David Rossi sat at the desk in his study at home, his fingers steepled under his chin. He had gotten almost nowhere on all of his lines of inquiries about this Whitechapel Murderer...Jack the Ripper. Whoever, whatever, the man was, no one seemed to know or be willing to tell about it.

He hated to let down Lord Hotchner. Aaron had, surprisingly, become a very good friend in the past few years after David had started living in London. Ostracized by most of polite society, David had gladly welcomed the one man who'd shown interest into his life, Spencer Reid. He knew Spencer from a long ago friendship with Jason Gideon, and now he knew Aaron through Spencer.

And even more recently, he could count a new man as 'friend', possibly. Derek Morgan had shown surprisingly friendly overtures when they had met and David was still wondering how to take them; how to take his circle of friends expanding more.

Not that he didn't have friends. Back home, in Italy, he had many friends and a large, inviting family.

But when you kill a man, even with good reason...it is hard to keep old friendships. The man who had died was very influential and his family very powerful...

David had been acquitted by the police but he was still guilty in the eyes of everyone around him.

So he left.

He left and forged a new life elsewhere, travelling much and marrying beautiful women with little regard to compatibility or sense.

So he had lost beautiful women, three times, in varying ways. He'd said goodbye to them with a carefree wave and lost their respect even more.

So now he was alone.

But he wrote. So he was never alone. He picked up his newest novel, flipping through the pages and sighing.

As he'd said, he wrote sensational things to make sensational money.

But the characters, even though he gave them little consideration while writing the books, tended to stay with him and haunt him like real people would.

This book in particular, his new book, bothered him even more than most. It hadn't been published yet and his main character hated the ending he'd given her.

David chuckled, brushing off his concerns as he poured himself a large brandy. She was fictional. It didn't matter.

Penelope woke up the next morning and her mother was standing in the doorway.

"Mother!" Penelope almost shrieked, irrationally pulling the covers up tight even though she wore a flannel nightgown that showed nothing. And it was her mother. Why be embarrassed?

Lady Strauss moved into the room, carefully sitting at the end of her daughter's bed. "I was wondering how the ball went last night."

"I still cannot fathom why you stayed home," Penelope grumbled. "And please do not take me for a fool and tell me about your headache again. I only went along with your tale last night because you had already asked Mrs. Swan."

Lady Strauss sighed. "There were certain people there I did not feel comfortable seeing," she said stiffly. "Not at this point in the season. So in that light, I did have a headache. Or I was avoiding one."

She frowned. "Did the evening not go well?"

Penelope hesitated, feeling the indecision coursing through her veins. Tell the truth...or?

"I did not have many dances," Penelope hedged. "I do not think the evening will come to anything. As for gossip, you will have to wait to read the society pages in today's newspaper. I have never been one to be involved in the newsy items."

Lady Strauss sighed. "Very well." She stood up, brushing her skirt off. "Are you going to the bookstore today, Penelope?"

"Why do you ask?" Penelope wondered.

"It would be nice for you if you did," Lady Strauss said simply. "If you did not have a good time last night, then I offer you an outing as recompense for not going with you and assuring a better time."

Penelope opened her mouth to protest before realizing what her mother was offering and she clamped it close. "Thank you!" She exclaimed. "Della R. Walters' is not yet finished, but maybe I can find something else."

Lady Strauss's smile was thin but genuine as she closed the door behind her, exiting her daughter's room as gracefully as she had entered.

Penelope sighed, flopping back onto her pillow and closing her eyes against the events of the night before.

A hand on her waist. Dark eyes that glittered wickedly. A smile that made her lose her breath. And a man that completely unravelled her, piece by piece.

Derek Morgan was a force to be reckoned with. Penelope thought of Emily's coming card party and felt her insides turn to jelly. She wouldn't survive another encounter with him, she just knew it. And if he ever found out who she was...she would die of embarrassment.

As Penelope dressed, she tried to convince herself of what a fool she was being. As if the lord's son would even remember her! She was just one face in a line of much prettier faces.

But she remembered the look on his face when he looked at her, the tightness of his grip. And then she wasn't so sure.

Remembering the night before, Spencer set out for his favorite bookstore the next morning, before Derek was even awake. Well, he'd had a late evening. As had Spencer, but Spencer had always been able to get up in the morning. On the other hand, he couldn't even count the number of times Derek had been late to class due to sleep and gotten himself into trouble because of it.

He felt troubled as he remember the events of the night before. As always, Lady Jennifer's face was the foremost in his mind. Why had she cried like that, like her world was ending? Like the person she loved most had died? Why had she wept in his arms when she barely knew his name?

Why did a lady like herself even carry around that kind of sorrow?

His heart broke with the possible answers as he crossed the street and entered his favorite book store.

The first thing he noticed was that the person waiting behind the counter was different than the elderly man it usually was.

A woman stood there, bracing herself against the counter and she smiled to see him. "Can I help you select a book, sir?" She called over and he merely shook his head, diving into the first section of books which was, unfortunately, romance.

Penelope Strauss stood there, looking at the books with a slightly open mouth.

"Lady Penelope," he stammered and she turned to look at him.

"Dr. Reid!" She exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy to see him. "Is Della R. Walters one of your favorite authors too?"

"No," he replied. "No. I was looking for something by Elizabeth Gaskell."

"You came to the right section," Penelope enthused. "I do adore Elizabeth Gaskell's characters." She started to walk away before raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to follow or not? I know exactly where her books are shelved."

Oh well. Better Lady Penelope than the new woman behind the counter. Spencer followed her, staying a step or two behind so he wouldn't crash into her if she stopped suddenly.

"Here they are," Penelope said, gesturing. "By the way..."

"Yes?" Spencer asked.

Her cheeks colored slightly. "How long is your friend staying with you?"

"My friend?" He asked blankly.

"Lord Morgan's son," she hurried to say.

"Oh, Derek is going to stay until his father returns from Bath," Spencer said easily. "We are not sure when that will be. Why do you ask?"

Penelope shook her head rather wildly, backing away from him. "Curiosity," she said.

"Did you have a dance with him?" Spencer asked, fingering the books.

"Not exactly," she whispered and her eyes drew Spencer in. She had the eyes of a woman torn. He wondered how, exactly, her path had crossed with Derek's.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to the books and she nodded before slipping back into the shelves.

He selected Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South and headed to the counter, deciding to get the worst over with as soon as he could.

The woman smiled up at him. She had red hair and a contagious smile.

"You are new," he blurted.

"I am watching the shop for my grandfather," she answered. "He has taken ill, unfortunately."

"Ah," Spencer said, handing her the book.

"Do you recommend this one?" She asked, carefully marking the price in a ledger.

"I haven't read it yet," he replied.

"Then what book do you recommend?" She asked, taking out brown paper and ribbon to carefully wrap the book in. "I wish to start a new one but I don't know where to look, even."

"Great Expectations," Spencer said. "You can never go wrong with Dickens.

She raised an eyebrow. "Believe it or not, I have never read him before. I suppose now is as good a time as any to change that."

"The part where Pip finally learns that Estella was always trained to break men's hearts is..." Spencer trailed off. "You won't have gotten that far yet."

"No," she agreed "But I shall take your word that it is a good part. My grandfather told me about you. The young man who comes in every week to buy new books."

"How can you tell he was talking about me?" Spencer asked with surprise.

She shrugged, her nimble fingers making quick work of wrapping the book and tying the ribbon. "He said that you would give me a book recommendation if I asked," she said simply. "So I asked, and you did."

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," Spencer said in a rush. "And you are Tristan Loker's granddaughter...Are you Lily or Dorian?"

"Dorian," she replied, her smile growing. "My grandfather talked of us?"

"Many times," he answered.

"That's nice," she said and handed him the book.

"Thank you," he murmured and left the shop in a hurry, forcing himself to not look back.

Derek woke up with a pounding headache, knowing right away what it was from...the bottle of wine he'd requested after the ball and had polished off because he couldn't sleep, thinking of the girl he'd danced with.

He laughed at the ridiculousness. The girl. He'd danced with many girls last night and yet only one stuck in his memory.

He felt the dry taste in his mouth that signalled a hangover and he forced himself to leave the bed, wishing that he could go back to last night and not have asked for the wine.

This was the first time in years that he had had alcohol and he had overdone it, to say the least. Now he rang for the valet and barely managed to make it through getting dressed, even with Ethan's able assistance.

"Ethan, remind me to never drink that much alcohol again," he said as the man tied Derek's cravat.

"Indeed, sir," Ethan said, his lips almost twitching. "May I ask, sir, what brought it on?"

"A woman," Derek sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. "What else?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he repeated.

"Did Dr. Reid already leave for the day?" Derek asked. "Or does he work from home?"

"It is a combination of the two," Ethan replied. "Dr. Reid has left, yes, but he should be returning soon."

Derek went downstairs and there was a hot breakfast waiting for him in the dining room. He ate alone, wondering if Spencer would, indeed, return soon. He felt unexpectedly lonely as he ate, barely able to taste the excellent food in front of him.

He started when he heard the front door open and a few minutes later Spencer walked in, looking much happier than he had leaving the ball.

"Good morning," Spencer said cheerfully. "How do you feel today?"

"Not that well," Derek confessed and Spencer clapped him on the shoulder.

"Did you promise to call on anyone today?" He asked, sitting down next to Derek.

"No, I thought I'd wait before I showed particular interest in anyone," Derek said. "But I was thinking about going for a ride or a walk in the park."

"Walk," Spencer advised. "I do not own a horse."

"Of course you don't," Derek said dryly. "I suppose I will have to wait for my father to come before I can go on rides."

Spencer shrugged.

"What's that under your arm?" Derek asked.

"A new book," Spencer said simply.

"Ah, never mind then," Derek said, pushing his plate away. "Spencer. You have a knack for remembering faces."

"Yes," Spencer said.

"Could you tell me the name of someone I saw at the ball last night?" Derek asked, hesitant to reveal himself like this.

"Certainly," Spencer said.

"She was...blonde," Derek said. "And her eyes..." He trailed off, staring into the distance.

Spencer cleared his throat rather awkwardly. "I'm afraid I will need a bit more than that, Derek. Her eyes?"

"They were..."

"I hope she had two of them," Spencer said dryly.

Derek broke out of his reverie and sighed, pushing his chair back. "Never mind. I don't think it would be a good idea to pursue her anyway."

"Probably not, if you couldn't even obtain her name," Spencer said.

"And I have no reason to settle down anytime soon," Derek said. "Nor do I wish to, after only just returning to London."

"Yes," Spencer agreed.

Derek wilted again, remembering her. Surely he would see her again. Should he want to? After all, he didn't want to marry yet.

But goodness, why must it mean marriage? Surely a man like himself could seduce a few girls without anyone really caring!

His mind made up, Derek squared his shoulders.

"Did you meet Lady Penelope Strauss?" Spencer asked absently, flipping through his book. "I know that Lady Emily would have made sure you had a dance with her."

"She did not appear for it," Derek said simply.

"Pity," Spencer said. "She's a rather charming girl."

"I'm sure," Derek said, a bit bored by the description.

"I met her at the bookstore, so it is a pity you were still sleeping when I left," Spencer continued.

"To be sure," Derek said. "Next time you will have to take me along."

"Do you mean that?" Spencer asked, glancing up at him.

"No, of course not," Derek said. "Yes, I am sure she is charming but I don't really want charming."

"What do you want, then?" Spencer asked.

"I'm not sure," Derek admitted.

A/N: Yes, I don't know much about Italy's judicial system in the 1880s. Forgive me for any mistakes made there.

With this chapter, I have officially 'hit' NaNoWriMo. I added 50,000 words to this account in November. I hope you enjoyed the frequent updates as much as I did.