The tires of the carriage rolled over the concrete road that led to the mansion of Sir Gerrard Finley. Ella looked outside the vast expanse of greenery darkened by the night sky.

Series of street lamps lined beside the gravelled road, streaking yellow lights onto the carriage and the road beyond. Her mother smiled widely as she admired the west wing of the mansion. Buttery lights filled up the rooms, a display of it showing from the gallery of windows that blessed the building.

On a normal occasion, any London lady on the marriage market would skip like a fool at the thought that a man this rich was interested in her. But Ella wasn't going to indulge in such madness. She had a goal and not even Gerrard Finley or the handsome Robert Stark was going to take that away from her.

Why was she thinking about Robert at such a time? Her fingers grazed her lips and her heart skipped a beat as she remembered how he claimed her lips with his. Bloody hell; if she didn't get Robert out of her head soon, she was going to run mad.

"Ella dear," Her mother patted her shoulders, bringing her back to her current disaster of a night, "we've arrived."

They exited the carriage and Ella had to breathe twice to take in the entire size of the mansion. It was twice the size of the Starklington manor. Two powerful columns held the weight of the building, and the wings of rooms spread into the depth of the night. Other visitors could be seen marvelling at the majestic house and Ella couldn't help but roll her eyes. Servants dressed in tailcoats and bow ties greeted them as they arrived at the entrance.

"Can we see your invitation cards please?" Servant one with a bald head asked, bowing in an angle that Ella swore could break his spine.

They both showed it to him and he passed it on to the next servant who looked at it and then passed it on to the next. With time, Ella's eyes got tired of following the annoying transference of their cards. When the last one looked at it, he gestured at them to follow him.

The inside was just as flawless as the outside. The marble floors of the lobby were bathed with the golden light the chandelier above radiated. They continued down till they reached the entrance of the ballroom. The ton in their finest dresses drank sparkling wine and talked with each other, gold gleaming at every corner of the room. Standing next to the entrance was a butler with an aquiline nose, his face raised to the air.

"Mr Hickery," The servant gave him their cards and he narrowly looked through them. Once he was done, he spared Ella a glance and then announced, "Mrs and Miss Featherington!"

She felt her stomach twist as a few of the visitors turned to look at her and her mother. The curious eyes followed them as they delved deeper into the room, some young men at the corner turning their attention to Ella.

Not today lads, not today.

"Smile dear," Her mother whispered into her ear. "You look like you ate shit."

Ella chuckled. "Mother!"

"I understand being nervous could make you contort ugly faces. But try to smile so you won't chase away all the fine young men." Ella knew the 'fine young men' was Gerrard Finley in particular. If it were possible to make an uglier face to chase him away, she would do it with the last drop of blood she has.

"Mrs Featherington."

Ella's heart thumped with fear. She knew that slick voice too well. Turning, she was met with the handsome face of Gerrard Finley, the golden lights dancing in his green eyes like fireflies in a forest. He smirked, his hard jaw moving.

"Sir Gerrard." Her mother was already beaming from ear to ear.

"Once I heard your announcement I began my search for you." Ella rolled her eyes, his presence already irritating her further. He turned his eyes to her. "Is your dance card full, Miss Featherington?"

"I suppose not," Ella said with a fake smile, lifting the dance card hanging loosely from her gloved hands. Gerrard took the card, scribbling his name unto it. Ella's fists were itching to be in contact with his smug face. Once he was done writing, the musicians at the corner began playing their tunes.

"Would you look at that?" He raised a brow, "The music has already started. May I have the honour of this dance, Miss Featherington."

Ella wailed inwardly. She should be at home reading a physics book or if she wanted to dream unrealistically, she should be with Robert now, searching for Emily. Her mother cleared her throat and nudged Ella's shoulder, reminding her that she was leaving Gerrard's hand hanging.

She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. There was a high possibility that she was about to dance with a murderer. Despite the lack of proof of who killed Cowper, Ella's guts still warned her against Gerrard. And they never failed her.

His hands rested at the small of her back, her hands on his shoulders. As he led her in tune to the music, his face morphed into Robert's, his golden hair gleaming under the excess of the golden light. Why would she be imagining Gerrard as Robert? What was wrong with her?

"Miss Featherington?" Gerrard leaned in closer, "Are you alright?"

Ella shook her head, removing the image of Robert from her head. It was that bloody kiss wasn't it? He had her enchanted and now she couldn't stop thinking about him. This was a problem.

"I'm fine."

"You looked quite lost for a moment." They danced slowly, Gerrard cautiously leading her. "Have you thought over what I told you?"

"Which is?" Ella knew exactly what he was talking about. She was afraid she didn't feel the same way and was glad for that. Gerrard and she wouldn't be able to live peacefully in the same household. He would be receiving hot slaps on his face every day for being such an arrogant son of a bachelor.

"How I feel about you, Miss Featherington." He spun her around and caught her again. "I know you may not feel comfortable with all the eyes watching us. But if you feel comfortable enough, I would like you to join me on a hunting trip tomorrow."

"I would think over it."

"Please do," Gerrard said, releasing her and bowing while she curtsied.

The song had stopped playing and he led her back to her mother who looked like the queen had just asked her to join her for tea. Her grin was threatening to tear her lips apart.

"How was it?" Her mother asked once Gerrard left, her hands gripped to Ella's arms, excitement buzzing through her body. Ella's face went red with embarrassment because her mother's gesture brought about some curious eyes their way.

"Mother." Her mother took notice of their surroundings and comported herself. "Sir Gerrard has asked me to go hunting with him tomorrow. I'm still not sure that's a good idea."

"Hush, girl. He's infatuated by you."

Maybe her mother might have to worry about Ella's lack of Infatuation with him. Considering he invited her for a hunting trip, she might be tempted to blow his head off with a gun. Just then, a man walked over to them, his black eyes carrying a sense of urgency.

"Are you Mrs Featherington?" he asked.

She inclined her head curiously, Ella watching with the same expression.

"Yes?"

"I believe we've encountered some problems with your carriage."

She gasped her hands to her chest. "What may that be?"

"Your wheels seemed to be dislodged."

"Blimey, let me see it." She turned to Ella and motioned for her to stay. "Dear, I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

Before Ella could counter, her mother had disappeared amid the crowd with the man. How in God's name did their wheel get dislodged? She was as sure as the sun that she saw Mr Finn polishing the tires before they left for the ball.

Minutes passed and she kept watching the people on the dance floor, their motion as fluid as a stream. A servant squeezed himself through the throng of people in the corner of the room and soon Ella noticed him running towards her.

"Are you Miss Featherington?" He asked, panting heavily, his hands on his knees.

Ella narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

"Your mother is at the courtyard trying to fix the carriage. She asked me to tell you to join her. Follow me, I'll lead you there."

The man began to walk, gesturing for her to follow. Ella knew her mother had told her to stay here but she could as well change her mind. Besides, she was already getting bored of watching people dance and not getting a dance herself. Sighing, she trailed behind the man.

Soon they had left the bustle of the ballroom and entered a hallway with strong grey columns holding the white ceilings. Alabaster statues of animals lined the cream-coloured walls, each design better than the last. Ella watched with awe as they continued down the corridor.

"The courtyard is behind those doors." The man pointed at the two double-wing doors ahead. Out of the column, someone hopped out, planting the man with a facer. Ella froze, eyes unable to believe who was before her.

His blonde hair was perfectly combed and gleamed under the lamps, his black tailcoat perfectly ironed, hands covered in black gloves. She could see her shock reflect in his blue orbs and wondered what he was doing hiding behind that pillar.

He removed his glove, soothing his hand with the gloved one. "Bloody hell, that's one hard face."

"My Lord, what are you doing here?"

"I believe the words you should be looking for is 'thank you." He smirked. "I just saved your life, Ella."

Ella? This was the first time he had ever called her that. And she had to admit, it felt good.