Ella narrowed her eyes as she added the last bit of her morning invention. Gently taking a step back, she watched the masterpiece she had created. It was quite, sophisticated. It started with an apple fixed to the end end of a small seesaw and extended to attachments that ran along the ceiling and declined to a knife hanging loosely above a raw chicken lap.

The housemaids were at the corner of the kitchen, watching her, their curious eyes travelling over the thing she had made. She claimed it would make their job a lot easier.

"And I take away, the apple." She raised the apple, the seesaw bending in the opposite direction and in a flash, the extensions on the ceiling fell on the counter, trinkets and cups shattering. She winced as the cacophony of clangs and clanks continued, "That wasn't meant to happen."

Indeed. The knife was meant to fall off and cut the chicken lap. But now, it was laid on the floor with other kitchen utensils. Well, there went another good idea for an invention.

"Ella!" Her mother's sharp scream made her heart plummet to her stomach. She was in trouble. Turning to the maids who were cowering at the corner of the room, she said, "I'm sorry. I'll be back to clean this up. I promise."

She dashed out of the kitchen and met her mother at the starting stairs of the basement, black eyes enraged, wide nose breathing out smoke. Maybe she exaggerated that last part.

"What in God's name were you doing down there?" Mrs Featherington dragged her daughter by the arm, shutting the door that lead to the kitchen.

"I was helping the maids out," she lied. Her mother would skin her alive if she heard she was doing the exact opposite of what a proper lady should do-something they would not be proud of. Her parent's definition of making them proud was getting married to a proper gentleman and being a proper wife. But Ella had a passion for science and a talent for making inventions even though so far, none of them had worked. She knew she had to use her talents to make them proud but was scared she would bring shame to her family if she failed at it.

Ella could vividly remember that night-the night everything changed. She was fond of sneaking into her father's office and stealing his science books so she'll read them when everyone had gone to sleep. But that night, her father had caught her and asked her why she stole the book. She had told him of her interests in physics and saw her father's face contort to a frown as she narrated her dreams.

He laughed at her and bluntly told her that a woman belonged to the kitchen. He told her to give up and focus on training herself to be a proper lady so she could get married one day to a rich gentleman. Mr Featherington claimed that Ella would have to work twice as hard as men to be as smart as them.

Ella had doubted him at first, but when she noticed that there were rarely any female scientists in London, she knew it was true. She would have to work twice as hard to be as smart as them. If that was what she had to do to prove him and society wrong, then she would do it. When she had learned of Robert's moon lamp, she knew this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.

"Helping the maids out? What nonsense! And they let you? I'll give them a scolding later." Mrs Featherington tugged on Ella's arm. "Quickly, let's go to the drawing room. I've got exciting news!"

Exciting news? What was exciting to her mother other than marriage plans and courting season? Oh, no... Ella's stomach twisted as she thought of the torment she was about to face in a few seconds. The thought of marriage made her sick. Submitting oneself to a man wasn't ideal and she wasn't ready to do so in the nearest future.

Her mother scratched her dark hair as she closed the drawing-room's door. "Hurry, have a seat."

Ella narrowed her eyes at her mother suspiciously as she took a seat on a white chaise lounge by the corner. This was definitely about marriage. There was no mistaking it.

"Have you heard about the Starklington ball?"

Ella's heartbeat tripled in pace. Was her mum listening to her and Juliet earlier this morning?

"What is that?" She was impressed with herself. She precisely managed to sound like she hadn't even heard of the word, Starklington before.

Her mother straightened out her white dress. "The Duchess of Starklington has decided to host a ball this Saturday and I found this," she showed her daughter an invitation letter, "in the living room. You've been invited, my dear!"

Was that excitement in her mother's voice? She was expecting her to be throwing insults at the Starklingtons, especially their son, Lord Robert. But she sounded excited. When Juliet debunked Ella's plan and brought up this one instead, she thought it wouldn't work. But here she was with her mother, who sounded excited about a Starklington ball. Miracles did happen!

"Wonderful! I didn't even know about it!" Ella knew every bloody aspect of the plan and was even the one that planted the letter in the living room. The aim was to see her mother's reaction and if it was bad, they would go with Ella's plan; which included lying and jumping out of a window.

"Wonderful indeed." Her mother rushed to her and sank into the chaise lounge. "Do you know what this means? You finally get your chance to come out to society and in grand style."

"I do?" This was happening!

"Of course!" Her mother held Ella's shoulders, stirring her to face her slim form. "I heard Dukes and Princes would be present. This would be a great chance for you to find a suitor."

Oh, that was why her mother wanted her to go to the ball; the 'rich' suitors. If only she knew Ella wanted to attend just to speak with only one person, who she wasn't sure would even be there. But a girl could always hope.

"Won't father be angry? We're talking about a Stark. Father's employer hates them to bits; especially their son, Lord Robert."

Her mother waved a tanned hand. "Oh, to hell with, Gerrard! I would not let him ruin your special moment!"

Ella smiled. This was easy after all.

Lord Robert strode along the hallway, blue eyes taking in the extravagance of the place. Pictures of Queen Victoria and alluring paintings were hung on the white wall, and a throng of maids scurried at a corner, gossiping.

"He's Lord Robert?"

"Yes, the one and only."

"Dear me, he has the most beautiful eyes. They're blue as the ocean and enchanting as a spell."

And her words were as sweet as honey. The maid must've read too many romance novels. Shaking his head at their feminine chattering, he continued down the corridor. A few meters ahead was a beautiful maid with obsidian hair and olive skin. She was dusting the ceiling, a ladder supporting her weight.

He smiled. She was the perfect lady for his perfect plan-planting a seed of betrayal All he had to do, was to...

Tip the edge of her ladder.

The maid didn't see him coming and in a few seconds, fell off her ladder, landing into the athletic arms of His Lordship, the golden heart-shaped locket on her neck gleaming. It was the perfect Romeo and Juliet moment. Except that Romeo didn't have to make Juliet fall off a ladder.

"You have to be careful, Miss."

The maid hesitated, her cheeks flushing deep red. "Jesus..."

Ah, a Christian. They were the ones who loved to sin. She wouldn't be a problem to woo. Letting her down gently, she took a step back and dusted her gown.

Her green eyes to the floor, she stuttered, "I-I'm sorry, Your Lordship."

Your Lordship? It appeared that news did travel fast and the royal crest on his tailcoat was a bloody giveaway. He picked up the red ladder and rested it on the wall.

"That's a beautiful locket," he said, watching her hide it behind the nape of her dress.

"Thank you."

"What's your name?" He knew it was improper to ask. Mrs Finley was the one who should introduce the maid. But who gave a bloody hell? His plans weren't proper so there was no need to follow societal rules.

The maid didn't raise her gaze. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to say, My Lord."

A good girl? This would be fun. He glanced at the end of the hallway and noticed that the gossiping maids were still watching them. If he made any silly move, the news would spread like wildfire.

"I believe you owe me your name for saving you from that fall." He smirked.

She curtsied. "My apologies for not thanking you, My Lord."

"You know," he whispered, "if I were to give you a pound for every time you apologised, you'll be richer than the queen herself."

That was enough to make her chuckle and deepen the colour in her cheeks. If only she knew how many women he used that line for.

The gossiping maids were still by the corner, their curious eyes watching the both of them. He had to end this conversation before Mr Hickery saw him. Nosy people tended to sniff out bad manners.

"When do you close for work?" Lord Robert asked, trying to fish out the eyes of the maid. She was still gazing at the white tiles of the hallway. Some of them loved to play hard-to-get. These types of women gave him the thrill to play his games better.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, but I must leave now." She curtsied and was about to flee when his firm hand grasped her wrist. It appeared that act was too much for the onlookers to handle since some of them fainted dramatically. They weren't properly introduced and he held her hand. The horror!

"If you change your mind, my butler would be here to pick you up by midnight. I assume you would be free by then?"

"I would think about it, Your Lordship."

He watched her as she rushed off to join her fellow maids. A throng of them surrounded her as they asked her a cacophony of questions his ears couldn't register. Their chattering got louder and in a minute, Mr Hickery intervened. But Lord Robert was gone before the man could bat another eyelid.

"How were her stories?" His Lordship asked, Mr Howard Lithstone. They were both in his carriage and were heading home.

"I hope you would increase my wages after this." Mr Howard shuddered. probably remembering one of Mrs Finley's delightful stories.

Lord Robert reclined in his seat. "That won't be a problem, as long as I charge you for listening to your complaints about your wife."

"I'm perfectly fine with my wages."

"Splendid." The cunning businessman knocked on the roof of his carriage. "Patrick, go faster!"

"Yes, My Lord!"

The sooner they left, the sooner he could prepare his house for a romantic evening.