Evangeline had a secret. And, like most people with secrets, she did everything possible to withhold it from general knowledge. Can you imagine the horror if it got out! She would be ruined. Although, for the most part, she already was.

At the time, Evangeline Agape Levine was crouched in a London alleyway, panting heavily and clutching her chest. Inside one clenched fist was six gold coins; in the other a single shot pistol. At fourteen, she had already become a fully fledged thief. And, no doubt, a rather good one. Eight years of dance training equipped her with the required stealth and stamina—most of the time. In the stated predicament, she had encountered a rather noisy stair step and had been chased almost two miles down the backstreets of London. It was a terrifying experience, but for now, at least, she was safe.

With a glance around the corner and a sigh of immense relief, the girl slid down the wall and tipped the coins into her right hand. One, two, three, four, five, six. She fingered them over and over, clinging to their existence to prove this was not a dream, and she really was at the beginning of the end.

Finally sure they were all accounted for and carefully shutting them in a compartment in her drawstring purse, she slipped her dainty fingers into another compartment and extracted an old-but -nevertheless-working pocket watch. In an exhausted daze, she checked the time.

Hm. It was ten twenty three.

As soon as that thought entered her mind, she was off again, dashing through the brick maze and out towards the woods, one thing on her mind: late! Late! Late! Late! Late! Late! Late! Late! Her long, straight, honey-blonde hair flew behind her in the breeze and her grey-green eyes were focused on one thing: the path leading straight into the depths of the dark wood. Her feet flew across the ground silently and without effort, but she was careless with her skirts and they snagged on branches and made an awful ruckus; but that could hardly matter now, she was late, late, late…

Speeding onto the main path just in time to face two massive black horses and a charging carriage, she halted in the middle of the road, aimed her pistol carefully at the driver, and commanded:

"STOP."

Thank god the man had seen her, for the horses reared and came to a standstill just before her nose. Flinching at their horrid breath, she inched around the side and kicked open the door. Inside was the most ridiculous looking person she had ever seen: big, puffy, worm-like lips, hollow cheeks, wrinkles caked with white powder, fluffy red hair piled in a mound on a square head. It took Evangeline a moment to realize this was a woman; she could tell because the lady was wearing an absurd maroon hat with green feathers and a mass of ugly skirts around the waist.

Yet she took no time to hesitate. She was late.

"Out."

The woman stood, flustered, and stumbled out of the carriage through the opposite door. Evangeline immediately spotted what she was looking for: an antique looking envelope lying on the seat. Taking a more polite stance, she sauntered across the interior of the carriage and peered at the woman outside the door.

"Where were you going?"

"The—er—Phantomhive Manor—"

"Excellent. Driver," she hinged around the frame and spoke to the frightened little man, "continue on your route. You two will be best off not speaking of this… au revoir!"

Wriggling her fingers at the flustered woman, she took her seat in the comfortable vehicle and emptied the contents of her bag onto the seat. Here her transformation began: she cleaned her face and hands, straightened her pretty skirts and smoothed her bodice, took her hair into a half-up bun, slipped into proper shoes and gloves, and positioned a fresh white rose in her hair. Satisfied, she leaned back to enjoy the trip.

Evangeline knew they had arrived when the soft clomps of hoof-on-dirt were replaced with the stately clicks of what could only be stone.

"Driver!" she called out the window, "You may stop here!"

She stepped out into the cool night and clicked over to her chauffeur. Pleased at the astonishment he was displaying at her transformation, she dropped the gold coins into his hand.

"You may go take Lady…" (here she checked the name printed on the envelope) "…Blanche De'Ole home now. I'm sure she would appreciate the lift."

She turned and strutted towards the manor, the clicks her heels made on the pavement fascinating her. It had been a while…

The maid at the door was obviously blind as a bat, not to mention a massive klutz. Good thing, this made Evangeline's job a whole lot easier.

"Lady Blanche De'Ole." She stated, fluttering the envelope she had picked up in the carriage in the girl's face. The maid made a wild grab for it and checked (or pretended to) the invitation.

"Ooohhh, yes, yes, miss, it says it right here it does! Enjoy the par-tee!"

Deciding she'd better take the 'I'm a proper English lady' act to the extreme, Evangeline smiled graciously and glided into the hall. At once, she was swallowed by a mass of people. Women in ridiculously large and colourful skirts, men talking and smoking cigars, children running about and dodging servants who were carrying massive plates of hors d'oeuvres. It was much more than a party, as the maid had suggested, this was an all out ball!

In the centre of the floor, a cove of dancers had formed. Violin music was wafting through the hall. She knew the tune…

Shaking thoughts of showing off her dance skills and reminding herself of her task, she dodged to an empty wall space and leaned against it, pretending to look for something in her purse. She had never quite planned this phase out. In all honesty, she was a tad surprised she had even gotten in. But how on earth was she to find the Earl in this mess and gain a hearing? At the moment, it seemed quite impossible.

Until she shifted to the right, that was. She caught sight of him at once: a short, glum looking boy wearing a ridiculously frilly blue suit. He was chatting with an older gentleman. So caught up was she in deciding how to attract his attention that, without meaning to, her penetrating gaze seemed to brush him and he glanced over. She smiled. Oh, this would be fun.

Obviously startled by her smile, the Earl Phantomhive returned his attention to the old man. Seconds later, he glanced back again.

Evangeline was standing straight now, rocking back and forth on her toes, enjoying her game very much indeed. Her mouth went from smile to grin as he turned back to the old man and appeared to be using every ounce of self control he had not to look back. He gave in twice more. Evangeline was still there, taunting him silently. Finally, he was able to hold his ground and was determinedly frowning at the older man.

Minutes passed, and the conversation ended. Evangeline was as patient as ever. So when the young Lord turned for the third time, she enjoyed the look of shock, the flustered embarrassment, and finally the annoyance he displayed before he stormed around the now large crowd of dancers. He was coming. Good.

Her job complete, Evangeline meandered a few feet out when…

WHAM!

With a flurry of blonde pigtails and a puff of skirt mashing skirt, the girl who had run straight into her stepped back and promptly erupted into an endless monologue.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, see I was looking for—oh my! Your dress is so cute! You simply must tell me where you bought it; I've been looking for one in that colour for ages. And you must be my age then! I'm thirteen. But maybe you already know that, in case you don't, I'm Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford, I'm so sorry but I don't recognize you, are you a noble? I don't think I've seen your face before…"

Evangeline realised she was holding her breath and released it when the girl—Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford—was finished speaking.

"I-I'm Lady Blanche De'Ole…"

"Well, like I said, you have a very cute dress. Do you like cute things? Perhaps we can go on an outing together sometime! Oh, wow!"

Elizabeth had turned to the swirling dancers. She sighed in delight.

"Isn't that beautiful? I wish I could dance so spectacularly…"

Evangeline couldn't help herself. This was just asking for it.

"I'm rather and expert dancer, perhaps I could teach you sometime." Of course, the teaching bit was just an empty promise, she just added it so as not to sound conceited.

"You can do that?" Elizabeth gestured towards the dancers.

"Of course, that's a simple Spanish waltz."

"Oh, now you must dance for me! Please!"

"No."

"Come along, please, do a fancy trick!"

"No. I'm not a dog."

"Please, please, please, please, please!"

"I'd like to see you dance."

Evangeline whirled around. Ceil Phantomhive stood there, hands on hips, a grim smile on his face which clearly projected that he thought he now had gotten even with her for making a fool of him. He may have gotten even for a split second, but Evangeline had started this silent battle and she had no intention of losing it.

"Ciel!" Elizabeth laughed before Evangeline could reply, "This is Lady Blanche!"

"Lady… Blanche?"

"Lady Blanche De'Ole." Evangeline cut in smugly. It was no use trying to hide the fact that she was an intruder any more. Besides, the Earl would be able to distinguish her quite well from the frog whose invitation she had stolen.

"Never mind that. Lady Blanche, I wish to see a demonstration of your dancing expertise. Go."

"Fine." She said, raising an eyebrow and smiling quirkily, "Excellent."

"Excellent."

Evangeline curled her fingers around his wrist and tugged him behind her as she marched onto the dance floor.

"You will have to suffice as my partner."

Evangeline wasn't sure how exactly, but judging by the look on his face she had definitely struck a nerve.