How had this happened? How the heck had this happened? How had he been dragged into this?

"Tea, Patrick dear?"

"Yes, thank you?"

How? How? How had his mother managed to catch him before he snuck out of the house? He had climbed out of the window of the abandoned secondary servants' bathroom, for heaven's sake!

According to his dear mother, she had been checking on the clogged pipes. Maternal instincts were a terrifying thing.

Not that he wouldn't have come back here on his own, eventually. He just maybe wouldn't have arrived for breakfast with his mother and his pseudo-fiancée the very morning after the latter had spent a night in his arms, cuddled up against his—

"Spotted dick, dear?"

Lord Patrick nearly spurted his tea across the table. "N-no, thank you, Mother," he coughed. "I think I'll stick with toast this morning."

"As you wish, dear."

Quickly, he reached for a slice and started spreading butter. It was truly a task that required perfect concentration. Especially if you wanted an excuse to not talk to relatives and thus avoid any embarrassing subjects whatsoever.

Just then, with amazing timing, the door opened and Miss Amy Weston strode into the room, a confident smile on her face and an even more confident dress on her body. A dress that, he couldn't help but notice, displayed certain assets to her very best advantage.

"She does cut quite the nice figure, doesn't she?" his mother whispered into his ear, having somehow managed to teleport from the other side of the table and appear right next to him. "She would make quite the impressive duchess, don't you think?"

Lord Patrick quickly took another bite of toast to gag himself and raised his napkin to hide the red tint on his cheeks.

It doesn't exactly help that she's right. Completely and utterly right.

"Oy! 'ello dere—" Amy raised a hand to wave—then caught a stare from Her Ladyship, the dowager duchess. "Ehem. I mean, how do you do, Your Lordship, Your Grace." She sank into a wobbly excuse for a curtsey. "It is a fine morning, is it not?"

"Yes, it is!" The dowager duchess nodded happily. "Sit down, please, Amy. And Patrick, dear, do collect your jaw off the floor."

Lord Patrick did as suggested, but not before shoving another piece of toast into his mouth. Food gags were so convenient. Especially when you had no bloody clue what to say. He glanced at Amy, who, to his intense surprise, also had a faint tint of blush on her cheeks.

Amy? Miss Amy Weston, blushing?

"Well, well now..." Her Ladyship, the dowager duchess, smiled, eyes flitting between the two younger people. Lord Patrick felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I suddenly remembered that I have something different to do this fine morning. Besides, I don't really feel very hungry anyway."

And, rising from her chair, she slipped out of the room to leave the two lovebirds alone. That, or something even worse along those lines, Lord Patrick suspected. Glancing up hesitantly to the other side of the table, he noticed Amy was staring at the door through which Her Ladyship had disappeared with a suspicion Lord Patrick considered entirely justified.

His and Amy's eyes met, a single silent message exchanged between them in an instant.

Not a word about last night! Certainly not while she's still outside, listening at the door!

"So, ehem...how are you this fine morning, Miss Amy?"

"Splendid, Lord Patrick, simply splendid. Thank you for asking."

Lord Patrick's mind raced as he cast about for an innocent conversation topic. Anything! Anything that couldn't be misread or misinterpreted as—

"So, how did you sleep last night?"

The moment the words left his mouth he wanted to slam his face into the table. Never mind little details like forks in the way, he deserved it!

When he glanced up again, it was just in time to catch a glimpse of the remnants of Amy's grin. "Oh, I slept...extraordinarily well, My Lord. I indulged in some quite beneficial exercise before going to bed and had the best night's sleep of my entire life."

"Ehem. Is that so?

"Oh yes." Smiling brightly, Amy reached for the spotted dick and cut herself a nice slice. "And I had very sweet dreams as well."

Lord Patrick Day felt the instinctive urge to reach down and shield his forbidden zone.

"So, um...your elocution lessons are going well are they?"

"Ye bet yer bloody arse dey are!"

His Lordship's eyebrows shot up. Gesturing wildly, he stabbed a finger towards the door, mouthing What are you doing? She's still outside?

In answer, she just grinned and mouthed back, I know.

Lord Patrick felt sweat trickling down the back of his neck. Why, oh why, did I get tangled up with this woman again?

Then he met her beautiful green eyes, sparkling with mischief, and was instantly drawn into their depths.

Ah, yes. That's why.

Taking a deep breath, Lord Patrick pushed his empty plate aside and straightened, not taking his eyes off the young woman's eyes for a moment.

"Miss Amy...would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a refreshing walk in the garden?"

Translation: Would you do me the honour of fleeing with me from the stalker behind the door?

"Why, thank you, My Lord. I would love to."

Translation: Let's run! Run for our lives!

Suddenly, Lord Patrick felt an entirely unfamiliar grin spreading across his face. Not at all the same lascivious, lust-filled smile that had been spread across his face last night. No, this one was filled with a desire for life and adventure. The kind of adventure only two people could have together.

"Well then, My Lady." Pushing back his chair, Patrick rose and extended his arm to her. "Shall we?"

With a smile so brilliant it almost hurt him, she took his arm.

"Aye! We bloody shall!"

His Lordship's noble eyebrow twitched. "Say...your elocution lessons aren't entirely finished, are they?"

"What da 'ell gave it away?"

"Call it male intuition, My Lady."

She grinned up at him. "Ye don't say. Come on! Let's check da garden for dung heaps!"

And, before he could find an appropriate reply for this, she skipped through the French windows and out into the garden.

That woman...!

He should probably be angry. In fact, he should be pissed off the moment she mentioned...fertilizer. But instead, all he could feel was his heart pounding in his chest. The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile, and he dashed after her, ready to hunt her down.

***

Crap, crap, crap, what am I gonna say now?

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy glanced up at the tall, handsome nobleman striding through the garden beside her. Lord Patrick Day. The man she had slept with without getting any bloody money out of the deal. Again!

She had thought it would be such a good idea to get some fresh air out in the garden. Had thought it was a good idea to get away from the over-eager dowager duchess. That was, until she realized they were now alone.

Meaning, they had no excuse not to talk about it.

It being last night.

She glanced up at him again. It was hard not to. He was too bloody handsome for his own good!

And for mine. Especially for mine.

Crap!

Think of something to say, Amy! Anything!

Her mind stayed blank. The only consolation was that he didn't seem to fare any better. His back was stiff as a board as he marched with long strides alongside her, his eyes focused very intently on the distant horizon and very much not on the woman he had spent last night fondling.

Rather expertly, incidentally.

Face flushing, Amy averted her face from his.

Don't think about 'im dat way, Amy, ye bloody idiot! Dis whole fiancée thing is just a charade, remember? Ye'd better get yer head on straight pronto!

She had to think of something to say to fill this horrid, awkward silence! Something harmless and inconsequential!

"So, how did your investigation go?" she blurted out.

Ah, yes! Organized crime and underground child slavery. Always such wonderful topics for small talk!

"Ah, yes, my investigation!" Lord Patrick Day, who seemed to agree wholeheartedly with her inner voice, grabbed the new topic with both hands. "Ehem. That's why I came here in the first place, right? To discuss my investigation."

So it wasn't about the dung heap in your garden?

But Amy held her tongue. No need to mess up the successful subject change. Plus, now she was actually interested. Especially when she saw his face darken, his steel-blue eyes gleaming coldly.

"I managed to successfully get into the gang."

Amy's eyebrows shot up. "Ye did? 'ow did ye manage dat? Normally, a gang like dat would require a proof of loyalty."

Unless Amy was very much mistaken, Lord Patrick seemed to shift uncomfortably.

"Brtmasvrdnd..." he muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?"

Shifting again, Lord Patrick glanced at a nesting bird in a nearby tree that suddenly seemed to appear very interesting to him. "I...brought them a severed hand."

"Well, dat ain't a bad id—what? You brought dem a what?"

Whirling to face him, she leapt back, staring up at him with barely concealed horror. "Oh...oh my God. I've corrupted ye! I've actually turned ye into a real criminal! Oh my God oh my God, what am I gonna say ta yer mother? 'ow am I gonna tell 'er dat 'er son's become a serial killer? I've got to go and confess to her right now, before it's too late!"

And, whirling around, she dashed back towards the house.

"No! No, nonono!" Footsteps came racing up from behind her, quickly catching up. "Don't! I swear, I didn't kill anyone! I didn't—"

It was only then that he seemed to notice the shit-eating grin on her face.

"You...you tricked me!"

"Finally noticed, did ye?" Eyes sparkling, Amy slipped behind a nearby apple tree before she could be grabbed in a choke hold by an enraged lord. After all, she had taught him well. "So, where did ye get da 'and from?" she enquired, quite curious about the matter. "Finally noticed Titus is too 'andsy with da ladies and decided ta do somethin' about it?"

Lord Patrick's noble eyebrow twitched. "I'm not in the habit of severing my acquaintances' hands!"

"Aye?" Amy enquired, doing her best to sound appropriately surprised.

"But I might just make an exception in your case."

"'ow sweet of ye!" Beaming, she stopped to place a hand onto her chest, doing her best romance heroine imitation. "I always knew I 'ad a special place in yer 'eart!"

Stepping towards her, he cracked his noble knuckles. "Special? You could definitely say that."

"So, where did ye get da 'and from?" Amy enquired, as if discussing the weather. She was actually quite intrigued. "Graveyard?"

His eyebrows twitched again. Amy decided she would have to see if she could make them dance a waltz sometime. "I. Am. Not. A. Graverobber."

"So, a frivolous robber, den? 'ow unbecoming of a noble peer, Yer Lordship!"

In answer, all he squeezed out between his clenched teeth was one word. "Hospital!"

Amy blinked. "Sorry? Ye wanna put me in a 'ospital?" It certainly looked like it, judging by the way he was staring at her. But it seemed a bit out of character.

His eyebrows twitched again. "That would be an intriguing option, Miss Amy. But no, that is not what I was referring to. I meant that I received a severed hand from a hospital mortuary. I have a contact there."

"Do ye, now?" Smart. Very smart. Not that Amy would ever tell him that out loud.

"Yes." His face darkened, and Amy could tell it was not because of her. "The gang ordered me to assassinate someone, and bring proof of the deed accomplished. It was the only thing I could think of to..."

He proceeded to explain everything that had happened. Amy listened intently, especially when he came to the last part.

"...and then he handed me an envelope." Reaching into his tailcoat, he pulled something out of the inner pocket. "This envelope."

Staring at the thing, Amy stopped in her tracks. Beside her, Lord Patrick did the same. Glancing around, she checked if anyone was within hearing distance and, lowering her voice, enquired, "What does it say inside?"

"I...haven't looked yet." If there was still a trace of hilarity in Amy from the earlier banter, the tone of his voice made it instantly disappear. Glancing up at his face, she saw the conflict roiling in his eyes. "What...what do you think they're going to make me do?"

"I don't know." Reaching out, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. And, amazingly enough, not to pull his shirt off. "But, whatever it is, I'm gonna be with ye all da way."

"Even if I have to—"

He broke off abruptly.

Amy took a deep breath, trying to banish the images that haunted her mind. "Even then."

"Amy?"

"Aye?"

"Thank you."

"Ye're welcome. Now..." Amy placed her hand on the envelope. "Why don't we open dat thing and see what it's gonna take ta take dose bastards down once and for all?"

A determined expression spreading over his face, he nodded. "Yes. Let's do that."

And, grabbing hold of the envelope, he tore it open.

------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

I hope the chapter was good. My brain has more or less stopped working recently. The heat is more or less frying everything right now, including my brain cells...

Yours Truly

(an overheated) Sir Rob