Chapter One

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes.

Your soft sigh caused the window to fog. Not that there was much of a view — it had been hills and fields for hours, and the city was still nowhere in sight. You'd tried to pass the time with a book, but the motion of the carriage made it impossible to focus without feeling queasy. Then, you'd made the mistake of trying to talk to Ethan, and... well, suffice to say that your brother had not been in the mood for conversation.

It was fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

That was what your mother had always told you as she sat beside you and smoothed the creases from your brow — though, admittedly, you would have been more inclined to believe it if she hadn't died and started the whole sorry chain of events that had led you to this moment.

But you didn't want to dwell on the past. You didn't want to think about your parents and what their wishes for you might have been. It was too late for any of that. Running a household was expensive, and keeping you in the lifestyle to which you were accustomed was no easy task. And, even you had to admit that Ethan had a point; in a couple of years your prospects would evaporate and you'd be seen as a spinster.

Not that spinsterhood bothered you. No, you just didn't want Ethan to have to devote his life to your care. It hardly fostered any sense of sibling affection when he'd already been thrust into the role of parent for most of your adolescence, and you'd already had more than enough of his complaining to last a lifetime. In fact, the only time he'd opened his mouth in the last two hours was to make muttered comments about the carriage driver and how long it was taking.

In the silence, you found your thoughts drifting to what was to come; a whole season of balls and dinners, meeting some of the most eligible bachelors in the capital. You would be paraded around like livestock at market in the hopes that one of them might want to take you as their wife. 

It was bleak but expected. Honestly, you were surprised to have lasted as long as you had before Ethan suggested it. 

All thoughts and worries melted away the moment you saw the faintest outline of the city on the horizon, and felt the dirt road beneath the carriage give way to smoother, maintained carriageways.

You'd always loved the city, always been fascinated by how big and wondrous it felt. Your family's small estate and the local village had become claustrophobic over the years, suffocating and repetitive. And, while you'd never dare admit it aloud, there was a part of you that longed for the more sophisticated life of those in the city; you'd dreamed of something more ever since your mother first told you about her childhood in the capital.

"I forgot how filthy it is here," Ethan grumbled, sneering out the carriage window.

You didn't let his foul mood bring you down. "Where did you say we were staying?"

Oh, you knew exactly where you were staying, but you were desperate for conversation after so many hours in silence, and it was the one topic of conversation that he wouldn't shut down.

"Netherton Park — it's been in the Castle family for generations," Ethan said, tone clipped, clearly annoyed but wanting to make sure you wouldn't embarrass him. "It's just to the south of the city."

"How far is it from the city?"

"About a half-hour by carriage. Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm sure you'll get to visit the city a couple of times while we're here."

You hadn't even realised you'd been pulling a face, but there was no denying the twinge of disappointment you felt at not being able to spend the whole season in the city itself.

"Do they hold balls in the city?" You asked.

"Of course they do — and, yes, I suppose you'll be invited to attend one or two, once the proper introductions have been made."

His emphasis on proper did not go unnoticed. Grudgingly, you had to understand where he was coming from. You'd never been particularly fond of propriety — at least, not when it came to where you were allowed and whether or not you needed an escort or an introduction. It didn't seem fair that men got all the fun and were allowed to go wherever they pleased without care or thought to ideas like chaperones or proper behaviour.

"What about shopping? I only brought three books, and —"

"You probably won't have time for reading."

You baulked at that. No time for reading? Was he expecting you to drop dead over the coming weeks?

"Reading won't help you find a suitable match," he continued. "Gentlemen want a wife who will be attentive to their needs and the needs of their homes, not someone whose nose is always in a book."

"I'm sure any man you deem suitable for me will have a house staff to attend them," you snap back.

"Don't be flippant. I should have done this a long time ago. I should have gotten you out of that house and —"

"Forced me into another house where I'll be expected to serve and lose what little enjoyment I have in my life?" You knew you were pushing your luck and his temper would only allow for so much, but you couldn't help yourself.

"That tone isn't going to help you," he said just as sharply. "By the end of the season you will have an engagement, even if I have to arrange it myself."

As much as you wanted to respond, to tell him exactly what you thought of his threats, you didn't. You'd gone far enough and didn't want to risk seriously angering him — or worse, forcing him to make good on his ultimatum. So, you allowed silence to fall again, instead turning your attention out of the window and watching as the carriage traversed the outskirts of the capital.

Another sigh slipped out as the city faded into the background again, the view once more giving way to fields and nothing of any interest.

It was a little after noon when the carriage finally passed the gates to Netherton Park, and the wild countryside gave way to immaculately trimmed hedges and rose bushes. It was nicer than you had been expecting — clearly the house staff worked hard to maintain the grounds — and suddenly, being stuck there for the season didn't seem quite so terrible. You could already see yourself wandering the grounds and finding a nice tree to sit beneath.

The carriage turned, edging around a large, ornate fountain consisting of a column of weatherworn faces caved into a pillar at its centre, water spilling from their mouths. Atop the column stood an archer, his bow pointed towards the heavens.

Before your parents had died, your family had had wealth, but it was nothing compared to this.

"Ten thousand a year," Ethan remarked, answering the unasked question.

Ten thousand — more than twice what your father had made. (And you didn't dare to think about Ethan by comparison.)

"But you mustn't mention it," Ethan continued. "Castle doesn't like to talk about money."

You jolted in your seat as the carriage finally came to a stop. Peering out the window, you took in the sight of the house. Three levels, with a grand archway over the front door. It must have been at least a hundred years old. You were so caught up with trying to count all the windows, you barely noticed the house staff waiting to greet you.

Ethan climbed past you and opened the carriage door. He stepped out, jumping the step to the ground. You waited a moment, taking a slow breath and composing yourself before finally standing.

A hand was offered to help you as you stepped onto the step and down to the ground, but it wasn't until it was pulled away that you realised that it wasn't your brother. You started, realising that it must be your host, Mr Castle who'd helped you down.

You turned to face him and offered a flustered curtsy while he bowed in return.

When you finally managed to lift your gaze to him again, you realised that there were two large hounds behind him; one completely black, the other a mottled mix of brown and white. Both sat behind their master, eyeing you. You shrank back a step.

"Don't let them scare you," Mr Castle said, when he noticed your staring. "They're all bark and no bite — well, unless you're a fox..."

You forced a polite laugh and decided not to tell him that you were just as afraid of the bark as the bite when it came to dogs of that size. 

"Castle, it's good to see you again," Ethan said, offering his hand to his old friend.

"It's been too long," Mr Castle agreed. "I hope you'll find your time here at Netherton as diverting as it was the last time you graced us with your presence."

There was something in Mr Castle's gaze that sparked a discomfort inside of you — though perhaps that was just due to not wanting to think about what your brother had gotten up to in the past.

While they spoke and got reacquainted, the house staff began to buzz around, collecting your trunks from the carriage before the horses were led to the stables to rest. Mr Castle led Ethan, and by extension you, towards the house.

You took a moment to take your measure of him. He had known Ethan at school but, seeing them side by side, it was clear that Castle was a year or so older than your brother, placing him at least twelve years older than you. He was well dressed but, at the same time, didn't seem to care too much about his appearance. His cheeks were lined with stubble, ignoring the fashion of the day for men of standing to be clean shaven, and his hair curled over his ears, long enough to need cutting.

There was something rakish about him, you supposed. The odd set of his nose suggested a break at some point — was he a violent man? The thought unsettled you. In fact, that you knew so little about him at all unsettled you. All you had to go on were the tales your brother had half-told about a childhood friend and the scrapes they’d gotten into, and those stories hardly gave you the measure of the man he was today.

"You'll have to forgive the short notice, Miss," Mr Castle said, turning to face you. "The ball was already planned before your brother told me he'd be staying for the season."

Clearly you'd missed something while you were trying to figure your host out.

"That's — that's quite alright, Sir," you said, trying to hide the fact that you had no idea what was going on. From the way Ethan was scowling, he'd figured you hadn’t been paying attention.

"You have a few hours to prepare — I know how you ladies love to take your time getting ready," Mr Castle continued. "A maid is drawing you a bath as we speak and I've taken the liberty of providing a mask for you."

You stared blankly. So blankly that Ethan had to rescue you.

"You were just saying how you longed to attend a ball," your brother said. "And you've always loved masquerades. Besides, it'll be the perfect way to make introductions."

"Oh, yes," you said, finally understanding what was going on. You looked at Mr Castle again and offered a genuine smile. "I hear they're all the rage in Italy."

"Have you ever been?" Castle asked.

"No, but I'd like to." You answered.

"Perhaps, one day, you'll have a husband who will take you," Ethan remarked.

You had to bite back a sharp response, not wanting to set a bad first impression of yourself in front of Mr Castle. Fortunately a maid appeared to show you to your room, where you could bathe and change for the night's ball. Mr Castle's eyes lingered on you as you walked away, and you heard Ethan's laugh echoing through the hallways as you were led upstairs.

Despite the strangeness of your new surroundings, you were more than eager to bathe after so many hours in the carriage. The maid, a young girl named Jane, offered to stay and help you, but all you wanted was to be alone.

You soaked until the water started to cool and the tips of your fingers started to prune, all while gazing out the window at the world beyond. The view of the back of the house was much like the front; immaculately kept gardens and statues, with small paths winding this way and that, one in particular leading to the opening in a large wall of hedges.

A hedge maze was the last thing you'd expected to find at Netherton but your heart beat a little fast at the prospect of losing yourself in there, of spending hours getting lost just to have time away from Ethan and his plans for you.

It held your attention even as you stepped out of the bath, wrapped yourself in a towel and started to dry yourself.

Some time later, Jane reappeared with a tray of food for you, relaying Mr Castle's apologies that there wouldn't be a formal dinner that night because of the ball. Again, you were more than fine with that, happy to eat the bread and cheese and broth, before reclining on the bed. (Your bed, you realised — at least, for the next few weeks.)

It felt like you'd only closed your eyes for a few seconds before a couple of maids appeared at your door to help you get ready, unpacking your dresses and helping you choose one to wear. Then, you were sat in front of the dresser while your hair was pulled and braided and twisted, in a style popular with women in the city. By the time they were done, you barely recognised yourself.

The last piece was a mask — a simple black thing with a ribbon that tied at the back of your head.

Ethan was waiting when you were finally led back downstairs. The noise of the ball filled the hallways and you took his arm as he led you towards the ballroom, falling into step behind other guests.

"Remember why we're here, sister. Speak when spoken to, be agreeable, and do try not to disappear into corners," he muttered.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, try not to embarrass me."

"I could say the same thing to you, brother," you muttered in reply.

He was about to say something but stopped himself when the pair of you reached the door and the butler announced you to the room. Any interest you had in continuing to rile your brother died the second you saw the opulent ballroom.

The chandelier glittered and cast a constellation of light across the room, the polished floor gleamed beneath the dancers as they moved to the music, and the gilded mirrors on every wall reflected the splendour of it all. Garlands and spring blooms were draped along the walls and tables, and the ceiling —

If it hadn't been for Ethan's arm looped through yours, you might have tripped as you stared up at the ceiling. Soft clouds and cherubs hung above you, looking down on the gathering as if they longed to join the party.

Ethan gripped your arm a little tighter, pulling you back to reality.

Strangers smiled, men inclining their heads in informal bows when their gazes met yours, each of them seeming to size you up.

"You're turning heads already, sister," Ethan muttered.

It took a second more for you to realise what he was doing. He was parading you through the room like a pig at market. Indignation caused your cheeks to warm but you didn't dare say anything in so public a setting.

Your brother scanned the room with careful intent while you kept your eyes fixed forward, feeling more than a little conscious of yourself — of the hair style that wasn't quite your own and the dress that you were acutely aware accentuated the curve of your bosom.

"There you are," a hand landed on Ethan's shoulder and, despite the mask, Mr Castle was easily recognisable.

He gave you a bow and you immediately dipped into a curtsy.

"How are you finding Netherton Park, Miss? Are you rooms to your satisfaction?" Castle asked.

"Yes, Sir. You have a lovely home."

"I must apologise again for not being able to give you a proper tour until tomorrow," he offered.

"That's alright, Sir," you said with as much grace as you could muster before daring to add, "though, if possible, I should very much like to see the gardens and the hedge maze."

"Tomorrow you can see anything you'd like."

"Don't tell her that — once she sees the library, you'll never get her out of there," Ethan muttered.

"There's a library?" The question felt silly the moment it had left your lips. Of course there was a library, all great houses like Netherton had a library.

"The second largest in the county," Castle said.

As a unit of measurement, you weren't sure how big a library would have to be to be considered the second largest in the county, but it certainly sounded impressive. And the thought of him keeping such a library? It raised your opinion of him and his home further.

"Do you like to read, Sir?" You asked.

"No. Reading is a frivolous waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere."

The briefest flicker of hope at finding a kindred spirit was snuffed out before it even had a chance to fully ignite.

Your disappointment must have shown on your face because he quickly added; "but it is a good pursuit for women. It does them good to keep their minds sharp so they can understand complex matters that their husbands might wish to talk to them about. My mother loved to read."

You forced a nod even though his comment only wounded you further — how could anyone believe that women should keep their mind sharp just so they could be of better service to their husbands?

Ethan and Mr Castle fell into conversation while you were left to glance around the ball. More than once you found yourself looking towards the door, wondering if you'd be able to find your way back to your room if you slipped out early. As much as you loved balls and music, you felt out of place surrounded by people you didn't know and a house you'd never been in before.

The pair continued speaking and Mr Castle played the part of the gracious host by introducing you to a few people who wandered too close, but Ethan kept you at his side, making no suggestion that you could go dance or try to find your own entertainment.

When their conversation lulled, you dared to ask Mr Castle if he liked to dance. His answer was a resounding no that left you with the impression that he was quite a dour man, and you hoped you wouldn't be forced to endure his company for your whole stay.

You were stuck there for what felt like hours before Mr Castle was needed elsewhere. Then, surprisingly, your brother abandoned you. He told you not to wander off while he went to deal with something, then he was gone and you were alone.

All you wanted to do was shrink into a corner somewhere and wait for the awful night to be over but you knew you'd never hear the end of it. But the longer you stood around, the more self-conscious you started to feel — it was hardly a good first impression to give, standing there alone. So you decided to get some punch and wander around the ballroom.

More than once you looked at the people dancing, jealous that they were having a good time and silently wishing you had a partner just for a few turns.

Beyond all expectation, that wish was soon granted.

"May I have this dance, Miss?"

You turned to the source of the voice, half-convinced that he wasn't talking to you. After hours of being kept at your brother's (and by extension, Mr Castle's) side, you'd all but given up on anyone asking you to dance. But there he was, tall and impeccably dressed. A loose strand of dark hair spilled over the top of his mask, and his eyes — you'd never seen eyes so dark.

"Miss?" He prompted, and you felt your cheeks warm at the realisation that you'd been staring instead of answering.

"Yes, of course, Sir."

No sooner had the words left your lips, his hand grasped yours and he started to lead you into the throng of dancers just in time for the next dance to begin.

He sketched a bow and, in turn you offered a curtsy, fighting to keep your smile from tugging into an unladylike grin. Then you began to dance.

He moved with grace but something about him told you that he didn't often dance — his movements were too precise, too measured and calculated. You, on the other hand, had always been told you were a natural, your body flowed in time with the music, every fibre of your being lost to it.

"Forgive me for being forward," he said as he stepped towards you, then moved around you, "but your smile is captivating. The moment I saw you across the room, I knew I needed to introduce myself."

You hadn't even realised that you were smiling but, the second he mentioned it, it became impossible to stop. It was the sort of compliment that you hadn’t expected, the kind that caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach. 

"Thank you, Sir," you said as you turned and he took your hand in his again.

His eyes remained fixed forwards as you both stepped in time with the line of dancers but you dared to try and steal a glance at him from the corner of your eyes. The tall, mysterious stranger hadn't even offered you his name yet but you didn't want to ruin the dance with formalities.

You turned and stepped towards him, and he mirrored your movements. Your palm pressed to his and warmth bloomed in your belly.

"Where have they been hiding you?" He asked. You shot him a questioning look before you turned and continued the dance. "I've never seen you at one of our balls before."

"We're wearing masks," you remarked, cheeks heating under his scrutiny, "how can you tell?"

"Oh, trust me, I'd know." He paused for a second as you completed another turn together, his palm pressed against yours, the pair of you moving in perfect time with the rest of the dancers. "Unless... is this your first time out in society?"

It was a harmless question, but still it caused the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. Was he asking because he had an interest in courting you? No, surely not... he didn't even know your name, and no man with his sanity intact would possibly consider courting a lady without at least knowing who her family were.

"You flatter me, Sir, but no." You didn't say any more. It wasn't that you were embarrassed that he might think you'd been overlooked by other men, but you knew how it would sound. Perhaps he'd assume that your prospects were poor or there was some issue with your family.

Or, maybe he'd realise what so many men in the past had; you just weren't very good with people, at being demure and how society expected you to be.

"But it is your first time at Netherton." Not a question, a certainty.

"It is. My brother and I are staying with Mr Castle for the season," you explained as you stepped and turned. "Do you know Mr Castle?"

"Oh, Castle and I are well acquainted," he remarked cryptically. "Have you had the chance to explore the grounds?"

"Not yet," you said as you stepped and turned again. "We only arrived this afternoon but Mr Castle says I may visit the hedge maze tomorrow."

"If you'd like, I could show you."

"You're familiar with the grounds?"

"I should hope so, I grew up here," he laughed.

It caught you off-guard — no one had mentioned Mr Castle's family to you, after all — enough so that your feet caught and you spilled forward. Your hands found his chest and his hands braced your elbows, and your whole body heated with embarrassment.

"Forgive me, Sir. I —" you said as you tried to right yourself.

"There's no need to apologise," he said, shrugging away your embarrassment, letting his hand linger on your arm a moment longer. "You wouldn't be the first pretty girl to swoon for me."

"No — I — that's not —" Was that really what he thought? That you were swooning? After not even a whole dance with him?

The song came to a close and the dancers started to clap, but the pair of you stood frozen, simply staring into each other's eyes. You couldn't look away, almost scared that the strange man would disappear in a blink, as if he'd never been there in the first place.

"Would you like to —" he started.

"There you are." Ethan's voice sounded behind you.

You turned to find your brother and Mr Castle, both eyeing your dance partner.

"Excuse me, Captain Russo but Mr Castle has claimed the next dance with my sister," Ethan said, and there was no missing the ice in his voice.

Clearly you were missing something, but all you could think about was the stranger.

Captain Russo.

Russo — not Castle. A cousin, maybe?

(And a Captain at that.)

"Of course," Captain Russo said with an easy tone. "I'm sure we'll have time to get better acquainted over the coming weeks."

Mr Castle visibly bristled at the words but said nothing, he simply nodded at the Captain and offered you his hand. It took you a moment to move and take it and, by the time you glanced back, the Captain was already retreating into the crowd.

Before you knew it, Mr Castle was stood opposite you, offering a bow, while your brother — actually, you weren't even sure where he had gone.

"I thought you didn't like to dance," you said as the music started and you took your first step.

"Just because I don't enjoy it doesn't mean I'm incapable," he said, moving with all the grace you would expect for a man of his lumbering stature. "Besides, it's only right that we should get to know each other and, while you're a guest in my home, it falls to me to keep you safe from undue influence."

You were silent for a beat, trying to understand his meaning before; "you mean the Captain?"

"My adopted brother is not without his faults and vices," he said flatly. "He's a vain and selfish man who would seek to take advantage of you if given the opportunity."

There was so much to unpack in that one little sentence.

 Adopted brother? Vain and selfish?

"But why would he want to take advantage of me?" You asked. 

It didn't make sense. For the most part, he'd been perfectly affable with you, pleasant even. 

"To hurt me," Castle answered. You stared blankly from behind your mask, prompting him to explain; "to ensure that you're no longer a suitable prospect for me." 

Prospect? Your heart started to race in your chest as you considered the words, your body somehow managing to continue to follow the steps of the dance. 

"Forgive me, Sir," you said. "I'm not quite sure I understand your meaning."

"Your brother has asked me to consider taking you as my wife," he said as if it was the simplest of things, as if you were nothing more than an object to be given and bartered on a whim. "Ethan has told me about your prospects — or lack of them — and, considering my age and the fact that I have no heirs, his offer is not entirely unappealing."

You bit your lip, silently grateful that the dance called for you to turn away from him for a few seconds. It was all you could do not to cry when you thought about his words and the wound they had instantly caused inside you. Not entirely unappealing — was that all you were? All you were worth?

Years ago, you'd told yourself that you might not get to marry for love, but you would never settle for anything less than like. Mr Castle didn't even know you, hadn't even taken the time to, so how could he ever like you? And how could you ever like a man who didn't love to read and dance as you did? What sort of life would you have, trapped in this house with him for the rest of your days?

"Of course," he continued when you turned back, oblivious to your turmoil, "you are from a good family, and I know your brother's character —"

The words started to run together but, if he noticed you weren't really paying attention, he didn't let it show. And why would he? It seemed that the decision had already been made.

That was what hurt the most — Ethan had let you believe that you'd have a say, that you were here to meet people, not just one person. He'd allowed you to hope that your feelings mattered and that you wouldn't be given away too easily. It was hard to say who you were more angry at; Ethan, Mr Castle, or yourself for ever believing that this might turn out well.

Once he finished speaking, he seemed content to pass the rest of the dance in silence and, when the music stopped and you'd clapped and curtsied, you quickly excused yourself, muttering something about needing to relieve yourself.

You slipped through the crowd without a glance over your shoulder, and with no idea of where you were going until, finally, you found yourself outside. You pressed a hand to your roiling stomach as you stepped further from the door, onto the elevated porch that led down to the gardens.

"When I offered to show you around, I meant during the day..."

You spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, and found Captain Russo leaning against the balustrade, a glass in one hand, his mask in the other.

A/N : I know this one was more set up than anything, but now the 'world-building' and setting aspects are covered, it'll pick up from here and Billy will get a lot more screen time (page time?). Also, sorry to Frank fans in this one... he's Mr Darcy coded but with none of the redeeming features. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

I've tagged the people who asked to be tagged in Billy things and the people who asked to be tagged in this specifically, but let me know if you want adding. New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one).

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @marginailia @stressedbff

Chapter Three

This kiss repeated itself over and over in your mind as Jane led you back to the house.

She was talking, telling you how impressed she was that you'd made it to the centre of the maze on your own, but all you could think about was him. Captain Russo. Or, more exactly, the way he'd looked at you the second before he'd kissed you. There had been something in those dark, unreadable eyes that you just didn't understand.

And, of course, you were furious with him — didn't he realise how being so forward with you, kissing you, could destroy your reputation? You shuddered to think what might have happened if Jane had discovered the pair of you tucked away in that alcove.

Your whole life could have been destroyed, and he didn't even seem to care. 

A tight knot formed in your stomach, leaving you feeling sick as Jane walked beside you, telling you little snippets about the house and the gardens. You only half-listened. The Captain had already told you most of it, and nothing new that you learned was interesting enough to pull your thoughts from that moment in the maze. 

Had it really all just been some game to him?

Was that all you were now, what you had been reduced to, a pawn in the petty games of men?

But, still, some piece of you wanted to hold out hope that you were wrong. The Captain was the one person who you'd thought had noticed you and how out of place you were at Netherton, the one person who seemed to care that you were lonely. Or had that been part of the game too?

The anger quickly drained from you and was replaced, instead, by a cold emptiness. Was this going to be your life from now on; letting men make all of your decisions and toy with you as they saw fit?

Without warning (or, perhaps there had been warning and you'd just missed it because you weren't listening) the maid stepped in front of you and started to fuss with your clothes, muttering something about you wanting to look your best for the master.

As if summoned by your misery, there he was atop a huge black stallion. You brother rode beside him on a slightly smaller horse and beside him —

"Miss Page," Jane said, noticing how your attention was drawn to the red-head riding with the men, seemingly with no chaperone. She wore a dress of bright green, the likes of which you'd never seen before. "She's an American."

Your jaw threatened to drop, but there wasn't time for it. The party of riders was approaching and, suddenly, you were very concerned with your appearance and whether or not it was obvious that you'd spent the afternoon wandering the grounds with Captain Russo. After all, the last thing you wanted was another confrontation with Ethan.

Stable hands rushed towards the as the three horses stopped just shy of where you were standing but the woman, Miss Page, didn't wait to be helped down, she simply swung herself out of the saddle and gracefully dropped to the ground, grinning as it it was the most normal and proper thing in the world. Part of you resented how scandalised you felt, and how neither your brother nor Mr Castle even seemed to notice.

If you'd done the same you would have been immediately reprimanded and called unladylike.

The men were quickly at her side.

"Sister, may I introduce Miss Page —" Ethan started.

"Please, you must call me Karen," she interrupted.

You felt your cheeks warm a fraction, wanting nothing more than to take her up on that offer but saw the way Ethan was glowering at you. Forcing a smile, you dropped into a curtsy and allowed Ethan to introduce you.

Miss Page laughed. 

"I always forget how formal it is here." She stepped towards you and looped her arm with yours, still smiling that wide smile that suggested no darkness had ever touched her life. "Don't worry, I'm certain that we're going to be fast friends, you and I."

As she started to lead you towards the house, walking in front of the men and seeming to know exactly where she was heading without their guidance or permission, you heard Mr Castle instructing the stable hands to deal with the horses then to fetch Miss Page's belongings from the carriage.

Glancing behind, you caught sight of a figure in the distance, heading away from the main house. Captain Russo. Had he been watching you?

"You're staying at Netherton?" You asked, allowing her to direct you into the house and towards the sitting room.

"For the whole season," she confirmed. "I'm glad you and your brother are here — last year it got a little dull around here with only Frank and William for company."

William. She knew Captain Russo?

"Sorry, Captain Russo," she corrected, and you realised that you'd spoken his name aloud. "Have you met him yet? I hear he's been back home for a month, but Frank doesn't like to talk about him."

The kiss played out in your mind again and a shiver licked up your spine.

"Oh, so you have met him then," Miss Page grinned, clearly reading the look on your face. "He's trouble, but he's not nearly as bad as Frank and Ethan like to make out."

"We danced. Last night. Just once," you dared to offer, lowering your voice so only she could hear. "Ethan wasn't happy about it."

"I'll bet. They never told me what happened when they were at school together, but they've been carrying their grudges for at least ten years now."

As with Jane, you immediately found yourself liking Miss Page and the refreshing honesty she offered.

"Do —" you hesitated, reconsidering the question for a moment, "— do you know the Captain well?"

"I've known him and Frank most of my life. My father was born not far from here and he still has business dealings in the city, so I spend a little time here every year." Suddenly, you felt a glimmer of hope, like you finally had a way of understanding the world you'd been thrust into. She glanced over her shoulder at the door before taking a seat by the fire and indicating you sit beside her. "So, you danced with him?"

Your cheeks burned hotter, but you gave her an abridged version of the story; how the Captain had noticed you were alone and had chivalrously offered to dance a turn with you.

"He is a very good dancer — far better than Frank," she said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell him that."

"I hope you're not scheming with my sister," Ethan's voice caused your spine to straighten and the smile to drop from your lips. But, when you looked up, you realised his eyes were fixed on Miss Page and not you.

"Of course I am," she retorted. "What do you expect after you've kept her hidden from me for so many years."

Hidden? Was that what you'd been? Sequestered away from the world and people who might want to know you?

"My sister prefers the comfort of home," he explained, as if you weren't even there. As if you didn't even have a voice of your own.

Maybe you didn't — what was your life if not a long string of other people talking for you, making all of your important decisions?

"Then whatever brings you to Netherton?" It took you a second to realise that her question was aimed at you and, without even looking, you felt the intensity of Ethan's stare.

"My brother wishes for me to find a husband, so he brought me here for the season," you said plainly, barely keeping your ire in check.

"Well, I doubt you'll find anyone this far from the city. Luckily for you, I've already secured invitations to some of the most exclusive balls," she said.

"Actually, my brother has already arranged —"

"I've already arranged plenty of social events." He jumped in before you could finish, keeping you from telling her that you'd been all but promised to Mr Castle already, and there was really no point in you looking elsewhere for a prospective husband. It almost seemed like he didn't want her to know that. "Don't worry, my sister will be well taken care of while she's here."

"More like bored to death," Miss Page muttered under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You didn't dare laugh, but you appreciated that she saw the situation for what it was. Then, completely ignoring Ethan, she added in a much louder voice; "I won't take no for an answer, you absolutely have to come with me."

Well, when she put it like that...

"Of course, Miss," you said dutifully, making it sound as if you had no other choice but to politely acquiesce. Ethan glared at you but said nothing.

Over the course of the afternoon, you got to know a little more about Miss Page and, by virtue of the years they'd known each other, Mr Castle. From time to time, you felt a little out of place as they spoke about times past and recalling their youths but, for the first time since coming to Netherton, you didn't feel dread in the pit of your stomach.

"So, the elephant in the room," Miss Page said, just as you were about to slip away to get ready for dinner.

"Karen..." Mr Castle warned.

"He's asked for a seat at the table, has he not?" Miss Page continued, seeming purposefully oblivious to his tone. "Or are you going to make me walk across half of Netherton to see him?"

The him in question was clearly Captain Russo. Just the thought of him had your heart beating a little faster.

"I don't know why you want to see him at all," Ethan said.

"He has a seat at the table if he wants it," Castle said. "He always does. If he has the guts to take it."

You weren't sure what that meant, but you weren't comfortable asking. So, you waited a beat before getting to your feet and excusing yourself to change for dinner.

It was a mistake. The moment you were alone again, your thoughts strayed back to him and the way he'd kissed you. Why couldn't you get him out of your mind? Why did your blood heat and your pulse race with every mention of him?

Was he really going to be at dinner?

That thought alone had you dropping onto your bed and burying your face in the pillows — how were you supposed to act like you had any interest in being courted by Mr Castle if you couldn't stop thinking about his brother?

The thoughts and questions consumed you for the better part of an hour, meaning you were nowhere near ready for dinner when Jane came to check if you needed help with your hair (which you very much did). 

Everyone was already seated when you arrived at the dining room. Including Captain Russo. He was sitting next to Miss Page, smiling at her and talking in a hushed tone that was drawing Ethan's ire. Miss Page caught your arrival and waved at the seat beside her, sitting you opposite Mr Castle.

The Captain barely spared you a glance as you settled yourself.

There was a tension in the room, neither your brother nor Mr Castle directly talking to Captain Russo, though they all managed to involve themselves in the conversation, often using Miss Page as an intermediary. 

Again, you felt out of place, uncertain of the history of the people around the table. So, you mostly stayed silent unless Miss Page or your brother dragged you into the conversation. The former wanting to talk to you about the city and the things that the pair of you should do while you were both at Netherton, the latter making awkward attempts at getting you to talk to Mr Castle.

"You like to ride, don't you?" Ethan prompted.

You shifted awkwardly — they had been talking about going for a ride, and you had hoped to stay out of it.

"Not as much as you," you answered, not wanting to show him up by telling him that he was mistaken.

"Nonsense, you used to love riding when you were younger," Ethan continued. "Castle has a stable full of fine horses, I'm sure he can find one you like."

You didn't dare mention that you had loved riding when you were younger until you were thrown from your pony and broke your arm. Since then, you'd only ridden horses reluctantly and only over short distances. What they were talking about was a whole afternoon on horseback.

"Of course," Mr Castle agreed. "The best way of seeing all of Netherton is on horseback."

All you managed to offer was a smile and a polite nod, and the conversation moved on without you again.

Once the main course was finished, the doors opened and the two large dogs padded into the room. You did your best not to look as the hounds began to sniff around the table for scraps. Mr Castle offered them some chicken from his plate, and once that was gone, they headed to the Captain.

Your cheeks warmed as he spoke to the dogs in that low, caring tone. The softness of his voice caused a heat in your belly that you didn't understand or want to think about.

Then one of the dogs headed for you.

You tensed as the large, brown and white mottled hound pressed his snout onto your lap and sniffed. Part of you screamed to push it away, to try and assert some kind of dominance over the creature but, instead, you remained frozen, unable to move or speak. The dog took your inaction as a sign to continue, to press closer, dripping jowls and wet nose leaving damp patches on your dress.

"He likes you," Mr Castle said with a laugh.

"Just give him your left-overs," Ethan added.

Then the pair promptly returned to their conversation.

The following seconds felt like a lifetime, and you didn't move until a low sound vibrated in the back of the dog's throat — even then, all you did was straighten your back.

"For god's sake," Captain Russo spoke loud enough to draw the attention of the room, getting to his feet to pull the hound away from you.

"Leave him, he's not hurting anyone," Mr Castle snapped. The first time he'd directly spoken to the Captain since you'd arrived.

"Can't you see she's terrified? Or do you care so little about the comfort of your guest that you're choosing to ignore it?" The Captain said, grabbing the dog by the scruff and urging it away from you.

Mr Castle looked at you and whatever he was going to say to his brother died on his lips. His expression softened to one of near-shame when he realised that the Captain was right.

The room was silent as the dogs were led outside by the footman and Captain Russo returned to his seat.

Your hands trembled as you reached for your glass and took a slow drink. 

It was Ethan that spoke first, and you weren't sure you'd ever hated your brother more than in that moment.

"You're not still scared of dogs after Duchess, are you?" He almost sneered. When Mr Castle gave him a questioning look, Ethan explained. "I had a dog named Duchess and she did not like my sister. One day she had to climb into a tree just to get away from her — how long were you up there? Hours?"

He told the story as if it was some fun caper that you could laugh about now, ignoring the part where he'd often goaded the dog into harassing you or how, on the day in question, the dog had clawed your arm and torn your dress.

"That's awful," Miss Page said, clutching a hand to her heart. "Ethan, you've always had such a cruel sense of humour."

Again, you allowed the conversation to abandon you, though this time you didn't even attempt to follow it. You were too distracted by the Captain and how he had been the only one in the room to notice your discomfort, the only one to try and help.

Was that the life you could expect with Mr Castle — him watching your panic and only offering the slightest apologetic look after the fact? 

With Miss Page sitting beside you, you might as well have not existed. She was the centre of attention and conversation, and you couldn't blame anyone for that. While you sat, quiet and uncomfortable, the American spoke with ease about any and all topics. Including the ones she knew little about. If you were feeling particularly daring, you might have thought that all of the men at the table were vying for her affections.

No, more than that. They loved her.

The glances between her and Mr Castle weren't just looks between old friends. No, there was a yearning in his eyes, a barely restrained wanting behind every word he spoke to her.

And Captain Russo similarly seemed utterly captivated by her.

That thought set an uncomfortable weight in your stomach; both the man who your brother wanted to court you and the man who had kissed you not six hours ago already had someone in their lives that they were more interested in than you.

It left you feeling despondent and hollow. How could you be expected to court a man whose affections lay with someone else? Up until that moment, you'd convinced yourself that a good match would be enough, that love and affection were things that could be worked towards later. But how could you have even that if his heart was with Miss Page.

The Captain laughed and your heart sank further. You were everyone's second choice, it seemed.

You waited until the clock struck nine, then you stood, making your excuses for the night — it was late, you were tired, you wanted to be refreshed so you could spend the next day with Miss Page.

A sigh of relief half choked you the moment you left the dining room and realised that Mr Castle had followed you. His hand found your elbow and urged you to face him.

"Miss," he said, hesitating when he saw your wide eyes, "I want to apologise for earlier — for the hounds."

Oh. So he did care after all?

(Or was he simply apologising because it was the polite and proper thing for a man of his station to do?)

"There's no need to —"

"But there is," he insisted. "I didn't realise your... history with dogs."

"You couldn't have known, sir." It was a placation and not at all what you wanted to say to him, but he was being polite and civil, so you needed to follow suit. "But I thank you for your apology."

"In future, please let me know if anything at Netherton makes you uncomfortable."

"Of course, sir."

"And I apologise for abandoning you earlier today, I —"

"Of course, sir," you said, desperately wanting the conversation to be over. "Miss Page needed an escort."

"Let me make it up to you."

"You needn't —"

"I'll talk to your brother and get his permission to accompany you and Miss Page to town tomorrow."

As awkward as that sounded, you wanted to get away from Netherton, your brother, and Captain Russo for a little while.

"Thank you, sir."

He bowed and said his goodnights before leaving you alone, more confused than ever, your mind circling back to one comment in particular. What had he meant by anything at Netherton that makes you uncomfortable?

It didn't take long to figure it out. He hadn't been apologising because of the dogs, he'd been apologising because his brother had been the one to notice and help you. As quickly as the hope that he could harbour anything resembling care towards you had sparked in your chest, it was snuffed out by the reality of your situation. And, as if on cue, laughter rang out from the dining room.

Instead of heading to your room, where you anticipated an evening with nothing but your own awful thoughts for company, you went to the library.

Given the late hour, you had to take a candle to light your way.

The library was cold when you slipped inside, but the sconces were still burning, giving the room an ethereal glow. And, for the first time that day, you felt you could breathe.

You wandered along the bookcases, as you had done earlier that day, looking for anything and everything that might spark your interest. Eventually you came across a book of fairy tales, similar to a book that you had at home and that had brought you a lot of joy in your childhood, despite the darkness of the tales.

Ignoring the chill in the room, you sat in one of the armchairs by the window, your candle flickering on a nearby table, the book open on your lap. It was easy to lose track of time reading about princes and balls and wicked step-sisters cutting off their toes in order to secure a marriage. 

You were so engrossed in the book that you didn't notice someone enter the library until the door clicked shut.

"Captain!" You got to your feet so quickly that the book dropped from your lap.

He said nothing, merely smiling as he moved towards you and scooped the book from the floor. He didn't offer the book to you, didn't even look at it — no, his eyes were fixed on you. 

The room was so silent, so still that you could hear the guttering of one of the sconce candles. It was so quiet, you wondered if the Captain could hear your raging heartbeat as you held his gaze. You found yourself thinking of that moment in the maze, losing yourself in dark eyes that seemed almost pitch black in the low light, making him look like a devil. An unholy temptation.

Heat spread up your chest and neck as his eyes flickered to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to wet his own lips.

Your legs trembled at the realisation that he was thinking about the kiss too.

"Captain," you said again, softly this time, breaking the silence.

"I... I wanted to check if you were alright," he said just as quietly, as if it were some lover's confession.

"I'm fine, Captain," you said, breath catching as he took a step closer, "but thank you for your assistance."

"I couldn't bear the sight of you in distress."

Before you could fully appreciate the full weight of his words his knuckles brushed your cheek.

"Captain..." This time the word came with a hint of warning. And pleading.

He didn't draw back his hand. The only effort he made to move it was to turn it so he could cup your cheek.

You desperately fought to force down the lump in your throat so you could say anything more than just Captain. His hand was warm and gentle against your cheek and you dared to lean into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a few sweet seconds before reality reared its ugly head.

"Please. Don't..." you said, forcing yourself to step away from his touch.

"I can't help myself when I'm with you."

You needed to get out of there. You needed to get as far away from him as possible. If you didn't, you were scared of what you might allow to happen. Taking the book from his hands, you crossed the library, trying to remember which shelf it had come from.

"Miss," he pleaded, only a step behind you. When you reached the shelves and found no space for the book, you turned to face him.

"Please, Captain... Whatever game this is, I don't want to play."

"Game? You think this is a game?" If you didn't know better, you might have thought the accusation had wounded him in some way.

"I think that you and your brother are eager to destroy the other's happiness in any way that you can."

His gaze darkened, his whole face eclipsed by shadow as the candle continued to gutter and flicker.

"You think that you'll make him happy — that he is capable of making you happy?"

The lump in your throat was almost enough to choke you. "Do you believe that you are?"

He was silent for a few seconds, completely still.

"Can you truthfully say that you don't yearn for companionship in this godforsaken house? For someone who actually sees you?" He asked.

"I fear that it's more than mere companionship that you want from me, Captain," you said, finding a slither of defiance somewhere deep inside you. "And if you overheard my brother and I last night, you already know that the choice has been made; your brother wishes to court me, and my brother wishes me to marry Mr Castle."

The words were almost enough to make him retreat.

"Does he make you want?" The Captain asked. "Does he make your heart race and your soul ache?" You remained silent. "Don't you think you deserve that much?"

Deserve? You weren't sure, but you wanted it. You wanted to be loved and cherished. You wanted to feel like you belonged with someone instead of just feeling like you were taking up space in their life.

It would have been so easy to surrender, to throw yourself into his arms for the smallest scrape of affection that he might offer, but something stopped you.

"And you think you can make me feel those things?" You asked, words a little more pointed. "You want me to feel those things for you while you feel them for another?"

His brows furrowed. "What other?"

"Don't play me for the fool, Captain. I might be younger than you, but I saw the way you looked at Miss Page — the way you all look at her." An unexpected hurt slipped into your voice betraying the awful jealousy that had been roiling inside of you since dinner. 

"Miss Page is like a sister to me," he said. "What I feel for her is nothing compared to the way I feel when I look at you."

You edged backwards, needing to lean on the bookshelves for support as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. 

"You hardly know me, Captain," you said, suddenly feeling breathless. "In fact, you've known me less than a day..."

"More. It's been over a full day since our dance — longer since I first saw you standing alone in the ballroom."

Each rapid beat of your heart felt like it was battering against the inside of your rib cage, and the heat of shame (and something else) spread through your body.

He remembered the exact time you'd danced, the moment you'd met, and the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. In any other situation it would feel romantic, but with the Captain, it felt... dangerous.

"Still, you know nothing about me —"

"I know you like to read and you love the outdoors," he said, daring to step closer. "And I know that you don't belong at Netherton with a man like my brother. Everything else, I'll gladly learn."

"Sir, I —" his lips met yours before you could finish your protest. The half-finished comment leaving your lips parted, allowing his tongue into your mouth. The book dropped from your hand.

A soft gasp spilled from your mouth and into his as he pressed you back against the shelves. Everything around you fell quiet save for your heart pounding a treacherous beat for Captain Russo. If you'd been thinking straight, you might have wondered if he could feel it rattling beneath your ribs as he pressed himself impossibly close. But, as it stood, you were more consumed with other ways the Captain was pressed against you. 

You didn't realise at first what the hardness against your stomach was but once you did, it became impossible to ignore.

"You make me want," he muttered against your lips, and it was almost enough to completely undo you and have you offering him anything he wanted. But it was wrong and, at any moment, you could be discovered.

You pushed against his chest, forcing him away. You needed space, needed to be able to breathe, to think. His hands gripped the shelves on either side of your head, caging you in, and his forehead pressed against yours. Every breath he took sounded forced and raw, like he was barely holding himself together.

"I know you can feel it — this thing between us," he said in little more than a whisper.

"You're mistaken, sir." Though the tremor in your voice said otherwise. "But if I've done something that has made you believe that any feelings I harbour for you are anything more than simple friendship, then I apologise. It was never my intention to —"

"Stop," his voice remained low but there was no missing the pained edge. "Don't you understand that you've bewitched me? That you're all I can think about?"

"Sir, if I've done something to —"

"William," he reminded. "Call me William."

"It wouldn't be proper."

"Fuck propriety."

Then his lips were on yours again and all the fight drained from you. This time when you felt his tongue against the seam of your mouth, you parted for him, letting him devour you. No one had ever kissed you the way he did — you hadn't even known that people could kiss in such a way. 

His fingers gripped the back of your neck, gentle but also possessive, holding you in the kiss. You were lifted, but his lips swallowed down your gasp of surprise and you were too overwhelmed to really complain. The skirts of your dress bunched up as your legs wrapped around his waist to keep yourself from falling. 

It was easy to lose yourself to him. Scarily so. Though you weren't sure if it was him at all. Ever since losing your parents, all you had wanted was an ounce of affection, the tiniest slither of love. It didn't need to be the way it was in your books and stories, it just needed to be enough to make you feel as though you mattered to someone. And Captain Russo had a way of making you feel exactly that.

Despite your doubts and worries about the man, he had a strange, almost magical way of silencing every thought in your head.

When you made no attempt to push him away again, he pressed closer, his hips settling between your thighs and —

"Oh!" The sound was quickly devoured by his kiss, his lips pulling into a smile against yours.

He repeated the motion, pressing forward again, the hardness of his anatomy meeting the soft and incredibly heated part of yours. It was like nothing you'd ever felt before — a glorious longing ache that sparked a fire in your belly — and you wanted more. Your body sang for him, capitulating to his every whim and desire.

A daring hand found your breast through your dress and you knew that you should stop, that you should remind him just what would happen if you were discovered, but the heat of his palm and the constant grinding of his hips was threatening to undo you.

Your breathing quickly turned laboured and you caught yourself writhing against his every movement, eager to see how deep the sensation between your thighs would run before something inevitably snapped inside you. The heat only intensified and you felt a slickness in your undergarments that you couldn't explain.

"Captain!" You gasped, not sure what you were pleading for.

His forehead pressed to yours again, his chest rapidly rising and falling. "Just give in to me."

Then his lips were on yours again, reigniting the kiss and stopping you from asking exactly what he meant. But, as it happened, you didn't have to. That feeling inside of you burned brighter and hotter as the shift of his hips became more pronounced, and the friction between you became unbearable.

Your whole body shuddered and trembled, and you felt a pulsing sensation of pure pleasure between your thighs, something profound and amazing. Something you'd never felt before. You clung to him, the sensation only seeming to grow as he kept moving against you until he let out a strangled groan of his own and his hips faltered.

There was a new heat between your bodies, hot and wet, soaking through the fabric of your underthings.

He lingered with you in his arms, holding you tight, the kiss turning softer, reverent. When you had stopped trembling, he lowered you back to your feet and took a step back.

In that moment, you were ready to give him anything he wanted, yourself included. You wanted all the things he'd spoken about; the racing heart and the aching soul. You wanted all of it with him.

But then he took another step back, putting himself out of your reach.

"You should go to bed, Miss," he said, the warmth gone from his voice. "I hear my brother is taking you and Miss Page to town in the morning."

He sketched a bow and before you could even form a coherent thought, he was gone, and you were alone again.

A/N : It's so nice having a keyboard that doesn't fall apart when I hit keys at the wrong angle. I'm hoping that I'll now be able to get back to some sort of regular posting schedule and be able to actually engage with people on here again. It also helps that I'm now getting to the parts of the story that are a little more fun to write, so that should make things easier going forward. But yeah, as always thanks so much for your patience, hope you enjoy this one!

New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

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@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @marginailia @stressedbff

Chapter Two

Time stood still and you devoured every little detail.

Without his mask, you found yourself hungrily taking in every inch of his face, wanting to see the man who had managed to cause such drama in your life in such a short time. Even with half his face covered, you'd been able to tell that he was handsome, but the whole picture was something else entirely.

Mr Castle's words echoed in your mind as your eyes caught on his, and you faltered. Vain and selfish, and liable to take advantage of you.

"Ah, let me guess — my brother has informed you of my bad character?" He asked, an easy smile on his lips. "He told you — what? — that I seduce and ruin fair maidens as part of some nefarious plan to embarrass him?"

"Well..." you left the word to hang between you while you considered how to respond. "Yes, something like that."

He paused for a beat, then said; "if you truly believe it, then I suggest you take your leave, Miss. I wouldn't want to risk tarnishing your good name."

For reasons beyond your understanding, you found yourself stepping towards him, not away. "Why did you ask me to dance?"

Was Mr Castle right — had the whole thing just been some farce just to get to him? You weren't sure you wanted to know the answer, but you felt like you needed to. No, you deserved to know if you were being toyed with as part of a spat between brothers.

"Because you looked lonely," he said.

Lonely and not simply alone. No one else had noticed that. Or, if they had, they hadn't cared.

The Captain stood away from the balustrade and took a step towards you.

"I saw you watching the dancing like you wanted to join in, but no one asked you to be their partner," he continued. "I'll admit that I saw you speaking to my brother and — I know all too well what he's like, but I didn't want your acquaintance with him to keep you from enjoying the ball."

"Why would my being acquainted with Mr Castle keep me from enjoying the ball?" You asked. Oh, you knew it was a dangerous game you were playing and that if even half of what you'd been told about Captain Russo was true, you'd end up in a lot of trouble, but you wanted to know more about the man your brother had all but promised you to. And who better to ask than his own brother?

"Frank may throw these balls and fancy parties, and he may be well regarded by society, but he's not liked. He's proud, abrasive, and single-minded. All he cares about is himself and his own idea of what's right." He looked at you and, despite your mask, he saw the shock on your face. "Does my forwardness offend you?"

"No, it's just... I never expected you to be so open in your disdain for each other." While you were no stranger to sibling quarrels, you'd never dare speak so candidly about Ethan with a stranger (or with anyone at all, if you were being honest).

"How does the saying go? You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family." He flashed you a smile that caused a swooping sensation to fill your stomach, and you felt a strange kinship with him at that moment. "So," he said, and let the word hang in the air.

"So?"

"Do you believe me to be the villain they say I am? Does being here with me unchaperoned make you feel as if your reputation is at risk?" The smile on his lips suggested he was joking, but the edge to his words was serious.

You were silent for a few seconds weighing his words and the situation you found yourself in. Being alone with a man you'd had no real formal introduction to was certainly frowned upon but you had no wish to return to the ball — just the thought of having to face Mr Castle again had your stomach churning. Not to mention, both Mr Castle and your brother had seemed upset at the thought of you being near the Captain, which should have been reason enough to walk away from him. But how were they any better, with their scheming and conniving?

"I wanted to dance," you finally said and offered a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know anyone here and you were kind enough to ask."

It wasn't an answer but it softened his expression and he dared to step closer still.

"Well, having seen you dance, I think it would have been a shame to leave you wanting for a partner." His words stoked a strange feeling inside of you, a tickling in your stomach accompanied by a growing warmth.

An awkward laugh slipped out. "I fell over my own feet."

"I caught you off-guard," he shrugged.

"No one told me that Mr Castle had a brother," you offered the obvious. "It surprised me."

"Your brother and I have never seen eye to eye. It's understandable that he didn't mention me."

"Where did you meet?" You asked, wanting to unravel the mystery of the man in front of you and why he was so disliked.

"At school — for the short while I attended," he said, flashing another smile. "Your brother is part of the reason I left and decided to enlist in the military."

"Oh." You weren't sure what else you were supposed to say to such a revelation, whether it was right or proper for you to ask for more information.

"It seems I'm the only one capable of letting go of old grudges." He took another step, coming to stop in front of you. Your chin lifted so you could hold his gaze, and you noticed the faint silver lines of scars across his cheek that had previously been concealed by his mask. "I hope that what's in the past between myself and your brother won't affect our friendship, Miss."

"Our... friendship?"

"Yes, I would very much like for us to be friends."

You froze as he reached for you, fingertips ghosting across your cheek, just below your mask. He moved slowly, following the edge of the mask, then the ribbon. Your breath caught as he finally tugged at the bow and your mask fell away.

"There you are," he said softly, fingers returning to your cheek for a lingering second before dropping away. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Heat flushed your face, and the sensation in your stomach grew more uncontrollable. You stammered out your name, realising that you'd not offered it before now.

"William," he said in response.

"Captain, I couldn't possibly —"

He silenced you with your name, then repeated; "I want us to be friends."

His hand moved again, this time brushing against your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When you heard your name again, it was not from his lips. You turned back towards the doors to see your brother approaching, irritation clear on his face.

"I thought I told you not to embarrass me," he snapped. Your heart faltered in your chest as he glanced behind you. "What are you doing out here alone?"

Alone?

You dared a glance over your shoulder. The Captain was gone. It was almost as if he'd never really been there to begin with. Had you imagined your conversation with him? No — no, you could still feel the faint tingle on your arm where his cold fingers had been, and your mask was on the floor.

"I needed some air," you retorted, bending to collect your mask. "And it's rich of you to suggest that I'm the cause of any embarrassment."

"Meaning?"

"You lied to me. You brought me here on the pretence that I had a choice, that I —"

"Choice?" He repeated, barely holding back a laugh. "You've had choice for years and have done nothing with it."

"Because of you, because you have squandered our money and good name, and —"

His hand gripped your arm, killing the tingling sensation left by the Captain, replacing it with pain. You immediately started to struggle, trying to wrench away from him, but that only caused him to tighten his grip.

"Have a care how you speak to me, sister. I said that you will have an engagement by the end of the season but, if you prefer, I can have you wed by the end of the week," he said, his voice low. When you didn't offer any further resistance, he continued; "you will allow Frank to court you, and when he asks for your hand, I will allow it."

He held onto you for a moment longer, then let go. You staggered back and glared at your brother, though you didn't dare say any of the nasty thoughts that were currently swirling around your head.

"If you've had your fill of the ball, you should return to your room," he said, turning to head back towards the door. "Oh, and sister? Stay away from Captain Russo."

It wasn't until he was gone that you felt able to breathe again, though, when you did, it came out as a series of awkward, gasped sobs. It wasn't the first time that you'd argued, but it was the first time he'd managed to make you feel so small, so worthless. You wanted nothing more than to turn and walk into the night, to lose yourself in the grounds of Netherton Park, and perhaps stumble upon Captain Russo again.

But you didn't.

You weren't brave enough to wander into the darkness in search of a man you barely knew, and you didn't have the courage to defy your brother.

Despite everything that had happened that evening, sleep found you easily after you returned to your rooms and crawled into bed. Your worries were no match for your exhaustion after the five hour carriage ride, and you didn't wake until Jane entered your room and pulled open the curtains.

You squinted against the morning light, streaming in through the windows, and moved in a daze as Jane helped you dress yourself for breakfast. It had been years since you'd had a lady's maid, so the whole thing felt surreal. But you were glad of the help — glad of the company, really.

She told you little facts about the house, how it had been in the Castle family for generations, and how, over the coming weeks, several events would be held that were often the talk of the season.

"And Mr Castle's brother, Captain Russo, does he often attend these events?" You dared to ask, once she'd finished describing a lavish garden party that was due to be held in the coming week.

"When he's here... though only if he's in the master's good graces," she said before shooting you a sheepish look, worried that she'd said too much.

"I understand that they don't always see eye to eye," you told her. Even though you didn't really know the full details, you understood that the brother had a fractious relationship, and Jane didn't need to feel bad about mentioning it.

"Does he stay at the house when he's here?" Perhaps it wasn't prudent to be asking about the brother of the man you were being matched with, but you couldn't help yourself.

"No, the Captain has a cottage on the edge of the estate — it was a gift to him from Mistress Castle before she passed," Jane explained, as she pulled your hair from your face and started to braid it. "It's a lovely home, well looked after while the Captain was in France."

Your heart gave an awkward lurch. You hadn't even considered that he might have been to war. Was that where the scar on his cheek had come from? Was it his only injury?

While Jane fixed your hair, your mind wandered. You found yourself thinking more and more about the man who already managed to cause such an unexpected disturbance in your life. He was something new, something different to what you were used to, that was all. You'd spent so long at home, surrounded by the same social circle and longing for something more, that you found yourself quite obsessed with the idea of him.

Just the idea, mind.

It was, you had decided, infinitely easier to like the idea of a man than like the man himself.

Mr Castle was a prime example of that, and you were sure you'd quickly learn his brother's shortcomings if given more time to get to know him.

"He's asked the kitchen staff to save him a space at dinner tonight." Jane's words pulled you from your thoughts.

"The Captain will be at dinner?"

Jane nodded. "Providing the Master allows it — though I don't see why he wouldn't."

Again, she seemed to remember herself and that she might be sharing a little too much. At that moment, you decided that you liked Jane.

Ethan and Mr Castle were already at breakfast when Jane led you to the dining room, their voices carrying down the hallway.

"You didn't tell me he was going to be here." Ethan. He sounded annoyed.

"It doesn't change anything," Mr Castle said. "He knows to stay out of the way."

Before you overheard any more, Jane opened the door and announced you. Both men rose from the table and Mr Castle gave a bow. You curtsied and quickly moved to the seat Jane had pulled out for you.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" Castle asked.

"Fine, thank you." You answered.

"I didn't see you after our dance."

"I'm sorry, I was tired from travelling." From the corner of your eyes you saw Ethan give the slightest nod, approving of your answer.

Mr Castle offered a hum that seemed to suggest that he didn't really care and was only asking as a formality. You busied yourself with the plate placed in front of you and started to eat.

Both men turned their attention to the morning's papers, occasionally muttering and grumbling about current affairs in the country and abroad. In another life, you would perhaps have liked to have been included in the conversation, but you knew from experience that Ethan didn't believe you educated enough to understand, and his comment about embarrassing him still stung.

So, you ate in silence, only speaking on the rare occasions you were spoken to. All the while, you wondered if this was how your mornings would play out if you ended up married to Mr Castle. God, why had you let Ethan talk you into coming on this trip?

The butler appeared just as the plates were being cleared from the table, and handed Mr Castle a note. He read it and then let out a laboured sigh.

"I'm needed in town."

"I'll come with you," Ethan was quick to offer. "I have some business I need to attend to."

"Can I —" you started to ask.

"I don't have time to waste watching you looking at dresses and ribbons," Ethan said, not even letting you finish.

At least Mr Castle managed to give you a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry, Miss. I know I promised to give you a tour today."

"It's alright, Sir. I'm sure I can find my own way," you answered, trying to be glad of the fact you wouldn't have to spend the day with him.

He looked at you for a second more then offered little more than a grunt and a nod of his head.

It was for the best really. After everything that had happened, you wanted some time alone, some time to walk and wander. And, while you would have preferred to do that in the city, where there was more to distract you, you were certain Netherton wouldn't be without its charms.

Jane showed you to the library and, as expected, you were left stunned by the sheer size of it but, much like the home's owner, it was cold and unwelcoming. Neglected and abandoned, it seemed even the staff didn't bother with it. Still, you decided that you would take stock of the room and find yourself something to read... just not today.

The sun was shining and you were itching to wander the grounds and escape the stale air of the house. You had a book of your own, that you grabbed along with a shawl before heading outside. Jane stopped you on the way, pointing you towards a small lake on the grounds and promising you a tour once she had finished her morning duties.

The lake was stunning but it was the trees that made your heart sing. A weeping willow stood on its banks and you soon made yourself comfortable beneath its branches, reclining against the thick trunk as you read.

The warm sun and gentle breeze were enough to relax you almost to the point of sleep. You let your book slip from your hand and closed your eyes. Of course, you had no intention of sleeping, all you really wanted was to rest your eyes and enjoy the quiet. It was only a few minutes — at least, you thought it was — before a shadow fell over you, blocking the sun's warmth.

You squinted, struggling to make out his face as light haloed around him. For a sleepy second, you wondered if this was some angelic visitation but, when you realised it was Captain Russo, you believed it might be the opposite.

"Captain?" You gasped, scrabbling to sit up and affect some modicum of decency.

"My mother used to like to sit under this tree and read to us as boys," he said. Your cheeks heated as he reached down and scooped up the book that had fallen from your lap, and flicked through the pages. "Thou still unravished bride of quietness, Thou foster child of silence and slow —"

Before he could finish, you were on your feet, snatching the book from his hands. You weren't sure why you were embarrassed exactly, but the way he was smiling caused your stomach to tie itself in knots. Fortunately, he gave the book up without a fight.

"Keats?" He asked, though he already seemed to know the answer.

"Yes, I was just —"

"You don't need to explain yourself."

That was a first. Ethan would have wanted to know why you were wasting your time reading poetry. Or reading at all, for that matter. There were other things that a lady of your position should be doing.

"You... you startled me," you said, clutching the book to your chest.

"I saw you out here alone," he shrugged. "And, I must confess, when I saw you were sleeping, I wanted to have some fun — oh, don't look at me like that, I know it was a cruel thing to do."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was resting my eyes," you protested.

"I didn't realise that poetry was so exhausting to the eyes," he said.

"You mock me, Sir."

"No, Miss, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do." And, as he had the night before, he reached for you, letting his fingertip ghost down your arm. You were sure that the touch was intended to be soothing, instead it caused that strange swooping sensation in your stomach again.

"Then what do you want?" It was forward but you were sick of dealing with the whims of men.

"As I said last night; I want to be your friend," he said, drawing back his hand.

"Why? I won't be pulled into whatever feud exists between you and my brother."

"What happened between Ethan and me is long in the past. If a feud exists, it's one sided."

The rational part of you knew that trusting him was likely to get in trouble one way or another but the other piece of you — the part that was desperately lonely and in want of a friend? — that part wanted to take him at his word.

Tension drained from your body and you took a slow breath. He watched, waiting to see if you had some sharp response for him.

After a few seconds of silence, he asked; "you've only been here a day, surely he can't have abandoned you already?"

It took you a moment to decide that the he in question was Mr Castle.

"He had business in town that he had to attend to and, he and Ethan thought it better that..." you trailed off, hating that you sounded like you were defending them.

"Did he at least show you around?"

You shook your head. "No — though Jane offered to give me a tour once she's finished with her duties for the morning."

Captain Russo shook his head. "I must apologise for my brother, Miss. Our mother raised him better than this."

There was something in his voice, a bitterness that you didn't dare question.

"There's no need to apologise. If I'm honest, I think I prefer time alone to being forced upon someone who shares none of my interests," you said, sparing a glance to the book in your hands.

"He's not particularly —"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sounds of dogs barking. Instinctively, you backed away until you were pressed against the tree trunk again.

The hounds raced towards you and the Captain dropped to one knee to greet them. All you could think was that he was going to be torn apart by the blood-thirsty creatures, and you steeled yourself to be next, but their attack was nothing more than a vicious licking of the Captain's face.

He let out a laugh that caused your heart to stutter. It was like no other sound you'd heard from him, and for reasons you didn't understand, you wanted to hear it again. Something told you that he didn't laugh like that very often, making the moment feel precious, and you didn't want to interrupt.

Not that you could interrupt. No, you were pressed back against the tree as if the hounds were out for your blood.

It took the Captain close to a minute to remember you were there.

"Are you alright?" He asked, still on his knee, petting one of the dogs. His question drew their attention to you. "It's okay, they're friendly."

"So I've been told." You didn't move. You couldn't.

A frown creased his brow, then he looked at the dogs and stood.

"Go on, away with you," he gave a wave of his arm. The dogs remained until he repeated the gesture and the words.

You didn't breathe again until they were out of sight.

He cleared the distance between you in an instant, stopping before you and placing a hand on your cheek. "You're trembling."

"I... I don't care for dogs..." you muttered.

It didn't even cross your mind to pull away from the hand on your cheek. In fact, you found you quite liked the warmth of his touch, and the way his dark eyes softened as he looked at you. You could have remained in that moment for the rest of the day if he'd let you, feeling like someone finally cared enough about you to take notice of your feelings.

"Let me give you a tour of the grounds," he offered softly, his hand dropping from your cheek to your shoulder.

"I don't want to impose." You became vaguely aware that the book clasped against your chest was the only thing keeping his body from yours.

"It wouldn't be an imposition. I offered," he said. "Please, allow me to make up for my brother's neglect."

The hand on your shoulder gave a gentle squeeze and, against your better judgement, you nodded. "If you're sure."

He smiled and dropped the hand from your shoulder only to offer you his arm, which you took with little hesitation. "I think you'll love the gardens."

And you did.

Captain Russo — he still couldn't get you to call him William — led you around every inch of the garden that you wanted to see, listening to you as you showed off your knowledge of various plants and flowers. Not once did he make you feel like he was indulging you, or that you were wasting his time. It seemed like he genuinely wanted to be there with you.

When you weren't speaking, he was. He told you little snippets about his life growing up at Netherton; how his mother had adopted him at age eight because she desperately wanted a second child. Despite having questions about him, you preferred to let him speak and share only what he wanted you to know.

And you told him what little there was to know about you. All said and done, it wasn't much. You hadn't had much of a life beyond the occasional ball, and friends were so few and far between that they didn't seem worth mentioning.

Despite learning about him, you still didn't know him, but the longer you spent with him, the more you noticed things. Like the far away look he got in his eyes when he mentioned his mother, and the way his shoulder ticked upwards whenever he spoke of his childhood. You hung on his every word, hoping that you'd get more from him than little stories about where his mother liked to read or her favourite flowers in the garden, but he always managed to avoid giving you anything tangible, anything that made him him.

After a long meandering wander through the gardens, you both stopped at the entrance to hedgemaze.

"Do you know the way?" You asked, unable to keep a smile from your lips as you craved your neck to take in the full height of the hedges.

From what you'd been able to tell from your window, the maze was big enough that you could easily get lost in it. 

"Why?" He asked, mirroring your smile with one of his own. "Scared of getting lost with me?"

"No, not even a little bit." The realisation struck you the second the words left your mouth. You weren't scared to be around him, nor were you worried or uncomfortable. He didn't make you feel like most of the men in your life, like you had to suppress any spark of joy in case it was seen as unseemly. You felt an odd sense of freedom with him, and you wanted to embrace it while it lasted.

"In that case..." He let go of your arm and took off into the maze at a jog.

You hesitated all but a second before starting after him, following as he disappeared around one bend and then another. Gathering your skirts up, you tried to match his pace, but found you couldn't even come close. He turned from time to time, grinning at you, but never letting you catch up. It seemed like he barely had to look to know where he was going — at least, you hoped he knew where he was going.

After taking a sharp left, you suddenly found yourself alone and faced with two paths. You came to a standstill, looking one way, then the other, trying to find any sign of him.

"Captain?" You called quietly at first then, again, a little louder. "Captain?"

"I've told you, call me William," came a disembodied voice from somewhere further in the maze.

You took a step towards the sound before stopping, second guessing yourself.

"Where are you?" You asked.

"Why don't you come find me?"

Left. His voice was definitely coming from the left. Three steps later, indecision had you freezing again. You weren't sure what bothered you more; the idea of getting lost or the thought of not finding him.

"I — I can't," you confessed, an awful feeling of uselessness filling you. Perhaps Ethan was right, perhaps you really were useless without a man to help you.

"You can."

"No, I — I can't." You ignored the tremor in your voice and turned to look back the way that you'd come, wondering if you'd be able to find your way back if he abandoned you. No, probably not.

A branch snapped behind you and you turned in time to see Captain Russo emerging from the left path. (You'd been right, and you hated yourself for not trusting your instincts.)

The smile on his lips faded the moment your gaze met his. "You didn't think I was going to leave you, did you?"

Your silence said more than words ever could. You felt ridiculous, dramatic even, for thinking it but, yes, you'd thought he was going to leave you. It wasn't so much a criticism of his character but, rather, of all the men in your life. Ethan would have left you, and you got the impression that Mr Castle would have too.

But Captain Russo was standing in front of you, proof that you were wrong -- at least, about him.

He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation, letting him hold you tight as he started to pull you after him. It was easy to forget that one awkward little moment when he started to pick up speed, leading you deeper and deeper into the maze.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" You asked.

"I've been walking this maze for most of my life," he said. "Trust me."

Strangely, you wanted to. You wanted to be able to trust someone.

He took another left, then a right, moving faster and faster. You let out a laugh — not one of the polite little laughs you often found yourself laughing for the benefit of others, but a joyous and happy laugh. This was fun. You were having fun.

You rounded another corner and entered a wide, open space filled with marble benches and alcoves containing statues. The Captain came to a stop beside you, keeping your hand in his. Or... maybe it was you keeping hold of his hand.

"It took me years to be able to find it on my own," he confessed. "My mother used to bring me here when it was just the two of us."

You looked at him, a clear question in your mind, but you didn't voice it.

"What?" He asked softly, leading you to one of the benches.

"I just..." you tried in vain to keep yourself from becoming flustered under his attention. "You were adopted?"

It came out as a question, and it took him a few seconds to understand what you were trying to ask; he called her mother and spoke of her with an unexpected fondness.

"I was, but I loved her all the same. It broke my heart when she passed..." he trailed off and took a seat, prompting you to sit beside him. "But you must know something about that?"

All you could do was nod, still unable to talk about the loss of your mother, despite the two years that had passed.

"It's lovely here," you said instead. "I can see why you like it."

"I don't get to come here very often anymore..."

"Because of your brother?" You asked and he nodded. You hesitated a second before daring to ask; "what happened between you?"

"He believes I betrayed him."

"Did you?"

"No."

More questions formed in your mind, but they were quickly pushed away. You'd already asked more than was proper and the subject seemed to cause a darkness in the Captain that you didn't like.

The sound of your name being called cut through the silence and you got to your feet. After a second, it came again and you realised it was Jane. You took a step forward, lips parting, ready to answer her, when you were suddenly moved backwards, led into one of the alcoves behind a statue by Captain Russo. A gasp slipped from you when you felt branches at your back, but before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed a finger to your lips.

He was standing so close that you could feel the heat of his body against you. At some point your hands had ended up on his chest, grasping his jacket, but it didn't even cross your mind to let go. No, you were too busy staring at him, getting lost in his dark eyes.

Dark eyes that dipped to your mouth and had you nervously worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. His finger remained there, keeping you silent as Jane continued to call, her voice slowly getting louder and louder.

The Captain stayed where he was, even after it became clear that Jane was getting closer.

"Captain," you said in a breathless whisper, pleading with that one word — for what, you didn't know. You didn't want to get caught like this with him.

"Don't marry him," he said quietly. You stared, confused. "I overheard you and Ethan last night — don't marry my brother, don't subject us both to that misery."

His finger was replaced by his lips, and you froze. He kissed you softly, the briefest peck that you indulged for less than a second before pushing away from him, Mr Castle's words from the night before echoing in your mind.

Had this all been part of some awful scheme to take advantage of you and embarrass his brother after all? Were you just a pawn in whatever game he was playing against his brother?

Before he could reach for you, you stepped out of the alcove and found Jane searching for you. Captain Russo had the good sense not to reveal himself.

"There you are," she said.

"Sorry, I got lost — could you show me back to the house?"

You didn't look back as she led you away.

A/N : So, yeah, work has been a nightmare but, thankfully, I'm finally going to be getting a new laptop this month, so it'll all be worth it! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, Billy will definitely be more of a menace to reader going forward.

New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

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