Amy froze. That voice...

Him. It was him.

So much for nothing being around worth punching.

"What is it, Yer Lordship?" she demanded, pronouncing the words as if they were a curse. Which, in her humble opinion, they pretty much were. "Do ye require something from a simple servant such as myself?"

"Yes. I do."

Da nerve of 'im...! Did he think he could actually order her around? Did he think she would run errands and do chores for him, like a paid servant?!

Well...to be fair, he did pay her. Quite a lot, in fact.

So what? I may 'ave hour-long sex marathons with all sorts of people ta earn a living, but doing chores? Even I've got me standards!

Breathing hard, she whirled around, raising her arm to let him have it—only for her hand to be caught in his.

"Your hand, My Lady," he told her, gazing straight into her eyes. "I require your hand. Would you give it to me?"

"H-hand?" Why da 'ell am I stuttering? And 'ow da 'ell come I'm suddenly pronouncing my Hs? What is 'e doing ta me? "What da hell—I mean, what da 'ell, do ye want me 'and for?" Amy demanded, firmly reinstating her native Cockney.

"For what else?" Raising an eyebrow, Lord Patrick Day, last descendant of a noble line so long it could stretch from here all the way to Glasgow, reached out and grabbed Amy's other hand and pulled, twirling her around.

"What da 'ell...!"

She began to struggle, but, effortlessly, he twirled her around again to the music sung by the nocturnal birds, almost as if they were....

She struggled for a moment longer before, abuptly, she realized what he was doing, at which point she stopped resisting out of sheer shock.

He was dancing. Dancing silently under the moonlight, to a melody none but he could hear. Dancing with her.

Instinctively, Amy glanced down at herself. She still was wearing her horrifying, frumpy servant's outfit from hell. Heck, no, nobody in hell be caught dead in such a getup, unless they wanted their butts scorched by Satan! How...how could it possibly be that this man, out of all people...?

Tentatively, she glanced up from under her lashes, only to see Lord Patrick Day gazing straight into her eyes, without a hint of derision or ridicule. Instead, his azure-blue eyes were looking straight at her as if she were...a real person. Not a toy that could be bought for a few pence a night. A real person. Someone who mattered.

She opened her mouth, trying to say something—but no sound came out.

They simply continued to dance under the silent moonlight, late into the night. And, unlike for Cinderella, the strike of midnight did not end the magic.

***

The sound of a cock crowing in the distance woke Amy from her slumber—by far the most pleasant wakeup she had ever received from one of those during her many experiences with them. For a long time, she simply lay there, gazing up at the ceiling, thinking about the weird dream she had last night. Rushing out into the forest like some silly little romantic heroine, being chased by the hero, dancing in the moonlight...

She giggled, and swung her legs out of bed. What an incredibly absurd dream! Amazingly detailed, though. She'd even dreamed about stubbing her toe on a particularly inconveniently placed root and—

"Ow!" Cursing, she grabbed her toe as soon as it touched the ground, and started hopping around her room on one foot. "Boody stinkin' 'ell! What da...!?"

Leaning against the wall, still panting, she removed her fingers from her aching foot and stared down at her big, red, swollen toe.

"Oh crap," she said.

It. Had. Not. Been. A. Dream.

Had it not been a dream?

Dream it had not been.

No matter what order she put the words in, they failed to make any kind of sense. What the bloody hell? Stuff like this simply didn't happen in real life! It was only in romance novels that a poor girl from the bad part of town got picked up by a filthy rich lord, swept up into an adventure, ended up in bed with him, went to a dance with him...

Oh wait.

All of that actually happened, didn't it?

Should she now start having a panic attack? After all...what if he actually loved her? What if she'd misunderstood him all this time? What if he, in fact, wasn't a self-important, arrogant son of a bachelor? What if one day their love could blossom into something beautiful?

For a long moment, she just stood there, the possibilities hovering in the air in front of her. Visions of happiness. Then...

She started snickering.

Yeah, right! She wasn't some silly little girl who was stupid enough to think anything could actually ever come of it! The two of them were worlds apart. Worlds! One of which happened to be bright, shiny and beautiful, while the other was dark, dank and dangerous, and stank horrendously of pigeon shit. And she knew perfectly well which of those two she belonged in, thank you very much.

Having a panic attack? Fat chance! Having fun on the other hand...

A grin spread over her face.

She quite distinctly remembered her nice chat with Her Ladyship, the Dowager-Duchess of Exeter. Just because nothing would actually ever happen between her and His Most Noble Lordship (note capitalization), that didn't mean she couldn't pretend otherwise, did it? Hm...how much would the nice dowager duchess pay for the info that her son had invited his mystery lady to a ball and danced the night away under the moonlight?

Seems she would have to put on her maid outfit once again. Time to make a little trip to Her Ladyship's town house...

Whistling to provide background music to the manifold maleficent plans unfolding in her mind, Amy slipped into her clothes and made her way out of the room and down the elegant, curved staircase.

"Oy, 'ello dere!" Jenny half-rose from the breakfast table, waving at her with an evil twinkle in her eye. "Ye're up late today. Did ye...exercise a little before ye went ta bed?"

"Yes," Amy shot back unashamedly, giving the big-belly-lady a critical look. "Ye should too. I think ye're gettin' fat dese days."

A breakfast bun flew at her head, and she promptly caught it and took a bite, nodding somberly. "Far too many calories. Like I said, exercise."

Glaring at her, Jenny jabbed a finger at the nearest chair. "Sit, before I find something sharper ta throw at ye!"

Grinning, Amy crossed the breakfast room and settled down next to her friend. Shovelling liberal amounts of toast, beans and kipper onto her plate, she let her eyes wander around the room. Last night, she hadn't taken in quite how grand a place it was. Golden sunlight fell in through the beautiful French windows. Beyond the polished glass, the breathtaking manor park stretched as far as the eye could see, providing a marvellous view from the room. Inside the room itself, smiling, happy families and resplendent landscape paintings greeted any visitor from the walls, and beside her at the table covered with delicacies sat...

Oh blast.

"'ello dere." Eyes flashing, Flo smiled up at her. "So nice of ye ta join us. I wanted ta 'ave a chat with ye yesterday, but den ye suddenly were nowhere ta be found and we were shipped off from da vicarage ta dis place. I've been wonderin' where you were ever since."

Double blast. With dynamite on top.

"Um...fancy some kippers?" Amy suggested, holding out the peace offering.

Flo stared down at it as if it were a dog turd. And the way she looked at Amy wasn't too much different, either.

"Ye're in deep shit, ye know?" Eyes glittering dangerously, the little girl jabbed a fork at her face, nearly impaling her nose. "If ye ever go off on yer own without tellin' me, I'll rip ye a new one!"

"Yes, Mum."

"Ye think I'm playin' around? If ye put one toe out of line, I'll string ye up using yer guts as a noose and—"

"Hello, everyone!" a flamboyant voice came from the top of the stairs. "What a pleasure to see you all this fine morning. My apologies for not being able to greet you earlier. You are most welcome in my home!"

"—and could ye 'and me some bacon and eggs, please?" The little girl smiled up at her as innocent as a newborn lamb. The kind that used to be a serial killer in its past life and got screwed over by karma.

"Here, go ahead." Returning the little girl's smile, Amy put food on her plate and then turned to her life saver. Lord Wetherston, husband of Cora and owner of this fine manor, had marched into the room, arm-in-arm with his dear wife. Amy hadn't really met the man often, but she was rather well-disposed towards him. Reason one? The big, fat, blissful smile on her friend Cora's face. Reason two? He had just saved her from being eviscerated by a horde of vengeful children.

She glanced at Flo and the others out of the corner of her eye. Seems like dey ain't gonna try and grill me while someone who ain't in da know is around.

Spiffing.

"Cora! Lord Wetherston! Come, sit!" Beaming, Amy shoved Flo's chair away as far as it would go, making room for Lord and Lady Buffer. "Let's 'ave a nice chat!"

"Thank you." Striding forward, he bowed and sent a warm look at all of the assembled people. "It's heartwarming to see all of you come visit Cora and her friend to support her during this important time."

His gaze lovingly caressed his wife's as-yet flat stomach.

Oh-ho! Slowly, a grin spread across Amy's face. Was Jenny not the only one with a bun in the oven?

"You even brought your family?" Half-turning, Lord Wetherston sent another big smile at Flo, Jo, Leona, Grace and Aggie. "What lovely girls! Have you enjoyed your stay here so far?"

"Very much so, thank ye, Sir," Jo answered with a cutesy smile that could charm the pants off a prince. "Although..." She sent a glance sideways at Amy. "Although we ain't gotten da chance ta see much so far. Someone's bin keepin' us inside and away from anythin' interestin'."

"Really? Well, we must remedy that at the earliest opportunity! I'll make sure to arrange a little tour of the grounds, and maybe a little trip to town, so you all can enjoy yourselves to the fullest! It's the least I can do for my wife's dearest friend, who is being so wonderfully supportive. I should go and inform my steward that—"

"Ehem, My Lord?"

The dry clearing of a throat, as if from an asthmatic librarian choking on dusty books, drew Amy's and everyone else's attention. They all looked at the stiff, grey-haired old man inclining his head in a slight bow behind Lord Wetherston.

"Ah, Mr Farley! Everyone, may I introduce Mr Farley, my steward. Farley, these are my dear wife's friends, Miss Amy Weston, The Honourable Titus Irving, Mr Karim, and their young friends and relatives. Mr Farley, there's something I would like to discuss with you. Could you organize a tour for—"

"I'd be happy to be of service in any manner you desire, Your Lordship," Farley interrupted with another quick bow, "but right at this moment, I fear we lack the time. There's been an accident at the logging site for the new fields."

"By George! Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I'm afraid so, Your Lordship. There are some rather serious injuries, and your presence is required."

"Blast!" With an apologetic look at his wife, he bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I'm so sorry. I would have loved to have breakfast with you and your friends, but..."

"Oh, go, ye!" She gave him a gentle slap. "Ye 'eard da man! Yer people need ye!"

"You," he told her, "are the best woman in the world." Bending down, he gave her a searing kiss on the lips. "I love you. Have fun. Enjoy your time with your friends. I'll be back in a moment, sweetling."

Then, straightening, he whirled around and marched out of the room, leaving behind a thoroughly flushed and befuddled Cora.

Amy smirked. "So, I gather ye 'aven't told yer dear 'usband dat 'is lady wife is gallavantin' around rescuing children from da grasp of perverted villains, 'ave ye, 'sweetling'?"

"Shh!" Rushing forward, Cora squeezed past the table and slapped a hand over Amy's mouth, looking around in panic for any husbands in hearing range. Ah. Amy decided that this probably more or less answered her question. "Of course I 'aven't! I can't tell 'im stuff like dat! 'e thinks I'm da perfect little wife, a demure, ladylike, lovely flower!"

"He does? Really?" Blinking, Amy inspected her friend from top to bottom. "Err...is 'e blind?"

That got her a punch against the shoulder.

"Be serious!"

Amy was tempted to point out that she very much was, but the look on her friend's face told her it might be wiser not to.

"No talkin to 'im about any of dis, understood?" Cora commanded. "I..." The expression on her face shifted, turning almost...pleading? "I'm 'appy with 'im. And...'e loves da woman 'e thinks I am. Please. I don't want anything ta change. Please?"

"All right." Feeling a lump in her throat, Amy nodded. For some reason, her gaze flickered over to the stairs and the upper storey, where a certain lord was still fast asleep. Then she turned back to Cora, meeting her eyes. "All right, I won't tell 'im anything."

"Th-thank ye."

"Oy! Don't get mushy on me! Now let's finish breakfast! I'm sure once yer 'usband comes back, we'll be plenty busy."

"Busy?"

Amy pointed at Flo & Co, who were currently gazing out of the window with greedy eyes, clearly already calculating how much havoc they could raise throughout the palatial estate. Jo's eyes were flicking from nick-nack to nick-nack, trying her best to estimate the value of all her prospective loot.

"Ah." Cora swallowed. "Busy."

"Look at it dis way," Amy pointed out, patting her friend on the back. "At least dey won't devour us alive for leavin' dem behind last night."

"Instead, dey'll just devour everythin' in my pantry and wallet?"

"Right ye are! So, better eat up, everyone. Like I said, we've got a busy day ahead." Lowering her voice and pulling the hand-drawn plan of a certain castle out of her pocket, she whispered, "For more dan one reason."

Giving somber nods—except for Titus who would probably never do anything that was just one letter away from "sober"—everyone reached for the nearest platters of food and dug into their breakfast. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day. And unless Flo & Co would decide to show mercy, it might also be their last one.

"Ehem..." Cora nudged Amy, glancing at the maids and footmen waiting in the corner of the rooms, ready to jump to her command. "Shouldn't we send someone ta wake Lord Patrick?"

"Ye know..." Amy snapped her fingers. "Ye're right! Ye're absolutely right. We should give 'im a nice wakeup." Then, before Cora could speak, Amy leaned over, sending a certain smaller someone a smile and a wink. "Say, Flo...we can't really go on dat tour of da town while 'is Lordship is still snoozing away upstairs. What would ye say ta going upstairs and giving 'im a gentle nudge?"