"What do you have?" Robert asked, pacing to and fro in his office, hands raking his blonde hair. Thirty minutes had flown by and he was growing impatient.

Howard looked up from the pile of files stacked on the desk. "His name is Anthony Cowper. Lives in the East end."

"A fitting place for someone of his occupation." Robert stopped pacing like a mad man, relieved that they were getting somewhere. "Get the guns ready."

Howard nodded and rushed out of the office with the agility of a soldier. Asher had trusted the letter in Robert's care. He hoped he could recover it before the Captain found out. He wouldn't want anything to jeopardise his chances of making the moon lamp.

Just then the door flew open and he turned frowning.

"Mr Lithstone, I thought I had asked you to—."

He froze when he saw Ella dressed in her usual tailcoat and thick beard. She was breathing heavily, beads of sweat decorating her forehead. He didn't know what to say. A day ago, he condemned her and blamed the poor girl for what she didn't do. And now, she was standing in front of him, not looking too pleased.

"Mr Law," he said, amazed that he could still call her by her office name at such a tense moment.

"Before you say anything—"

"Mr L—"

"No, please, My Lord," she fisted her hands, "listen to me."

Robert's silence encouraged her to go on.

"I didn't steal your letter. I know since the day I stepped foot into this establishment, you've stopped at nothing to get rid of me. But I want to let you know that I would never do such a thing. I've been grateful for the opportunity you gave me to work for you. But I implore you to cast aside whatever hate you have for me and see the truth before you. I would never —"

"Mr Law," Robert fixed his oceanic gaze on her and a storm of regret loomed in his blue eyes. He knew this was the moment. It was now or never. "I am sorry."

Ella stepped back in shock. "Am I hallucinating or did Lord Robert Stark just apologise to me?"

Robert wanted to toss her out of his window. Here he was giving an apology and all she had to do was make it harder for him. Tsk. Women.

"Pray do tell. What do you mean, My Lord?" Ella asked, brows locked together.

"You didn't steal, the letter. The doorman did," The Marquess revealed, swallowing his pride in the process. He had just admitted to a woman that she was right and he was wrong. He watched Ella as a stream of relief washed down her face, her brown eyes elated with joy.

"Does this mean that I'm free to work here again?"

"Apparently so," Robert placed his hand on the stack of files on his desk. She was quite receptive to his apology. He was expecting her to rain curses just like most women did. But as usual, he knew she was different. Not every woman in London knew Snell's Law.

"That's not enough," Ella said, closing her eyes, arms crossed.

"What are you insinuating?" Robert inquired, a brow raised.

"I demand a fifty per cent wage raise."

Robert batted his eyes lids.

Is she off her rocker?

Clearly. It appears Ella drank a full gallon of Brandy.

"That's too much," he said, brows hitting each other.

"Sixty per cent."

That's it, you need to strangle her.

No, Robert was a civil gentleman. He would never think of doing that to her.

You just did.

Shite!

"Mr Law, you don't —"

"Seventy per cent."

"Fine," he growled, holding the bridge of his nose. She was simply impossible. He watched her grin and couldn't help but smile inwardly. She was beautiful, no matter how hard she tried to look handsome with that beard. "Anything else?"

"Yes."

Are you sure you don't want to strangle her?

If that wasn't an option before, it was becoming tempting for Robert.

"I want to make the moon lamp as much as you do. So, I would like to know about the affairs concerning the moon lamp."

This was a matter of trust and Robert knew that. Could he trust her? The last time he mistrusted Ella, it ended up in a disaster. Maybe this was the best way to repay her after what he had done. He could start with the tad bits. Not everything. He could probably let her in on the current situation.

The hinges of the door wailed, introducing Howard walking in with two brown Muskets and a silver pistol. He tossed the latter to Robert and he caught it with finesse, deftly hiding it behind his red tailcoat. Ella watched Howard as he settled the weapons on the table and turned to her.

"I didn't know she'll be here," he said.

"She?" Ella questioned, looking at Robert.

Robert sighed. "He knows."

"Mr Snell Law?" Howard chuckled. "You could've just named yourself Physics."

Ella grew purple in embarrassment. She tried to hide it by clearing her throat.

"So what are we using guns for?"

Robert picked up a Musket and loaded it. "Not we, Mr Law. But you're coming with us. You wanted to be part of the moon lamp project. Well, this is your chance."

"That's a lot," Ella said, digesting every ounce of information Howard had given her on their way to Cowper's house.

"Depends on the brain processing it," Howard, seated at the other side of the carriage added, a smirk on his face, black curls falling to his forehead.

She ignored the camel and put her focus on Robert. He had been sitting silent all this while, letting Howard explain the ordeal to her. If Howard's words were true, then retrieving this key was of the utmost importance to him. She made a mental note to make sure she helped him get it. That might be the way to make him trust her a tad bit.

Robert sat at the other side of the window, blue eyes out to the distance, his long fingers caressing the barrel of his Musket. She didn't know him to be this kind of man. The kind of man willing to go to great extents to achieve whatever he wanted. No matter how hard she was against violence, she had to hold out just this once. She wouldn't let Robert or Howard think she was weak.

Though she wondered why the moon lamp meant so much to the Marquess. Surely, he was a scientist but his desire for it was nearly inhuman. There had to be a strong drive to make him want to risk his life to find this letter. She found herself inclining to the why.

Another question was why Gerrard was out for Robert. From what she knew, he said trash about him in the Times and now he had sent Cowper to steal a letter that seemed important to Robert. Howard didn't explain the contents of the letter and he sure as hell didn't tell her why Gerrard was doing this to Robert.

It made sense to suspect him since he clearly told Robert he would make his life miserable. Gerrard has also had it out for Robert since she knew him.

The finely decorated townhouses were becoming replaced by crack-walled buildings with washing lines hanging on them, the smell of urine and garbage tainting the air. This was the East end in all its poverty-stricken glory. If her mother ever heard that she came to this side of town, Ella would find herself locked up in her room for months.

They kept going and Ella registered that all eyes were on the royal carriage. Of course, Lord Robert Stark of Starklington had to be pompous enough not to hide the royal insignia on his carriage. The men and women dressed in clothes the queen would use to wipe her arse kept muttering between themselves till they disappeared behind a thick fog.

The carriage took a sharp turn into an alleyway with two tall rickety buildings with overhanging roofs. Every inch of the vehicle was shrouded in mist that smelled like the devil had shit in this part of London.

"What are we doing here?" Ella asked, her eyes darting left to right, uncertainty brimming in her.

"We want to buy gowns and parasols," Howard said, his words drenched in a pool of sarcasm.

Ella scoffed, "I'm being serious."

"Here," Robert tossed her a nylon bag, "put those on."

She opened it, "What do you—"

Ugh!

The most foul-smelling ragged shirt she had ever seen was buried deep in the bag. What on earth did he want to do with such a cloth?

"What should I do with this monstrosity?' She asked, holding it up with her fingers like it was made of shite. Howard scrounged up his nose, looking away. It wasn't as though the air of the East end was pleasant. But it was preferable to the stench of the cloth in her grasp.

"We wouldn't want to walk in this part of town dressed like Plutus puked on us, would we?" Robert asked.

Ella realized how stupid her question was and nodded. Then she looked at them, passing a silent message.

"We'll be outside," Robert said, glancing at her one more time before he left the carriage with Howard. She thought Robert didn't hate her. If not, why on earth did he have to choose a stinking rag as her cloth? He could've done her the favour of washing it at least. Well, if she had to look the part, she guessed she had to smell the part, no matter how horrible it was.

After minutes of struggling with a malodorous shirt, she managed to put it on, accompanying it with brown trousers which appeared to have been white before. Leaving the carriage, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Howard and Robert.

Howard on one hand had dirt smeared over his freckles, black hair left to run astray and he had changed into tattered shirts and a bogus dirty black trouser.

But Robert—oh Robert. He was madly irresistible in his dirty facade. His ripped arms were more defined in his tight white shirt that had tears in areas that revealed the ridges and plains of his muscles. He let his blonde hair run insane, stray locks running down his angular cheeks. He truly pulled off the poor handsome man look. And his behind—Ella couldn't fathom how she never saw good those peaches looked. Maybe he needed to wear dirty worn-out trousers often.

"Mr Law," Robert said, bringing her to her bloody senses.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, embarrassed with how horrible she failed at keeping her composure. What was she doing looking at a man's derriere Oh, Juliet, what are you turning me into?

Robert's blue eyes skimmed over her, taking in her full form. She didn't look bad in her full beard and dirty male get-up. At least the trousers were big enough to conceal her wide hips. But the smell—Friggin hell!

"I have to admit, you do make a fine man," Robert said with a smirk.

Howard coughed, covering his hand with his mouth. "Lies."

Ella glared at him and he put on a pretending smile. She had thought they were all in accord now. But Howard, he will never stop jesting her, would he?

"Let's go," Robert said, walking alongside his private secretary who held a briefcase. Ella wondered what it contained; it couldn't be more dirty clothes. Please don't be more dirty clothes. "And remember, you is ye and yes is aye. That's the least you could do to sound like them."

"Oh," she hadn't thought of that. People here spoke differently. Not everyone had the opportunity to go to school.

The streets were crowded with men, women and children all having one thing in common; dirty clothes and a bad stench. Gutters clogged with debris ran at both sides of the road, the lovely stink of urine in the already pleasant air. Ella swore she may faint if she took in one more whiff of anything nasty.

Three naked children ran past her, giggling with ragged dolls in their custody. She noticed a slight smile on Robert's face as his cerulean eyes followed them. Would you look at that? Even man-whores thought children were adorable. Maybe that was something about him that she may love.

Ahead, clear of the haze, was a building slightly in better condition than the rest of the structures in its vicinity. It had two wings, a portico made of wood and two columns that looked like they had seen better days.

A man walked out of the double door, staggering, his trousers hanging loosely to reveal his hairy buttocks. It looked like a bloody forest down there. Ella let her eyes fly to the top of the building where a sign hung reading; The drenched kitty.

Kitty, Ella thought. She knew she had heard Juliet say that before and she wasn't referring to a cat. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw something which looked like a brassiere fly out of the side of the building. And then it dawned on her; A half-naked man, a brassiere, wet kitty—

Bloody hell. They were heading to a whorehouse!