Everett Hembry had quickly grown tired of waiting for Lord Jameson Wilmington to return to their meeting place, and within a five-minute, he wandered out to seek his daughter. To his surprise, that very Lord Jameson stood with his arm around Aylee, begging permission of his father to speak to the girl alone.

Though Everett did not worry overmuch at the beginning, when the young man's time alone with his daughter turned from a few minutes into half-an-hour, Master Hembry could not quite countenance such an indulgence. He hesitated to reflect negatively upon the young man to his father, but he could not reconcile himself to abandon his daughter in such a way, so he finally approached the young servant who had accompanied “Jess” to the Hembry home.

“Master Itchy,” Everett began, “might I request permission to interrupt your master, Lord Jameson, in his conference with my daughter. I fear that she might require representation lest she comport herself in a less-than-ladylike fashion.”

Itchy gaped at Master Hembry. “Not Aylee, surely,” he countered, but then his countenance tightened into a knowing expression. “Though I do not fear that Lord Jameson intends ill toward your daughter, you are perhaps wise in your wish to break up the so-private consultation between them. If you please, though, might I interrupt them for you?”

Though he wished to ascertain for himself exactly what the conference had entailed, Everett shrugged his acquiescence. Before the servant could move forward in his objective, however, James called the pair over to speak to him.

“In what do you so secretly consult each other, my friends?” he demanded.

“Um,” Itchy stuttered, “I had just informed Master Hembry of my wish to seek out your son. I believe we last saw him in conference with Aylee Hembry around half-an-hour ago, before you admitted your most recent case into the grand hall.”

James shook his head, surprised that he had allowed a mere legal proceeding to so distract him from his son's situation, one for which Jameson had born anxiety for days. “Well, let us find them,” James insisted.

Though they could not refuse, Itchy and Everett exchanged a look of regret. Whatever Aylee and Jameson had discussed for the past half-hour, Everett hoped it would reflect well on his daughter's character.

When Aylee heard the knock at the door, her heart stopped, and she froze. Until that moment, the impropriety of the situation had smothered under the sheer elation that Jess's words had effected within her. Still, he had not even approached her father to ask permission, and she had already agreed with more than just her words. Jameson did not fall so easily to inaction, and he gently lifted Aylee to her feet and stood to his own. Stepping to the door, he opened it with a smile into the pleased countenance of his father and the nervous visages of both Everett Hembry and Itchy. Though under any other circumstance, Jameson might have sensed his misstep, in the current moment, he could only feel delight at the events that had just taken place. His own father would not refuse, and as James's heir, he could risk no real repercussions for his actions outside of her father's displeasure. Still, he respected Everett Hembry and so did not smile quite as shamelessly as his pleasure would have allowed.

If Aylee could have taken her eyes from the ground, Everett might never have suspected what had passed in the little portrait room off of the grand hall, but she could not. Itchy alone thought that he understood the true import of the expressions on his friend's faces. After all, he had spent two months watching Jameson try to win her and watching Aylee proudly reject him. His face spoke triumph, and hers concession. Still, the nearly imperceptible smile upon her lips implied that her defeat had occurred with her full permission.

“I propose,” Jameson blustered, “that we call for a meal. I am famished, and I believe our business with Miss Hembry has reached a satisfactory resolution.

Aylee's smile broke into a full-fledged grin, though she did not raise her eyes. Everett stared at each of his companions in turn, seeking enlightenment from their expressions, though finding none. On each face, a different emotion peeked out onto the surface. James seemed as pleasantly unaffected as ever, Jameson wore blatant delight, Aylee, a shy pleasure. Only Itchy's curious skepticism spoke any wisdom that might help elucidate Everett toward the events that had passed. He got the distinct impression that Lord Jameson and Aylee had exchanged an amusing secret, and only Itchy suspected its contents.