There is a house in London with seven faces. Insomuch that Dee House could only loosely be described as a house. In actuality, it is a collection of seven houses magically tethered across town. It is at least old enough to be named after one of its owners, Tudor alchemist John Dee, who was instrumental in the first Wards over the Fae District. However, at least three of the buildings were already established and connected centuries beforehand. While most of the houses comprising Dee House were in the Fae District, others were scattered over London. You could walk into the wrong broom closet on Berkley Square and walk out to a hallway in Shepherd's Bush. Dee House was one of the oldest Fae establishments in the city and was considered an epicenter of Fae culture.

The current owner and proprietor of Dee House was one Lady Nainya Pendragon, and she was pointedly coy about just how Arthurian her surname actually was. Lady Pendragon herself was an interesting enough figure to be worthy of Dee House's reputation. Thrice married, twice divorced, and once widowed by thirty-three, she moved through life too brazen for scandal and too generous for libel. Her gentility and poise were lauded in tandem to her beauty in social circles, with her burnished bronze eyes, flawless dark complexion, and not one box braid out of place. She made her presence felt no matter which face of Dee House she entered.

And unlike some of Nainya's more ostentatious ancestors, she put the House of Seven Faces to work. One served as a celebrated salon, a place of ideas and philosophy and social gatherings. Another was a small college of magics that encouraged innovation and experimentation where she occasionally lectured. The largest face was a home for foundlings and changelings, a place to care for and nurture children society forgot. This was where Nainya spent most of her days, and it clearly held her heart. The other faces she used to rent to those who would otherwise have issues finding lodging in England. People like a pair of eccentric confirmed bachelors (one of whom was an ex-husband), or a large family of Impersian immigrants, or even two single women far too engulfed in their careers to keep any kind of respectable hours.

It was with such ladies Nainya often took her Tuesday tea, and that was how she found herself sitting in the parlor of 52 West Endor Street across from Miss Arabelle Thain, Assistant Head Nurse of St. Cerridwen's Hospital, as they waited for the perpetually un-punctual Officer Celeste Lefay.

"Are you sure the wire from Director Grimm said she left by two?" Arabelle asked, nervously pushing her auburn hair behind her ear and twitching her nose.

Nainya lifted an eyebrow placidly. "That is what was said. Though it hasn't been too terribly long. Especially if she chose the long way home."

"She hasn't taken this long a walk home in several months. Should we start looking for her?"

"Usually, she has the good sense not to take that long a walk in her uniform," answered Nainya with a shake of her head. "She's in her formals today, and her favorite pubs would become highly uncomfortable."

"It's still been an awfully long time. Where could she have gone?" Arabelle, always more comfortable with her hands occupied, had twisted her napkin into a sailor's knot as she spoke.

It was that moment Celeste burst through the front door with a tea stain on her Formal uniform and a Cheshire grin on her face.

"Hail and well met, ladies!" She called out as she unceremoniously dropped her satchel on the floor and twirled into the room.

"Oh Lord, she is drunk," Arabelle muttered under her breath.

Nainya took a more calculating approach. "You seem quite chipper for someone home from their first suspension." Celeste cocked her head quizzically. "Thatch sent word as to why you might be… upset."

"That was today, wasn't it?" she said, eyes lighting with remembrance. "The other news put this morning's unpleasantness fully from my mind."

"Other news?"

Celeste took each of her friends by the hand. "My dearest friends, I give you my word I've had naught but a fifth of human whiskey all day." The other girls mildly recoiled at the severity of her Fae Grammar. "Just so you understand I am sober as the grave when I tell you that I am getting married on Friday, and you are both invited to see me off."

Arabelle lurched back and let out a series of high-pitched squeaks. Nainya looked up at Celeste like she'd grown a second nose as the Officer cackled wildly and fell into the seat opposite them.

Lady Pendragon leveled a stern look at her erstwhile lodger. "Celeste Lefay, what in the high of Heaven and the deep of Hell do you mean by that?"

Celeste calmed down from her fit of laughing and piled her little plate with finger sandwiches and fruit. "The two of you fuss far too much, you know. I'm going undercover for a case. Remember the one I was complaining about a few days ago? I got an offer from a friend for a way to investigate from the inside."

"Inside a marriage?" Asked Arabelle.

"Inside a honeymoon resort," Celeste answered. "They check for marital forgery, and I can't find out about the disappearances peeking over the fence by lonesome, can I?"

"And who would agree to marry you just to get into the resort?"

Nainya narrowed her eyes, fitting the pieces together. "It's Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?" Celeste smiled her affirmative and Arabelle gasped again. "Toby is too busy and afraid of his father to take off time for such a scheme, and she hasn't talked about any other man favorably in months."

"That's not true. I've complimented Doctor Watson several times."

"And he happens to be the one keeping your beau from starving or exploding."

"Sherlock Holmes is NOT my beau," Celeste said indignantly. Nainya looked back at her with a disbelieving smirk on her face.

Arabelle snorted. "If he is not your beau, then he is a cad, and you'd do well to never deal with him again," she said with a force that surprised even her.

"He's not that bad, I promise," Celeste cajoled, reaching her hand out to cover Arabelle's, her lopsided smile reassuring. "He agreed to help to restore my reputation, not hurt it. It's not like we're announcing anything in the paper, so no one knows to be scandalized. And we'll be getting an annulment as soon as the case is done, so there will be no harm."

Arabelle slumped back in her chair and put her head in her hands. "That is worse. Don't you see how that's worse?" She peeked through her fingers at Celeste's confused expression. "Of course you don't; you're never afraid of men. You don't know how precarious they can be."

"Would it help if you came with me on Friday?" Celeste asked. "Maybe got to know him a little?"

After a pause, Arabelle scrunched up her nose and set her chin. "Maybe. But do not sleep with him."

Celeste let out a belly laugh. "Oh, there is no danger of that. He couldn't be less interested."

Nainya's eyebrows shot up at that, but Arabelle just huffed out a sigh. "I need to clean something," she finally said. She rose from the table to clear away the dishes, Celeste grabbing one more pastry before it was taken away. Celeste met Nainya's expectant look with a shrug.

"I'm sure she'll come around," said Celeste.

"We shall see on Friday." Nainya rose from the table. "Come on, I'll help you pack."

They continued their conversation later on in Celeste's room as they picked which garments she would need for the seaside. "You can't blame her for worrying," explained Nainya as she folded a shirtwaist. "She doesn't have money like me or violence like you. That middle class morality is the only thing protecting her independence."

"I certainly don't blame her," Celeste said as she affixed her knife holster to a hidden compartment in her suitcase.

"Neither do I. After all, one of our dearest friends is marrying a man we've never met. Do tell me about him." Nainya sat on the bed with a pointed look and a wry smile.

Celeste joined her with a resigned huff. "Well, if you insist. He is powerfully intelligent, and sometimes even knows what to do with it. A consummate gentleman, but refreshingly bohemian, and the most passionate about his work I think I've ever seen."

"And he's not courting you at all."

"Absolutely not," said Celeste with an eye roll.

"Forgive me, Darling. It is entirely possible I'm mistaken; however, I have had more suitors than you've had broken bones, and with everything you've told me over the past months, all signs point to him being very interested in you."

Celeste shook her head. "He's interested in learning and experimenting and solving problems. The Fae district is another mystery for Sherlock Holmes. I just happen to be his new friend standing at the gateway. The shine will leave that ruby as soon as his curiosity is satisfied, so you and Arabelle making a mountain of a gnome hill will only make it awkward."

Nainya caught something interesting in the tone of her answer, so she pressed forward. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't..." Celeste started, bristling with frustration, but she paused. She met her friend's eyes with quiet confusion. "I don't know."

There was the crack in the armor Nainya was waiting to see. "How do you feel about him?"

For a long moment, she didn't answer, just looking at her new red ballgown draped over her vanity chair.

"He's… His true love will always be his work," Celeste said finally. "It is a privilege to collaborate with him as a colleague, and it is an honor to be counted as a friend. Like Doctor Watson. But I am certain that is all I shall ever be in his eyes."

"No matter how much you might desire more?"

Celeste shrugged. "I was never going to have all my desires. I'm used to being too much a harridan for romance."

"You are literally marrying this man in two days," Nainya pointed out pulling the ball gown from the chair and holding it out to her. "If there were ever a chance to change your fortune, now's the time."

"You are so sure there's potential," said Celeste with a quiet laugh.

Nainya held the oxblood silk between them. "Because I know what it means when a man buys you a dress like this. He's thought of seeing you across the room in it. He's imagined taking your hand wearing this sleeve. And it's warded to the teeth, so he had this made for you, not some vacuous proxy with your face. He has pictured your wearing this. Not to mention it's to your exact measurements so he's also pictured you wearing far less."

Celeste's eyes bulged and the tips of her ears turned pink. "Nainya!"

"Here I thought Arabelle was the prude."

"You're being presumptuous."

"Am I? I wager you can get that man to confess his love and/or take you to bed just by wearing this dress."

"What are your terms?" Asked Celeste, her brows knit together in confusion.

"You will wear this gown, not on the first night, but towards the end of your stay," Nainya explained as she carefully folded the dress in question to place neatly in the suitcase. "You must make him wait for his curiosity to be satisfied. Similarly, you will not let him see you getting ready. He must take in the finished effect all at once. Wear white gloves, and style your hair the way I taught you last summer so that it looks like it might tumble down with slightest provocation. Be minimal with embellishments, if at all. Wear a black ribbon around your neck, but only if he doesn't gift you jewelry during the trip." Celeste snorted in disbelief. "Oh, he will, and he'll try to call it posterity. Do all these as I've described, and he will see you from across the room, walk to you starstruck, and take your hand to dance before he remembers how to speak."

For a moment, Celeste contemplated the plan over her full suitcase. "What do I get if this doesn't work?"

"I fund your next pet case in full. No questions asked."

The look of contemplation was swiftly replaced with fiendish glee. "Lady Pendragon, you've got yourself a deal." Celeste took Nainya's hand and shook it roughly.

"I am not putting my money on the line for you to neglect your effort," Nainya said with a raised eyebrow as she rose to leave. "I expect a suitably sordid tale of tragic incompatibility or fiery consummation upon your return."

Celeste leaned on the doorframe as her patron stepped out. "I shall endeavor to have an adventure sure to shock sweet Arabelle."

Nainya only smiled in return but allowed herself a laugh as she thought ahead to Friday and the weeks after. Lady Pendragon had no gift of prophecy, but she paid too much attention to her friends for her wager not to come true.