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William stares at himself in the mirror and straightens his bowtie again.

He smoothes the barely-there creases on his jacket, adjusts the positioning of the handkerchief in his pocket. He runs his fingers through his fringe, detangling the nonexistent tangles, and meets red eyes in the mirror. He notes the coolness to their reflection, like the shining surface of a lake frozen over; anything drowning in their depths is perfectly masked by a thick layer of solid ice. He moves on to checking his cufflinks.

Just as he’s reaching for his bowtie again, he hears a knock on the front door. He stills, hands falling to his sides. He does a once-over of himself in the mirror as he simultaneously counts to ten in his head. Then he turns and leaves the room.

He keeps a casual pace as he walks, a disinterested pace. He hears the door open, followed by Albert’s voice offering a warm greeting. He doesn’t hurry.

Louis is waiting for him when he arrives, just outside the entryway. There’s a scowl on his brother’s face intended for William’s tardiness. William sends an apologetic smile, which Louis seems to accept, and together they round the corner.

He’d thought himself prepared, clothed in apathy and detachment, but they’re a fickle cloak hiding traitorous emotions underneath. His heart skips a beat as he stops dead in his tracks.

Standing in the doorway, radiant and haloed in the soft glow of red, evening light, is you.

It’s been seven years since he’s seen you (though he could be more specific, to the number of days, if asked.)

His last memory of you is still fresh. You’d been in your late teens then, about to walk away from everything you’d ever known and embark on a new adventure—your own adventure. Though you’d been old enough, and mature enough, to fit in with the adults around you at the time, you had still been young—a girl, features soft and youthful, clinging desperately to the last vestiges of childhood.

He’s forced to let that image go as he’s confronted with the beautiful young woman you’ve grown into.

Your hair is pinned in a pretty updo and your lips are painted a deep scarlet, highlighting your dazzling signature smile as you speak to Albert. Your dress is a resplendent gown, tastefully embroidered and of a colour that he knows is your favourite. (He knows because he asked Albert a long time ago.) It fits your body snugly in all the right places and then fans out into wide, flowing skirts that touch the floor. It’s very fashionable, and it looks very good on you.

You turn towards him and Louis. Your eyes widen for a beat before your face lights up.

“William! Louis!” you exclaim. “Look at you, all grown up! It’s so good to see you again.”

Your attention has a certain magnetism that’s difficult to resist, yet William evades the pull instinctively. His old habits, it seems, haven’t failed him, even if his preparation for tonight had.

“Likewise, Miss (L/N),” he says, respectfully and with a slight bow. “It’s been too long.”

Louis nods, a polite smile on his face. “May I take that for you, Miss (L/N)?”

Your hands twist slightly on the handle of a small, leather case, which William hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Still so formal,” you murmur as you hand the case to Louis. William surmises that it contains your tools of trade, for the final part of the mission tonight.

“Well,” Albert says, “it’s about time to leave. Shall we?” He extends his arm towards you.

“Yes, let’s,” you say. “I’m quite looking forward to tonight.” You loop your arm through Albert’s, taking up a position close to his side.

And therein lies the crux of it.

You look stunning on Albert’s arm. You always have.

William’s known it ever since he first laid eyes on you, all those years ago in the orphanage when you’d come visiting side by side with Albert. That you and his brother are meant for each other is an obvious fact.

Though you’ve always just claimed friendship, the way you two look at one another clearly states otherwise. He’s seen the shared glances, the secretive smiles. He’s seen the countless letters addressed to his brother in your handwriting, and he’s seen the lengthy replies Albert always returns.

Not to mention the whispers he can still vividly recall, from all those years ago. The tentative propositions of marriage that the Lord and Lady Moriarty had plotted over drinks, late at night when they had thought no one was listening.

Certain events, of course, had prevented any sort of formal arrangement—the fire for one thing, your leaving London for another. But you’re back now, and no one can deny that tonight is the perfect opportunity for you and Albert to reunite, to rekindle your relationship, and perhaps, progress it further. William had even offered Albert some suggestions on that front.

He almost regrets that now as he watches you and Albert walk out the door together, your dress sweeping softly along the floor as you step in sync with his brother, but he shoves the feeling down deep.

He nods a farewell to Louis and then steps out into the crisp, evening air. He follows the two of you down the path to the carriage, watching from behind as you converse with his brother. You wear a smile on your face and a fondness in your eyes that William recognises all too easily.

It’s a look reserved solely for his brother.

You’ve never looked at anyone else like that, and you certainly haven’t looked that way at William before. He’s never been on the receiving end of that endearing eye crinkle or that charming little head tilt as you smile delightedly at something cleverly spoken. How could he have, when he’s always made sure to keep you at arm’s length, your conversations brief and detached?

It’s better this way, he reminds himself as he grasps for that cloak of apathy again. It’s a slippery thing, though, and he can’t seem to wield it the same way he had in his youth.

Your eyes had lit up when you’d seen him, though—and before that, they’d widened momentarily. What had that been? Surprise, perhaps—or something else?

Regardless, the smile that had graced your face had been dazzling—although not quite so dazzling as the one reserved for Albert. Still, he finds himself savouring the memory of it. And not only that; he finds himself admiring the elegant way you carry yourself, brimming with all the grace and poise of a confident young lady. He finds himself appreciating the way your simple makeup compliments your features, the way your dress perfectly accentuates your figure.

If only you were on his arm instead of Albert’s, that dazzling smile of yours turned his way rather than his brother’s.

William hisses in a breath, startled by the direction of his thoughts. He comes to a stop outside the carriage—you and Albert are already getting in—and hurriedly tries to clear his mind.

He’d accepted this situation long ago. He’s never begrudged Albert for holding your favour, and he shouldn’t begin to do so now. His brother deserves every happiness.

Tonight is business, he reminds himself as he straightens his jacket and enters the carriage. Business and nothing more.

You take a seat on the plush bench of the carriage, mindful of the way your skirts gather as you sit. You brush your hands over the fabric, smoothing it and arranging it so that it drapes across your legs with nary a crease. A light touch to the back of your head confirms your hair pins are still in place. You resist the urge to check your makeup; you know it’s faultless and unlikely to have changed since the last time you checked. You fold your hands in your lap, put a smile on your face and dig your nails into the undersides of your palms.

Anxiety and excitement course through your veins in equal measure, thundering through your composure like a raging stampede. Both make your heart thump wildly in your chest, and both are decidedly unprofessional. You dig your nails in deeper as you perfect your smile; not too big and not too eager. Calm, collected and poised.

Albert slides into the carriage, taking a seat next to you. He’s all grace and cool refinement, wearing his position with a naturalness that is almost intimidating. You’d expect nothing less.

There’s a certain sophistication to the Moriartys that you struggle to match. Though noble blood flows in your veins, you had walked away from your family, and your position in society, years ago. It’s been a long time since you’ve moved through such high social circles; you feel awfully out of place and out of practice.

Albert’s presence by your side, however, is a balm. You find yourself relaxing instinctively. He’s always had that effect on you and you’ll forever be grateful for it; his companionship in your childhood single-handedly saved your sanity. Though many women chased him for his looks and his title, his kindness is what drew you to him initially. It was the discovery of your mutual dislike for the nobility, however, that had truly forged your friendship.

You’re here tonight because of those same shared ideals.

You’re aware, of course, of what the Moriarty brothers have done, and what they plan to do. It doesn’t cow you in the slightest. In fact, the excitement running through your veins stems from the very fact that you’ve been invited to participate in said plans. The sheer scope of the scheme makes your own pursuits overseas look meagre in comparison, and the intellect behind the plan is a wonder to behold—in more ways than one.

Your eyes flick to William as he enters the carriage. His blond locks and red eyes are as you remember them, though William himself is obviously older. He’s taller and his face is sharper, more angular. He’s dressed immaculately in a finely tailored suit, which you can’t help but admire. It barely creases and fits his slim form perfectly. He sits opposite you and Albert, and his red eyes meet yours.

You dart your gaze away, knowing full well the depths to which that scarlet gaze can read. Best not to be caught staring; clinging to childhood daydreams is unbecoming of a young lady, and it’s of utmost importance that you make a good impression tonight. You focus on Albert instead, giving him a soft smile as you tuck your stray thoughts away.

The carriage starts moving. William takes a breath.

“So, Miss (L/N),” he says, and you look at him again now that it’s polite to do so. “I believe my brother has briefed you on tonight’s mission?”

“Yes, I know the basics,” you say. The extreme basics. Signet ring, letters, dancing and forgery. Albert had worked those key elements into one of his letters, those particular words accented by a double pen stroke on the second letter of each. You’d devised the code as children, but hadn’t used it in years. It was a stroke of luck that you’d caught it.

“Allow me to explain in more detail, then,” William says. “There are a number of plan variations—A through D—that you’ll need to know. Usually, we’d do this briefing as a team back at the manor. But since your time with us is limited, we’ll have to make do with the forty-five minutes that the carriage ride gives us. Shall we start?”

You nod and William begins to explain the mission plan. You listen intently, carefully committing every detail to memory. You’re not intimidated by the plan, but you’re well aware of the stakes—and not just for the mission; you have a lot riding on this, personally.

You’ve done your best to develop your skills overseas and to use them to help the disadvantaged where you can. But your efforts are like a drop of water in the ocean that is the Moriarty plan. You seek purpose. And not only that, you seek stability.

Returning to London has long been on your mind, though you’ve found yourself held back by the sordid memories of your youth and the nobility that you consequently despise. You need a good reason to make this place your home again, and between the mission and the Moriartys, you’re hoping you just might find one.

Tonight is a test. A chance to prove yourself.

And you don’t plan on failing.

You continue to listen attentively, watching William as he speaks. There’s a calm confidence to his manner that captivates you, making it easy to keep your attention on him. You hadn’t known if he"d be joining the mission tonight or not, so finding him dressed and ready upon your arrival had sparked a dangerous excitement in your veins.

Despite the years that you’ve known the Moriartys, William’s always remained a mystery to you. You’ve long sought an opportunity to unravel him but his formal facade has always gotten in the way. If one thing has changed since your youth, however, it’s that you’ve learnt you need to push for what you want.

And tonight, you think, you’re finally feeling bold enough.

Your excitement and anticipation dwindles quickly, however, as you listen to William’s plan. Despite being the master architect, William has a relatively minor part to play and you can’t help the disappointment that creeps into your veins.

You know it’s an entirely selfish thought and that you should dismiss it instantly. You are here to help with their overarching plans, after all, and fixing this country is important to you.

It is a tantalising prospect, however, to have William within reach for once. You’ve always been intrigued by him. His scarlet eyes and quiet intelligence had you quite charmed for a number of years in your youth, though you never would have admitted it at the time. Unfortunately, he’d mastered the art of twisting conversations so that you never got anything truly meaningful out of them and had to resort to asking Albert questions to sate your curiosity.

You’d thought the years apart might have diminished your feelings, but seeing him again… well. You can’t help the way your eyes roam over his sharp form. William might be little more than an observer on this mission, but still, you’re determined to find a way to ask him to dance.

“Any questions so far, Miss (L/N)?” William asks.

You shake your head. “Perfectly clear so far,” you say with a polite smile. “Please, continue.”

William does so, and you continue to listen intently as the carriage rolls on.

It’s dark when you arrive at your destination, the sun long since set, yet you find yourself surprised as the carriage stops. You’re there already? Those forty-five minutes had gone quick. You glance out the window and see moonlight lining the streets.

William has just finished his briefing, wrapping it up with expert timing. He’d quizzed you at the end to see if you remembered everything—and you had. You’d impressed him with that, and you’re still brimming with pride because of it. Tonight, you think, is off to a good start.

The carriage driver opens the door for you and Albert steps out first. He turns around and offers you his hand, helping you down onto the pavement. William joins you a moment later, taking up a place at your side. The path is wide enough that all three of you can walk up to the manor together.

You’re not the only ones here, of course. There are a number of other guests ahead of you and more arriving behind. So many, in fact, that you’re forced to line up in the entryway. As you wait, you decide to seize the silence as an opportunity to ask William to dance. But as you turn to him, opening your mouth, one of the men behind you calls out to the Moriarty brothers.

You shut your mouth and eye the noble icily. He quickly pulls the brothers into a conversation—a decidedly dull one that you imagine the brothers have no interest in, yet they reply politely and feign excellent interest. You’re forced to wait impatiently as everyone files through the entrance hall, the nobleman yapping away the entire time.

Finally, you’re announced by the butler at the entry to the ballroom. “Lords Albert and William Moriarty, and Lady (Y/N) (L/N).”

The Moriarty name gets some excited whispers. No doubt there are a number of ladies eager to snag Albert’s attention tonight. Unfortunately for them, he’s all booked up by you. William, however, isn’t so fortuitously engaged. You imagine he’ll become quite the target. All the better that you ask him to dance sooner rather than later, then.

Unfortunately, you still have the formalities to attend to first. As you enter, you greet the hosts: Lord and Lady Everton. Lord Everton is a tall fellow, with a thick moustache and slick, oiled hair. His wife, standing by his side, is petite in comparison, with fair skin and bright orange locks that have been twisted back in an intricate updo. Two strands of curls frame her soft, heart-shaped face. Whilst Lord Everton merely gives you all a stiff nod, Lady Everton greets you warmly.

“Welcome, Lord Albert, Lord William. Lady (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lady Everton says. “We’re glad you could come. Please enjoy the night. Oh—” She pulls out a key and hands it to Albert. “For your private room upstairs.”

“Thank you, Lady Everton,” Albert says. You and William both nod politely in thanks.

And then you move into the ballroom proper. Though the dancing hasn’t started yet, the floor is covered in couples and groups, all chatting and gossiping amongst themselves. Some are sipping drinks, whilst others flit about filling out dance cards. All of them are dressed extravagantly, and paired with the stunning backdrop of gold and marble architecture, you find yourself momentarily awed.

You’d attended balls in your youth, but never one as big or as ostentatious as this. The sheer amount of wealth on display here, from the fine paintings on the walls to the glittering jewels on pretty fingers….

You swallow your astonishment and find a sour taste lingering in your mouth. This is why you hate the nobility. This is why you’d walked away all those years ago, and why you’ve come back now. All these people dancing, laughing and enjoying themselves while other people suffer, skirting justice the way they skirt orphans on the street, without a backward glance or a shred of compassion. You feel a familiar fire simmering in your belly, one that you haven’t felt in years.

A warm touch on your arm stills your thoughts. You turn to see Albert smiling at you softly, though you can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows what you’re thinking.

“One day things will be different,” he says quietly.

You stare into his blazing green eyes for a moment and then nod. You believe him. You believe him and it douses the flame inside you.

You have to remember why you’re here—to make a step towards a changed world. Shoving aside your hatred, you turn back to the ballroom with a renewed perspective. Let them make merry while they can. Things will be different soon enough.

Albert checks his pocket watch. “The dancing should be starting soon.”

Good, you think. Though you’ve mostly calmed yourself, you could do with a distraction. And dancing is the most wonderful distraction you can think of. If the nobility can enjoy themselves whilst bringing about the downfall of others, then you can enjoy yourself whilst bringing about theirs.

And oh, do you plan on doing just that.

“I think I’ll head up to our room,” William says from the side. “May I take your hat and cane, Albert?”

You look at William sharply. He’s leaving already? Probably to get in position and start scoping out the ballroom, but still… You blink and open your mouth to speak, but Albert is faster.

“Thank you,” he says as he hands William his hat, his cane and the key to the room.

William smiles politely to you both, and before you can even begin to summon the words to ask him for a dance later, he’s gone, heading off towards the staircase at the side of the room. You watch him go, feeling dumbfounded—and of course, disappointed. You should"ve been quicker—or better yet, you should’ve asked him before you got here. Now, you’ll have to find an excuse to go upstairs if you want to ask him to dance.

You turn back to the dance floor, feeling frustrated, and startle at the sight before you. A large swarm of ladies is heading directly for you and Albert. You suddenly understand William’s urgency in leaving. In no time, you’re surrounded, each lady vying for Albert’s attention. It’s a mess of swishing skirts, batting eyelashes and not-so-subtle elbows in ribs.

“Ladies, ladies, please,” Albert says as you blink in shock. “Whilst I am honoured by your attention, and truly wish I could dance with you all, I fear I must beg your forgiveness tonight.”

They fall silent at that, more than a few of them sporting curious or confused looks.

“You see,” Albert says, and he puts his arm around you, “I have a very special guest with me tonight. Lady (Y/N) (L/N) is a dear childhood friend of mine, and we’ve not seen each other in years. She leaves tomorrow, so I have selfishly begged her companionship for the entire night.”

There are various looks of surprise and more than a few furious whispers at that. You hear “Entire night?” repeated by multiple voices, and whilst some of the ladies eye you with curiosity, others send you outright glares.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me,” Albert says. “I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities in the future for me to make it up to each and every one of you.”

There’s muttering among the group, although it’s swiftly drowned out by a loud voice announcing that the dancing will be starting soon. That catches their attention. As the ladies begin to disperse, bearing varying looks of disappointment, you let out a shaky breath.

“Was that a good idea?” you say, looking at Albert. “It might start rumours.”

“They’ll talk regardless,” Albert replies. “Best to get it over and done with, rather than have them pestering us for the rest of the night.”

“You’re not concerned about what they might say?”

“No, not if it gets them to leave us alone,” he says. “Besides, it’s been accounted for.” He grimaces slightly. “I will, in fact, be making it up to each and every one of those ladies. Over the next few months.”

You can’t help but grimace as well. “I’m sorry,” you say. “That sounds awful.” You know Albert hates balls almost as much as you do, and the nobility even more so. You hate putting him in this position.

An idea suddenly sparks in your mind. What if… What if William dances with you for a while? That way Albert won’t have to risk completely offending the noblewomen, or ruining his reputation. And if he spends a few dances with them tonight, he won’t have to spend as much time making up for it later.

“But don’t worry,” Albert says before you can voice your thoughts. He smiles at you fondly. “Tonight is worth it.”

You blink, feeling a sudden surge of appreciation for Albert, but also a wave of guilt. You banish the thought of suggesting that William dance with you and put a smile on your face. Albert truly is a great friend, and he’s clearly willing to make the sacrifice for you. You should be enjoying his company instead of letting your thoughts stray to his brother.

And besides, you’re here on a mission and Albert is your designated partner. You’re sure William won’t appreciate you trying to change things.

“Shall we?” Albert says, offering you his arm.

You look around. The intermingling groups are starting to split off into couples, taking up positions on the dance floor.

You take Albert’s arm and nod.

Let the mission begin.

Lord Everton’s ballroom is extravagant, to put it mildly. William studies it as he makes his way to the second floor. It’s a useful way to reaffirm his profiling of the Evertons, but better than that, it’s a good distraction from his thoughts.

The walls are draped with red velvet curtains, separated at intervals by white marble reliefs carved in exquisite detail and accented with gold ornamentation. The large dance floor is immaculately polished, reflecting an almost mirror-like image of the crystal chandelier hanging above it. Along the edges of the room the floors are lined with elaborate carpets, clearly imported, and at the far end of the room two large paintings grace the walls. Their frames are ornate and even from this distance William can tell the paintings themselves are of exceptional quality.

It’s a very glamorous display, ostentatious yet refined, and paints the Evertons in a similar light.

But the prettiest surface can hide the deepest and vilest depths.

This very blatant display of wealth, and the means by which he obtained it, will be Lord Everton’s downfall. Not tonight, though the pieces gathered here will play a lead role in the future.

William reaches the top of the gilded staircase and surveys his new surroundings. The second floor is as opulent in its decor and trimming as the floor below, and consists mainly of a large balcony running the entire perimeter of the room—except for where it’s broken on the left side by three private suites.

These suites are walled on all sides except the front, which opens up onto a private balcony and a spectacular view of the floor below. Two of the three currently have curtains drawn, hiding the interiors from view. William makes his way towards the leftmost of those.

Arriving at the door, he unlocks it with the key and steps into near darkness. The room is lit with only a couple of wall candles, their flickering flames barely providing enough light for him to manoeuvre around the furniture as he makes his way towards the curtain. He grabs the velvety drapes, pulling them open halfway and steps out onto the balcony.

The railing is of a twisting, golden design, and William rests his elbows on it as he leans forward, looking out at the floor below. The dancing is about to begin. Couples of all ages are spread across the floor, with more making their way in and taking up positions as he watches. From above, he can clearly see the two large circles the dancers are forming, one circle inside the other.

He spots you and Albert, arm in arm, making your way towards the centre ring. Once you find a position, you turn to face each other. Albert places his hand on your waist and you rest yours on his shoulder. You look up into his brother’s eyes and smile.

William averts his gaze, turning his attention back to the mission and to surveying the movements of the servants. Various waitstaff carry silver platters in a clockwise procession around the room, offering drinks and canapes to the guests. Others linger near the sides of the room, waiting to be of assistance.

At the end of the hall, standing near one of the large paintings and dressed in the crisp, black and white uniform of the staff, is Moran. He notes William’s presence and sends him a brief nod. Everything is in order, no issues yet.

That should be a comfort, yet William finds himself frustrated. Balls are always straightforward, nobles predictable and this mission is a simple one.

He doesn’t need to be here.

He sinks into the chair on the balcony as the dance begins below. Couples move elegantly in formation, turning the floor into a swirl of swishing skirts and tailcoats.

His eyes find you and Albert easily. You’re pressed close in the formal dance hold, twirling gracefully across the floor, smiles on both of your faces. William sighs.

Albert and Moran are quite capable of handling this mission by themselves. Bringing William along, in his opinion, is overkill. But Albert had been particularly insistent about William attending tonight, citing the joint invitation from Lord Everton and something about keeping up appearances. Perhaps it’s payback for William skipping out on the last ball.

More likely, it’s because Albert just wants to focus his attention on you tonight, and he knows he can leave William to do all the work instead.

Not that there is much work to do anyway.

William rests his chin on his hand. It’s going to be a long night if he has to spend it all watching you dance with his brother.

You twirl across the floor, pulled close in Albert’s arms and find yourself relaxing with every spin. What nerves you’d harboured for the mission have subsided and your simmering anger has stilled. You allow yourself to be swept away by the moment.

You love dancing, but you hate dancing at balls. Tonight, however, may prove to be a grand exception.

Where you’re used to being passed around like a plaything and having your toes stepped on at every turn, dancing with Albert is nothing like the experiences from your youth. He leads with a charming grace and gentleness that you’ve rarely seen in a dance partner. You know he doesn’t share your passion for dancing, however, he is talented at it. And better than that, he’s your friend.

Though you’ve known each other since childhood, you’ve rarely danced together like this at balls.

You recall the last time you and Albert danced together—years ago, in the gardens of your family’s estate. You’d spent hours twirling through the rose bushes, no music to guide you but the tunes you hummed, out of time and off-key. You’d both hated balls and had planned to spend the next one dancing together, and together only.

That plan had been swiftly foiled by your mother and a dance card full of nobles you didn’t recognise the name of. Albert hadn’t even made the list. Your mother had never had very high hopes for you.

That’s why tonight is so special. Even though the night is young, you know this is going to be the best ball you’ve ever attended—even if you don’t get the opportunity to dance with William. To be in the arms of someone you cherish, enjoying the soft music and movement, it’s a dream come true for you.

You twirl gracefully and then come to a stop in Albert’s arms as the music slows and the dance ends.

You find yourself panting, but grinning. Albert has a smile on his face, too.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Your nerves threaten to rise again, cold fingers curling deep in your belly, but you shove them down.

“Yes,” you say as you take his arm.

Albert leads you to a new position on the floor for the next dance. You move casually, but Albert is keeping a keen eye and positions you perfectly in the ring of couples.

Perfect because the next dance involves changing partners. Standing where you are now will land you, at the end of the dance, in the arms of a very particular noble. Your first mission target: Lord Barlow. He’ll be obliged to dance with you for the next song, and that’s where you’ll get your opportunity.

You take a deep breath as you step into the dance hold. As you do, you catch a glimpse of a certain someone over Albert’s shoulder.

William, seated on the balcony. His gaze is turned your way.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the thought of him watching you, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s probably just making sure you’re in position and on track with the mission.

Still, your nerves threaten to rise again. If he’s watching you that means he’ll be judging your abilities, analysing your performance, and ultimately, deciding whether or not you’re worthy of taking part in further missions.

The pressure of it all finally hits you. You can’t mess this up.

As you’re standing there, sweating, the music starts, slow and soft. You don’t notice it until Albert starts moving. You jolt, blinking, and then hurriedly follow along. Your delay earns you a questioning look from Albert, but you send him a reassuring smile, and at the same time, you reassure yourself: you know what you’re doing, you just need to focus.

Taking a deep breath in, you roll your shoulders back and force yourself to slip into the calming rhythm of the dance.

It doesn’t take long for you to become absorbed in the movement, enjoying the spins and twirls, the rise and fall. Although you spend over the first half of the dance with Albert, the time goes astonishingly quick. And then the music’s changing, getting faster. Your chest flutters with nerves as Albert pulls you close. He gives you an encouraging smile, and then you’re off—twirling towards the next man in line.

You don’t spend long dancing with your next partner, or the one after. In fact, you change partners six times before the music begins to slow, and as the last little melody plays, you twirl gracefully into the arms of your mission target.

Lord Barlow is a short man, with curly, blond-grey hair and a weak chin. He’s at least double your age. You do your best to look delighted.

“Lord Barlow!” you exclaim, taking inspiration from Albert’s earlier admirers in the way that you clutch at your chest and flutter your eyelashes. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is (Y/N) (L/N). What a lovely night it’s been so far, don’t you agree? The Everton’s have quite outdone themselves. Why, this might just be the best ball I’ve ever attended!”

Lord Barlow looks taken aback at the amount of words that come out of your mouth in such quick succession, his small eyes strained behind his spectacles. He stutters out an agreement as the next song starts to play.

You pull him into position, taking his hand and smiling enthusiastically. As you do, something glints in the light of the chandelier. Your eyes go straight to it, seeking out your prize.

Lord Barlow’s signet ring. You have a perfect view of it where it rests on his pinky.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in London, and even longer since I’ve attended a ball. It’s so good to be back,” you say as you start the dance.

And then you steamroll him with conversation the whole way through.

Lord Barlow is a pushover and barely gets a response in. William had given you information on him during the briefing, and you chew through the topics like a person starved. You speak briefly of yourself and your travels, before turning the conversation to Lord Barlow’s estates, his marriage, his outfit. Anything and everything. All the while, you are studying his signet ring.

It’s not long before the dance starts to wind down and you take a deep breath, preparing for the next part. All too conscious of William sitting on the balcony and watching, you angle yourself so that, as you slide into the final dance position, your back is to his scarlet eyes.

You may have implied that you can recreate a signet ring from a good look. But whilst you do have a decent memory for design work, recreating a signet ring from two minutes of quick study is impossible—even paired with the half of a wax seal that William has managed to obtain.

“Ah, that went so quick! What a pity,” you say as the music stops.

Lord Barlow looks like he’s about to run as he drops the dance hold. You snag one of his hands with your own, however, and as you do, you slip something out of your dress pocket with the other.

You then take both of his hands in yours and covertly press a small, soft piece of clay to the signet ring. At the same time, you shake his hands and with a pushy smile exclaim, “I’ve so enjoyed your company, Lord Barlow. Shall we get some champagne and continue our conversation?”

His eyes flicker wildly, but you don’t let him escape. You pull him along by the grip you have on his hands. You continue with your mindless conversation, telling him about how much you enjoyed the dancing and are looking forward to more. You shake his hands to emphasise your points, pressing the clay firmly against the ring to get a good impression. Lord Barlow doesn’t even notice. He hasn’t uttered a word since you left the dance floor and doesn’t look like he’s about to any time soon.

You approach the drinks table, where a servant dressed in a black suit is serving champagne.

“Would you be so kind as to fetch us some drinks?” you say as you finally let go of poor Lord Barlow’s hands.

As Lord Barlow stumbles towards the servant, you carefully tuck your piece of clay into your pocket, slipping it into a small, metal container to keep it safe. Whilst the clay impression won’t be fully perfect, between it, the half seal William has and your knack for memorising designs, you have enough to do your job.

Lord Barlow timidly hands you a glass of champagne and you thank him exuberantly.

Or you start to.

Someone bumps into you, knocking your elbow and causing you to spill your champagne all over Lord Barlow’s hands.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” you say as you hurriedly pull your handkerchief out and grab at his hands.

The person who bumped you apologises, though you ignore them as you frantically wipe the champagne off of Lord Barlow. You give his signet ring a nice polish, removing any residue from your clay mould. As you do, you give the ring one good, last look, memorising the smaller details that might be missed in the clay impression.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Barlow,” you say again as you finish drying his hands and return your handkerchief to your pocket. “Please, let me make it up to you with another dance.”

Lord Barlow’s eyes widen in terror, but he’s mercifully saved by someone calling your name.

You turn to see Albert coming your way.

“There you are,” he says. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Lord Barlow finally finds his voice. “Lord Moriarty!” he exclaims weakly.

Albert gives him a kind smile. “Lord Barlow,” he says, “please forgive me for interrupting your conversation, but I had hoped to reclaim my dance partner. I hope you don’t mind me stealing her from you?”

“No, no! Please!” Lord Barlow squeaks. The poor man looks so glad to be rid of you as Albert takes your arm and leads you back to the dance floor.

On the way, you pass the spiky-haired staff member who’d bumped you. You give him a nod as you pass. He’s one of William’s associates, and you’ve heard about him from Albert, though you’ve never properly met the man yourself. His name is Moran.

“How’d it go?” Albert asks once you’re a decent distance away.

“All too easy,” you respond with a pleased smile.

“He was sweating. What did you do to him?”

“Oh, just a bit of small talk.”

“Ah, how terrible.”

You grin as you take up your position on the floor with Albert, feeling more than a little self-satisfied. You’d flawlessly succeeded at your first task. What had you even been worried about?

Curious, you sneak a glance up at the balcony, wondering if William’s impressed by your work. You prepare to send him a glittering smile, but—

He’s not looking at you.

His gaze is downturned, elsewhere, his chin resting on his hand. Almost like he’s bored.

You try not to be offended, but fail quite spectacularly. Still, you force yourself to swallow your pride and return your focus to the moment as Albert smiles at you warmly. You still have a few more tasks tonight. As long as you’re successful at everything, you’re bound to impress William, regardless of whether he’s watching or not.

You give your smile to Albert instead, and allow your thoughts to dissipate as you lose yourself in the music and the dance.

You stay on the floor for another three dances, enjoying every second of them, until you finally start to tire. Albert suggests getting some champagne and you heartily agree.

Together, you make your way back to the drinks table. Albert orders two glasses of champagne and you have to restrain yourself from downing yours in one go. You take a modest sip instead, careful not to over-indulge.

Albert turns to face you, a smile on his lips. He starts to say something, but is interrupted by a voice from behind.

“Telegram for you, Lord Moriarty.”

You turn to see one of the staff members proffering an envelope on a silver platter.

“At this hour?” you wonder as Albert takes the envelope and the staff member moves away.

Sliding the telegram out, Albert’s brow furrows as he reads the message. Your stomach flutters at his expression. Is something wrong? Has it got to do with the mission?

Albert pockets the note, then looks up at you.

He sighs, and his expression turns regretful. “I must apologise, (Y/N),” he says, “but I’ve been summoned back to London on most urgent business.”

“Oh,” you say as you lower your champagne glass, your heart sinking a little. “That’s a pity.”

“Unfortunately, the world doesn’t stop for the nobility and their frivolities,” he says, “as much as they seem to think it does. I’m sorry I can’t spend the rest of the night with you, (Y/N). It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other, and I was very much looking forward to it. But my brother, William, is a most excellent dancer. He will look after you for the rest of the night.”

You blink. And then your heart skips a beat.

William... Is this the opportunity you’ve always sought?

You’re sad to lose Albert’s company—he is a dear friend, after all—but your disappointment is diminished by the tantalising prospect of having William all to yourself for a few hours.

You try not to look too excited as you respond to Albert. “It’s okay, I understand,” you say. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you tonight, but your responsibilities come first. I’m sure there’ll be more opportunities for us in the future.”

Albert gives you a thankful smile. “I truly am sorry. I hope you’ll still have a wonderful night without me.”

“If William is as talented at dancing as you say he is, then I’m sure I will.”

“Shall we go tell him the news?”

You smile as you intertwine your arm with Albert’s. “Yes, let’s.”

Together, you head for the staircase.

William’s given up on watching the dancing.

Sure, he still flicks his gaze over the crowd every now and then, conscious that he’s supposed to be keeping an eye out for any issues, but it’s pointless. Everything is running smoothly, and his other duties have long since been completed—Moran had dropped by earlier to touch base, and William hadn’t had anything out of the ordinary to report. Balls are just that damn predictable. They’d confirmed Plan A and then Moran had gone back to work, leaving William with nothing to do but sit and watch.

And he had watched—you and Albert—for a time, until an odd feeling had made him unable to continue. Something about seeing you in his brother’s arms made his stomach twist, and the implications behind that made him uncomfortable.

He’s since turned to his notebook, seeking distraction. He scratches idly at the page, working on formulas and lesson plans for his class at the university. He’s about to start a new equation when the door opens.

William looks up sharply. He hadn’t anticipated any visitors. Is something wrong?

You and Albert stand in the doorway. You’re perched on his brother’s arm and looking absolutely radiant. Your cheeks are flushed and there’s a smile on your lips. A slight sheen of sweat glistens on your forehead from the dancing. He blinks, dashing the thought, and turns his gaze to Albert.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you two so soon,” he says. “Tired from all the dancing?” His tone is casual but he knows his brother understands his meaning. Is something wrong?

Albert bows his head slightly. “Unfortunately, I have been recalled to London on urgent business. I must leave immediately.”

William frowns. He hadn’t foreseen any major interruptions tonight. Had he miscalculated? But no, nothing in the city’s current state could speak to urgent MI6 business. So what then? A personal matter?

William stares at his brother and Albert meets his gaze, green eyes bold in the dim lighting.

Instantly, he knows Albert is lying.

It’s not that Albert’s a bad liar—far, far from it—but William knows his brother too well. He can tell from the minute details of Albert’s posture and expression, from the way one eye creases more as he smiles, to the easy way he holds himself—except in certain places where tension creeps in. But most of all, he can tell from the dauntless gaze that convinces everyone else.

What he can’t tell is why.

For what reason could Albert possibly want to leave?

“I trust that you will look after (Y/N) in my stead?”

William blinks. What?

“I know it’s unexpected,” you chime in, “but I hope you don’t mind, William.” He looks at you, feeling suddenly caught off balance. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. Albert’s told me so much about you.”

Albert laughs. “Only because you asked so much,” he says. “Will?”

William looks back at Albert, who is giving him a pointed look despite the smile on his face.

“I… Of course.” William pockets his pen and notebook and stands, doing his best to collect his decorum despite feeling like he’s had his legs swept out from underneath him. “I’d be honoured to accompany Miss (L/N) for the rest of the night.”

Your face lights up in a smile, though it flickers. “Please, William,” you say, “we’ve known each other for years. You can call me (Y/N).”

He nods, though he has no intention of doing so. He’s never called you by your first name, and he never will. You’re his brother’s friend—and most importantly, tonight—his brother’s guest. You deserve nothing but respect from him.

“Well, then,” Albert says, “I shall take my leave. (Y/N), it’s been so good to see you. My sincerest apologies again for not getting to spend more time with you this evening.” He raises your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. William averts his gaze as that strange feeling twists his stomach again.

“Till next time, Albert,” he hears you say as he studies the floor.

Footsteps indicate Albert moving to the doorway. “Enjoy the rest of the night, you two.”

And with that, the door closes and he’s gone, leaving you and William alone together. He looks back up at you.

You turn to face him and extend your hand with a smile. “Shall we?”

You’re straight to the point and he hasn’t had nearly enough time to prepare for this. Still, he manages to gather himself despite the unfamiliar nerves in his stomach. He’s faced more terrifying situations; what’s a little dancing?

“Let’s,” he says as he crosses the floor to you, willing confidence into his posture. He offers his arm to you and you loop your own through his. Though your touch is soft and light, he can feel your warmth through his jacket.

Together, you make your way to the door.

William feels unsteady as he walks, that feeling of having his legs swept out from underneath him still lingering.

He’s not happy that his plan’s been changed—that Albert saw fit to meddle and lie about it—but he can’t deny that it’s presented a certain… opportunity. One that he’s always carefully avoided in the past—and one that he knows he should still try to avoid, or at least mitigate. Yet, oddly, he finds he doesn’t want to.

He recalls how he’d seen you and Albert together earlier, and how he’d wished to be standing in his brother’s place. It seems that wish has been granted.

William checks himself before that thought can go any further—he’s looking after you in his brother’s stead, nothing more.

Still, it’s a dangerous thing to be presented with something that you know you shouldn’t have.

He can’t forget the twisting feeling in his stomach earlier, that unsettling something that had left a bitter taste in his mouth every time he had seen you in Albert’s arms tonight. He knows what the emotion is and he knows no good ever comes of it. It should give him pause. He’d worked so hard in his youth to curb the curiosity he’d felt towards you, to retain a rigid control over his thoughts and feelings, to make sure he never jeopardised his relationship with his brother.

And yet, it is a tantalising thought to spend an evening with you.

He tries to shove his thoughts down deep, like he had when he was younger, but finds it more difficult than ever.

What is one night, in the grand scheme of all things? You’re leaving in the morning, after all, and if your next bout of travel is as long as the previous one, he’ll likely never see you again. Besides, Albert had asked.

Albert… William finds himself troubled at his brother’s early departure. It’s not like Albert to abandon a mission, and it’s even less like him to abandon you. Nothing about it makes sense to William. It can’t have anything to do with their overarching plans; Albert wouldn’t dare make a move without William’s approval. So something else, then. Something worth the risk of raising William’s ire at the insubordination, yet trivial enough not to endanger the mission.

As you approach the staircase, William frustratingly draws a blank—though he’s quick to blame your unexpected presence at his side for his muddled thoughts.

Well, whatever it is, if Albert doesn’t want to be here, then fine. Maybe William will take it as a sign to seize the opportunity to—

He almost misses the first step as the realisation hits him.

But, no… surely not. Albert can’t possibly know… can he? And, anyway, why would he, when you and him are…

Friends. You and Albert have always insisted that you’re just friends.

William frantically considers it further as he makes his way down the stairs. And as he does, the pieces click into place. The joint invitation. Albert’s dogged insistence upon William attending the ball despite no real need for it. A telegram, which can be so easily arranged.

Albert’s reason isn’t anything beyond what his absence will cause—you and William spending the rest of the night together.

William finds himself incredulous, and confused.

Did Albert just interfere with the plan in order to play matchmaker?

“Are you alright?” you ask as you reach the bottom of the stairs. William has a troubled look on his face and seems lost in thought. He blinks as he hears your voice, though, and his face clears.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Forgive me, I just… wasn’t expecting Albert to be called away tonight.”

“Neither was I,” you say. “I wonder what business is so urgent.”

William hesitates briefly. “I’m not sure.”

You realise you probably shouldn’t have asked. William likely does know the reason, but it’s undoubtedly classified and above your station.

“Well, as long as it won’t interfere with anything tonight…?”

William looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Of course it won’t. You think I don’t know my own plan?”

“Ah, no, of course not. I—” You cut off at William’s teasing smile. You’ve never seen such a playful look on his face and you find yourself momentarily transfixed. Still, you manage to clarify, “I’ve just been enjoying myself so much tonight. I’d hate for things to be cut short.”

“It must be good to see Albert again after all these years.”

“Yes,” you say. You turn to look at him as you add, “It’s been good to see all of you again.”

He doesn’t react to that and you note how guarded his expression has turned. Just like old times. You deflate inwardly.

It would be so easy to just let things happen the way they had in the past, to let William manoeuvre the conversation and deflect all of your inquiries, keeping that frustrating barrier of formality firmly in place between the two of you. You’d have a nice night, but not a great one.

Time to be bold, then.

“I’m sorry my brother couldn’t stay for the entire night,” William is saying. “I—”

“William.” You cut him off and bring yourself to a halt, forcing William to do the same. “Please don’t apologise. Albert and I are good friends, but his responsibilities come first and I respect that.”

There’s something searching in William’s gaze as he stares at you. “I just know you mean a lot to each other,” he says cautiously. “It must be hard considering you’re only here for one night.”

You shrug. “Sure, but it is what it is. There’ll be another opportunity in the future. But enough about Albert,” you say, and you angle yourself slightly closer to William. “What I’m interested in right now is this opportunity. You and me. A chance to finally talk. I’d really like to get to know you better, William.” You look up into his scarlet eyes, catching a flicker of hesitation, and you think, surprise. “If you’ll let me.”

You don’t know William well enough to read the various emotions that skitter across his eyes in quick succession, though the intensity in his gaze builds slowly as he stares at you for a long, silent moment. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and as the silence lingers, the boldness of your words begins to daunt you.

Had that been too much? Had you been too forward? God, not already five minutes in and you’ve already messed this up. The tension in the air threatens to suffocate you and you hurriedly try to find a way to break it.

When William finally opens his mouth to speak, it’s at the exact same time that you find your saving grace in a music cue.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you blurt out before William can say anything. “Will you dance with me?”

William shuts his mouth and blinks at you. “Of course,” he says after a moment.

“Great,” you say as you grab his hand. “The next dance is about to begin. Let’s go.”

You pull William along, pushing past a few nobles before you finally reach the side of the dance floor. Your heart is thundering in your chest. You have no idea what William had been about to say and the possibilities make you nervous. His gaze had been captivating—he’s never looked at you like that, not even in your wildest dreams—but his silence had made you panic.

You’d decided to be bold and you’d certainly succeeded, but you realise now that you’d never stopped to consider the outcome. What are you truly seeking here, and why had you assumed everything would work out in your favour? Maybe you’ve entertained a childish fantasy regarding William for years, but he’s never shown an ounce of interest in you. You hadn’t considered rejection, but now the possibility looms over you like an executioner’s axe.

You stand impatiently at the side of the dance floor, trying not to wither as the final bars of the current song play. William waits quietly at your side, though you don’t look at him. The intensity of his gaze still lingers vividly in your mind and it’s the only thing that fights back against your doubt.

Would he have looked at you like that if he had been about to reject you?

But then why had he kept such distance between you all these years, if he had felt otherwise?

The conflicting thoughts swirl sickeningly and you find yourself itching to get out on the floor, almost desperate to lose yourself in the safety of the music and movement. The music winds down too slowly, the couples taking an age to slide into the last pose.

Finally, the music stops. There’s a beat or two of stillness, and then movement. Couples leave the floor, new couples enter; some stay and begin to take up new positions. You’re all but ready to race out onto the floor, but William steps out first.

He leads you out into the middle of the ballroom, into the second ring of couples where a space has opened up. Once you’re in position, he turns to face you and his red eyes lock with yours. There’s still a certain intensity to his gaze, though it’s visibly less than before, seemingly under control.

Still, you don’t give him an opportunity to continue your previous conversation. You’re not sure you can handle it just yet.

“Albert said you’re an excellent dancer,” you say instead.

William huffs a laugh, his red eyes twinkling in the light of the chandelier. “He likes to exaggerate.”

You notice the couples around you beginning to move into the dance holds, placing their hands on each other and pulling in close. As you look back at William you suddenly feel awkward, almost shy, like you had when you’d been younger and attending your first ball. It’s a stupid, childish feeling and you push it away, trying desperately to maintain your composure.

Still, your heart flutters as William steps closer and gently takes your hand in his, raising it to the side.

“I’m an adequate dancer,” he says. “You, though, have an exceptional talent for it. I only hope I can keep up.”

Inwardly, your heart threatens to skip away from you. Outwardly, you raise an eyebrow and slide your hand onto his shoulder with all the confidence you can muster.

“You were watching me?” you ask.

William places his other hand on your waist, completing the hold. He keeps a respectable distance between you two, his touch light and barely there. You find it decidedly frustrating, though you know it’s only polite.

“Part of the job,” he responds smoothly.

Ah, right.

Your heart sinks as you remember him watching you dance with Lord Barlow. Making sure the mission was on track, nothing more. You swallow your disappointment and replace it with a teasing smile.

“Ah, trying to figure out my tricks, are you?”

His scarlet eyes glimmer. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good,” you say. “I’ll have you know that my skills are unique and not easily stolen, William. I’d be utterly disappointed if I never received another invitation to lend them again.”

His eyebrows raise a little. You’d been more forceful than you’d intended with those words, but you meant them. Though you may have momentarily forgotten about it, distracted by your unexpected opportunity, your desire to be a part of the Moriarty plan still rages strongly in your heart.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” William says.

And then the music starts, and you’re off.

Your heart leaps into your throat for the first few steps, as a giddy wave of excitement rolls through you. You almost can’t believe you’re doing this. Dancing with William. You can’t help but smile as you spin across the floor.

William leads wonderfully, his movements smooth and graceful. It’s so easy to relax into his embrace. You let the music wash over you, enjoying the rhythm and the motion, the steady feeling of rise and fall as you move. You almost close your eyes and let your instincts guide you.

But it’s difficult to escape the pull of William’s gaze. His scarlet eyes are soft as he smiles at you, captivating. There’s a depth to them that draws you in.

You break away momentarily as William spins you, and you twirl, skirts fanning out around you. And then you’re pulled right back in. His blond hair glints in the light of the chandelier, perfectly framing and accenting his sharp face.

He really has grown into a handsome young man, you think.

The pace of the song picks up then, and you turn your thoughts sharply back to the dance, focusing on the faster movements. You spin, twirl and glide across the floor in perfect time with the music, doing your best to be an excellent partner, and being partnered excellently in return. William is a dream to dance with. You could do this all night.

All too soon, the music slows and you finish the final spin, twisting back into William’s arms with grace. There’s a beat as you two stare at each other, and then your smile breaks into a full blown grin, despite your attempts to keep a cool facade. William’s face lights up in turn, red eyes glittering. He seems more relaxed now than he had earlier.

There’s still an intensity to his gaze, though, a kind of magnetism that pulls you in. His eyes had never left you the entire dance and as you continue to stare into them you begin to feel heady.

You pull back a little to recover your breath, and your composure.

“Albert likes to exaggerate, huh?” you say.

William tilts his head.

“You undersell yourself. You’re a wonderful dancer. Probably one of the best I’ve danced with, actually.”

That makes him avert his gaze. His eyes dart away and he ducks his head slightly. “You’re too kind,” he says. “But I fear I have a long way to go before I get anywhere close to your skill.”

“Really?” you say sceptically. “You’re far too humble, William. I’m surprised none of the noblewomen chased you up the stairs earlier demanding you dance with them. I certainly would have, if I’d known your skill.”

He lets out a soft laugh. A slight tinge of pink dusts his cheeks. It’s rather adorable. “I try to avoid attending balls,” he says.

“Understandable. I couldn’t believe the way Albert got swarmed earlier.”

“It happens all the time,” he says. “Albert knows how to deal with it, but still, I don’t think he appreciates it when I skip out on a ball and leave him all alone to fend for himself. He was so insistent that I attend tonight.”

“Oh?” you say. “You weren’t planning on coming?”

He looks at you, silent for a moment. “No, I wasn’t,” he says quietly. “But I’m glad I did.”

Your heart, which had been about to take a nosedive, stutters as the intensity returns to William’s stare. The music starts up again in the background but you barely notice it.

William extends his hand. “Another dance?”

You nod silently, taking his hand. You slide your other hand onto his shoulder as his hand returns to your waist. You think his touch is a little firmer this time, that you stand a little closer together. Exhaling shakily, you stare up into his scarlet eyes and wonder. Despite your desperate hope, you had always assumed your feelings were one sided.

But the way he’s looking at you…

The dance begins and you follow William’s lead. This song is slower, the moves more soft and simple. With less to focus on, you find yourself getting lost in William’s gaze.

Your eyes roam his face, over features that are so familiar from your memories, but now so different from the years spent apart. You study the way his fringe falls over his eyebrows, softly touching the bridge of his nose and framing his scarlet eyes. You’ve always found his eyes stunning, but up close they’re even more captivating. They glitter like rubies in the candle light, a thousand different facets of red, shining and bright. Your gaze drifts lower, over his sharp nose and down to his lips.

And then you remember all the years William kept you at a distance, and you forcibly pull yourself back to reality. You snap your eyes back up and decide to strike up a conversation before your thoughts can run away from you.

“What were you working on before?” you ask.

Though William’s gaze is still on you, it seems to be drifting slightly, similar to how yours had. He tilts his head. “Hm?”

“You had a notebook and a pen out.”

“Oh,” he says. “Just some formulas for class. I teach mathematics at Durham University.”

“That’s right,” you say, latching onto the topic. “I remember Albert telling me you’re a professor.” The music swells and you twirl outwards, away from William, before he pulls you back in. “That’s quite impressive for someone your age.”

“And I remember,” he says, eyes glittering, “that Albert said you asked him a lot of questions about me.”

Your face warms immediately at that and you stammer in surprise. You’d hoped William had missed Albert’s comment earlier, or at least, that he’d have the decency to not bring it up. It’s not your fault William had been so closed off and secretive all the time. You’d had to sate your curiosity somehow.

“Uh, what was it you said before?” you laugh nervously, as you make a mental note to smack Albert the next time you see him. “‘Albert likes to exaggerate’?”

“I’m curious,” he says. His voice sinks low and it sends a shiver down your spine. You suddenly struggle to keep your eyes locked with his. “What did you ask him?”

You stare wildly for a second—and then the dance splits you again, giving you a moment to save face. You twirl outwards, heart hammering, and rotate around the woman next to you. As you take William’s hand again and return to his embrace, you come to a neat little decision: what a wonderful time to change the topic.

“Do you do private lessons?”

William almost misses a step. “What?”

“For mathematics,” you say. “Do you do private lessons for your students?”

He frowns, probably wondering why you’re asking. “No, all of my students are following along well enough at the moment. If someone needed it, then certainly. But I’m told my lessons are very easy to follow. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Would you teach me?”

He does miss a step this time, though he’s quick to regain his composure. “You want a private lesson? In mathematics?”

“You know how it is,” you say. “Only men ever get a decent education here. Even as a young noblewoman, my education left much to be desired. I’ve always wanted to learn mathematics. If you’re as good as you say you are, then I’m sure I’d be able to follow along well enough.”

William frowns. “You studied in Paris, after you left your family,” he says matter-of-factly. “And if I recall correctly, you have studied mathematics, along with chemistry and art. And you did quite well at all of them. Besides, I thought you were leaving tomorrow for Prague. That leaves no time for a lesson.”

“True, I do have some experience,” you admit, “but that just means you can teach me something more complex.” You smile sweetly. “By the way, I don’t recall ever telling you about my time in Paris. Seems I’m not the only one asking Albert questions, hm?”

William’s eyes widen and he falls silent. He spins you, as per the dance, but his grip is lighter, uneasy.

You can’t help yourself. When he pulls you back in, you step in closer than you were before.

“I’m curious,” you say, echoing the low tone and words William used before. You let your eyes dip ever so briefly to his lips, before you look back up at him through your lashes. “What else did you ask him about me?”

William remains silent as you continue to dance together, though you note the brief dip of his glance, the sharper intake of breath. As you twirl across the floor, the air around you seems to grow charged. You forget everyone else, losing yourself in William’s gaze. He spins you and you hate the seconds you spend apart. His hands find your waist as you return to him and you gasp as he lowers you into a dip.

You stare up at him, his scarlet eyes so close to yours, and yet so far. His gaze is darker than before; turned down to face you, his eyes don’t catch the light of the candles. But it’s not just that—the intensity is back, burning in the depths of his eyes. If he were to pull you in, you wouldn’t resist.

You feel like you can’t breathe, the tension in the air too thick. William raises you back up slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

“I will teach you,” he says softly.

You blink, finding your thoughts hazy. What?

“Next time you’re in London. I promise to give you a private lesson,” he says. “If you truly are interested.”

Oh. Right. Of course. Your conversation comes back to you, as do your surroundings. You startle slightly, as you realise the dance is over and that everyone is getting ready for the next one. You turn your attention back to William as you feel a flicker of excitement.

“I am,” you say with a smile. And whilst you truly do have an interest in learning mathematics, it’s the promise of more time spent with William that sets you alight inside. “Thank you, William. I look forward to it.”

“As do I.”

His voice is low and the intensity hasn’t left his gaze. You’re still so close. If you were to angle your head forward you could—

A clock bell chimes and you startle apart.

And somewhere in between the echoes of the bells, the realisation sinks in. Your eyes widen in horror. The same realisation is reflected on William’s face.

It’s 11pm, and by the mission plan, at 11pm you’re supposed to be sipping drinks off to the side of the room and awaiting the speeches. There’s still one more dance before that begins, so you have time.

You’re certainly pushing it, though.

“Shall we go get a drink?” William asks promptly.

“That sounds splendid.”

You take his arm and he escorts you swiftly off the floor, barely avoiding the start of the next dance.

Together, you maintain a brisk, but casual, pace as you make your way to the drinks table. You wear a polite smile on your face, but you’re absolutely tearing yourself to shreds inside.

You’d completely forgotten about the plan.

You’d been too caught up in the dancing and the fun and that gaze.

You clench your fist in the fabric of your skirts, inwardly fuming and wilting from shame at the same time. You’re here for a reason, and it is not to flirt with William, despite how much you’ve been enjoying it. You shouldn’t need to forcibly remind yourself of why you’re here, but you do.

You want to be a part of the Moriarty plan. You want to do something good. Something important.

You won’t be able to do that if you mess this mission up by spending too long staring into their master architect’s pretty, red eyes.

“Champagne?” William offers you a glass.

“Thank you.” You take a bigger gulp than is decent.

Together, you turn and stroll towards the prearranged loitering spot. You use the short trip to get your emotions under control. You haven’t completely ruined this yet; there’s still time and you still have a chance to prove yourself. You just need to focus.

The dance is almost halfway through when you arrive at your destination. You stop, pretending to admire the large painting on the wall nearby, and take a smaller, more decent sip of your champagne. You don’t really know what to say to William, so you remain silent. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn back to watch the dancing, but you choose not to acknowledge him. You don’t want to get lost in the heat of his scarlet gaze again. You are not going to mess this up.

Luckily, William doesn’t say anything, and before long, the dance is finishing and the announcer is calling everyone to attention. You place your champagne glass on a nearby table, and in the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to find a good spot to stand for the speeches, you and William slip out the door to your right.

You find yourselves in a warmly lit corridor. The ornate, wooden door to the left leads to the bathrooms. You’re to head that way if there are any other couples about. But, fortunately, the corridor is empty.

You hurry down the length of it. William estimated the speeches would take around ten to fifteen minutes, so you need to be quick. You let William take the lead, though you remember the directions from your briefing, and follow him as he makes a right hand turn, then takes the staircase up to the second floor.

The hallway you enter is long and lit only by the moonlight shining in through the windows. You move swiftly over the carpeted floor, stepping in and out of shadows, and come to a halt at the second door on the left.

William goes to open it, but it’s locked. You catch his frown in the pale light of the moon.

“This is supposed to be open,” he says quietly.

“You’re sure it’s the right one?”

“Yes.” He sighs in frustration, then pulls his notebook out of his inner jacket pocket. “Moran’s probably been drinking on the job again. Keep an eye out.”

William slides two slim, metal rods out of a pocket at the back of his notebook and sinks to one knee. You glance around the corridor to make sure no one’s watching as he picks the lock. The corridor’s dead quiet, as it should be, though you can hear echoes of the speeches from downstairs.

A short moment later the door clicks open and you both hurriedly slide into the room. William shuts the door behind you, locking it.

It"s pitch black in the room. Thanks to the depth of William’s briefing, you know there are two windows on the far wall, but unfortunately the curtains are drawn. You can’t see a handspan in front of you.

You hear William mutter, “That man… I’m going to have to have words with him.” Then there’s the strike of a match and a small flame bursts to life at William’s fingertips.

It barely makes a dent in the darkness, but it’s enough for William to manoeuvre to the desk and light the two candles placed there, illuminating Lord Everton’s study with a soft, flickering light. It’s a large room, with bookshelves lining the walls and ornate carpets decorating the floor.

William shakes his match out and rounds the desk, making straight for the top left drawer. He rifles through the contents with a controlled precision, then pauses and rifles through again. With a frown, he slides his fingers along the top and bottom of the drawer, searching for a hidden compartment.

William steps back after a moment.

“It’s not here,” he says.

You take a nervous step forward. “What? I thought you said it’d be in that drawer.”

William takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe he moved it,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Help me look?”

You stifle a curse as you hurry around to the other side of the desk and reach for the right side set of drawers. William’s busy searching through his second drawer as you open the top one of yours. It’s filled with loose papers, a fountain pen and some vials of ink. You carefully sift through the papers, but they’re not what you’re looking for, and so you move to the next drawer.

Just as your fingers graze the handle, William hisses, “Wait.”

You freeze and look at him. He’s slowly sliding his drawer shut, though his attention is on the door. You follow his gaze and then you hear it.

Footsteps. Outside, in the hallway. They’re getting closer.

You take your hand off the drawer and slowly rise to your feet. No one else should be in this part of the manor. In your briefing, William had been confident that you wouldn’t be disturbed. You hadn’t questioned him on it at the time, but it now dawns on you that he hadn’t supplied a backup plan in case he was wrong.

You wait with bated breath, hoping desperately that it’s just a servant passing by. There’s a sliver of moonlight peeking under the door, and you watch it fixedly.

The footsteps grow louder. A shadow darkens the doorway, moving across the light.

The shadow stops.

The door handle turns and your heart jumps into your throat before you remember William locked it. Your relief is short lived, however, as you hear the jangle of keys.

You take a step towards William. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

“What do we do?” you hiss.

You get no response.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you turn to look at William. He takes a step towards you, but hesitates, panic clear and startling in his eyes. You hear the person outside mutter a curse and the continued clink of keys. You thank the dimly lit corridor for giving you an extra second or two to frantically think.

In that short second, you only come up with one thing—one thing that has been on your mind all night long—and you act before you can reconsider.

“Play along,” you whisper.

Then you reach for William’s face and pull him down into a kiss.

You catch a flash of wide, red eyes in the flickering candlelight before you shut your own, shoving down your nerves. You barely even register the warmth of his lips on yours, or whether he’s kissing you back or not, as you hurry to make it look like this is further along than it actually is. To pretend that you’re lovers that escaped to have some fun.

You grasp William’s jacket and pull him towards the desk. The back of your thighs hit the wood with a thump and you slide yourself onto it. Shuffling back, you yank William into the space between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, steadying himself, but you’re not done yet; hand still fisted in William’s jacket, you tip yourself backwards and pull him with you.

Your back hits the desk and William gasps, breaking the kiss. You catch a glimpse of wide, stunned, scarlet eyes. But you don’t let him linger. Don’t let yourself think. You reach up to entwine your hand in his hair, intending to pull him back down—but you don’t make it that far. His lips crash back onto yours, and you gasp, hand freezing halfway to his hair. And suddenly he’s kissing you with a ferocity that almost makes you forget where you are. Almost.

Because then the door opens.

William pulls back sharply and you pretend to startle with a squeak.

There’s a low whistle from the doorway.

“And here I thought you two were supposed to be working.”

That’s… not what you’d been expecting. You try to sit up and look at the intruder, but it seems William had only pulled back so far and then froze. He’s still got you half-pinned, so the best you can manage is an awkward twist onto your side. Still, you get a glimpse of the man in the doorway, his spiky, black—and familiar—hair backlit by the moonlight.

“Moran,” William hisses.

“I must say, this is very unlike you, Will,” Moran says. “Having fun on the job.” He looks at you, a smirk on his face.

William stiffens and seems to realise the position you’re still in. He takes a hurried step back, allowing you the space to sit up. “You’re one to talk,” he snaps. “What have you been doing? You were supposed to have this door unlocked.”

Moran sighs and rolls his eyes. He pulls a leather document wallet from inside his jacket pocket and holds it up.

You stiffen. Is that… the document you’ve been looking for? How did Moran get it?

There’s a beat of silence from William, then he grits out, “We agreed on Plan A. You were supposed to signal me if you were going to swap to Plan B.”

“I did signal you, Will,” Moran says. “Or at least I tried to, but your attention was decidedly elsewhere.”

Heat flares in your cheeks at that, and you feel a flicker of shame return to your belly, only this time there’s more fuel for the fire. It seems that not only had you caused William and yourself to be behind schedule, but you’d also distracted William enough that he’d missed an important signal from one of his associates. You turn away, unable to meet Moran’s gaze. Tears threaten at the sides of your vision, but you blink them away. Your foolish mistakes are not worthy of such self-pity.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of William. His face is flushed and his eyes are furious, glowing like fiery embers in the flickering candlelight.

“Alright,” William says shortly, “we have what we came for. Let’s go.” And before you can even fully register his words, he’s doused the candle closest to him and is heading for the door.

You blink, stunned, as you watch William’s back rapidly disappear out the door. You slide yourself off the desk and make to follow, but stop as you glance at the drawer you’d touched. You’d been careful with it. It shouldn’t look like anyone had been rummaging through it...

You don’t have time to double check, though. Blowing out the remaining candle, you hurry after William.

You duck your gaze as you slip past Moran, though you don’t miss the wicked smirk on his face.

William is seething.

First Albert, now Moran. He’s surrounded by liars.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised given their line of work, but he hadn’t expected straight up insubordination. He had been paying attention, and Moran hadn’t signalled him…

Right?

He curses inwardly, because he doesn’t know.

So maybe he had been a little too enraptured by you, maybe he had allowed himself too much leniency in following his whims tonight—he’ll admit that. But still, he had done his best to keep an eye out for Moran. Even when he’d been transfixed by the way you’d moved in his arms, even when he’d been absorbed in your delightful conversation, caught up in your pretty eyes and your gorgeous smile and the way your gaze dipped ever so slightly to his lips…

Alright, maybe Moran had tried to signal him and he’d missed it. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that Albert and Moran are in on this stupid little hijacked plan together and that they’re trying to play him for a fool.

William storms down the corridor, hearing Moran lock the door behind him but not bothering to glance back to make sure you’re all following. He’s angry that his plan’s been tampered with—twice now!—but he’s also angry at himself for getting so distracted.

He’s also feeling… something about Moran walking in on you and him… like that…

His lips still burn from where you kissed him, and he wonders what drove you to take such action. Had Albert told you…?

But no, there’d have been no time for it between the short welcome at the manor and the briefing during the carriage ride. And William had only suggested the backup plan last night, so Albert couldn’t have passed it to you in a letter. There’s no way you could have known.

Unless Albert had told you earlier, while you were in each other’s arms on the ballroom floor, dancing… Had he mentioned it to make sure you’d be comfortable with it in case it happened? Something William should have done, but hadn’t even considered…

He feels a sudden surge of guilt as he recalls the look on your face after Moran had caught the two of you. You hadn’t been able to meet Moran’s gaze, or William’s for that matter. And honestly, he’d almost thought you’d been about to cry.

He’d gone too far. Yes, you’d initiated it, but you’d clearly been trying to create a cover story to explain your presence in the room, and William… William had reacted with selfish impulses. He recalls the fire that had lit low in his belly as you’d pulled him between your legs, the heat that had coursed through his veins as he’d landed on top of you on the desk. He’d been stunned by the sight of you beneath him like that, and oh had it done things to him. If Moran hadn’t walked in on the two of you…

William’s chest tightens. What? Would he have gone that far? Would he have even been able to stop himself? He surprises himself with how much he wants this, wants you. He can barely think straight and it scares him. This is why he’d spent all those years keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You make his mind wander with dangerous thoughts, make him forget about the world and his goals and his brother…

His brother… William’s blood turns cold as he thinks of Albert and a wave of doubt suddenly crashes into him. He’s not unfamiliar with the feeling, despite what others may think, but he’s not used to it having such personal ramifications. He grips the railing tightly as he goes down the stairs, a terrible thought occurring to him.

What if he’d misread the situation earlier? Or worse, what if he’d looked at the facts with bias, seeing only what he wanted to see and making connections with selfish intent?

What if Albert really does have urgent business to attend to?

The thought shreds him to pieces inside. Because if that’s the case and you have feelings for Albert like he’s always thought, then that means Albert had entrusted you to William’s care because he knew that his brother, of all people, would look after you and treat you properly, not pin you to a desk and kiss you with blazing hot desire. What kind of selfish delusion was it to think otherwise?

A sharp tug on his shoulder pulls him out of his thoughts—and away from the corridor in front of him.

“Wow, you really are out of it tonight,” Moran mutters.

William shrugs himself out of Moran’s grasp and shoots him a glare. Moran’s not wrong, though. His thoughts are spiralling in a mix of shame and guilt and embarrassment. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest.

But can anyone blame him? He might have just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life and potentially ruined his relationship not only with you but with his brother as well.

“Will?” Moran asks, brow creased in concern.

It takes an excruciating amount of effort to push his thoughts aside and return to the moment. He’s still on a mission and he needs to focus.

“I’m fine,” he whispers. He ignores Moran’s sceptical look and turns his attention to the corridor beyond, banishing the last of his stray thoughts with no mercy. He takes a deep breath and listens. He hears the sound of a door opening and then footsteps across the wooden floor. He sneaks a glance around the corner and sees a couple going back into the ballroom.

He waits a few heartbeats to make sure no one else is about to walk in or out of the corridor, and then enters it himself before Moran can stop him.

He makes straight for the door to the ballroom, but barely makes it halfway before a blocky form cuts off his path.

“Hold up,” Moran says, bringing William to a halt. He pulls the document wallet out of his jacket pocket and holds it up. “Now, before I hand this over, I just want to make sure you know the rest of the plan?”

William gives him a withering look. “You think I don’t?”

“No, but I know you weren’t paying attention to the clock before, so I’d like to hear you say it.”

“We leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Good, good.” Moran hands over the document wallet. “Don’t be late.”

Don’t you be late, William wants to snap back, but he swallows the petty retort as he tucks the documents into his own jacket.

Moran turns to the door, but then stops himself. “Oh, here,” he says, and he holds his handkerchief out towards William.

William looks at Moran questioningly.

“For the lipstick,” Moran explains with a smirk.

William’s cheeks burn, but he takes the handkerchief from Moran, who then turns and finally leaves. As the ballroom door swings closed, William unfolds the handkerchief. From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of you popping open a pocket mirror and checking your own lips. The deep red paint of your lipstick is smeared on the corners of your mouth. It would be so easy for him to say ‘let me’ and raise his handkerchief to your lips and fix the smudge. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s already gone too far.

So he lets you tend to your makeup as he attends to his own lips. The white handkerchief comes away red where he wipes it. A few more strokes and he thinks he’s got it all. He pockets the handkerchief and turns to face you as you’re slipping your mirror back into your dress pocket.

The sight of you still stirs embers in his belly, although they’re suitably subdued now. He swallows another surge of shame as the memory of you pinned beneath him comes unbidden to his mind.

“Shall we go?” he asks.

Something flickers across your expression as you look at him. “Ah, no, not yet,” you say quietly. You tap your lip. “You missed a bit.”

William wonders how his cheeks can still burn when they’ve seemingly been on fire for the past few minutes. He drops his gaze from yours and goes for the handkerchief again, wiping at his lips where you indicated.

“Better?”

You give him a consoling smile. “No. It’s—” You raise your hand but stop, seeming to hesitate. Then you take a breath and reach for his handkerchief. “Here, let me.”

He freezes as you take the handkerchief, heart racing as you do what he could not. You gently raise the fabric to his lips and wipe away the remaining lipstick. It’s a little stubborn so you have to wipe at it twice more. You’re not meeting his gaze, attention solely on what you’re doing, but having you so close again, after what just happened… It’s intoxicating and confusing and dangerous.

It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss you. He wants to.

But he can’t.

He’s terrified he’s read this all wrong.

“There,” you say as you pull back.

“Thank you.”

You take a deep breath and then sigh, dropping your gaze and folding the handkerchief in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He blinks, and then frowns. “For what?” If anything, he should be the one apologising. For pinning you to the desk for starters.

“For almost messing up the mission.”

“What? You didn’t mess up—”

“I did,” you interject. “I put us behind schedule and made you miss an important signal from Moran. I’m sorry for distracting you.”

He pulls back, frowning. You’re not the only one to blame for that—he’s at fault, too. Probably more so than you. But he doesn’t say it. It doesn’t matter. There’s something else he needs to know. Something more important. “Did Albert tell you the plan?”

You look at him. “What plan?”

“That…” His mouth feels suddenly dry. “That pretending to be lovers would be the best way to escape consequences if someone found you in Everton’s study. That’s what I told Albert when we were preparing the mission.”

Your eyes widen. “No, I… He didn’t say anything about that.”

“Then why did you…?”

“I…” You blink, taken aback at the blunt question. A light tinge of pink dusts your cheeks. Then your eyes narrow as you seem to realise something. “Wait, if that was the plan, why didn’t you follow it? Why didn’t you tell me when I asked what to do?”

He inhales sharply, caught off guard by the sudden scrutiny. “I…” He stares at you, but doesn’t know what to say. He knows the answer, but verbalising it is difficult. He’s spent years keeping his selfish thoughts and desires under heavy lock and key, it’s near impossible to let them out so easily. The words get stuck in his throat, and he lets the silence linger longer than he’d like.

You stare at him, watching intently, but he still can’t find an answer, and after a moment your face flickers. Your eyes widen slightly and you drop your gaze, taking a step back.

“I see,” you say quietly. “I stepped over a line. I’m sorry for being too bold, and for pushing you beyond your boundaries.”

Wait, that’s not what—

“I’ll meet you at the entryway in fifteen minutes.” You turn away from him and head for the door.

“Wait—”

You hesitate at his call, but the thing is, he still doesn’t know what to say. Why is it so damn hard to admit his feelings?

You look over your shoulder, but not at him. Instead, you look downwards, towards the floor.

“I did it,” you say quietly, “because I thought it would be a perfect cover.”

William’s heart drops despite himself. He was right, then. You’re in love with his brother, and his initial interpretation of the night was just selfish, wishful thinking.

“But…” You hesitate, then your voice drops even lower, so he can barely hear your words. “I also did it because I wanted to. Because I’d been thinking about doing it all night.”

William inhales sharply, and all he can do is watch as you turn away and walk out the door.

You’d… You’d been thinking about it all night? About… kissing him…

He wants to bury his face in his hands and scream in frustration. Instead, he just watches. Watches through the glass panels on the door as your blurred figure makes its way into the crowd and disappears from view. Can he really just let you go like that? And not just tonight; if he lets you go now, it’ll be forever.

Can he really do that, when he’d been having similar thoughts about you all night?

You’re not fighting tears as you walk back into the crowd, instead you’re fighting the crushing disappointment that comes from a severe reality check. Not only have you realised that William doesn’t return your feelings—bringing about the collapse of a childish dream that you had entertained so stupidly for so long—but also, you’ve ruined any potential chance of ever working for the Moriarty brothers again. William had looked so angry, not to mention humiliated…

How had such a wonderful night gone so wrong, so quickly?

You catch sight of a nobleman watching you from your left. You meet his gaze and smile politely but keep walking before he can ask you to dance. You make your way through the crowd, no real destination in mind. The speeches have concluded and the dancing has resumed in the middle of the room. You can’t bear to look.

You keep a small smile plastered on your face, and try to keep your thoughts quiet. There’s only fifteen minutes left and you still have a job to do at the end of all this. You can wallow in your misery once you’re safely alone in your carriage back to your hotel in London.

A large group of ladies up ahead catches your attention. They’re crowding something—no, someone, you realise as you draw closer. A finely dressed nobleman stands in the centre of the swishing skirts and avaricious smiles, seemingly enjoying holding court as he grins and engages animatedly with the swarm of ladies. You decide to tack onto the back of the pack. It’s a good way to pretend as if you’re doing something, and more importantly, you have a good view of the clock from here.

Though the ladies giggle at the nobleman’s words, you find him conceited and uninteresting. Your mind instantly starts wandering, and though you try to stop it, your thoughts inevitably turn to William.

You’re confused, to say the least. You’d thought everything had been going so well—you’d been dancing, laughing, even flirting a tad. And the way his eyes had never left you the entire time, the lingering and shared glances, well… it had all made you think that perhaps William shared your feelings; after all, what else would explain the intensity in his gaze?

But clearly you’d been wrong. Whilst your actions in the study had made perfect sense to protect the mission, the memory of William’s flushed face and fiery eyes afterwards has left you with a severe sense of regret. Not to mention that the backup plan had, in fact, been to pretend to be lovers, but William had chosen neither to mention it nor follow it. Apparently, risking discovery had been a better option than kissing you, even as a cover.

That being said, you’d honestly thought he’d been kissing you back at one stage—and rather fervently, at that. But clearly you’d been delusional, caught up in your childish daydreams and wishful thinking. He’d never shown any interest in you when you were younger; why had you thought tonight would be any different?

“Miss (L/N)?”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts. You recognise it instantly and turn, with some reluctance, to face none other than the man you’ve just been thinking of.

William stands before you, hand held out. You glance at the clock. It’s not time to leave yet.

“There’s still ten minutes left,” you say.

“I know,” he says. “Will you dance with me?”

You sigh and drop your gaze. “William…”

“Please,” he says.

And then he says your name. Your first name. You’ve always wondered how it’d sound coming from his lips, and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s soft and sweet, and you get a shiver of a thrill despite the melancholy that has settled on your heart.

You look up at him. He looks so earnest.

What harm can one more dance do?

You nod and take his hand, though your touch is gentle and reserved. Polite. This may well be your last dance with William. You’re leaving in the morning, and given that you nearly ruined the mission, you doubt you’ll be invited back again.

A soft, relieved smile spreads on William’s face. He holds your hand and leads you to the dance floor. You barely have to wait; the current dance is just finishing and it’s not long before the couples are splitting up or taking up new positions. You follow William out onto the floor, this time into the outer ring of couples.

You take a deep breath and push all of your troubles to the side. If this is going to be your last dance with William, then you’re going to make sure you enjoy it. It’ll be one fond memory that you can hold onto after you leave; you’ll pretend the rest never happened.

William’s touch is gentle as you take up the familiar dance hold: his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder, other hands entwined together. You meet his gaze with a soft smile, only to find that William’s smile has faded. He looks serious, and despite your best efforts to enjoy this, you find yourself suddenly nervous. It’s too late to back out, though, because the music’s starting and the dance begins.

You’re barely through the first few bars of music before William says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask.

“For not answering your question before,” he says. “I think I gave you the wrong impression with my silence. You asked me why I didn’t follow the plan I told Albert.”

You can still vividly recall the panicked look on his face as he stared at you, keys jangling outside the door. You nod, silently bracing yourself.

“The truth is,” William says, “I was scared. I was scared of pushing your boundaries and putting you in a position that’d make you uncomfortable. I was scared of what it might do to our relationship.”

You frown. “I would’ve understood if you’d told me,” you say. “It made sense to—”

“I was scared because I wanted it,” William interjects. “I wanted to kiss you but I… I always thought you and Albert…”

You blink, then your eyes widen. “What?” you whisper.

William averts his gaze and laughs a little. “When I was younger, I always thought you and Albert would get married one day. I… There’s still the possibility. I know you and Albert care for each other a lot. I didn’t want to interfere.”

“William,” you say softly, and he looks back at you, scarlet eyes unusually vulnerable. “Do you really still think that? After everything tonight?”

He stares at you for a long while.

“No,” he breathes.

Your breath hitches. Something flickers in his gaze, though you don’t get time to process it as the dance breaks you apart. You twirl outwards, skirts spinning.

When William pulls you back in, he pulls you in close, wrapping his arm right around your waist, his forearm resting snugly against your back. Your chest is pressed to his, your noses close.

He leans forward.

Your heart jumps into your throat, but he ducks his head to the side. You can feel his warm breath against your ear.

“I keep thinking about how you kissed me before,” he says lowly, enticingly. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I want to kiss you again. I’ve been wanting to all night.”

You inhale sharply and he pulls back to look at you. He’s still awfully close, and your gaze darts to his lips.

“So, what’s stopping you?” you whisper.

He almost laughs. “We’re in the middle of a ballroom. Everyone would see.”

You look back up into his eyes. “So?”

You can see the way his gaze darkens as he stares at you, the way his pupils dilate. He leans forward again, slowly, eyes dropping to your lips. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh,” you say, and you pull back a smidge. His red eyes meet yours as you continue, quite innocently, “You are right, of course. It would cause a bit of a scandal. I am your brother’s guest, after all.”

William’s eyes widen, breath hissing through his teeth as he inhales, and he pulls back sharply. He fumbles his steps, almost causing the couple behind to crash into you. You start to utter an apology to the couple, but William grabs your wrist, cutting you off.

You think he’s going to pull you back into formation. He doesn’t.

He pulls you off the floor.

You stumble, caught off guard, but somehow manage to keep your footing.

“Will?” you hiss as he drags you into the crowd at the edge of the dancing.

You hear a smattering of whispers from the nobles in the vicinity, shock and surprise in their tones at your sudden exit from the floor. You don’t actually have any desire to cause a scandal. But William’s grip remains firm, and he drags you further into the crowd.

“William.”

He finally slackens his pace, allowing you to catch up and properly loop your arm through his. You plaster a calm smile on your face, but look at him pointedly. At the sight of his expression, however, you curse inwardly. His jaw is taught, eyes blazing, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. You know you can be a bit of a tease sometimes, but had you pushed too far? Had mentioning Albert been the wrong thing to do, given what William had said earlier?

You turn your gaze forward again, mind racing, and catch sight of the clock. Oh hell, you only have a few minutes left.

Wait… is that why William had reacted so sharply? Had he noticed the time and realised you’d been about to fall behind schedule again? You wither at the thought of being late; you don’t want to catch Moran’s ire again, and you’re sure William doesn’t want to either.

As the staircase appears in front of you, you figure that you’re making for your private room. To collect your things before you leave, perhaps? William’s cane is still up there. You try to settle your nerves. Yes, that’d make sense. Still, you resolve yourself to apologise when you get to the room, in case you’ve stepped over a line. William had clearly been trying to make things right between the two of you; you hope you haven’t ruined that.

All too soon, you’re at the door to your private room. William opens it and gestures for you to enter. You do, taking a deep breath as you step into the room. You open your mouth, preparing to apologise—

Click.

Was that the lock? You turn around.

William steps towards you, and before you can ask what he’s doing, his lips are on yours.

His kiss is fierce and full of passion, and as you gasp in surprise, you lose your breath in his. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you again, and again. You reach up to trace your fingers along his jaw, before snaking them into his hair. You tug him down slightly, deepening the kiss.

The next thing you know, you’re falling backwards onto the couch by the wall. You hadn’t even noticed William moving you towards it until the back of your legs hit the fabric and you lost your balance and broke the kiss. You plop down on the soft cushion, shoulders hitting the backrest, and heave in a gulp of air. William lands above you, knees either side of you. His gaze is dark as he leans in and catches your lips again. He pulls away after a short moment and you chase his lips, but you stop as you find that chasing your breath is more important. You both stare at each other, heaving in deep breaths.

William seems to catch his breath first, because he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another to your jaw. And another to your pulse. He trails his lips down the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he peppers you with kisses all the way down to your collarbone and back up again. When he reaches your pulse point you feel his teeth graze your skin and you shudder. He closes his mouth around a section and sucks on it, not-so-gently.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. It feels so good.

You clap your hand to your mouth, startled at the sound, but rip it away a second later as William growls against your throat and tips you sideways. You fall back against the seat of the couch, breath escaping in a surprised huff. William lands on top of you. You catch his gaze, all dark and heavy and scarlet and—

He blinks and you see something flicker across his vision. He hesitates above you, and you suspect he’s finally realised what he’s doing. But you don’t want this to stop. You curl your fingers into his blond locks.

“This is good,” you reassure him. “I want this.”

You can feel him relax slightly, although it seems he still needs some convincing. You lean up and catch his lips in a kiss, giving it a second before you bite at his lower lip. He gasps and you seize your opportunity, deepening the kiss and sliding your tongue against his. He moans into your mouth and then you’re falling back against the couch as William returns the kiss with a fire that matches his eyes.

His hand trails down your waist, the gentle touch burning despite the layers of fabric between you. Heat pools low in your belly as you continue to kiss him, tongues moving together, breaths mingling, fingers tangled in his hair. He moans again as you tug him closer. And suddenly you realise you want to feel his skin on yours. You want to run your hands down his chest and up his back and press kisses to every inch of his skin. You reach for the buttons on his vest.

“Can’t leave you two alone for even a second.”

You almost fall off the couch in shock at the sound of another person’s voice. You sit up sharply as William scurries back to the other side of the couch. You look over to see Moran leaning casually against the door.

“That was locked,” you say at the same time that William says, “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Don’t you know how to tell the time?” Moran retorts. William recoils.

Oh hell, the time… Last you’d looked, you’d only had a few minutes left on the clock. Clearly you’ve missed the designated time to act… again. You glance at William, and oh, he is absolutely burning, cheeks a scarlet hue that’d rival the colour of his eyes.

“Besides,” Moran says, “I did knock.”

You frown. You hadn’t heard anything, but then again… you had been fairly well occupied.

“Seriously, though,” Moran says, “you couldn’t even wait an hour to get home? Or even fifteen minutes to get to the carriage?”

As William turns away with a furious blush, you finally catch the smug smile on Moran’s face, and you realise, with a start, that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying rubbing it in and making William squirm. Not in a cruel way, but in a way that speaks to his relationship with William; an older brother teasing a younger brother for getting caught in the act. A particularly out of the ordinary act, you imagine... You have no doubt William’s going to absolutely cop it once you leave. You decide to try to spare him from it for the time being.

“Alright,” you say, “we’re sorry. Let’s go.”

Moran gives you an amused look. “Not looking like that, you’re not. I’d give you my handkerchief but I gave it to Will earlier and he didn’t return it.”

You try not to wither from embarrassment. Ah, you probably do look a mess…

“Alright, give us a couple of minutes. We’ll meet you outside the door.”

Moran gives you a flat look and doesn’t budge.

“I promise we won’t… y’know…” you say.

Moran rolls his eyes but relents. “Fine, you have two minutes. I’ll wait outside.” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “Oh, and try to come up with some sort of excuse for your sudden disappearance. You caused a bit of a scene rushing off the floor like that.”

You grimace. Yeah, you’re not surprised about that. You nod and Moran makes his exit.

As the door closes, William slumps forward and sinks his head into his hands.

“I am never going to hear the end of this,” he groans.

You try not to laugh at the absolute misery in his voice, but it’s too difficult; a small giggle escapes your lips.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand to your mouth. “I can imagine. Good luck trying to stop Moran from telling your brothers.”

He sighs despairingly. “I can’t even threaten him with anything because the punishment will look inconsequential next to the mountain of fun he’ll have telling everyone.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you say as you pull out your handkerchief. “Alright, come here.”

William takes a deep breath but sits back up and faces you. You get a little thrill at the sight of your kisses marked clearly on his lips, but unfortunately they’re a liability and they need to go. You shuffle over and start gently wiping at the smudges.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

You glance at him. “For what? Moran walking in on us? It was my fault last time. Consider us even now.”

He breathes out a laugh. “I suppose.”

You wipe at the last lipstick mark. “Huh, somehow it’s not as bad as last time.”

“Yeah, because it’s all over your neck.”

You pull back, blushing as you remember the trail of kisses William had left on your skin. “Ah. Right.”

You go to start wiping at your neck but William softly catches your wrist. He slides the handkerchief from your fingers.

“Allow me,” he says, and he begins wiping at the smudges around your mouth. He’s so gentle, and his eyes are soft, but focused, as he tidies you up. His hair glistens in the warm, dancing light of the candles, fringe falling softly, charmingly, against the bridge of his nose. He’s captivating. You find your breath hitching as you stare at him.

And then you blink, catching your thoughts before they run away again. Digging your nails into your palms, you focus back on the moment. Moran will kill you if you’re late again.

“Do you have an excuse for why we rushed off the floor?” you ask.

“Hmm,” William says as he finds a clean spot on the handkerchief and starts to rub at your neck. “We could say that you’re prone to fainting spells. You were feeling dizzy and had to rush off the floor and sit down. It’d also give us a good excuse to leave.”

“Alright,” you say but pause at the look on William’s face. “What’s wrong?”

He pulls his hand away from your neck. “I, uh… seem to have left a mark. One that won’t rub off…”

You blink, but then remember his teeth against your skin, the warmth of his mouth, that delicious pressure. “It’s fine,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

“Unfortunately, it’s rather conspicuous.”

“Oh.” You think for a moment, then reach up and start pulling the pins out of your hair. “How about this?”

William looks like he’s about to protest, but you’re too quick. Your hair tumbles around your neck as you pull the last pin out. You put your hand to your head and mime feeling faint.

“The pressure of all the hair pins wasn’t helping my poor, dizzy head.”

William snickers. “Alright, ready to go?”

“I think so.” You stand up and brush at your dress, smoothing the creases and crumples.

William stands up as well and goes to retrieve his cane from the chair by the balcony. You’re suddenly struck by just how open the room is. Though the curtain is half drawn, you can see out onto the second floor of the ballroom. There are a few couples strolling along the balcony, a few others leaning on the railing, engaged in conversation while they watch the dancing below.

Hopefully they hadn’t seen you… You are quite far back in the room, the couch you had fallen on mostly in shadow thanks to the dim mood lighting of the private area. You can’t spot anyone staring at you, wide eyed and scandalised, so you take that as a positive. And if they had seen you, well… what’s done is done. You still tremble a little inside, though.

William returns to your side, a soft smile on his face. He doesn’t offer you his arm. Instead, he slides it around your waist, pulling you close.

“Uh, William?”

“You just fainted, remember?”

“Ah, of course.” You slump a little into his hold, letting him support you. You let your eyelids flutter half closed, and droop your head. “So, so dizzy,” you mumble. “Let’s go.”

As William reaches for the door knob, a glint of something catches your eye. You grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait.”

He freezes as you remove your hand from his and reach for his vest. The top button is undone. You hadn’t realised you’d actually opened it, but maybe it had happened as William had scurried away. Regardless, you can’t let such a tiny little thing blow your cover.

You can feel William’s gaze on your hands. You do the button up quickly, and then smooth the creases on his vest, although there’s not really any creases there to smooth. You hesitate a moment, and then force yourself to return your hands to your sides. Maybe one day you’ll get a proper opportunity to have your hands all over him, and maybe even without all the layers…

You inhale as you shove those thoughts to the back of your mind. William is staring at you, that look starting to dawn in his eyes again.

“Okay, all good,” you say.

William blinks, then sharply pulls his gaze away from you and opens the door.

Moran is waiting outside. He has his back to you, but at the sound of the door opening he turns around. His face immediately falls into a frown as he sees you. He opens his mouth, obviously about to complain, but William cuts him off.

“Miss (L/N) is feeling faint and we’ve decided to head home,” he says. He holds his cane out to Moran. “Would you mind helping us to our carriage?”

It only takes a moment for the concerned lines on Moran’s face to smoothen out into a look of subservience. He nods in understanding, then bows and takes William’s cane.

“Of course, sir.”

William takes one of your hands in his to better support you, his other hand still wrapped tightly around your waist, and together you make your way to the stairs. You do your best to look frail and dizzy, taking the steps slowly and leaning on William as you make your way down. As you reach the bottom, you see a man and a woman approaching you. It’s Lord Everton and his wife.

“Ah, Lord Everton, Lady Everton,” William says as the hosts come to a stop in front of you. “I apologise for causing any alarm. My guest, Miss (L/N), is prone to fainting spells, and it seems all the excitement of such a wonderful night overwhelmed her. We barely made it back to our room before she collapsed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lady Everton says, her brows curved up in sympathy. You’ve seen that look on many a noble face. You don’t trust it. Likely, she’s just eager for something to gossip about later. “We saw you coming down the stairs and thought something was wrong. You look dreadful, my dear. Perhaps you should head home and get some rest.”

You try to take that as a compliment on your acting skills and not a sleight against your appearance.

William nods. “We were, in fact, just thinking of doing that. I’m sorry we can’t stay any longer, but thank you for such a lovely night and such warm hospitality.”

You give a half nod of agreement. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“Go get some rest, dear,” Lady Everton says.

Lord Everton doesn’t say anything, just nods at you, and you take that as your cue to leave.

Supported in William’s arms and keeping up the appearance of fragility, it’s a long, slow trip out the door and down the lane. By the time you finally reach your carriage, you feel like you’re about to fall asleep.

Moran opens the door for you and William helps you in. You sink onto the seat with a sigh, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to relax. You hadn’t noticed before, but your feet ache from all the dancing and your body is tense in multiple places from the stresses of the mission. Not to mention, you feel utterly drained mentally. You don’t think you’ve ever experienced such an extreme amount of emotional whiplash in such a short period of time.

William sits down beside you, having taken his cane from Moran. Moran wishes the two of you a good night and you return a polite farewell, albeit a temporary one. You’ll be picking him up from the next block over, after he changes clothes and slips away from Lord Everton’s manor. Moran shuts the door, leaving you and William in privacy.

“Well, that was quite a night,” you say as the carriage starts moving.

“It certainly was,” William replies. His gaze is soft as he looks at you.

You rest your head against his shoulder. You’d been feigning tiredness before for your escape act, but now it’s actually hitting you for real, the rush of the evening dying down. You yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I had a good time.”

“So did I.”

A feeling of contentment slides over you like a soft, warm blanket, and you just want to sit and cherish the moment. You shut your eyes, enjoying the feel of William’s warmth under your cheek, his body by your side and the gentle sound of his voice. He’s saying something, but you barely hear him; you’re too caught up in the feeling of the moment. A feeling, you realise, you could very easily get used to.

The carriage rocks gently as it makes its way down the street. You don’t mean to fall asleep, but you do.

The trip home goes surprisingly fast, despite the silence, and all too soon the carriage is slowing to a stop outside the Moriarty manor. William wishes he could let you continue sleeping on his shoulder, but the job’s not over; you have work to do yet. Still, he takes a moment to take in your peaceful, sleeping form.

He’s never seen you so relaxed. There’s not a crease in your brow, nor a crinkle around your eyes. Your breathing is steady and even, soft lips parted ever so slightly. He wonders what it’d be like to wake you with a kiss, to press his lips against yours and feel you inhale as you wake, eyes meeting each other, gazes soft but intense.

And then he wonders what it’d be like to be able to do that every day. To have you fall asleep by his side at night, and to be able to watch you wake up next to him in the early morning sunlight. To pepper you with kisses wherever and whenever he pleases.

It’s a dream, though. Because you’re leaving for Prague in the morning, and he’s the Lord of Crime.

He raises his hand and brushes it gently through your hair. You stir, and he brings his hand around to cup your chin.

“Time to wake up,” he whispers.

You slowly open your eyes, and he can see the momentary confusion in the slight crinkle of your brow as you take in your surroundings.

You sit up suddenly with a gasp. “I’m so sorry!” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He laughs. Your hair is all mussed on one side from where you were sleeping on his shoulder, and there’s a faint, red indent on your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he says. “But we’re back home.” He pulls the stolen document wallet out of his jacket. “And this is for you.”

You take the document wallet from him, turning it around in your hands. “Right, of course.”

William goes to open the carriage door but you stop him.

“I really am sorry,” you say, “for falling asleep. We only have a short amount of time together and I wanted to keep talking with you, but—”

“(Y/N),” he says, “I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you tonight, including the one where you fell asleep on my shoulder. It’s more than I ever allowed myself to dream of.”

Your eyes widen and a faint blush tinges your cheeks. Oh, to be able to do that to you every day… What an impossible, but tantalising dream.

“I would’ve loved to let you keep on sleeping,” he continues, “but if we don’t leave this carriage soon we’ll be tempting Moran’s door-opening habit.”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Let’s go. I’ve got work to do.”

William opens the door to find, as he suspected, Moran waiting outside with his arms crossed. He’s dressed now in the attire of a carriage driver. He’d been quick about slipping out of Lord Everton’s manor. William hadn’t had to stop the carriage long before Moran had climbed aboard and they’d started moving again. You’d already been fast asleep by then.

William steps out onto the pavement and then turns to help you out, taking your hand.

“Ah, Moran,” you say as William closes the door behind you. “Hoping to catch us out again? Unfortunately for everyone, I slept the entire way here.”

Moran raises an eyebrow, but his face softens and William can tell he’s holding back a smile.

Moran gestures towards the manor. “After you,” he says.

William turns to you. He offers you his arm and you loop yours through his. Together, you walk through the gate and down the short path to the door. It opens as you approach, Louis appearing in the doorway. Golden candlelight shines out from behind him.

“Welcome home, brother, Miss (L/N), Moran,” he says as he ushers you inside. “Did the evening go well?”

You hold up the document wallet. “Everything went according to plan.” Moran snorts in the background, but you ignore him quite pointedly, catching Louis’s attention as you say, “Would you be able to show me to the study so I can complete my work?”

“Of course,” Louis says. “This way.”

You look at William before you follow Louis, and William sends a smile and a nod your way. He’s not going to follow you, he’d just be too much of a distraction, and besides, he has a feeling you wouldn’t let him come anyway. Secrets of the trade and all. He watches you follow Louis down the corridor and then looks to Moran.

Only, Moran’s nowhere to be found.

William sighs and heads down the corridor himself, following the familiar path to the sitting room where he has a sneaking suspicion he’ll find a certain someone.

The door is closed when he arrives, but he doesn’t bother knocking. He opens the door, and there, seated on the couch, is the mastermind behind tonight’s near failure of a hijacked mission.

Albert turns to look at him, a glass of red wine in his hand. The casual smile on his face is the confirmation of everything William had suspected. His initial interpretation of the night had been correct, after all.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” Albert asks.

William closes the door behind him. He moves towards the other couch but doesn’t sit.

“I did,” he says. “The night went well, the mission was successful.”

Albert eyes him. “And?”

William meets his brother’s piercing gaze head on. “And what?”

“Did you enjoy your time with (Y/N)?” Of course he’d go straight to the point.

“Of course,” William says lightly. “She’s lovely and an exceptionally talented dancer. Very dedicated to her work as well. I can see why you like her.”

Albert’s stare is flat and William returns a polite smile. Despite the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed his evening with you he’s determined not to let his brother know it. He’s feeling petty and annoyed, yes, but it’s more than that. Albert—and presumably Moran as well—had conspired behind his back and changed the plan. That’s not how things are done around here. Yes, it might have been a relatively low stakes mission, with a mostly inconsequential change of plan, but he can’t have it happening again. Not when the stakes are set to get so much higher.

Albert studies him as he takes a sip of his wine. “Will…” he says.

And then the door opens.

The door opens and William’s polite facade and petty resolve goes out the window. Moran walks in with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah, Moran,” Albert says, placing his wine glass on the table. “Finally, someone who’ll be honest with me.”

Moran strolls casually forward and William shoots him the deadliest glare he can manage while he curses inwardly. He’s just realised that he spent so much time thinking about you on the trip home that he’d failed to come up with an adequate threat to keep Moran quiet.

Moran slides past William and takes a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

“I’ll tell you what, Will,” Moran says. “No chores for a year and I won’t say a word.”

“You don’t do your chores anyway,” William responds flatly.

“True. Well, then.” Moran pulls out a gold coin and flips it to Albert.

William frowns as he watches it soar through the air into his brother’s hand.

The grin that spreads on Albert’s face makes William want to die.

They had made a bet? About what?

William’s words to Albert pre-mission come back to him. The advice he had offered so casually—the cover story for Lord Everton’s study, should anything go wrong. He’d thought he’d be helping you and Albert move your relationship along when he’d suggested it. Oh, the irony.

“If that’s about what I suspect it’s about,” William says tightly, “you’ll have to return that coin to Moran, brother.” Moran looks about to protest, so William continues, “I wasn’t the one who initiated it. (Y/N) was.”

Moran’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. Loud and obnoxiously gleeful, impossible to tune out.

“The first time, at least,” William adds quietly.

Moran’s still laughing as Albert’s the one to gawk this time. “The first time?” he echoes, clearly surprised.

“I can see why you like her, Will,” Moran says as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“I imagine Moran will tell you everything,” William says to Albert, ignoring Moran. “There’s no stopping him. But take his words with a grain of salt; you know he likes to exaggerate.”

Moran scowls at that. Good, maybe it’ll make Albert doubt his words. Regardless, William doesn’t want to put himself through the trauma of hearing Moran’s version of events. Even the thought of it threatens to set fire to his cheeks.

“I’ll take my leave,” he says and steps towards the door. But he pauses a second later and looks back at them. “Oh, and don’t think you’re getting away with this. We’ll discuss your insubordination in the morning.”

Neither Albert nor Moran look daunted by that, or at all regretful about their actions; both still have smiles on their faces. Well, that’ll change tomorrow. William turns to leave.

“Will,” Albert calls.

William freezes with his hand on the doorknob.

“You’re allowed to be happy,” Albert says softly. “I know we have our plan and our goals, and that we need to make sacrifices to see them through. But that doesn’t mean you have to forgo your own wants. You’re allowed to enjoy life, Will. You deserve a better world, too.”

William doesn’t respond, just leaves the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

Maybe he’ll go talk to Louis for a bit, to keep his mind off things. If there’s one person in this household that he knows he can trust not to betray him like this, it’s his younger brother. After that, he’ll retire to his study.

You finish your work in record time. Placing your pen down and sitting back in your chair, you look over the freshly finished paper. You daresay this is one of your finest forgeries. The document that lies before you is a perfect match in contents and lettering to the one you had stolen earlier—except for the changes William had requested, of course.

Double checking, then triple checking the document, you nod to yourself, satisfied. As the ink dries, you begin packing your writing equipment away. You tuck your pens and ink bottles back in your case, place your variety of papers back in their folder and then place your notes and drawings on the signet ring on top. You’ve checked your clay mould and the impression is better than you’d hoped for. You place it in a small, padded container, alongside the half wax seal William had left for you.

With everything packed, you close your case and turn back to the documents on the table. The originals lie to the left, the forgery directly in front of you. You pick the latter up, the ink now dry. Carefully studying the originals, you begin folding the new document, matching the placement and sharpness of the creases. Once done, you tuck them into the stolen document wallet.

Sliding your chair back, you stand, feeling rather pleased with yourself. At least you haven’t messed this part of the mission up.

You take your case in one hand and the documents in the other—both new and old—and make your way to the door.

“I’m finished,” you call.

The door opens and Louis pokes his head in. He eyes the documents in your hand. “That was fast. I thought you said it’d take longer?”

“Lord Everton has a decidedly basic script; it wasn’t hard to mimic.”

“William will want to see. May I take that for you?” Louis gestures to your case.

“Thank you,” you say as you hand it over.

Louis smiles in return and you follow him back through the house. You take a different route this time, and one not nearly as long. You arrive outside a closed, wooden door.

Louis knocks. “Brother? Miss (L/N) has completed her work.”

“Come in,” William calls from the other side.

Louis opens the door and you enter what you assume is William’s study. Two couches lie either side of the entrance, an ornate rug between them, and the walls are lined with bookshelves. William’s desk is in the centre of the room. William himself is seated, but not working. He turns to look at you as you enter.

You walk up to him, skirts swishing softly across the floor, and hand over the documents.

He takes them with an intrigued glint in his eyes. He places the old documents on his desk and pulls the new ones out of the leather wallet. Then he studies them both carefully.

You know the forgery is excellent, almost faultless, but you still can’t help but feel nervous as your work undergoes William’s scrutiny. You know he has high standards; you can only hope that you surpass them.

After a few minutes, he returns the new documents to the wallet.

“Your work is exceptional, Miss (L/N),” he says.

Your heart misses a beat at the sudden formality of your last name. But then you remember Louis is in the room, and more importantly, that this is a business transaction.

“The signet ring will be ready in two weeks,” you say. “Do you want it sent to the manor?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you.” William stands, tucking the documents into his jacket pocket. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Miss (L/N). I’ll be sure to contact you in the future if we have further need of your services. You’ve proven yourself quite the talent, and I have no doubt that the ring will match the quality of your penmanship.”

You smile humbly, but inside you’re absolutely beaming with pride. “Thank you, William.”

William pauses for a moment, seemingly hesitant, then he says, “Do you intend to leave right away, now that the mission is complete? Or can I convince you to stay for a drink?”

The request surprises you, so it hurts almost physically to turn him down.

“Unfortunately, I must return to my hotel,” you say. “I have an early train to catch in the morning. But thank you for the offer, William. Another time, for sure.”

William nods in understanding. He likely knew you’d refuse. Still, you think you catch a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. It’s quickly masked, though, and he extends his arm to you.

“Allow me to escort you to your carriage, then,” he says softly.

You hesitate, conscious of Louis watching, but take his arm and allow him to lead you out of the room. Louis’s expression is neutral as you pass, formal and polite as always, and he follows along behind you as you exit the room, carrying your case.

The walk downstairs and back to the front door is short, but you commit it to memory. The warmth of William beside you, the feeling of your arm looped through his, the small distance between the two of you. The slight smile on William’s face that you catch out of the corner of your eye.

Too soon, you’re in the entryway. Moran is leaning against the wall.

“Not sticking around for a drink?” he says.

“Unfortunately not,” you reply. “Have one for me, will you?”

“Of course,” he says with an appreciative grin.

“Only once your mission is over,” William says pointedly to Moran as he hands over the document wallet.

“Of course,” Moran repeats, though in a somewhat duller tone. He pockets the documents. Once you leave, he’ll return to Lord Everton’s manor, switch back into his servant’s disguise and place the new documents where he found the originals.

You’re about to move towards the door when, to your surprise, Moran steps up to you and takes your hand—the one that’s not looped through William’s. He places a kiss on your knuckles.

“It was a pleasure working with you, (Y/N),” he says smoothly. “I hope to work with you again sometime.”

You feel William stiffen beside you and you hold back a snicker. Oh, poor Will is going to suffer extensively at the hands of Moran and his brothers.

“Likewise, Moran,” you say back.

“Please, call me Sebas—”

“Alright,” William says tersely and pulls you towards the door.

You cover your laugh with a cough and follow him. As the door opens you look back at Moran. He gives you a smile and nod. You return it. You can only hope that he doesn’t tease William too much. You’re probably hoping in vain.

You, William and Louis make your way down the short path to the road. Your carriage is ready and waiting ahead of you. As you draw near, your driver hops down and meets you at the gate. He takes your case from Louis and stows it safely, before returning to his seat at the front of the carriage. William escorts you to the door as Louis waits at the gate.

You hesitate in front of the carriage, as does William.

“(Y/N),” he says softly.

You turn to look at him, meeting his scarlet eyes which are dark in the moonlight. You wish you had more time to get lost in their depths. If only you’d known what the events of tonight would bring, you would have booked a later train—or perhaps, you wouldn’t have booked one at all.

“I know I said it before,” William says, “but I really did mean it. I had a wonderful night and will cherish every moment I spent with you.”

“Likewise, William,” you say. “I’ll never forget tonight. I only wish it could have been longer.”

William inhales softly as he stares at you. “You could stay…” he says, voice low.

You feel a flicker of heat in your belly at that, feel your breath escape as you stare into his eyes. His gaze makes you want to change your mind. It would be so easy to just miss your train. But you have work to do in Prague, and you can’t just abandon it.

Your schedule after Prague, however, is open.

“I’ll let you know when I’m next in London,” you say. “So you can give me that mathematics lesson.”

William blinks, intensity faltering. “Wait. You really meant that?”

“I did,” you laugh. “Make sure it’s a complex topic. Or something new. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to call your title into question, Professor.”

He stares at you for a moment, a little taken aback. Then he laughs. “Alright.”

You smile at him as he stares at you. Your gaze flickers to his lips. You want to kiss him one more time, but you’re very aware of Louis’s presence at the gate, watching and waiting. It seems William is too, for he hesitates despite his lingering gaze.

You take a deep breath. “Farewell, William.”

You turn towards the carriage but William catches your wrist. You look back at him, meeting his blazing eyes. He leans forward, hesitation gone, and kisses you. It’s a gentle kiss, much softer and more tender than earlier, but no less filled with passion. Your heart leaps up into your throat as his hand slides up to your cheek and his lips move against yours.

All too soon, he pulls away. You catch a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, despite the darkness and imagine it’s mirrored on your own.

“Farewell, (Y/N),” he whispers.

He opens the door for you and you step into the carriage. You look back at him one last time as you sit down. You smile. He smiles back. Then the door closes and the carriage starts moving.

You lean back in your seat, closing your eyes and letting all of the fresh memories come back to you. You feel giddy inside; tonight had been more than you’d ever dared dream of. You do your best to commit every moment to memory. The feel of his body against yours as you’d danced, the intensity of his scarlet gaze drinking you in, the taste of his lips on your own as you’d kissed. You get lost in your thoughts as the carriage travels onwards.

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to your hotel that you forgot to say goodbye to Louis.

William watches your carriage roll away until it rounds a corner and disappears from his sight. He feels a certain sadness at your departure, even though he knew it was coming. He knew you wouldn’t stay, but some small part of him had hoped otherwise. Still, you’ve left him with something to look forward to—the mathematics lesson he’s promised you. He can only hope you return to London soon.

William takes a deep breath. You’ll be on his mind for a long time, and he knows Moran and Albert won’t let him forget it. He doesn’t feel like dealing with them tonight, though. Maybe he’ll just head to bed.

Deciding that’s a good idea, he turns around and finds Louis still waiting at the gate. Louis’s eyes are wide.

William’s glad for the darkness. Hopefully his brother can’t catch the blush on his cheeks. He’s never felt shy around Louis, but he’s also never been in this situation before. He knows his actions must seem very out of character. Moran and Albert are sure to tease him for it, but he’s not sure what Louis will think, particularly when it’s so out of the blue. He finds himself slightly nervous as he approaches his brother.

“Guess I owe Albert a gold coin,” Louis says.

William blanches, stopping dead. “What?”

Louis drops his gaze, though there’s a smile on his lips.

“Louis?” William asks, searching his brother’s face incredulously. Surely not…?

But Louis just turns and starts walking back to the house.

“Louis!”