"Hïyah!" Robert pressed hard into the sides of his black stead, racing down the carriage-crowded London roads. He had gotten a call from Howard about Ella. He claimed he saw Gerrard carrying her unconscious body to his carriage. This was moments after Howard had fired the green signal. "Come on boy!"

Fuck. Robert thought as he steered the reins of his horse, cornering into a street. He didn't even have the time to wait for his carriage to be prepared. He needed to know if Ella was fine. This was all his fault. If only he didn't ask her to do this. Who knew what Gerrard did to her?

His fists tightened on the reins, his black tailcoat flapping behind him. "If I get my hands on him."

The wind billowed through his golden hair, his blue eyes steady as they focused on the cobbled road ahead. Buildings rushed past him in a blur, his heart rate in sync with the fast tempo of his horse's hoof against the floor.

His eyes searched the building, looking for the sign of the hospital Howard said Gerrard took Ella to. He noticed a throng of women in white aprons with a cross in the middle. Nurses! By the corner of the building they stood, a sign was fixed at the edge of the road. It said "St. John's hospital."

"This was it." Robert pulled his horse to a stop and hopped over it, lading with finesse. He didn't bother with securing his horse and rushed to the building. Right outside it was a black carriage he knew too well. He ran up the short breakout of stairs and slipped past the two columns holding the roof.

The main lobby was bunched with nurses sprinting to and fro along the white tiles. He spotted the bastard he was searching for. His black hair was oiled under the rays of sun that sneaked past the windows of the building. Clenching his jaw he marched to him.

"Robert Stark? What on earth are you-" Before he could complete his bloody sentence, a fist to his mouth shut him up. He narrowed his eyes trying to process what happened. Robert didn't give him time to think, plunging another fist to his cheek, blood sputtering out of Gerrard's mouth. Surprisingly, none of the nurses paused to watch the scene. They must've seen worse.

"What did you to her?" He asked, his blue eyes raging with an uncontrollable storm. His breathing was hard, his face red with rage, veins becoming more visible on his hands.

Gerrard spat out blood on the white tiles and cleaned his mouth with the heel of his palm. "For a rake, you seem quite disturbed about a common girl you could pick up anywhere on the street."

"Ella is not a common girl, she's-" His words were caught in his throat. She's what Robert? Smart? Beautiful? The perfect woman? He took in a deep breath, hatefully watching the smirk Gerrard was putting on. "Where's she?"

"How formal of you. You punch first and ask questions later." There was a devilish glint to Gerrard's green eyes. Robert wasn't having any of his nonsense and dashed to him, slamming him into the nearest wall.

"Do I look like I'm joking, Finley?" He asked, holding tightly to the nape of his shirt, tightening his hold with each passing second.

"I suppose not."

"I'll ask for the last time and you better answer. Where is, Miss Featherington?" He asked, stressing each word.

Gerrard's emerald gems slid to the side and Robert followed it, seeing a door that had 'emergency' engraved at the top.

"You better pray she's alive," Robert shoved him away and jogged to the door, his heart threatening to explode. Please be alive, Ella. He tore the door open and entered a room filled with beds occupied by patients. Ella was at the end of the room, laying unconscious in a bed, a doctor placing two fingers on her forehead. "Ella."

Robert covered their distance. The side of her head was bleeding and had already been bandaged. But the crimson stain was still visible on the white material. Her blue gown was damp and had some tears. What on earth happened to her? Did Gerrard touch her?

"Ella," Robert said, his heart melting. This was his fault. All his bloody fault. He was so blinded by his need to create the moon lamp that he didn't realise he was putting Ella in danger. What was he thinking sending her to the most dangerous man he knew?

"Excuse me, sir," the doctor, a man in black garb and wide-rimmed spectacles said. "We can't have you in here."

"Will she be okay?" Robert asked, feeling his heart clench harder.

"I'll do my best, Sir. Please just wait outside like the others."

Reluctantly, he walked to the door and looked at her one more time before he left the room. Right outside, Gerrard sat on one of the benches, a relaxed demeanour on his face. He reclined in the seat, his legs crossed over the other. How dare he look so relaxed after what just happened?

Robert sat on the bench, but away from him. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing." Gerrard already had visible bruises on his cheek and his mouth was swollen. Robert wasn't satisfied with the damage he had done. "We were hunting and she slipped off a wet log into a stream."

Robert blew out air, running his hands through his hair in frustration. There was no need to punch Gerrard again. He was the one who led an innocent lamb to a Tiger. He should've been more careful.

"Where's my baby?" Mrs Featherington asked, rushing into the hospital with her husband. Ella hadn't introduced them before, but he knew he was her father because he ran a background check on her. He had to say, he was uncomfortable having the daughter of his archnemesis' worker, working for him.

Mr Featherington seemed to have a stoic look and something flashed in his eyes when he looked at Gerrard. "Where's she?"

"She's in the emergency room," Gerrard said. "She's receiving medical attention as we speak. The doctor won't let any of us inside."

"What happened to her?" Her mother asked, a line of worry on her forehead.

Gerrard gave her the same explanation he gave Robert. Ella's parents sat in the middle of Robert and Gerrard, Mr Featherington's face as cold as ice. Shouldn't he be worried for his daughter?

"Lord Robert," Her mother seemed shocked to see him. "You're here?"

Robert knew a million thoughts would be going through her head. Why would a man who danced with her daughter once be waiting for her outside a hospital? Probably because he was the reason she was in here. He needed to change the direction of the conversation, but not steer it too far from Ella's dire situation.

"I spoke with the doctor, he seemed optimistic," He lied, hoping to ease her worry. It worked a bit, considering how she reclined in the seat, taking in a deep breath. She was deeply concerned for her only child. But Mr Featherington didn't seem to express any form of worry. His cold black eyes occasionally glanced at Gerrard. It was almost as if he was sending a silent threat to his employer.

"I'll be leaving now," Gerrard said, standing up. The Marquess knew he wasn't even bothered about the current situation. After all, he had wanted to dishonour Ella. Why would he worry himself about her condition now? "I have a meeting with some investors. I'm convinced that Miss Featherington would be fine."

Robert wanted to walk up to him and plant him with a facer. This time he would make sure he knocked out his teeth. But he knew that wasn't a good idea since Ella's parents were in the vicinity. He didn't want to give a bad impression.

With his words, Gerrard left them, Robert's thoughts drifting with prayers for Ella's quick recovery.

****

Hissing, he dropped the bourbon containing on the dining table. The hot afternoon rays were burning his blue eyes and he had to wince to stare outside the windows. A week had passed and Robert hadn't left his house; except for the occasional visits he paid Ella. By now her hospital room would be full of the flowers he always kept when he visited.

His blonde hair was a curly mess, strands falling beautifully over his face. He was plunged into a kingdom of guilt and the castle walls of pain were preventing him from living his life. This was his second bourbon of whiskey for the day. At this rate, there wouldn't be any difference between him and the drunk that sleeps outside a bar every night.

Ella's condition wasn't improving as she was still in a coma. Her mother wasn't getting better either. Anytime Robert came to visit, he would always see her crying, holding her daughter's hands. He knew that if he had stepped foot into that room with her in there, he would have to be the one that comforts her. He wasn't good with things like that. So instead he would give it to one of the nurses and ask her to say the person who sent it wanted to remain anonymous.

His white shirt was left open to reveal two hard protruding chests. It was oiled with sweat and gleamed under the shafts of the sun. There were black sleep bags under his eyes as he had been unable to barely get any sleep since Ella went to the hospital. How could he sleep when he knew he sent her to one where she may never return from?

The thought made his heart clench. "Dear, God."

Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside and Mr Griffith in a pristine black tailcoat walked in. He bowed briefly and Robert barely spared him a glance.

"My Lord, you have a visitor."

"I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone," he dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

"I believe you would want to see this person."

Slightly interested, he steered to see who it was. Grace was dressed in a peach dress, her blonde hair neatly packed into a ladies' hat. Her blue eyes churned with concern when she laid eyes on her brother and Robert felt a tug at his heart. He was ashamed that his sister would see him in such a state.

"You can leave us," Robert said, closing his bourbon and getting up to bring out a seat for his sister. "Please, have a seat."

Grace complied and locked her hands together, her eyes observing Robert intensely.

"Brother, what happened? I was worried that you hadn't come to the Manor for a few days." Though he had decided to stay at the manor because of Grace's recent love escapades, the current situation was dire and needed his undivided attention. Mentally, he scolded himself for being a bad brother. But at times, hard decisions have to be made.

He faked a bloody smile. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I'm not a child, you know? I can see you're bothered about something. Come on, you know you could talk to me about anything." Robert smiled, remembering that his sister herself wasn't talking to him about a certain late-night meeting she had with a certain stable master son.

He took in a deep shaky breath, trying to calm his tense muscles. "A friend of mine is in the hospital because of me."

"Oh, dear," Grace's innocent face was washed with a river of sadness. "What happened?"

"I was too focused on what I wanted, not realising I was putting them in danger." He had gotten what he wanted from Gerrard's office, but at the expense of Ella's safety. How silly of him. "I'm such a bad person."

Grace's eyes surveyed the bourbon on the table. "No, brother. You're a good person and I'm sure this person knows it too."

"You're too kind, Grace."

"If being honest is kind, then you're right." She sighed, massaging her temples. "But I don't think drinking yourself to a stupor is what this friend of yours would want. If they agreed to do whatever it was that put them in danger, then I'm sure they believed in that cause. And whatever it is, I believe you should pursue it."

Robert lifted a brow, a corner of his lip rising. "When did you become smart?"

"I've always been the smartest in the family," she replied, her head raised high and they both laughed.

Ella's sacrifice was the reason they had the file from Gerrard's office in the first place. Instead of sulking here in his house, he should make sure that her sacrifice wasn't for nothing.

"Thank you, Grace," Robert said, pinching her rosy cheek. "I don't know what I'll ever do without you."

"Nothing." She pouted.

Robert picked up the bourbon and placed it on a wall side drawer, leaving behind his sadness and accepting a newly found inspiration to pursue what both he and Ella wanted; to make sure the moon lamp was built.

But for now, he needed to find Emily's parents.