“Lord Cedric Philips,” the girl said, her red eyes flashing. “Is that any way to greet your sister? Mother and Father taught you better than that.”

Nicole does a double-take. His sister? At first glance, the Lord looks nothing like the girl dressed in black. The girl had straight, platinum blonde hair while Cedric had wavy umber locks. But the longer she stares at them, the more she sees the resemblance. They had the same full lips with a prominent cupid’s bow and deep-set eyes.

“I thought I wasn’t family anymore,” he said, keeping his distance from his sister.

“Mother and Father are reconsidering that,” she said. “They want you back in the Family.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Cedric said, his voice dripping with acid.

“Our Family has gotten much bigger ever since you left,” his sister said. “They need your help to manage the new members.”

Nicole had a feeling that their so-called “family” wasn’t anything like her own. There was something off about this meeting. She sensed a lot of unresolved issues between the siblings, issues that created a tension so thick she could slice through it with her dagger. Too bad therapists didn’t exist in Victorian England, at least not the kind of therapists she had in mind.

“You came to tell me to babysit?” Cedric asks, incredulous. “This has got to be a joke.”

“Have I ever been known to joke about serious matters like this?” she asks. Despite her smaller stature, she clearly held the power in the conversation.

He glares at her. "Then why shoot me? You said they needed me." He takes off his glove, using it to wipe the blood off his face.

She shrugs. “I wanted to test your instincts. It seems that you’re still slow as ever. You’re lucky that bullet only left a cut. I should’ve expected nothing more from someone so weak and talentless.”

Cedric fires a bullet at her. Nicole thinks it’s going to hit his sister, but the girl dodges it easily, moving faster than her eye could see. Her mouth hangs open in surprise.

“Tsk tsk, Cedric,” his sister said. “You know better than to do that. Guns are my forte.”

Cedric’s jaw clenches. “Leave,” the Lord commands. “Consider that bullet my answer to the Family’s invitation.”

“You should think about it before you give me an answer so quickly. You were always the Family’s disappointment. They’re giving you a chance to redeem yourself,” she said, moving closer to him. A small smile graces her face.

Cedric hesitates. Nicole could see that his sister’s offer appealed to him, but something was holding him back.

“Rick, I miss you,” she said. “It hasn’t been the same since you left, you know? The Family is powerful, but they need order. You were always good at managing stuff.”

The Lord flinches as his sister’s nickname for him. He backs away from her, holding on to Nicole’s arm. Nicole could feel Cedric’s tight grasp on her and the way his hands shook. She wasn’t used to him being unsettled by anything. He was the type of person to smile in the face of danger. But now, he was cowering near her, clinging to her like he was a kid.

“Cedric will think about your offer,” Nicole said, speaking up for him, addressing his sister. “But you need to leave and give him some time.” She stands taller, hoping she appeared more confident than she felt.

“You’ve changed,” the girl said, ignoring Nicole. “Are you really going to let a maid speak on your behalf?” Now it was her turn to glare at Cedric’s sister.

“She’s not just some maid,” Cedric said, straightening his back. He loosens his grip on Nicole. She blinks, surprised that he defended her. “And she’s right, Alice. You need to leave. I will give you an answer within a fortnight.”

His sister’s eyes darted between him and Nicole. Then she smirks, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’re growing up.” For the first time that night, Alice’s face softens. “You don’t even look like my brother anymore.” Sadness creeps into her eyes. Nicole feels bad for the girl. It probably wasn’t easy having a brother like Cedric.

A shadow falls over the Lord’s face. His face mirrors Alice’s sad expression. Nicole senses that the siblings never wanted to leave each other. She makes a mental note to ask Cedric what drove them apart.

Alice departs, walking further into the maze of roses. Cedric sits on a ledge of one of the flower beds, exhaustion dragging his face down. Nicole watches him tuck the revolver into his coat, his movements sluggish.

“We could go back to the manor if you’d like,” she said, sitting next to him. “You seem like you could use some rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “We should continue our walk. Didn’t you say you had trouble sleeping?”

She shakes her head. The Lord was in no place to worry about her. “I’ll be fine after a bowl of milk.”

“A bowl of milk does sound nice right about now,” he said. He gets up and offers her his hand. “Shall we go back inside?”

She smiles inwardly, taking his hand. He pulls her up and they walk out of the garden, hand in hand. The mental image she had of him was no longer that of a cold lord. He was different in her eyes, simultaneously more complex and softer. The night started with her wanting to know more about him. Somehow, that curiosity grew with the events of the night. She had a dozen questions bubbling in her mouth and the strange urge to hug him. Mentally, she swats these thoughts away. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was coming down with an awful case of Stockholm syndrome.

In the manor, a grumpy Martha greets them, having been rudely awakened by Ruth. She showed no fear on her face, her features betraying no indication that there was a threat in the manor.

“You’re lucky Ruth was still awake,” the head maid said, ladling warm bowls of milk. Meanwhile, Ruth sat at the table in the kitchen across from them, restless.

“I had a terrible nightmare. I couldn't stop running and there was this terrifying monster behind me that kept making this awful noise. I was in this dark hallway and these bloody walls kept closing in on me. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't wake up," the girl said.

"It was only a dream," Martha reassured her. She shared a meaningful look with Cedric while filling up the bowls. Nicole suspected that it was about the danger that had been in the manor. Whatever it was, she hoped it had been chased out. She wasn't sure she could handle another violent confrontation for the night.

"You two couldn’t sleep either?” Ruth asks Nicole and Cedric.

“Yup,” she and the Lord said simultaneously. They give each other a strange look, baffled by their timing. The child maid laughs at the pair.

“I saw you guys holding hands before,” she said, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. “Are you in love?”

“No!” the two blurt, synchronizing their speech again. They face each other briefly, red as tomatoes, before avoiding each other’s gaze.

"Just because two people hold hands, it doesn't mean they're in love," Martha chided. She sets a bowl of milk down before Ruth.

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be wrong. They’re both the same age unless Nicole lied about that,” Ruth said. She leans forward, taking a sip of the milk.

Nicole blinks rapidly. The same age? The Lord always seemed older to her. Maybe his eyepatch had added a few extra years to his face, but she reckoned it was his height that gave the illusion of age.

“I didn’t lie about that,” she tells Ruth. “I am eighteen.” She was still hurt that the girl had called her an old woman the other day.

“If you say so,” Ruth responds. “But you and the Lord are lying about your feelings for each other.” She bristles at the remark. What did this child know about love?

She could feel Cedric rolling his eyes next to her. The ten-year-old maid had no clue what she was talking about. Her and the Lord? They barely even knew each other!

Then why did her mind keep going back to the moment where he had tried to protect her? He had held her so close that her heartbeat quickened for a second.

I’m losing it, she thinks. He’s not even that attractive.

She looks over at him again and finds that, contrary to her thoughts, he was indeed very attractive. But, as handsome as the Lord was, it didn’t excuse his cold heart or the things he did to her. After all, what kind of girl likes wearing a maid outfit and being locked in a basement?

Her face heats up at the implications of that thought. She was the kind of girl who liked those sorts of things but not the way he had done them to her.

“What are you thinking about?” the Lord asks her. Martha places their steaming bowls of milk before them, wiping her red hands on her apron.

“Nothing,” she said, picking up her bowl with both hands. She quickly puts the bowl back down, the porcelain still hot to the touch.

“Nothing? Then why is your face so red?” he inquires, drinking his own bowl of milk. Cedric doesn’t even flinch when touching the hot bowl. Of course, he doesn’t flinch, he’s a demon.

“The milk is too hot,” she said. She knew well enough that her face had been red before Martha gave them the milk, but she also knew Cedric wasn’t stupid enough to correct her. He would seem like he had feelings for her if he did. That was how the game of love went. Not like she had feelings for him, though.

She leans down to take a sip of the milk, the hot liquid coursing to her stomach. She smiles in spite of herself. The milk tasted better than she thought.

“Wait for it to cool off before you drink it,” he scolds. “You’ll burn your tongue.”

She frowns. Leave it to him to ruin her moment. “I know how to drink milk,” she retorts. Pain sets into her stomach and she feels a slight wave of nausea. Fuck. She had forgotten she was lactose intolerant. Well, she didn’t actually forget. In all honesty, she didn’t care about her lactose intolerance. Nothing was going to stop her from eating delicious dairy products. Another wave of nausea hits her stomach. Well, maybe she should stop now while she can. She takes another sip of the milk. It was a lot more delicious than the stuff she drank at home, creamier and sweeter. She continues drinking it until she finishes the bowl, ignoring her stomach’s complaints.

“You drink milk like Mr. Whiskers,” Ruth says, noting her empty bowl. “He loves the manor’s milk too.”

“Mr. Whiskers has good taste,” Nicole replies. She feels something soft brush against her legs and looks under the table.

“Mr. Whiskers!” Ruth exclaims. The young maid crawls under the table, getting to the cat’s level. “What are you doing here?”

“Meow,” said the cat, ducking out of the tiny maid’s grasp. He hops on the table and makes a beeline for Cedric’s bowl.

“Oh no, you don’t,” the Lord said, moving his bowl out of the cat’s reach. “This is my milk. Besides, you don’t deserve a thing for letting that woman into my house.”

“Hey!” Nicole said, slightly offended by Cedric’s accusation. “Mr. Whiskers was only trying to do the right thing by bringing me here.”

“I disagree. If the ‘right thing’ to do was to put my life in danger, then I should just get rid of Mr. Whiskers,” the Lord said.

“Please don’t!” Ruth makes a move to shield the cat. “He’s such a sweet baby. It would be a crime to kill him.”

“Oh don’t worry, Ruth,” Nicole said. “The Lord will never get rid of him.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Cedric asks. “I am the Lord of this manor. I will do whatever I please with this animal.”

“The Lord will never make Mr. Whiskers leave because he loves Aaron,” she whispers loudly, pretending to tell Ruth a secret. “And Aaron loves the cat. So if the Lord wants Aaron to love him, he won’t throw away the cat.” She suppresses a giggle building up in her chest.

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Really? But Aaron is a man, not a lady. How-”

“You know I can hear every word you’re saying, Miss Walker,” Cedric said, his voice hardening.

“I wasn’t trying to hide what I was saying,” she sneers. She wasn’t intimidated by his domineering behavior. If she wanted to poke fun at him, nothing was going to stop her.

“Oh? So you think I’m in love with my butler?” he asks. “I don’t know how you come up with these strange fantasies.” His voice took on a lighter tone as if to say two could play at her game.

“I don’t think you’re in love with your butler. I know you’re in love with your butler,” she said, attempting to regain the upper hand.

“I won’t entertain such delusions,” the Lord said. “Maybe you think these strange things because you’re in love with me.”

“As if!” She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, betraying her emotions. She was so outraged by the accusation that she could feel her body temperature rise with her rage. She preferred the elegant Lillian to this arrogant lord.

“I rest my case,” the Lord said.

For a brief moment, her vision turns red. Then she takes a deep breath, releasing her anger.“I’m just tired,” she said. “I’m going to bed.” She heads for the staircases and then stops, realizing that she doesn’t know the way to her room.

Cedric walks up to her, giving her that devilish smile. “Lost?”

“A little,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be happy to lead you there if you say please,” he said, offering her his arm.

“Please,” she mumbles.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” the Lord said.

“May you please lead me to my room?” she asked, gritting her teeth. God, he was annoying.

“Of course. Since the lady asked so nicely, I suppose I must help her,” he said. She rolls her eyes and reluctantly links arms with him, allowing him to lead her to the guest room once again.

“Can you sleep now?” the Lord asks. They were standing outside the door of the guest room.

“I think so,” she said. “About your sister…”

“What about her?” The Lord’s voice had turned stone cold.

“Why did you have to leave your family? You clearly miss her,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he said, growing more defensive. “Actually, I have a question for you, Miss Walker. How did that dagger of yours turn into a sword?”

She gulps, unsure of how to answer his question. If only Lillian had prepared her for something like this!

Before she could utter a half-assed excuse, the Lord collapsed, falling to the carpet.