Lord Abrehan DeLacy was sitting in his billiard room in front of the big windows overlooking the manor park. Outside, the sun was shining, the flowers were blooming and the birds were singing in the trees. And yet, in the midst of this bright day, dark thunderclouds seemed to be hanging over His Lordship's head.

"Hell and damnation! That little witch...!" A fist slammed down onto a nearby coffee table, splintering the expensive wood right down the middle and sending an expensive Ming vase crashing down onto the carpet. "Escape? From me? You dare try and escape from me?"

Wood and porcelain shattered against the wall, as more furniture was sent flying. A moment later, a footman entered the room and started cleaning up the debris from the floor. Lord Abrehan didn't even glance at him. Instead, he stared at the landscape outside as if it was the country of his most hated enemy.

In a way it was true.

After all, he was looking at a land full of people who didn't belong to him. Not completely, like they were bloody supposed to! Someone had dared to rebel!

Just then, a knock came from the door.

"Inside!" Lord Abrehan bellowed.

The door opened, and a man with the demeanour of a butler and the face of a bulldog stuck his head inside the room.

"My Lord, there are—"

"What is it? Have the riders returned yet?"

"No, My Lord, but—"

"Then why are you showing your ugly face here? Get back to work and see to it the wench is found!"

"That's just it, My Lord. She is. There's a man in your livery down at the gate. Apparently, he's from one of your estates to the west and he has the girl with him!"

Lord Abrehan froze.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"The girl, My Lord. He had the girl in his custody."

A grin spread across Lord Abrehan's face. Not his public smile. Oh no. This was a smile few people ever got to see. The only creatures who got to see it were slaves. Objects. Toys.

"Well, well...it appears that the Lord is smiling on me. God always rewards the just and punishes the wicked." He cracked his knuckles. "That wench dared spurn my generosity? Ha! Let's help out with the punishing, shall we?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Striding out of the room, Lord Abrehan headed downstairs, past the opulent statues and paintings decorating the hallways, and towards the front doors. Stepping out into the sunlight, he came to a halt at the top of the elegant marble porch.

"Where is he? Where is the man, Camden?"

"There, My Lord." The butler pointed at a man standing just inside the open gate in the cast iron fence that surrounded the property. Lord Abrehan let his eyes wander over the fellow. Three-day-beard, bags under his eyes... Even in the sumptuous livery, not an impressive man. Not that it mattered. Not that he mattered. He was just a serf. Flicking past the man, Lord Abrehan's eyes immediately zeroed in on the small figure standing hunched beside him.

"Well, well...the prodigal returns." Striding forward, DeLacy spread his arms in welcome. "There you are! Finally!" He smiled, sending a shiver through the girl that made a feeling of immense satisfaction rise within him. Oh, the things he would do to her...! Soon, she would not just shiver for him. How fortunate his manor had thick walls. Turning towards the man in livery beside the girl, he let his gaze flicker over the despicable plebeian. If that man laid his filthy hands on his property...but no. He wouldn't dare. None of his men would dare touch what was his. Widening his fake smile, Lord Abrehan stepped forward. "Good man! You did well! The silly girl isn't used to working away from home and ran off because she felt homesick. Just think! She could have gotten lost in the forest and fallen prey to predators..."

Shaking his head, he reached out and patted the girl's head, relishing in how she was shuddering beneath his touch. Oh yes. This was going to be good.

"Silly little girl! Thomas, Frank! Close the gate so the girl cannot get out and wander around again. We wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to her, would we?"

"Aye, My Lord!"

The two footmen standing beside the gate stepped forward and, grabbing the cast iron bars, dragged the gate shut. As it closed with a clang, the girl flinched.

Ah, the pleasures of living in a manor house!

"So..." Turning back towards the man in livery, he smiled. Or at least his mouth did. The man looked strangely...familiar. But then again, he was one of his lackeys, so why wouldn't he? "What's your name, good man?"

"Tit-um, Timothy, My Lord. Timothy Irving."

"So, Timothy, tell me—how did my young charge happen to end up in your hands?"

The man shifted. "Was travellin' dis way ta visit me aunt down in da village, My Lord. Den I met yer men goin' down da road, and dey told me all about some wench running away from ye and, well...dat ye might pay a pretty penny if she was returned." A filthy profiteering grin spread over the lackey's face. "I'm always 'appy ta serve a generous lord."

Abrehan chuckled. So that's how it was, was it? Well, excellent. One more man among his servants willing to do anything for money was a boon in his eyes. "Certainly. You'll find that being in my service can be very...rewarding."

Reaching into his pocket, he flipped the man a sovereign.

"Here. Take the girl inside and make sure she is safely situated. Very safely."

The man smirked. "I understand perfectly, My Lord."

"Excellent! I foresee a bright future for you. My butler, Camden, will show you the way. Now get going!"

"Aye, My Lord!"

Grabbing hold of the girl's arm, the man started dragging her away, and Lord Abrehan turned back to look over the lands and villages, as a smile curled at the edges of his mouth. Finally, everything was as it should be. Finally, everything was going his way again.

***

"Crap, crap, crap! I should never have gotten involved in this! Why the hell did I let myself be talked into this?"

"'cause, in spite of 'ow ye look, ye're actually a human being with a soul?"

"Shut up! You're supposed to be a terrified little victim quivering with fear at my villainous presence, remember?"

Grace stuck her tongue out towards her villainous captor. "Up yours, toff!"

"Shh! What if somebody hears?" The Honourable Titus Irving nervously glanced left and right at the medieval armours lining the wall, as if any moment he expected an armed guard to jump out of one of them and shout "Boo!"

Grace sent him a look. "We got dis far, didn't we? With our disguise, what can go wrong?"

"How about someone noticing the freaking bullethole in my oh-so-perfect disguise?" Titus hissed. "I knew we should have stopped and mended this darn thing before coming here!"

"With what? Yer supreme sewing skills?"

"You know...you don't really show me the proper amount of respect, considering that I was one of the people who saved you."

"Aye, I forgot I should be filled with gratitude for da way ye bravely 'ung back and ducked behind a boulder."

"I'm going to find a really sinister dungeon to chain you up in."

"Ye know...ye're startin' to sound really quite amazingly convincin' in yer role of a corrupt, depraved pervert. Bravo."

Titus gave the girl a look he normally reserved for certain people dragging him out of bed at five in the morning. "Thank you so very much for the compliment."

For a moment, silence hung between them as they strode down the hall. Finally, out of the corner of his eye, Titus glanced down at the girl.

"Nervous, are you?"

The girl stared straight ahead.

"Terrified."

They continued to walk. After another moment, Titus reached out to grab her hand. To anyone seeing them pass, it looked like a lackey dragging along a helpless little girl. Only Grace could feel the gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"Let's get ta where we need ta be," Grace whispered. "We've got work ta do."

"Yes, we do." Titus nodded, quickening his steps. "Let's just hope the others' part of the plan goes smoothly."

***

"My Lord! My Lord!"

Lord Abrehan stopped in his tracks. He'd just been about to return to the manor house and plan his entertainment for the night, when he heard the shout from behind him. Turning back, he saw one of the footmen—one with a death wish, apparently—rush towards him without even bothering to bow.

"Yes?" he barked.

"Dere's a carriage movin' up da road!"

"So what? What do I care for some tradesman's wagon? Get the steward to take care of it!"

"B-but My Lord, it's a coach with a crest on da door!"

"What?" Abrehan whirled around.

"Aye, My Lord! It's some nobleman for sure."

Lord Abrehan cursed. Who would come now of all times? He was very sure he had not invited anyone. Not anyone who wasn't in chains, in any case. He was just about to turn away and stride back to his mansion, when he caught a flash of gold through the trees.

Gold?

Turning back around, he strode toward the gates and stared down at where, through the trees, he could catch glimpses of the fast approaching coach.

A moment later...

"Open the gates!" he roared. "Open the gates, now!"

For a few seconds, the footmen just stood there—then they ran towards the gates, rushing to do their lord's bidding.

"Dammit!" Abrehan growled. "What is a man like him doing here, now of all times?"

More importantly—what does he want? I've been careful to keep my public reputation clean enough...but that doesn't mean I socialize with bloody straight-laced saints like him!

Something was off here.

There was no earthly reason why someone like this would visit him if he didn't know the truth about his little pastime. If, on the other hand, he did know...

It would be just like that sanctimonious bastard to show up here! Putting on a smile you could have cut glass with, Lord Abrehan folded his arms behind his back and stepped forward, waiting. A moment later, a coach with the biggest bloody towelhead he had ever seen sitting on the box rolled through the gates and came to a stop in front of him. The huge man leapt down from the carriage and pulled open its door.

"My Lord."

A foot appeared, and a man stepped out.

Bloody thrice-damned hell!

"Lord Patrick Day." Abrehan's smile was forcibly widened. "What a pleasure to see you! What, if I may ask, brings an esteemed Peer of the Empire and Knight of the Order of the Garter to my humble home?"

"Oh, nothing much." The bloody Lancelot lookalike said, a smile spreading over his unreadable, chiselled face. "I just felt like a holiday in the countryside, and found myself in this area, so I thought I'd pay a visit. My apologies. I would have announced my arrival beforehand, but I felt that if I did not my stay might be more...interesting."

He knows. He definitely knows.

Fighting to keep his smile from transforming into a snarl, Lord Abrehan bowed. He could not afford to lose his temper. Not now. Not as long as this arrogant fool was not yet in his power.

Lord Patrick took a step forward, raising an eyebrow. "I hope I do not come at an...inopportune time?"

Damn you! Damn you thrice to hell and back!

"But of course not." With a snap of his fingers, Lord Abrehan summoned one of his lackeys. "Thomas, let's show Lord Day our very best hospitality. Show him to the silver suite in the west wing, and help his staff get situated." His eyes dug into the other man. "How many men have you brought, Lord Day?"

"Only one." Lord Day smiled. "My driver Karim. Other than that, I only need my maid Amy. After all, in circumstances like these, why should I need more?"

Cocky bastard!

But why complain? All too soon, the man's arrogance would be his undoing.

"Well, then please follow Thomas inside!" With a last smile, Lord Abrehan DeLacy gestured for his "guests" to approach the double-doors that formed the entrance to his ancestral manor. "I shall go and instruct my servants to take especially good care of you."

And he strode off. It didn't take him long to find his loyal butler, who just happened to be polishing silverware.

"Camden!"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Three...special guests have just arrived. They seemed to be interested in the contents of my cellar, and I am not referring to its excellent wine collection."

The butler's hand paused, just as it wiped a cloth across the blade of a knife.

"Oh?"

"See to it that their quarters are well guarded. We wouldn't want anything...untoward to happen to them."

"Understood, My Lord." With a silvery flash, the knife was twirled around until its hilt rested in the butler's hand, and, accompanied by a dull thud, it buried itself in the tabletop. "Consider it taken care of!"

Lord Abrehan grinned.

Just you wait, Day! You're all alone, and you have no idea what's coming for you!

***

That night, from everywhere within the DeLacy mansion, shadowy figures converged upon a single point and there waited patiently. The ambush had been well-planned. Three men were hidden in alcoves along the corridor, their eyes fixed upon a certain door. Two more were waiting behind curtains, their focus just as intense.

"Remember what His Lordship said," the leader whispered. "The moment they step in range, we get'em!"

"Understood!" Morris hissed.

"Understood," came the reply a moment later from Saunders, Thomson and Webb.

"The servants heard them conspiring earlier. They should come out any moment now."

Nods came in response, and they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Approximately half an hour later...

"Errr...boss?"

"Any moment now!"

Outside, an owl hooted. More time passed, and the owl started coughing up mice corpses.

"Um, boss? Are ye sure dose servants 'eard right?"

"Any moment now. Any bloody moment now!"

Finally, something inside the room made a noise. After another second or two, the door cracked open, and someone peeked out into the corridor.

"Get ready!" the leader hissed. "They're coming!"

The door opened, and the hulking figure of a man wearing a turban stepped out into the corridor. Slowly, he approached.

"Remember!" the leader hissed. "The moment he gets within three feet...we strike!"

***

In his study, Lord Abrehan DeLacy sipped his glass of well-aged brandy and smiled. The world was an amusing place. Some things were so much better when they were old and aged, whereas some other things...

Well.

His smile widened, and he rose to his feet.

"Camden!"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Where did that fellow deposit the wench?"

"In the southern subterranean suite, I believe, My Lord. Everything is prepared for your enjoyment."

"Then..." Putting down the glass, he strode towards the door. "Let us go and enjoy to the fullest."