"What do you plan to do, My Lord?"

Howard and Lord Robert Stark were both seated in his royal carriage, his assistant's anxious eyes demanding an answer. That was the fifteenth time he had asked him. His Lordship thought that by being completely ignorant of the man's presence, he would understand that he didn't want to answer his questions. But Howard, in all his gentlemanly dumbness, couldn't understand this simple fact.

"Howard."

"Yes, Your Lordship."

"Stop asking me what I plan to do."

Howard's face became puzzled. "So how do you expect me to help you out?"

"You would know when the time is right." Robert stared outside the window. If Howard knew his plan, he wouldn't have hopped into this carriage in the first place. A dense pine grove banding both sides of the path, passed them by as the carriage went on, delving deeper into Gerrard's estate.

"You know, My Lord," Howard started.

"Yes?"

"I'm aware you're doing all these to prove to your father you're good enough and worthy of his love. But don't you think you should believe you are good enough?"

Robert thought deeply about the matter for a few seconds. There was no point in believing he was good enough if his father didn't believe so. His father had thought so since he was a child. Robert had spent most of his childhood being pushed away by his father. Surely that had to mean he wasn't good enough. And now he was trying to prove himself, Gerrard was being a nuisance as usual.

His grip tightened on his top hat, strong jaw tightening. He could still remember that day at the university. It was just a normal day in Cambridge, a lecture was going on as usual. The professor, a fat pig with monocles, had asked him what his dream was. He had replied, "to create a lamp powered by the moon and replace all gas lamps."

The whole class erupted in laughter and the one that stood out the most was Gerrard Finley's. It was a mocking laugh that had made His Lordship's face go scarlet. The professor added salt to his wound by saying that the day he made a moon lamp, would be the day Robert would stop sleeping with the women of that town.

Everyone in the university called him by one name, the Rake of Cambridge. That was before he was promoted to the Rake of London. A quite prestigious title if you asked him.

I'll show them! Especially that knobhead, Gerrard. Robert was going to make a moon lamp and stick it up Gerrard's-

"My Lord? My Lord?"

The Casanova snapped out of his trance. "Yes, Howard?"

"We're here."

He had been so lost in his lovely plans for Gerrard Finley he didn't realize they had stopped. Gazing outside, The mansion stood tall, alabaster Corinthian columns holding a portico with the calligraphy design of an intricate flower.

They both exited the carriage and were welcomed by a butler whose nose was longer than any nose Robert had seen before. Would you look at that? Gerrard also hired people that were as nosy as he was.

"A pleasure to have you in our family home, Lord Stark." The Butler bowed too deep that his Lordship was scared he might break his spine. "I didn't expect such a pleasant surprise."

"Ah, Mr Hickery, I see you're still in your master's employ." He knew Hickery since his family were old friends with the Finley's. That was until their boys left Cambridge, built the two biggest gas lamp factories in London and became business rivals. Though he had never considered Gerrard a friend, he didn't hate him as much as he did now.

That was because Gerrard had made it his life's mission, to run down Lord Robert's factory. And he, on the other hand, won't sit and watch that happen.

"A good service encourages a longer service, Your Lordship," the butler said, black tail coat well fitted to his lean frame.

"Indeed. This here is my assistant," Robert introduced, "Mr Howard Lithstone."

The butler greeted him and fixed his blue gaze on Robert. "I'm afraid if you're here to see my master, he's not in the manor. Rather, you can find him in his office in London."

That was exactly why he came here. "Nonsense! I'm here to see his mother, Mrs Amy Finley."

"Apologies, My Lord. In that case," the butler opened the door, "come in."

The foyer of the manor was designed with fine wooden floors gleaming under the fair light streaking in through the high arched windows. Mr Hickery led them through the white-walled house, his tailcoat making him look like a bat. Don't blame Robert. He had an interesting imagination. If not, why would he have thought of a moon lamp in the first place?

Mr Hickery stopped before a white double door with golden handles. Pushing the wings wide open, he revealed a painting room. A chaise lounge sat by the corner, paintings of Late Captain Finley hanging on the walls and a flower vase on a side table.

Gerrard had lost his father during their university days and since then, Robert noticed Gerrard's unmistakable hatred towards him. Till today, he didn't know why it became so. He wasn't the one that killed Gerrard's father. So what could Robert possibly have done to deserve such hate from Gerrard?

Sitting on a stool in the painting room was Mrs Featherington in a black day dress, her hair packed to a bun. She was painting on a canvas.

"Mrs Finley," the butler gestured at the visitors, "Lord Robert Stark, Marquess of Starklington is here."

"Blimey," her eyes widened when she saw the chiselled face of his Lordship. He smiled, his dimples denting his stubbled cheeks, "Lord Robert!"

"Mrs Finley."

She dropped her brush and marched to him, her dress a streak of black. "By Zeus! You've grown into a man!"

"Oh, you flatter me, Mrs Finley." His chest swelled with pride even though he knew this wasn't the first time he had been praised for his evident masculinity.

"Oh, hush." She waved off his fake attempts to appear humble. "When was the last time I saw you?"

"My last holiday from Cambridge."

Howard pinched him, reminding him that he hadn't introduced his lovely assistant who loved interrupting him.

"Apologies, may I introduce you to my assistant, Mr Howard Lithstone"

The woman smiled too motherly, "Lovely to have you in my family home, Mr Howard."

"I must say I am the one who must feel loved to be invited into the home of such a prestigious woman as yourself," Howard replied too humbly for his Lordship's liking. They were being too humble to the extent it made him cringe.

"Ehem." He urged Mr Howard forward. "My assistant here, claims that he wants to hear some of your, lovely stories."

Confusion was stamped on his face. "I did?"

"Yes." Lord Robert grinned. This was going to be entertaining.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Mrs Finley was so quick to grab his assistant that the man didn't get the chance to protest. She always seized an opportunity to tell one of her tales about dragons and honourable knights. Mr Howard gazed at his employer with pleading eyes as he was dragged off to a corner of the room. "Come join us, Your Lordship."

"I'll be over there in a minute." He took three steps backwards. "I've not been here in six years. I would love to see the changes your son has made."

With that, he slipped out of the room.