"Because you are a great lord, you believe yourself to be a great genius. You took the trouble to be born, but no more."

Pierre Beaumarchais

I come out of my bedroom and barely have a chance to close the door when I literally run into Tilda, a court lady, distinguished by her special love of gossip. Not that many in the palace don't like gossip, but for Tilda rumors and gossip are almost a mania. Whenever anything happens, she is the first to know, and immediately hastens to share the news with the whole palace, out of altruism of course. In short, the woman is a fount of information, and at the same time is extremely dangerous if you want to hide something.

"Nessa, have you heard the terrible news?" Tilda exclaims, not bothering with such trivial things as "good morning."

Uttering the word "terrible", she widens her eyes with a look of delight on her face.

"No, I have not yet," I respond eagerly.

Learning new gossip early in the morning is always helpful.

"Baron Crown!" Tilda rushes to enlighten me. "He has suffered a terrible accident. Yesterday, during a walk, he slipped and broke his right leg. Good thing he only fell from a low height."

"How did he manage that?" I throw up my hands, mentally putting the facts together.

My conversation with Estley took place the day before yesterday. Then yesterday Crown had an accident. Coincidence? Of course not.

"Nobody really knows," Tilda says, her eyes widening again. It seems that this fact pleases and distresses her at the same time, adding a sense of mystery to the news. «It seems that the Baron himself fails to understand how it happened. Well, now he will certainly be more cautious. Once he's able to walk again, which, however, may not happen soon. Yesterday a doctor visited him, and said that for the next few weeks Crown will have to stay in bed. Not surprising, considering his injury."

I solemnly nod, indicating that I am impressed by the story. Fully satisfied with this effect, Tilda quickly bids me goodbye and hurries off to spread the news. I set off to search for Estley, who is quite easy to find.

"Lady Inessa!" He greets me when we run into each other in one of the living rooms. "I was just going to send you a note. I intend to fulfill the last part of our agreement. Do you want to accompany me to see Crown?"

"Of course."

Estley gallantly offers me his arm, and I take it, noting in passing that Baroness Lastly is giving me an envious look. This was, by the way, completely unnecessary. First, the only thing we have in common is business, and second, the Baroness has a very jealous husband. But for some reason I feel like annoying her, so I lean heavily on Estley's elbow.

"Do you intend to visit Baron Crown?" I clarify sarcastically while we climb the grand staircase covered with expensive dark red carpet.

Since I don’t feel sorry for the Baron in the least, I speak on this subject calmly.

"Indeed," Estley confirms. "That's how noble and generous people act. Or am I mistaken?"

One has to know Lord Cameron very well to catch the notes of vitriol in his otherwise serious tone.

I acknowledge that milord is not mistaken, and the rest of the way we walk in silence. Estley lets me pass through into the chamber where Baron Crown is recovering from his accident, and then enters the room himself. The Count signals to the valet, and the latter goes out into the hall.

Crown’s bandaged leg is motionless on the blanket. The Baron winces painfully, lifting his head from the pillow to look at the visitors – I'm sure not the first ones today, and undoubtedly not the last.

Following Estley's silent instructions, I sit down in an armchair by the window, which is somewhat away from the bed. The Count himself chooses the seat closest to the bed.

"How are you feeling, Baron?" He asks politely but icily.

"Thank you for your concern. Pretty awful," Crown moans, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand.

At this moment, I for some reason vividly recall how this same hand shamelessly pawed at a helpless woman just a few days ago. Grimacing with disgust, I look away; unable to sympathize with the man, who is surely in a considerable amount of pain.

"Please accept my condolences," Estley responds in the same cold tone. "What does the doctor say?"

"What can this charlatan say?" The Baron brushes him off — irritably. I snort quietly: the ducal healer — a charlatan? "Bed rest, some stupid oils, supposedly good for strengthening bones, and the like."

"I see. Well," says Estley "I would like to add to the doctor's advice some recommendations of my own."

The Baron looks up at him with some surprise, but Estley, as if nothing has happened, continues:

"Fractures, Lord Crown, have a nasty tendency of recurring. Luckily for you, you only broke your leg, but sometimes people even break their necks. So, to ensure this does not happen to you, I highly recommend that you cease all interaction with Lady Audrey Stelton. Just forget that she exists," he says, seemingly not noticing how the patient's face has become pale and drawn. "Oh, and one more thing: I advise you to forget about the unfortunate misunderstanding associated with her father's title. Memory, you know, can be a very harmful thing to the healing bone. I hope I have made myself clear?"

"Y-yes."

The Baron shrinks back into the bed.

"Wonderful. The next few days you need complete peace and quiet. Then, when you are allowed to move around, you will leave for your family estate. You will be much more comfortable recovering there. Moreover, the Duke no longer needs your services. Do not worry; the servants will very carefully carry you to the carriage. And in the meanwhile, get some rest." His tone abruptly changes to benevolent. "Recover, regain your strength, and get ready to move. Lady Inessa, are you coming with me?"

"Yes, Lord Cameron." I rise from my chair and take the hand offered by the Count. "I think the Baron has a lot to think about."

Mireya and I sit in the cozy living room, located next to the Duchess' chambers. After Audrey enters the room and curtseys, we dismiss the servants. Mireya bids the lady in waiting to sit down.

"So," she inquires with obvious impatience "what did Lord Estley tell you?"

"Everything happened the way you said it would." The girl says, crossing her hands on her knees. "When Inessa passed along his invitation, I went to his study. Lord Estley treated me very politely and kindly. He said that he would be able to solve my problem, and make sure that Baron Crown leaves me alone. Furthermore, he promised that the Baron would be expelled from the palace. Then he mentioned that I will owe him a favor. I said of course, as long as it's in my power. Lord Cameron replied he won't require anything difficult. He said he needs to be aware of what is happening in Lady Mireya's territory — who comes here, what people talk about, and so on. Also, if I can from time to time pass along such information, he would take on himself to solve my current difficulties. And any other hardships of this kind, if any arise in the future."

"And you?.." Mireya gives her a meaningful look.

"As you ordered, I pretended to ponder the offer, and then said that I agree. That I am ready to do anything to stop harassment from the Baron."

"Wonderful!"

I could not help but exclaim, and then rub my hands together in satisfaction.

Mireya is watching my actions with a smile.

"Excellent, Audrey," she says. "You did everything right. You may go."

"If Lord Estley asks questions about specific things, tell us first," I add, putting aside my glee for a moment. "Besides, we will from time to time supply you with information that you will then pass on to him."

"Truthful information?" she clarifies just in case.

"Well, of course!" I assure her, almost offended by the question. Then I blink and correct myself: "At least, true to some extent."

Meanwhile, the problem of dowry still remains to be solved. Of course, I assured Estley that I could easily deal with this issue on my own, but that was mainly bravado. In fact, it is quite complicated. However, complications are not a reason to give up.

This time I managed to convince Mireya to hold off such radical measures as stealing the seal, and to try a more legitimate way first. Namely, to seek the support of the King. By now already two letters sent from the palace with different maids were resting on Estley's table, or maybe turned into a handful of ashes in his fireplace. I do not know, I wasn't invited to look at the result of his espionage. But one way or another, both maids were stopped before they could go out into the yard, and the letters were taken from them. So now I have decided to take matters into my own hands.

Of course, I am being watched, so I have to be cunning, which is why I choose a different route than usual. Throwing a cloak over my shoulders, I quickly run down the narrow backstairs and as quickly rush to the inconspicuous side exit door. But when the door to salvation is just a couple of steps away, it swings open without my help.

I almost whistle, impressed by such alacrity. Cameron Estley himself enters the building and stands leaning against the doorpost. In his gaze, mixed together, are reproach, sham fatigue and something akin to pleading. "Let's not make it harder than it has to be," says his gaze. I resolutely straighten my back and stare at Estley defiantly.

"Lady Inessa," he sighs, correctly interpreting my body language. "Please come with me."

At the same time, it is obvious he is not going to let me out.

Seeing as I do not have much choice, I follow Estley into one of the rooms on the first floor. The Count closes the door, and even glances at the window, as if checking to see if I could escape into the yard in such a peculiar way. Then he practically blocks my way to the door with his body, and crosses his arms on his chest.

"Lady Inessa," he says, "I propose to reduce our communication to a minimum, and make it as pleasant as possible. I know that you have a letter that you intend to send to the capital. You know that I will not allow you to do so. So let's cut our losses. Just give me the letter. Then tell your mistress that you did everything you could, but it did not work."

"But I haven't done everything I could yet, right?" I retort, trying to stall for time.

"If you must," Estley unhappily shrugs his shoulders. "I am just proposing an option which makes everybody's life easier. You will still give me the letter before you leave this room."

"Which letter?" I bat my eyelashes.

He does not even smile.

"Lady Inessa, do not confuse determination and stubbornness. The former is highly commendable, but you should quit while you're ahead. I am not letting you out of here until I get that letter."

"Are you going to search me?" I am surprised.

Estley winces.

"You know perfectly well that if I have to, I will," he states firmly. "Please note: I'm doing my best to avoid it. The need to apply such measures to you brings me no joy. But I will do what I have to do. Therefore, I repeat, give me the letter voluntarily."

"Really voluntarily – it's virtually at gunpoint!" I exclaim.

"This is a pointless conversation," Estley rolls his eyes." Do you want to stand in here for a couple of hours and discuss my methods? To tell you the truth, I have other things to do."

"What a coincidence! So do I," I grin. "So maybe we should simply part amicably? Each will go about their duties. Then you will tell the Duke that you did everything you could, but it did not work."

Estley sighs reproachfully, purposefully showing his irritation, but then for some reason he chuckles.

"You just can't stop digging in your heels, can you?" He narrows his eyes. "Tell me, Lady Inessa, why you are so devoted to your mistress?"

"That's none of your business," I snap.

Only then do I realize that replying in this way was short-sighted. At this rate, I'll just provoke Estley, and he will do everything just to get the information he is interested in. This is the last thing I want.

"There is no particular reason," I hurry to assuage him. "Nothing interesting. Devotion is like love. You never can tell exactly where it comes from. It just exists, that's all."

"Well, for love there is always a reason, and usually a compelling one," Estley remarks. "But we digress to abstract discussions. Why are you so actively defending her right to that money?"

"It's her money," I say forcefully.

"Which she absolutely doesn't need," replies Lord Cameron. "She does not use it, and if she hadn't found out that the Duke needs it, she wouldn't have even noticed the sum had changed. What is all the fuss about, Lady Inessa? Mireya Almikonte even without this amount will remain one of the richest brides in the country. Her dowry is so substantial that truthfully, we are talking about a drop in the ocean."

"Not exactly a drop," I disagree. "Right now she may not need that money. But what if tomorrow she decides to get married? Suddenly, her dowry is not so substantial anymore, after the Duke has had his way with it! "

"It won't happen," says the Count, fully self-righteous. "But even if theoretically that somehow were to happen, the Duke would certainly correct the situation by adding the necessary amount to her dowry. Believe me; he is interested in a suitable match for his sister no less than Lady Mireya. He would never let a successful marriage fail because of such a minor detail."

"The trouble is that the opinions of the Duke and his sister on what kind of marriage is considered successful don't always coincide," I point out.

Estley shrugs indifferently.

"Well, in any case she will not be able to be married against the wishes of the Duke. He simply won't allow it. What do you mean by a successful marriage — a love match? But then, don't you think it would be weird for the dowry to get in the way of marital happiness? If the hypothetical fiancé really loved her, he would be ready to take her even without any money, wouldn't he?"

"You are shifting the conversation towards the topic of romance," I snap, feeling the sarcasm in his words. "I'm talking strictly about rights. Mireya has the right to decide what to do with that money. If she wants it to lie in the treasury for decades gathering dust, she's entitled to do so. If she wants to, she can bury it in the ground and wait to see whether or not it sends up sprouts."

"But the Duke prefers to use it for a good cause," Estley counters. "Maybe you do not know, but he's not putting it into his own pocket, he's going to finance a school for craftsmen."

"Oh, of course, I'm aware of that." I try to make my smile as acid as possible. "There is only one small detail which you, Lord Estley, conveniently forget to mention. Or simply do not want to? What about the cute luxurious mansion the Duke is going to build for himself on the sly in the southern part of the Duchy?"

I expect my words to take my companion down a peg, at least a little. But Cameron Estley is not one to become flustered because of such nonsense.

"So what?" he asks as though he really does not understand what is so reprehensible about the aforementioned fact. "Of course, where the new venture is, especially such a large project, there is the person who will oversee it. And that person will have to live somewhere. By the way, most likely it will not be the Duke, but someone from his retinue — the one whom he will appoint to this position. Do not look at me as if you had just caught me red handed! It is beyond any doubt that it will not be me: I have more than enough to do here."

"In any case, I know without a shadow of a doubt the Duke will use this house whenever he pleases," I insist.

"Absolutely," agrees Estley. "And has it occurred to you, Lady Inessa, that Mireya Almikonte will also be able to use the house at a moment's notice? Whenever she wants to treat her nerves in the southern climate or have a couple of flings away from her brother?"

"Mireya Almikonte hates the province," I snap.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the feelings were mutual," shrugs Estley. "You did not even bother to consider it, but the construction of the mansion, as well as the school itself, will be very good for this area. New jobs, attracting high-class masters, some of which may at the same time agree to teach courses to the apprentices."

"This is all pointless," I sigh, shaking my head wearily.

"What is? Courses?"

"No, our discussion. You still will defend the interests of the Duke, and I Lady Mireya's."

"Your wording is not entirely correct," calmly replies the Count. "You are defending the interests of Lady Mireya, and I, the interests of the Duchy. Do you see the difference?"

If he is hoping that these words will make a lasting impression on me, he is in for a disappointment.

"Do you want a medal?" I snap. "Ask the Duke — he certainly won't stint. Especially if it is struck at other people's expense."

"If I ever need a medal, I'll be sure to remember your advice," promises Estley. "Well, Lady Inessa. I see that the debate is really meaningless. I have tried to reason with you, but it has turned out to be an exercise in futility. So we are back where we started: give me the letter."

"No."

"Give it to me or I will be forced to take it."

"I won't give it to you".

"Where did you hide it?"

His ploy works: I do not answer with words, but for a split second I instinctively lower my eyes.

"I see." Now the eyes of Lord Cameron focus on my décolleté. "That's what I thought." He raises his gaze from my cleavage, albeit reluctantly. "Lady Inessa, give me the letter amicably."

"I'll see you damned first."

He finally shakes his head as if to say that from this point on I'm fully to blame for his actions. Then he steps closer to me and presses me against the wall.

Head thrown back, I look at him languidly, slightly part my lips, and thrust forward my breasts heaving beneath the corset.

"Do you want to engage in this search so badly, Lord Cameron?" I ask breathlessly, bringing my mouth almost to his chin.

For a couple of seconds Estley freezes. Reading the emotion on his face is not easy, but in any case it certainly does not look like he is made of stone. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, sighs and stares at me with his usual insightful look.

"Did you intend to throw me for a loop? Good idea and masterful execution." He swallows, as if to confirm his words. "But your plan has failed."

Estley's hand firmly slides right into my cleavage. Although I am expecting such a move, I nevertheless flinch as his fingers touch my chest. However, I must admit that he doesn’t linger any longer than absolutely necessary. He finds the envelope easily and draws it out, and then quickly walks away, setting me free. I think that if I were to run off with cheeks burning from shame, he would not try to stop me. But I am not that sort. So I just continue to stand there, calmly adjusting my lace ruffles. My only reaction is to step away from the wall.

Estley quickly tears open the envelope and scans the letter. He gives a satisfied nod.

"The content is the same as in the previous two cases," he concludes. "However, I will still check this letter for hidden messages later. Lady Inessa, I'm sorry about what happened, but you left me no choice. Would you be so kind as to fulfill my request. Tell Lady Almikonte to stop fighting this meaningless war. It will save all of us a lot of time and effort."

"May I go now?" I ask angrily. "Or maybe you want to look for something else?"

It seems, in his eyes, I detect the desire to somehow defuse the conflict, but ultimately Estley just nods and says:

"You may go."

Passing him, I stop for a second.

"You are a real scumbag!" I hiss, looking him straight in the eye. "And one day you'll pay for this."

Estley does not bother to say anything. Or maybe he takes too long pondering his words, and simply has no chance to say anything. I literally fly out of the room, and then flee the palace as well.

As I come out of the gate, my face is distorted with rage; I walk down the street a bit. Then I take a carriage, tell the driver the address and sit down, carefully shutting the curtains on the windows.

As if with a wave of a magic wand, all my anger dissipates. Smiling in satisfaction, I pull off my left black shoe. I deftly pry off the insole with my fingernail, as the insole actually has a secret double layer, and pull out a paper hidden in the shoe. The sheet has been folded several times. I unfold it and quickly look over it, smiling contentedly. Of course, the missive is a little rumpled from such treatment, but it doesn't matter. His Majesty will read a message from his close relative Mireya Almikonte in any case.

I hand the letter to the messenger with the order to drive at full speed. I am in no hurry to return to the palace. The deed is done, and now I can afford to take a walk. I have time to just relax, breathe in deeply the fresh autumn air and push with the tip of my shoes the fallen leaves gathered in large piles at the edges of the pavement.

Lord Estley was completely right in assuming that part of the intercepted letter might be hidden from view, written in invisible ink. Going into his office, he hastens to test this assumption and carefully moves the sheet of paper above a candle. Letters appear. Sitting at his desk, the Count reads the following message:

"Dear Lord Cameron,

I hope you liked my breasts, because you will never have another chance to touch them. The letter, the sending of which you so desperately sought to prevent, is at the moment already on its way to the royal palace. You will not be able to intercept it in time.

I hope you are not angry with me.

Sincerely yours,

Inessa Antego."

End of part one

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