Far away in the more middle-class part of London, a girl sat in her bed, outfitted in a floral dress. Her brown hair appeared warm in the shafts of sunlight entering her bedroom, the chocolate curtains forming waves on her ivory shoulders. She looked at the invitation letter again. It had been delivered to her family's door thirty minutes ago. She couldn't believe this was happening. An invitation to a Starklington ball would be one of those things she would dream about a million times but would never believe would happen. Except now, it was happening.

"So how about we..." Her friend, Juliet Hastings frowned, "Ella!"

She snapped out of her daydream, warm brown eyes widening. "Yes, Jules?"

"Did you hear anything I've been saying?"

"I didn't."

"What are you so lost in?" Juliet walked over to her friend who was seated in her four-poster bed.

"This." She gave the letter to her.

Jules snatched it and read, "The Duchess of Starklington invites you to her ball which would be held on Saturday." She slid her gaze from the letter to Ella. "Isn't she the mother of Lord Robert Stark."

Ella nodded, a smile on her face, legs tapping excitedly on the wooden frame of the bed. "You know what that means?"

"Not exactly. Except for the fact that you're acting like you're in heat."

Ella frowned. Her friend always put sexual innuendo in everything she said.

"I'm not in heat." She snatched the letter from Juliet, the blonde's blue eyes glaring at her friend's lack of manners. Why was she mad? Juliet did the same thing earlier, "This means that I can finally meet Lord Robert and tell him how I would like to work for him and learn about this marvellous moon-lamp he had spoken about."

A normal lady would caution her for uttering such scandal-worthy things since a proper lady should cook, clean and take care of the house. But her friend was a different breed and that was why she loved her even more.

"Oh, his marvellous moon lamp." Juliet winked twice. "You naughty girl."

Ella wanted to toss her friend out of the window. Why did she have to be this way? She had to behave like a proper British lady. Well, she had to agree she wasn't behaving like a proper British lady too since she wanted to work for Lord Robert. Who could blame her? Lord Robert was a genius who made a gas lamp that used less gas and cost less than the one Gerrard Finley made.

Any science enthusiast would jump at the opportunity to work with his Lordship, especially now he proposed this fascinating moon-lamp. She would love more than anything, to be among the people that develop this masterpiece.

Women as scientists would have to work twice as hard as the males to be smart like them. That was why she had spent every day of her life reading as many science books as she could get her hands on. If anything, the encounter she had with her father years ago taught her that.

"Jules," She dragged her friend to the bed, her white dress flying in the air; it was quite easy since Jules was a head shorter than Ella, "I need your help."

"Oh that's fine," Juliet wiggled her brows, "I have the perfect contraceptive brew."

"No! I didn't mean that, Jules!"

"So what do you need help with? A threesome? I would willingly volunteer since Lord Robert is quite charming and hempphfff."

Ella clamped a hand over her friend's mouth before she said any more vulgar words. Her mother could be listening at the door!

"Shhhhh," she frowned, "You're saying rubbish."

"Lmphjjs me ghajiss."

"I didn't know you were fluent in foreign languages," Ella smirked, "I would let you go if you promise to listen to what I have to say."

Jules considered it for a few seconds before she nodded. Ella released her hand and her friend gasped for air.

"I need your help to go to the ball."

"Why? Don't you have legs?"

Ella did an inward facepalm. "My two legs are working perfectly and I've had them for eighteen years. How observant of you to notice them after all these years."

"I hate you." Jules pouted.

"I love you too." Ella clasped her hands. "Now, back to what I was saying. I need your help to get into the ball because my father won't let me go."

"It's quite understandable since Lord Robert Stark has a reputation for sleeping with women. But I don't mind though. I would let him bone me till-"

"Jules!"

"What?" Juliet acted like what she had said earlier was decent.

"You're not boning anyone and you'll help me get into that ball. My father won't let me because he works for Gerrard Finley, Lord Robert's business rival."

Juliet crossed her olive-skinned forearms. "I don't see how that's a problem."

"He's Finley's private secretary."

"Oof." Jules winced.

Oof, indeed. That would look like treason. Ella didn't understand how men thought though. How would going to the ball make Finley think her father was a traitor? She would need to read a million books on men before she understood them.

"But why do you want to learn from him?" Juliet asked.

"Because this is the chance I've been waiting for, Jules." Ella held both of her friend's hands, her brown eyes turning hard with seriousness. "This is my chance to show that I am as smart as other male scientists. You remember what my father told me when he found out I loved science."

Juliet nodded, remembering that horrible evening. "But I know you're smart, Ellie. You don't need to prove anything to anyone."

"It's the only way, Jules." Ella pursed her lips. "Men and women don't play by the same rules. If father believed I was smart as other men, he wouldn't have told me what he said that day."

Juliet sighed. "Alright. I'm with you, Love."

Determined to go the ball, Ella punched a fist in her palm, warm brown eyes turning feral. "But I have a plan and I'm going to need your help."

Outside Lord Robert's Empire state building, a black carriage pulled up, a crest of one of the Ducal of houses of England designed on its door. His footman opened the door, His Lordship walking out, black top hat on his head.

"You're quite early as always, Your Lordship," Howard said, waiting for him next to a bench at the entrance of the tall building. Maybe he had been waiting for too long.

"I appreciate the sarcasm, Mr Lithstone." Robert whook his friend and private secretary. "I apologise for my delay."

"Indeed, an hour delay," Howard Lithstone reminded. He was a young man with jet black hair and a bulbous nose, freckles peppered above it.

"Howie!" A feminine voice echoed down the street. Running towards them in a white day dress was a brown-skinned woman with curls packed into a kerchief.

"Katherine, stop shouting my name like that," Howard told his wife and his dark eyes portrayed the sign that he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "And call me Howard, not Howie."

"Oh, hush." She handed him a food flask. "You forgot your food."

"You would've just left it at home. I'm not a child, you know?"

Mrs Katherine Lithstone pinched her husband's cheek and Robert couldn't help but grin at their banter. Howard on the other hand was pink with embarrassment.

"You should be grateful you have a loving wife like me," she cautioned.

Howard winced. "Stop pinching me, you're not my mother."

"I've been breastfeeding you for ten years now."

"Katherine!" His eyes went wide with alarm. He gestured at Robert with a jerk of his head and evidently, Katherine got the message.

She grinned and curtsied at Robert. "Forgive my manners, Your Lordship."

"Oh, please. Howie needs some scolding from time to time," Robert replied and Howard's ear tips turned red.

"I agree." She curtsied again and then went over to her husband and kissed his cheek. "Make sure you finish the food." She pointed at him. "Or I won't let you inside the house."

"I've heard." He moved her away with his hands on her shoulders. "Now shew, I've got work to do."

"I'll just let that slide because of, His Lordship!" Katherine replied and waved at her husband before she disappeared at the corner of a building.

Their marriage was the most comedic one Robert had ever seen. If he were to ever get married, he hoped he'll have the kind of connection and humour they both possessed in their relationship.

"I apologise for that, My Lord," Howard said, holding the bridge of his nose.

"Nonsense, Howie. You both made my day."

"My Lord, I beg of you-please, can you call me Mr Lithstone? I don't want people at work to start calling me Howie. It's embarrassing."

"Alright," Robert smiled, "Howie."

Howard shot him a glare.

"I swear it's the last time." Robert laughed and patted his friend's shoulders. "Let's go in."

Robert removed his top hat and headed to the black double door of his office building. It was the tallest structure in the block, and if one was being honest, the entire of London. A lanky doorman in blue swiftly opened the door for his employer with a bow. Robert greeted him and entered his building.

The foyer was busy with men in white work shirts scurrying about the vicinity. They quickened their paces when they saw their boss.

"I saw the Times this morning," Howard started, his grey tailcoat flying as they both disappeared by the corner, climbing a staircase.

"That flapdoodle, Gerrard." Robert hissed. "I would make sure I make him pay."

"He wasn't entirely wrong, Your Lordship." Howard shrugged. "You do sleep with lots of women."

"For a private secretary, you're quite good at worsening my mood."

"It's one of those quirks I find admirable about myself." Howard smiled. A smile that Lord Robert knew to be as fake as a whore pretending to be a proper lady, "Don't you consider getting married like me?"

Married people fell in love before they got married. Love was a feeling of attraction to someone. Lord Robert could swear on his two knockers that he was attracted to every woman he slept with. So why get restricted to only one lady when he could have the whole package?

"The moment you got married, Mr Lithstone, you began to complain a lot." They finally reached the top floor after minutes of climbing. He did need to invent something that would aid easier movement to his office. "You don't even make these complaints to your wife, you make them to me. And why? Because if you dare tell her, you'll sleep outside that night. So you see? Marriage equals problems."

Howard didn't speak again. Lord Robert knew the best way to shut him up. Mention problems of marriage to a married man and he would be as silent as a whorehouse with women who have kinks for silence.

Robert's office entrance had a black double door gleaming under the gas lamps of his corridor. In a few months, those lamps would be replaced with moon lamps and he would finally achieve his dream of making clean energy. But first, he had to stomp on his enemies. Which obviously, was Gerrard.

They entered the office, it was dark. Howard opened the curtain, the early morning rays illuminating the room. On the wall were His Lordship's blueprints of different failed inventions. He claimed it gave him the motivation to make something that would finally work, not blow up an entire room.

That happened not long ago. In fact, it happened yesterday when he tried to power the moon lamp under the moonlight. Let's say the annoying result made him pick up two unlucky women and bring them to his humble abode. The rest was history.

Lord Robert settled in his black executive chair, forearms plopped on his black desk. "Howard."

"Yes, my Lord." His assistant hurried to his desk, leaving behind the undergarment he was disposing into a waste bin. Aye, His Lordship also brought women into his office. You wouldn't know this, but a lot of London women had a thing for being bent over an office desk.

"We move out to Gerrard's family home." Lord Robert reclined in his seat "My spies have reported that he indeed is at his office. So right now would be a good time to plant a seed of betrayal in his family home."

"And how would you do that?"

He smiled. "The best way I know how to."