Robert nearly stepped on his sister's feet when he heard the announcer. That bastard was here? He had the bloody balls to attend the Starklington ball after what he said on the Times. With Robert's sister in his tender hold, he narrowed his eyes at the entrance.

Gerrard, dressed in a black tailcoat walked in, both hands behind his back, his green eyes assessing the room. Unlike Robert, Gerrard had jet black hair, with curls tumbling down the sides of his face. Robert's mother sneered at the new attendant and all his father did was watch him with cool blue eyes. The Duke never seemed to show any form of emotion. This was a fact Robert had learnt the hard way when he was a child.

"That poppycock is here," Grace whispered to her brother, a frown on her face. "I swear I'll make him eat his gas lamp."

"Oh dear sister, I'll be the gladdest if you do that." Robert's body temperature rose. "But I would love to handle this business on my own."

The music stopped and the dancers left the dance floor, Robert leading his sister back to their mother. At that moment, any form of tension crackling between him and the Duchess seemed to dissipate because now in the room, they had one common enemy-Gerrard Finley. However, Robert wasn't sure which side his father was on.

No one ever knew what the man had on his mind. That fact pissed off Robert. His father never scolded him when he did something wrong. He never told him he loved him. Robert clenched his jaw at the thought. Complaining wouldn't solve anything now. He had to deal with Gerrard.

"He came." The Duchess side glanced at Gerrard who was having a side talk with a throng of desperate society-climbing mothers. "The guts that boy has."

"I'll deal with him," Robert calmly assured.

Grace smashed her fists together, blue eyes raging with a storm. "I'll be around if you need any help."

"Trust me," He ruffled her gently so as not to mess it up, "I've dealt with Gerrard before. This would be a piece of cake."

He turned to his father who had been watching the drama with a cool gaze. He didn't seem to be interested in the conversation. Turning his back on his son, he said, "Be careful not to cause a scene. Our rank in society wouldn't go down because of your childish drama."

Childish Drama...

Just hold it in. It's illegal to strangle parents.

Ignoring his tempting thoughts, Robert advanced to Gerrard. When the bloke spotted him, a smirk spread on his peach lips. He even dared to smirk! He did a bloody smirk! After all he said-He. Did. A. Bloody. Smirk.

Robert clenched his fist and released it. Gerrard excused himself from the lot of ladies and walked up to the Marquess.

"Lord Robert Stark," he extended a hand to shake him, the smirk still lingering, "what a lovely ball."

Robert watched the tanned hand and if looks could kill, Gerrard would have lost a full arm. The conflict between the both of them was obvious since Robert's blue eyes exploded with fury as he glared explosives at Gerrard. The competitor's green eyes were as calm as a silent forest and he looked unaffected by Robert's intense stare.

"Surely you won't leave my hand hanging," Gerrard said, a tease to his voice.

Robert noticed curious eyes watching them and he seized Gerrard's hand. "I'll prefer leaving it hanging from a tree."

"I feel so glad that you think of me in such an entertaining way." Gerrard grinned displaying his set of immaculate white teeth, "You've always been so...creative."

"It sounds like jealousy talking." A flash of hatred appeared in Gerrard's green eyes and it was gone in seconds. Robert knew Gerrard had always been jealous of him. It all began during their days in Cambridge. Gerrard would always make comments about how horrible Robert's innovative ideas were.

The thing was, Gerrard never knew Robert worked so hard to come up with those ideas. Robert knew if he achieved something so big that society made him the standard everyone should strive to reach, his father would come to appreciate and love him since he would be society itself. This was something Gerrard never knew. He invariably behaved like Robert was trying to prove he was better than everyone in the class.

"I'm not jealous of you, Robert." Gerrard tightened his grip on the Marquess' hand. "I'll always be better than you."

"Why don't you make a moon lamp then?" Robert raised a brow.

Gerrard gasped, his emerald eyes wide. "Did you think me mad enough to make something like that? Only a mad man would think that a moon can power a lamp."

Robert smiled inwardly. Gerrard was the mad man here. His Lordship had already found a way to power the moon lamp but all that was left was to get the metal that could trap the moonlight and store it; that way, the lamp could be charged by the moon and used anytime. He had already launched an expedition in Africa in search of that metal.

Hopefully, his men would come back with good news and then, he would finally accomplish his goal-the creation of a lamp powered by the silver rays of the moon. London shall know that nothing is impossible! And Robert's father would come to appreciate him.

"You're an arse." Robert's fist was beginning to hurt because of Gerrard's hard grip. "And I'll never let you win."

Gerrard released his shake and His Lordship tried so hard not to cry at the pain his hand was in. "You think you're the ideal man. You're not as smart as you think. You're not as good-looking as you think. Bloody hell, I bet you I can woo any woman in London more than you can."

Gerrard was truly an insecure piece of shite. Since university, Gerrard has always looked for ways to prove he was better than Robert. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't beat Robert at anything. Whatever Gerrard planned to do was none of Robert's business because he would fail at it.

"I don't care if you can woo women," Robert said.

"You think I can't do it, don't you?" Gerrard shook his head. "It's a good thing I have a perfect girl in mind for this bet."

"I'm not having any bet with you."

Gerrard straightened the lapels of Robert's tailcoat. "Just know this, Your Lordship. This plan I have to woo this lady is just the beginning of a much grander plan. I will make your life a living hell. And I will make sure you see the things you hold dear, get of reach."

"You can't do anything."

Gerrard smirked. "We'll just have to see. Let me give you a hint; door and man."

Ella danced.

And danced.

And danced.

Oh, and she almost tripped on herself. The man was too short for her and made it hard for them to move in sync. After a terrible dance, she walked back to her mother, hands sore from all that bloody stretching. Mrs Featherington had been watching her daughter and her former dance partner with a thoughtful look. Ella didn't know what was on her mind. She sure hoped the woman wasn't thinking of marrying her off to that dwarf-apologies to any short person, she didn't mean to sound insultive.

"You're not marrying him," Mrs Featherington said when Ella met her.

A heavy burden of unanswered thoughts left Ella's shoulders. "I love you, mother."

"And I know what's best for you. A dwarf is definitely not what I want as a grandchild." There was humour in her tone as she smiled warmly.

Ella laughed, taking a few steps away from her mother and glanced around the crowd, searching for the reason she was here. It didn't take time for her to spot him. He stood out with his tall statuesque form, hands behind his back and blue eyes focused on her?

Bloody nickels!

He was looking at her!

Whatshouldshedo?

Whatshouldshedo?

The heat in her stomach rose and her corset suddenly felt tighter. What was going on? It wasn't that way before! Beads of sweat popped on her forehead and her brown eyes were shaking, courtesy of her fear and uncertainty. Why was he looking at her? Did he know something she didn't? Did he know the reason she was here? She had been so lost in her inner jumble that she didn't notice the familiar person standing before her.

"Miss Featherington," he spoke with ease and charm.

"Bababsboob." She slapped herself inwardly when she realized the nonsense she uttered. An internal facepalm wasn't enough to solve this disaster. She curtsied. "Apologies for my eccentric behaviour, Mr Finley."

"I find your eccentric behaviour... Intriguing." Gerrard's green eyes were fixed on her and it made her cheeks go warm. How did he have such good steady eye contact? Uneasy, she still glanced over his shoulder, trying to find Robert but he wasn't there again. Shite! Where did he go?

"I believe I'm right here," Gerrard reminded her and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Apologies, Mr Finley." She looked over his shoulder again, hoping to see the reason she was here, but he still wasn't in eyesight. "I thought I had seen a familiar face."

"Maybe the person you saw was my twin." He inclined his head. "I'm familiar after all."

Yes, he was. Her father worked for him and she was surprised Gerrard wasn't mad seeing her here, considering he and Robert were arch enemies. And what was more shocking... he was talking to her!

When had Gerrard Finley of Gerrard Lamps, ever spoken to her except the good mornings and afternoons they exchanged whenever he came around their house to discuss 'work' with her father?

Something was off but she couldn't put her bloody finger on it. What was he up to? She could swear this was out of the ordinary. And she had known him to be an arrogant piece of shite. But now, he was being... nice in a way. At least he hadn't bragged about his company.

"I'm sure you can remember I'm the owner of the biggest gaslamp company in London?"

And he had to ruin it. This man!

Now she wanted to get out of this conversation more than ever. "I do remember. But I need to go back to my mother now."

"No need for that." He smiled. "Mrs Featherington!"

The lady appeared from nowhere almost giving Ella a bloody heart attack."Sir Finley!"

She curtsied, eyes gleaming pound notes. This was the kind of suitor her mother would want her to end up with. And Ella understood it would be a great impossibility. Gerrard was one of the richest men in London and she wasn't sure he would want to go for a middle-class girl like her. Not that she ever wanted him in the first place. What she truly wanted was just a minute with Lord Robert Stark. Was that too much to ask for?

"I didn't know you would be here." Ella's mother looked utterly shocked and delighted.

"Well, I'm glad I came."

"You are?" Mrs Featheringtons questioned. He is? This was a Starklington ball. Their son was his business rival. So what was he delighted about?

"Yes, I am." He side glanced at Ella. "If not I wouldn't have gotten to meet such a beautiful woman."

Ella batted her eyes lids.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice—till she looked like a complete idiot.

Gerrard Finley was complimenting her? You could as well say that fishes could walk or harlots could preach against prostitution. Her mother nudged her shoulder and she knew what that meant.

"Your words are too kind, Sir." The words sounded so foreign in Ella's tongue. Why did this happen? She was meant to be talking with Lord Robert. She needed Lord Robert for Godsake!

"Pardon my intrusion."

The voice was deep and made the pit of Ella's stomach rumble. She could swear on her eggs that the voice made her heart skip a beat. Which gentleman had this intoxicating voice? Turning on her heels, her jaws dropped at the sight before her.

"I would like to know the name of this young Lady."