Working every day was tedious. But thinking of plans to make a woman dressed as a man to stop working for Robert, was exhausting. Bloody exhausting. He slipped into his nightshirt and left his room. Dinner was being served and his mother disliked tardiness. The gas lamps were already on, the golden dining table set with plates filled with spotted dicks, a native British dish. His family were seated and he joined them, slipping into a golden chair.

"Late," his father spared him a glance, "as usual."

Robert fought the last sense of sanity he had in order not to pounce on the Duke. His Grace dismissed the servants and the Starks were left alone in the room. Robert felt an ominous disaster coming so he focused on the alluring paintings on the wall.

"Robert," his father started, settling his spoon next to his plate and dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief, "we need to talk."

Shite—he knew this was not good news. His father's meaning of wanting to talk was the synonym for havoc. What could he possibly want to tell him?

"I just got here, father." He gestured at his spotted dick. "My spotted dick is getting cold."

Grace choked on her meal. Robert was disturbed. That wasn't a normal choke. It was a choke of a child who knew some things they shouldn't know. What was Arthur doing to his sister? Did he teach her—oh if he got his hands on him.

"You can get your hands on your," his father cleared his throat, "meal later. For now, we need to discuss your future."

Lady Penelope assumed a comfortable position, her gentle blue eyes on her son. Robert knew she didn't hate him. She was just hard on him. At least she showed she cared, unlike his father.

"This should be interesting," Robert said, glancing at his sister who looked at him innocently. He'll attend to Arthur later. For now, he had a war to fight.

"I'm not getting any younger, Robert. There comes a time where a man has to outgrow his desires and become a real man," his father began. "One day you'll be Duke and I have to be sure I'm handing my legacy over to someone worth it."

Robert's heart sank. His father didn't deem him worthy, did he? The problem was that his true desire was to make his father see the smart, innovative man he was and finally spend some real quality time with him. But that would never be possible if he doesn't make the moon lamp. That was his chance for a better relationship with his father.

"We want you to settle down and find yourself a wife, son," the Duchess added, golden hair tied up in a bun.

"This," his father gesticulated, "moon lamp is a delusion. You need to be a real heir by doing Marquess things. Not playing with your toys."

"They're not toys," Robert clenched his teeth. They meant a lot more. They gave him hope—hope that there was still a chance to have a relationship with his father.

The Duke's blue eyes stirred with rage. "You'll be useless in society. An outcast. An abomination. You'll be the very reason the Stark name would be buried in the dirt."

"Father," Grace held Robert's clenched fist and rubbed it reassuringly. She was here for him, "he's your son."

"He will be once he comes to his senses." The Duke rose, his shoulders raised high as he disappeared through the dining door. Lady Penelope gave Robert a sad look before she ran after her husband. A few expletives could be heard outside the room as the couples argued dangerously.

"Robby." Grace rested her oval head on her brother's athletic arm, his fingers running through her hair.

They didn't need to talk. Robert understood and cherished this moment with her. At least there was someone in this family willing to stand by him. His mother was one of them but was scared of her husband. No one wanted to get on the bad side of the Duke.

He could remember that night years ago. He was only ten and wanted to play with his father. His parents were busy in the ballroom preparing for probably the fiftieth ball of the year. His father shoved him telling him to go to bed and his mother jumped in to protect him. That night they ended up screaming at each other and he could hear it from his room which was across from theirs.

Events like that happened continuously and his mother began to let his father be himself. There was no need to force a man to spend time with a son he didn't give a frigg about.

"Thank you, Grace," Robert muttered, watching the white walls of the dining.

"He loves you, Robby." She brushed a thumb on his sore knuckles. "Just give him time."

Robert had given him his entire life. How much longer did he need to wait?

You know, Ella hated flowers. Something about them made her want to hurl behind a vase and throw up. She didn't understand what was the fuss over them. They were devilish beauties used to distract women from achieving their goals and Gerrard was trying to do the same.

Love wasn't part of her plans for now. It was a distraction. An obstacle that would stop her from becoming the best female scientist the world has ever seen. She needed to make that moon lamp to prove to her father that women were as smart as men.

Hissing, she tossed the bouquet into a waste bin when her parents had gone to bed. Her father didn't seem to be excited at the gesture Gerrard showed. If anything, he looked concerned. Was there something about Gerrard that he disliked? Her mother on the other hand was the gladdest. She danced on her toes all night till they led her to her bedroom.

Glancing around to the kitchen to make sure no one saw her, she ran up the stairs to her room and shut the door close. She sat on her bed and brought out a book, a physics book. What Robert had told her earlier made her eager to know more. He told her she didn't belong. She'll show him how hard she belonged in the science world. He should just wait and see.

a cock's crow shot her out of bed. Her brown hair was in disarray, her physics book plopped open on the wooden floor. Quick footsteps were coming toward her room and she rushed to the book on the floor. She managed to toss it above her wardrobe before her mother arrived the room. She would faint on the spot if she found Ella reading such a book.

"Ella." Mrs Featherington locked eyes with her daughter and leaned on the frame of the door.

Ella's chestnut eyes widened. "Mother. What a pleasant surprise."

"What's more surprising is the flower bouquet in the dustbin." She raised a brow. "Ella?"

Lie, quickly! "There was a bug in the flower so I threw it away."

"Sir Gerrard sent those flowers, Ellie," her mother said, reminding Ella of her horrible evening. "He's the best suitor for you in my opinion. Throwing away his flowers isn't the best way to impress him."

Ella would rather impress a monkey than that arrogant poppycock. "Of course, mother. I would be careful next time."

Mrs Featherington gave her daughter a long caring look before she covered their distance and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Breakfast is ready and your father has left for work already." She held the doorknob. "I think you need to hurry if you don't want to be late for art your classes with Juliet."

Oh, no. "Wor- I mean class. I'll be right down, mother."

Nice going, Ella. Nice going. She wanted to smack her head with a vice. She almost exposed herself!

As soon as her mother shut the door, she rushed out of bed, nightdress sweeping the floor. The clock above said nine-thirty. Shimmy cock! Lord Robert would finally find a good reason to skin her alive. She collided her brows.

"I won't let him." She punched the air. prepping herself. "Time to show pretty boy who's the boss."

Ella had arrived at the office building, dressed in her men's clothing, her heart punching her rib cage repeatedly. Sweat had clogged her armpits by the time she sailed the stairs. At least she'll get the chance to rest her head when she entered her office. Blowing out air, she opened her office door and her jaws slacked.

"Heavens." She couldn't believe the bloody sight before her. The room had returned to its former state and this time, it was worse. The files she had spent hours tidying were scattered all over the room and accompanying them were sawdust and splinters of wood. Robert had mentioned calling a carpenter yesterday. This must've been the result because the damaged shelve she had ruined was as good as new.

Did Robert ask the carpenter to make such a mess? He knew how hard she worked to clean up this shit hole and now she came back to something worse. If she didn't speak up, he"ll continue with this and would never stop. Huffing, she walked out of her office and headed to Robert's.

She knocked twice and his reply came, "I'm busy! Meet Mr Lithstone for an appointment."

Ella hissed, "It's Mr Law."

There was silence for a few seconds. "Come in."

She was going to give him a piece of her mind. That way, they'll both know boundaries they shouldn't cross. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room.

Last night, Robert had gone to the place he saw Arthur, expecting him to come to see his sister, but he never came. She too waited at her window, her blue eyes staring into the night. When her lover didn't show up, her eyes turned sad and she closed the window and went to bed. Robert wished he could do something about this. But so far, the situation was out of his control. All he had to do for now was make sure his sister wasn't led astray.

Sighing, Robert stared outside the windows of his London office. Smoke from factories' chimneys ahead rose to the blue sky. Sunshine laid on London, golden specks freckling Robert's blue eyes. He took in a deep breath, a tendril of blonde hair falling to the side of his face. He had not received news so far from the men he sent on the bloody treasure hunt. They were his last hope to finish the moon lamp. That metal was the missing piece.

A knock made him twirl to the door. "I'm busy! Meet Mr Lithstone for an appointment."

Bloody workers and their wrong timing. He was trying to figure out his bloody life over here.

"It's Mr Law!" For a reason only he knew, he smirked. Well, she was an exception.

"Come in." He caught himself straightening his blue tailcoat. He couldn't possibly want to look good for that woman. She was a stubborn goat. And goats had goatees too just like her. She walked in wearing her usual outfit that never failed to give Robert comedic relief.

"Mr Law." He raised a brow, restraining the urge to burst out in laughter. How on earth did he ever think of this? A woman dressed as a man? Hilarious!

"Lord Robert Stark." His full name? Holy Mary. She was pissed off. Well, her brown eyes glaring sharp chocolates at him didn't scare him in the least. In fact, he thought it made her look cute.

"I'm flattered that you know my full name, Mr Snell Law." Robert knew why she was pissed off. At least, now she would resign and walk away.

"My office," she balled her hands into a fist, "is a mess."

"Oh, that must've been the carpenters' doing." Robert shrugged. "They did a very... good job."

She did a smile so fake even a blind man could see it. "Indeed. Your Lordship, I know what you're trying to do."

"Oh really?" He rounded his black desk and sat on it, arms crossed. She wasted no time walking up to him and looking up into his eyes. He just wanted to pinch her adorable round cheeks. She was small compared to his tall form.

"I would never quit this job. You could burn my office to the ground and I'll never quit."

That was strong coming from a woman. She knew what she wanted. But she could be all talk. It wouldn't cost a dime to pull some extra nerves. Maybe she'll give up then.

"Quitting this job would be the best thing that would ever happen to you," Robert tried to explain to her saggy brain. But given her stubborn nature, he doubted she would give in.

They were so close now, her breath airing on his defined jawline and sharp chin. His hands were tempting to reach out to her face and hold it. But he had to withhold himself. She had some sort of aura about her smartness and determination that made him want to make physical touch.

"I've gotten this close, Your Lordship," she said fiercely. "I'm not wasting this chance."

He brought his head down to her face to the extent that all he could breathe was her bloody carbon dioxide. She seemed to tense under his gaze but quickly covered it up with her stoic facade.

"We'll have to see about that won't we?" He smirked.

"Indeed, Your Lordship." And with that, she turned and left his office.

He inclined his head. "She'll be one tough nut to crack."

A ring tensed his muscles and he frigging bounced off his feet and picked up the bloody telephone.

"Lord Robert," Howard said.

"Yes?"

"Captain Asher Newman is here to see you."

Robert's curiosity perked up. "The Captain of the Company situated in Royal Niger Territories?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"What could he possibly want to see me for?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Let him in." Robert hung up and relaxed into his black chair, fingers tapping nervously on his chair. His guts told him something wasn't right. And his guts never failed him.