The urea stench of urine clogged Roberts's nasal system, turning his stomach inside out. He had never been to an auction in such a place before. Erected around him were four walls that held a gallery of balconies crowded with people drinking and shouting at the top of their voices. Down where he was, could be agreed to be worse. Each person that passed him carried a significant scent that deserved an award for smelling so bad.

Far ahead of the curtain of silhouettes that overflooded his view was a stage with a red curtain behind it. A man with an odd-looking long nose stood before them, holding a piece of paper in his hand and next to him was a glass box enclosing a quaint pirate ship model and an older-looking man with pig ears.

“I’m certainly loving the reception, My Lord,” Howard stated, eyes raking over Robert’s out-of-the-wardrobe look; a brown shirt with long sleeves and a cap that sent a shadow above his Greek face. “And you look quite the bachelor in that outfit.”

“We have to play the part, Mr Lithstone.”

“At least this time we don’t have to speak differently,” The ridiculous married man sighed in relief. “My wife kept pestering me, asking why I kept saying aye. That act left a lasting effect on me.”

“Miss Featherington claimed you left her alone.” Robert smiled, reminiscing on how pissed off she looked when he arrived. He even added the ‘tease’ part to infuriate her more. She didn’t know how ridiculously pretty she looked when she was annoyed. He had never seen a woman so gentle and yet, so fierce. Tossing his mind away from Ella, he tried to focus on the matter at hand.

“I'm a married man.” Howard shrugged, deciding that was enough as an answer.

“Goin' for a thousand dollars,” The man at the stage called out, a mallet in his hand ready to strike. When he glanced around and noticed no one was willing to top the price, he struck the gravel and pointed to the crowd. “Sold to the man with the crooked head!”

How Ironic, Robert thought. He watched closely as the man gestured to the older-looking man next to him. The latter nodded and disappeared behind the red curtains with the ship model. Soon, another man came out. No, Cowper came out.

He was wearing a fine black tailcoat and held up a golden key that cut the shadows with the light that bounced off it. That was the key that lit up his project at home. Robert was right. It was the skinny fish that stole his key and even his letter. His stomach shrank as he locked eyes with Howard. Ella never had a hand to do with whatever happened that day. He knew that giving her a raise wasn’t enough of an apology. He was going to give her what she had always wanted.

“Dis is is a fifty karat golden key,’ the auditor presented. “Ye wouldn’t see such a ring in dis part of town. Biddin starts at a thousand pounds.”

“A thousand and fifty pounds!” Someone in the crowd yelled.

You could see the greedy smile on Cowper’s face. Robert couldn't wait to plant a fist into that thieving ugly face of his. The Marquess raised a hand.

“A thousand and hundred pounds.”

“We’ve got a thousand and hundred pounds!”

“Two thousand pounds!” The crowd gasped and gave way to reveal Robert’s challenger. He had a bloated stomach and wore a formal blue tailcoat that spoke of his affluence. Surrounding him were big muscled footmen.

Howard leaned into Robert and whispered, “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

“Oi, mate!” A smirk spread on the fat fool’s face. “Why don’t you let me take this one? You look like you can’t afford this piece anyway.”

Robert hit the inside of his cheeks with his tongue. Surely this person had wealth. But Robert Stark was wealth itself. He was arguably the richest man in London and if this bloke thought otherwise, the playboy decided to play with his opponent a bit.

“Two thousand and five pounds.”

The rival’s jaw visibly dropped, the lot murmured, Cowper smiled wider and the presenter pointed at Robert. “We have two thousand and five pounds”

“Two thousand and a hundred pounds.” The chubby wanker crossed his pudgy arms. Chest swelling with pride.

Not so fast, mate. Robert crossed his strong arms. “Two thousand, a hundred and one pounds.”

The man gritted his teeth and jerked his head at the young man. As he strolled toward Robert, two footmen flanking him followed too. On instinct, Howard reached for inside his shirt and Robert gave him a commanding look and he stopped midway.

“Well, well,” Chubby cake clasped his hands and inclined his shaved head, “I have to admit mister, I didn’t know you would be a competition. Though you look like you need an upgrade in your life. How about you spend this money on yourself?”

From the shadows shielding the upper part of Robert’s face, a glint appeared in his oceanic eyes. He didn’t like being spoken to like he was a nobody. His father had already filled that role in his life. He didn’t need a fat piece of shite contributing to that too. He watched as the man walked back to the vanguard of the room and raised his hand.

“Five thousand pounds,” He looked over his shoulders, grinning at Robert.

For a minute, there was absolute silence. Then in the dimly lit room, a tanned hand went up and everyone gasped, turning to look at the Marquess. Fear shrouded the fat man’s face and Robert relished in the look, smirking.

“Eight thousand pounds and two shillings.”

Cowper pointed to Robert and the auctioneer hit his gravel. “Sold to the man with the quaint-looking cap!”

As Cowper headed to the red curtain with the golden key, Robert and Howard started for the backstage door. The chubby man didn’t seem too pleased with losing to Robert because he sent two footmen their way. They both froze to the spot when Howard gave them a glance at the steel pistol in his hold. One swift move and they’ll be both dead. At least they understood that simple fact.

The backstage room was lit by warm gas lights on the stone walls, a gallery of shelves holding different items to be auctioned. At the end of the room, Cowper sat behind a desk, two bulky men holding rifles, their faces stony.

Robert leaned against one of the shelves, their shadows casting over Robert’s tall statuesque form. Cowper wouldn’t be able to recognise him from this distance. Howard on the other hand, took a step forward, his fake beard masking the lower part of his face.

“He speaks for me,” Robert said.

“Alright,” Cowper observed them over steepled fingers. “Where’s da money?”

“Straight to business,” Howard chuckled. “I like you.”

The thief held up the key. “If only ye ‘ow much dis key is worth, ye will be kissing me arse for it.”

“I'm afraid I can’t do that since I’m married,” Howard replied. “It’s also odd that you would want to steal a piece from your boss and sell it at an auction.”

Cowper's face went white and he laughed nervously. “What are ye talking about?”

In what could be concluded as less than a second, two gunshots echoed in the room and pandemonium broke loose outside. Amid the commotion, Cowper seized the key, dashed to the exit and Howard bolted after him, a glinting revolver in his hand. Robert followed suit, stepping over the corpses of the two gunmen. At times he counted himself lucky for having a private secretary who was a marksman in the army.

Right outside the building, the cold was biting Robert's porcelain skin and he had to dip his hands into his trousers not to freeze his fingers off.

Cowper was cornered by a circle of soldiers in red uniform pointing muskets at him. Robert had to borrow some of Asher’s soldiers which led to him divulging every piece of information he hadn’t known before; Including the fact that Ella was working for him, dressed as a man.

The Captain didn’t seem to be flabbergasted that a lady would do such. All he told Robert was that he only wanted the truth from him always. He claimed transparency would yield better progress. Also, they had to go over their deal again so they'll be sure they were still on the same page.

The thief fell to the muddy ground when he saw there was nowhere left to run. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Kill you?” Robert asked, plumes of steam leaving his mouth. “You think I would go through all this trouble to kill you?”

“He’s been a pain in the arse though,” Howard whispered.

The rake nodded. “I agree. Mr Cowper?”

“Y-yes?”

Robert squatted, taking off his cap, tousled blonde hair sending dishevelled locks down the side of his chiselled face. Cowper's eyes widened with remembrance and he moved backwards on the muddy floor. Robert had flashbacks of the way he screamed at Ella and it was all because of this fool. He made him blame an innocent woman and worse, take her dream away from her.

Though he had to admit, the thought of still getting rid of her was tempting. One slight mistake and all his dreams would be burnt to the ground. He knew he had to give her a chance to prove herself, but the risks were too high.

She bothered him more than he thought she should. Maybe that was why he cared about what she thought of him earlier this morning. He knew he had never ranted like that to anyone about how he felt after sleeping around. Though it was his only way to feel loved, it also sent a stream of guilt down his conscience. If only he could finally make this moonlamp, he was sure the love his father would give him would be more than enough. And he could finally be able to stop seeking love from women’s bodies.

Robert raised a brow at Cowper. “Remember me?”

It was midnight, the tree in Ella’s garden dancing with its branches to the tune of the whistling wind. She sat at her usual spot, a novel in her possession, brown Barley curls packed into a kerchief. No matter how hard she tried to read any of the words, she couldn't forget the fact that Robert was out there trying to find Cowper without her. Who knew if he was going to make it alive? It wasn’t that she doubted his capabilities, she was just worried for him. He appeared to have something he was hiding from her earlier; he spoke about a dream. Could it be the moon lamp he was referring to? She couldn’t still wrap her head around it.

While she was immersed in her thoughts, she didn’t seem to notice Mr Finn walking up to her.

“Miss, you appear to be lost in-“

“Friggin hoofs!” She nearly jumped out of her white nightdress.

“You appear to have improved your vocabulary,” Mr Finn said, smirking.

Ella placed a delicate hand on her chest. “You scared me, Mr Finn.”

“Apologies, Miss.” He inclined his head at the backdoor, “But your friend, Jules, is here to see you. And she doesn’t look too happy.”

Jules? Not Happy? Those two words never went into the same sentence. Ever since Ella knew Juliet as a child, she was always the one who barely cried. If she was sad, she would joke—mostly by using sexual innuendo. Worried, Ella sprang out of her bench and headed to the door. Standing on the threshold was Juliet in a pink nightdress, blonde hair tied in a bun, blue eyes shaking under the moonlight with an undecipherable emotion and a weak smile on her face.

“Jules,” Ella said softly, wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist. It was easy considering Juliet was taller. She led Juliet to the bench and thanked Mr Finn before he left. Settling her carefully on the chair, she held both her hands and looked deep into her friend's blue depths. At that moment, tears rolled down Juliet's cheeks and Ella’s heart ached. What made her friend feel this way?

“Jules, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” She sobbed. “I should’ve told you about this a long time ago. Maybe if I did, this wouldn't have happened.”

“What happened? Jules, tell me, what happened?”

Juliet pursed her lips, salty tears seeping inside her mouth. “I haven’t bled in a month.”