He blinked rapidly in equal panic and bafflement. "You must be jesting," he said with a forceful laugh.

"When it comes to matters that involve you and the Royal Circus, I am not jesting. And I do not jest ever, Oliver."

"But, Mother, Aliya and I are not yet in the kind of relationship where I can invite her to meet you."

"Wash that smell from your body, fix your hair, and get rid of that beard. She may just say yes." She stiffly turned. "I do expect her here this Saturday."

An incredulous laugh erupted deep down from his chest. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am serious. I have to assess if she is a threat."

"Well, she is not. She is Aliya—"

"The daughter of the Gambler, yes. The man who killed three Royals in one night and a few others."

Suddenly he was hard as stone. His body's response to his mother's words was immediate; shoulders hunched, jaw clenched, teeth biting down on teeth.

Natalia saw and she blinked. "Get her here this Saturday, Oliver. That or you are going home to Herst."

He swallowed. "Truth be told, Mother, I am not yet certain what to do with Aliya or how to tell her of my intentions—"

"Do not attempt to lie to a wife of a Royal, Oliver. You disrespect me by doing so. I know how you people in the Circus lie. And I am aware of how you have been following her like a cat to a mouse." His exasperated sigh reached his mother and she narrowed her eyes. "Your father will be disappointed once he learns of what you have been doing with your time."

"Father never leaves Herst."

"He does when he is called. Do you wish me to tell him how you are becoming a danger to yourself and the Circus? When you came back five years ago, Oliver, the first thing you did was grab a bottle and never let go since then."

Oliver could only close his eyes, beseeching his mind to think of the sea and the big waves; of the cracking of the sails and the calls of the pelicans; her warm and hearty laughter...

"Get this woman to meet me," his mother's voice replaced the pelican's. "I want to know what she is like. She has become a Belle, yes?"

Oliver groaned. "Yes."

His eyes flew open as his mother sighed. She was shaking her head and he frowned. "Take her here," she coldly ordered before walking away in her floral-dotted cream gown.

Has his mother ever considered that he had been failing miserably in the past weeks? Had she any idea of his tendency to make a fool of himself in front of Aliya and that the idea of the woman saying yes to his mother's invitation to a tea party was close to none?

He stared at his hand and realized the glass was empty. He was certain he refilled it. He blinked. Not remembering if he ever drank the bloody thing was a sign that he had a problem.

Placing the empty glass on the table, he shouted for Jason.

He needed to take another bath.

*****

Aliya entered the café alone, her red cloak floating at the back of her feet as she sashayed to her favorite corner. She felt the eyes following her, the murmurs, and the words Belle bubbling behind delicate hands that covered the mouths of the prim and proper ladies in the café.

Her back erect, she ordered for her tea, one she intended to drink until the daylight outside subsided.

She had not expected her trip to Hartcaster's villa to end prematurely and she could not go to Maple Row in daylight; not when she knew Belcourt may have eyes all over the city. Timing was necessary now. This was their new normal as her previous cook may never return, putting a dash to a kind of freedom she, Carrie, and Fatima used to enjoy.

As she mused about the unnecessary fight Shay—the previous cook—had with another Service lady in the Village that led to Shay's current punishment in Belcourt, Aliya could hear more whispers around her. She frowned for it was not the usual one she would hear whenever she was about. This one was different and it was followed by a loud, booming voice, "Ali!"

Her eyes closed. She took a lungful of air. The chair across from her was being dragged. His shadow loomed over her and then disappeared, indicating he took his seat.

Slowly, certain she was calm, Aliya opened her eyes.

His hair was tied at the nape. His beard, although still covering half of his face, was trimmed. The coat he was wearing seemed fresh and she sniffed. He smelled fresh.

It had been just three days since she found him standing outside her villa and yet he still managed to surprise her... again.

She looked around them. The women were quick to look away and pretend they had not been gawking just moments ago.

"I hate to be asking this again and again, Doctor, but why are you following me?" she murmured under her breath before she sipped her tea.

His hazel eyes captivated her gaze effortlessly. "Because I can find you easily." He shifted in his seat. "And my mother wants to invite you to tea."

Aliya nearly spilled her drink as she choked in surprise. "Can you repeat that?"

"My mother, Natalia St. Vincent, a very notorious woman I am afraid of, wants to invite you for tea."

Aliya blinked. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I believe it is natural for mothers to want to assess the woman that captured their son's interest."

She scoffed. "You are insane, St. Vincent. Why would you tell your mother about me?"

"I did not. My butler, Jason, a very cold and efficient brute, reports everything I do to the said notorious woman."

Aliya could not help the laugh that escaped her lips, but she immediately bit at them, erasing the picture he painted in her mind. "You are insane," she repeated.

"My mother has very special friends, you know."

Aliya sighed. "And they are coming as well to this tea party?" Her eyes narrowed. "How many will there be, really?"

"Three master gossipmongers, one recluse, two dogs, a cat, and a spinster. They will need a young, beautiful woman with a broken arm."

Aliya bit her lips harder to keep her laughter at bay. And then she froze. "Natalia... Natalia St. Vincent... the Natalia that Lady Winthrop is friends with."

Oliver nodded. "I told you there will be three master gossipmongers in attendance."

Aliya looked around. Eyes flittered away from their direction. More clearing of throats.

"Well? I only truly came here to invite you."

She sighed. "Very well. I will be there."

He slammed his palms on the table, shaking her teacup. "Perfect."

Aliya blinked up at him as he stood. "Have a good day, Ali."

St. Vincent? That was him?

The doctor...

Raised a man from the dead, the very one...

My father said he's the most obnoxious breed there is and...

Aliya loudly cleared her throat and the buzzing in the room stopped.

She smiled as Oliver's words came back to her. They will need a young, beautiful woman with a broken arm.

Her soundless chuckle shook her shoulders. Catching herself, she cleared her throat and sipped her tea.

Hours later, Aliya was walking down Maple Row in haste, battling against the cold winter wind. She gave up with her hood and focused on reaching the apartment. When she did, she knocked three times.

Dorothy answered the door.

"He has been asking after you and Fatima."

Rushing inside, Aliya took off her cloak and smiled as she heard Mason's steps bounding down the staircase. The moment he saw her standing alone beside Dorothy, his shoulders fell.

"Where's Mama?" he asked, coming down the steps with less enthusiasm.

"She has to stay home today," Aliya said, revealing a box of his favorite sweets. "But she sent you these."

Mason just stared at the box. His lips were pursed as tears started to pool in his blue eyes. "She said she will come home soon."

Aliya gathered the boy in her arms. "I'm sorry, Mason. She will come on the morrow, I promise."

The boy sniffed and blinked away the tears. "I'm not crying."

"Of course, you are not." She straightened and took his hand. "What do you wish to read tonight?"

Dorothy took the box from Aliya and left them to go upstairs to his bedchamber.

"When will we live together, Aunt Aliya?" Mason asked the most difficult question as Aliya helped him slip under the covers.

"I hope it to be soon," she replied, smiling gently. "You understand why it cannot be now, yes?"

The child nodded. "Will it take long?"

She could feel the tears at the back of her eyes. "If it takes longer, will you be angry?"

The child shook his head. "But I will be sad."

She ran her hand over Mason's blond hair and rested her palm against his cheek. "Your Mama is doing her best, Mason."

Mason's eyes landed on the book in her hand. "You don't have to read to me tonight, Aunt Aliya."

She kissed his forehead and lingered there for a while as she fought the tears. "Good night, Mason."

"'Night," the child replied, turning away from her.

Downstairs, Aliya sat around the kitchen table. "Here is your pay for this month, Dorothy," she said, sliding the coins across the table. Dorothy gathered them with a look of apprehension. "Fatima told me you have been having trouble with the finances."

She smiled. "We can get by, Dorothy. Do the two of you have enough for the week?"

Mason's governess nodded.

They shared a forlorn look.

"You are a very beautiful woman, my lady. Inside and out, you are a wonderful soul."

Aliya wiped the tear that escaped her eye. "If only one can sell her soul, we will be rich."

Dorothy's face hardened. "Yours is not free to sell, my lady. Belcourt owns it."

"No," she said through her teeth. "Belcourt only thinks it owns it."

*****

That night, Oliver received an unexpected missive.

Hurry. – Lord Darcy

He burned the paper and stared at the fire.

He had to take her out soon.

But how?

"Who was that from?" his mother's voice asked behind him.

"Darcy."

"And you said you were not receiving missions from the Circus, Oliver." She took the seat by the fire. "Why are you receiving missives from Lord Darcy?"

"I do not have a mission, Mother. I simply asked the Circus for a chance."

Natalia St. Vincent's green eyes reflected the yellow light from the fire. "What chance?"

"To take Aliya out of Belcourt."

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that reigned in the room as his mother took her time to analyze the situation. "I reckon things are going to be exciting soon between Belcourt and the Circus?"

"How do I know? I am but the doctor, am I?" he asked with a sigh, leaning back against his seat. "She is coming this Saturday."

"Good."

"And when she does, will you do something?"

Her brow arched.

"Throw little hints of how wonderful I am."

Natalia scoffed. "This is your plan, Oliver. No one asked you to do this. You have to do it on your own."

"But Darcy just ordered me to hurry."

"Yes, of course, because they have more important things to do other than be a part of your little games."

"This is not a game. Aliya will also be a good member of the Circus if we get her to our side."

"If you can convince her to get to our side, yes. But you must also realize that Belcourt has spent years planting the wrong ideas in her mind. What makes you think that she will just pack her things and join you?"

"I just need to give her a reason to do so."

"From the look on your face, you are not doing well."

"I have been trying to charm her."

"It is clearly not working."

"I make sure that she sees me almost daily."

"That is stalking, son. It is disturbing and alarming."

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

His mother shrugged. "Absence prospers longing."

"You mean I should stay away."

His mother stood and sighed. "Why do you think I try to stay away from Herst now and then, Oliver?"

"To give father his freedom, of course."

Her gaze narrowed. "To make him feel that freedom is not just about being alone."

As his mother walked away, Oliver let out a dramatic gasp. "Mother! You are a philosopher!"

The answer was the closing of the door.

His gaze returned to the fire. Should he? Should he stay away for a while?