," he denied.

"Why the frown on your face then, eh?"

His eyes flickered with annoyance and he reached out to draw the curtain of the carriage window close. "I always have a frown on my face. Was born with it as our dear mother would say."

Nicholas guffawed. "But I have been your younger brother for years and I have studied the different forms of frowns you have. The one you are wearing now speaks of worry." Nicholas drew the curtain open once more. "I wish to see the dreary scenery of the Town." He looked at Maxwell once more. "Stop fretting over Osegod. We are travelling to Devonshire to see Benedict. We let big brother decide then."

He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

"Why did you bother to bring along your valet?" he asked moments later, eyes still closed.

"Because I do have one while you do not," his brother replied.

"An incapable and clumsy one is not one for a journey such as this," he said.

"Max is doing a terrific job serving me. Why do you care about my valet so much?"

"I do not," he snapped, opening his eyes. "I merely think that taking a stranger to Devonshire where we shall be discussing Osegod is not a good idea."

"He is my valet, Max," Nicholas snapped back. "You think the worst of everyone."

"In our current situation, I am inclined to do so."

Nicholas scoffed. "You should have considered becoming part of the League of Founders. You talk like them."

"I would dare not—"

"I know, I know!" Nicholas said with a laugh. "You would dare not be part of such organization that requires paper works."

"Precisely," he said, looking out the window. "I wonder if your valet had already fallen off his seat," he said.

"Stop with my valet, Max! For God's sake, the young lad is perfectly fine sitting with the driver and it is doing him bloody good for he would surely die sitting here with your insults."

"If you say so," he said with a shrug.

"He is useful to me."

His brows cocked. "In a manly way?"

Nicholas frowned. "Whatever the bloody hell do you mean by that?"

"He looks like a woman is all I am saying."

"You bloody cynical bastard," Nicholas uttered, shaking his head.

Maxwell scoffed and looked out into the window once again. The valet had succeeded in accompanying them to Devonshire and later to Willowfair.

Whatever the female valet was planning, Maxwell would be there.

*****

They could have taken the shorter route to Devonshire, but Maxwell had insisted that they take the longer one where there could be more villages to pass by should an emergency arise. They found a small tavern in Marsden, a small village near Theobald, to rest and feed the horses.

He knew that the valet was very aware of his presence. She had been careful not to look at him when they finally arrived for their stop, but she could not seem to hide her agitation. What could be causing it? Surely it was not him? She had never showed such anxious behavior before they left Wickhurst.

Whatever the reason, it must merely mean one thing: she was no innocent.

After a bland supper downstairs, Maxwell went straight to his room and watched from his window as the valet unloaded the luggage from the carriage with the driver. He shook his head when she nearly toppled over a bag in her attempt to carry two into the tavern.

He shut the window close and prepared to go to bed. Benedict was expecting them tomorrow.

The matter with the valet could be settled once they arrived in Devonshire.

But not long before he had fallen asleep, he was awakened by a knock on the door. How long had he been asleep? Was it morning already?

Maxwell slowly slipped out of bed and padded across the room. The knock came once again.

"Who is it?" he asked through the closed door.

"It is I," said the familiar voice.

For a second he felt a shiver run through his spine. Even without her face, she sounded like a woman. Everyone else who bloody believed she was otherwise was a fool!

He reached for the door handle and swung the door open. His brows were already raised as he looked down at her. She had not changed her uniform, but it was quite easy to see that she had spent hours thinking.

"What is it? Here to offer me a different service, valet?" he asked, his tone filled with insolence.

Not much of a surprise, the valet simply glared back at him. She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. "I am not one who likes sitting in silence, anxiously waiting for the worst things."

"Quit the introductory speech, valet," he snapped.

She shrugged in agreement. Her pale grey eyes locked with his and for the first time Maxwell saw something that he had never seen before: pride. "I demand that we negotiate," she said.

Maxwell was stupefied.

Did she just have the audacity to come to him to demand a negotiation? In the middle of the night?

Bloody hell, who was this woman?