DO THEY HAVE SUCH… INTEREST.

She stopped a guard and questioned him on the whereabouts of the guards in charge of the operations of her estate. She was pointed the way, and the guard was jabbed with knowing smiles as she walked away—but soon felt a chill down their back, as if the very mansion scorned their actions.

After meeting a guard, Lucinda was disappointed with her findings. A large sector of the house was already locked off to them after the fire was put out. She couldn't leave without informing Silas, and the keys were also in his possession. It wasn't like she was scared of Silas, but she wasn't in the mood to answer his questions—which she was sure he would ask. She had to get to her secret room and retrieve it. She couldn't even give that task to Connor.

He had provided the materials for her creation, but that's where his involvement had ended. Her work was the deepest, most intimate part of her heart—for more reasons than one.

She would just have to find another way to get the keys. A couple of maids curtsied to her as they passed and giggled in suppressed excitement.

She grinned as an idea formed.

"Pardon me!" she called to the maids. It couldn't be that hard, right?

•••

Lucinda shifted and adjusted her maid uniform. Her long hair was pulled into a tight low bun.

She ducked her head in acknowledgment to her fellow maids as she passed by, then made sure her lower veil was covering her mouth well.

Finally, she stood in front of Silas' office with the cleaning supplies, trying not to talk herself out of it. No one would believe this disguise, she chastised herself. She had worn a headdress and done her best to make herself unrecognizable—a birthmark, dark circles, and a slightly hunched form. Someone they wouldn't look at twice.

She also wore glasses—for whatever good that would do. She sighed as she raised her fist to knock.

"Halt." Lucinda froze and turned to see the housekeeper shuffling toward her with some maids in tow.

Was she already caught? The woman stood in front of her, narrowing her eyes. Lucinda hunched over, trying to look as small as possible—even if she was significantly taller than the housekeeper. She felt more stupid by the second.

"Weren't you told the task had been assigned to another? You need to rest or you'll get worse." Lucinda blinked at the floor. She must have been mistaken for someone else. Were they blind? She didn't think this could fool anyone.

Well, it worked out for her. No one would question how she hid herself if she was sick.

"I—" She cleared her throat to add a scratch to her tone. Considering she had a velvet voice, she didn't need to lower it. "I felt bad to set someone else to the task… I'll be in and out efficiently. No disturbance."

She hoped she hadn't sounded like a noble in speeches. A few moments passed before the head maid finally removed her fingers from between her brow and shooed her away.

"Just go in already. No need to knock. He's out, anyway." Lucinda sighed internally. She didn't know how she would've been able to search his room if he had been in it.

"Wait." Lucinda halted again before she could push in. "You have a cold. Be careful not to spread it. We'll keep you off the mistress and young master duties till you're well."

Whoever she was effectively dressed as was about to enjoy a hell of a break.

As soon as she closed the door—pressing until she heard the receding sound of their footsteps—she dropped her tools and darted for the large mahogany desk. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she would have noticed the splendor of the room. Filled with alcoves of books both neatly placed and messily strewn across the desk and a small table and plush chair meant to receive guests. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a beautiful garden.

The place looked like a scholar's office. She did have a thought, though—Theodore would love it. Due to the mess, her search was much harder. She upturned books and delved into documents in a flourish, opening and closing drawers.

Why were there so many?! she admonished.

Right as she yanked open a drawer, the doors opened to the sound of Silas addressing someone. She froze before the person's reply was drowned by the door clicking shut.

In her rush to shut the drawer, she slammed it against her fingers and yelped softly. That got the attention of Silas, who was flipping through some documents. She froze, waiting for him to realize who she was.

"You're already here! Excuse me, I'll be out of your way in a few," he said, walking to the desk without even looking away from the papers before him. She nodded, turning away from him as he walked closer.

She bit her lips underneath her veil as she cut her losses. Better to leave now than get caught. Knowing Silas, he would never let her live this down.

Just as she tried shuffling away, she heard him speak. "Wait, have—Lucy?" he exclaimed in surprise, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Busted.

She clenched her teeth and eyes shut as horror and shame swept through her. She should have just asked for the keys. It was her property!

She waited in tense breath as his footsteps—cushioned by the rug beneath their feet—drew closer.

Her spine straightened as she felt his breath against her neck. His scent captivated her again. Spicy and intoxicating, as always.

Cool fingers skimmed across her neck and she jolted. Then his arms slowly came and wrapped around her, tucking her to him.

"It's been so long. I thought you were mad at me." She opened her lips to reply, slightly confused. Yes, she'd avoided him since the incident, but it had been barely two days.

"Were you able to meet my new mistress? Is that why you were upset?" Lucinda didn't know if she should be insulted by the fact that he was fraternizing with another woman under the same roof—or by the fact she was mistaken as she. Her brain couldn't take the load of the discovery.

Before she could think further, he had turned her and placed her on his desk so swiftly.

"Oh, dearest Lucy. I had missed you." She stifled her surprised gasp. How convenient their names sounded alike.

"How I crave your touch, my love." Silas buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling, and worked to frantically hike her skirt up. Lucinda's eyes widened as she pushed against his chest. He stilled, and Lucinda could feel his confusion radiating out of him as he tried to meet her gaze. She ducked her head further, afraid he would finally recognize her.

Wait—why should she care? She was practically being cheated on. If she could call their complex relationship such a thing. Well, to hell if he knew, right?

He barreled into her thoughts by using his fingers to gently lift her chin. He raised a questioning brow.

"My bad, love. I forgot how you liked it for a moment." She stilled, appalled, as he finally found a route to her neck. His breath fanned her, tantalizing, as his fingers traced a pattern through her skin and side. She melted against him and almost gave in—until she realized and jerked away from him. Jumping down, she ran out of the room like her behind was on fire. Face flaming red in embarrassment, anger, and desire.

Silas blinked at the open door, appalled. His expression began to twist. Maybe if she had been more focused on his fingers, she would have noticed he had trailed the letters liar across her spine.

Outside, Frederick's brows pulled together as a maid barged out of Silas' office, darting down the hallway without even noticing him.

Wait. "Lucinda?.." He gawked. She was already too far ahead to hear him. Then he cocked his head to look into the room—just as Silas' face twisted and he burst into a full belly laugh, clutching his stomach and hunching over.

Seeing Frederick, he doubled over again, slapping his knee. Frederick's lips twisted, hiding his own smile. He didn't think the laugh was worth the long run of whatever tricks his master had pulled. Was he the reason she was dressed like that?

Or did they have such… interests? He shook his head as he walked into the room.

Silas could not believe his luck in getting to tease Lucinda. He had smelled her sweet scent—that always seemed to follow her—before he even stepped foot into his office. It was why he had taken to getting products suited to her taste. He only played along, deciding to spice things up, curious how she would react. He knew her reason for being here—he'd been informed as soon as she spoke to the first guard a while ago. But she would not find the key here. It was on his person. A treasure—anything of value to his dear fiancée—could only be well secured with him.

He took the keys out of his pocket; they were attached to his pocket watch, and he twirled it on his fingers.

"Should we see how far she would go?" he chuckled to his friend.

Frederick just silently took the file they had come back for and walked away from his cackling friend.