Author's Notes: FINALLY!!! The semester's over… I cannot believe I was able to survive this long! Woohoo!

Disclaimer: Nothing related to 'The Lost World' belongs to me.

Dedication: This is to Cara. To be honest, I wasn't thinking of Tribune when I thought of Jerome… it was purely a coincidence that they have the same first name… :) And yes, this is dedicated to you, because I share the same sentiment. I also don't believe that any woman would want any other man when she's seen LJR… *swoon* He's such a handsome man!!! Especially in 'The End Game'! Okay, I'll stop ranting now before all of you know what an obsessed freak I can be…

And, yes. After you read this chapter, some of your questions will be answered. *Some*.

This chapter is quite short. Consider it a preview for the upcoming grand wedding… and to let you in in my little dirty secret… :)

Behold the Façade

Seven

Marguerite, Jerome:

After some careful thought, I have come to the decision of canceling the trip that would take you both out of the country and out of Lord Roxton's reach. It seemed a wonderful plan at first, to have you leave the groom the night before he is wed; but alas, it is not. Leave him with a broken heart, is it enough? No. Life for a life is a more worthy credo…

A hand was slammed against the oak table, making the candle flames blink in response. "This is unacceptable, George." Marguerite declared as she waved the note. "Truly unacceptable."

George Challenger stared at her, his mouth carefully tending a very expensive tobacco. "I don't remember soliciting your opinion, Miss Marguerite, as I do not remember inviting you for tonight." He said quietly, undaunted by her fiery appearance. He stood up, his tall frame immediately towering over her smaller one. George snatched the note away from her free hand and examined it. He chuckled. "That Ned," he muttered low, almost to himself. "He made this letter sound too damned poetic." He crumpled the paper and threw it to one side.

Marguerite glared at him. "Poetic or not, it's something I'm not willing to do."

He gave her a derisive grin as he pulled the tobacco from his mouth. "A little too late to be cowardly now, Marguerite." He said to her. "Besides, you were paid to do as I say. And I order you now to follow my word."

She glanced at Jerome, who was silent from the moment they entered Sir George Challenger's house, and was still quiet 'til now. The two had gone straight from the party to this house as ordered by Marguerite. She had insisted to talk to Challenger after reading the note. Jerome wasn't exactly willing, but he wasn't exactly in any position to deny her request. So off they went. Since then, he wasn't able to talk to the older man, or even meet his gaze. He was too frightened by his threatening presence.

But Marguerite wasn't. After sending Jerome a scathing glare and damning him for his immobility, Marguerite returned her eyes to the other man and pursed her lips. "I'm willing to return your payment," she said, almost reluctantly.

George clucked his tongue. "A month with the Roxtons and you suddenly develop a conscience?" He, too, glanced at the silent Lord, even indicated him with a wave of his lighted tobacco. "Jerome, I thought you gave me the coldest and the most able woman to perform the task?"

Jerome lifted his eyes off the floor and turned them to Marguerite. "She is," he affirmed. He offered no other comment after that.

"Then why is she hesitating to do what I please?"

"I was paid to leave a man in the altar, not to kill him in cold blood!" Marguerite almost shouted. She took two steps towards the older man, faltered, then took one step back. "You told me all I have to do was make William fall in love with me and that was it. End of the deal."

"I changed my mind."

"Well then change it back! We never talked about anything remotely related to murder! This is unacceptable!"

George was silent for a minute, as if trying to digest her words. He averted his gaze. Then, when he looked at her again, his eyes almost twinkled in amusement. "Hmm. Forgive me, but I'm trying to get over the irony of hearing this from a woman baptized as the 'Black Widow of Vienna', the one whose husbands seem to have a fondness of dying due to very unnatural causes." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I thought you would be pleased, Miss Krux, to have another name added on your rather short list."

Marguerite's uncanny eyes flashed indignantly, her temper knowing almost no bounds. "This is different," she hissed.

"How so? Do you mean the fact that Lord Roxton was supposed to die before he becomes your… fourth or fifth husband, when the others have died after you were wed?" Challenger sat down again, his eyes never leaving Marguerite's face. He placed his tobacco on a small ashtray by the table. "If you want, Miss Krux, we could always arrange the events according to your own preference. We could always do it your way, you know. You could kill him after you are wed. Or before. Do it whichever way you want, just make sure that Lord Roxton is going to end up what I want him to be: dead."

Marguerite was silent for a long while, her face full of contemplation and undisguised loathing for her employer. Then, without any warning, she turned around, her back facing them. She seemed preoccupied at tugging something free from the folds of her silken skirt. When she turned again, her hands were already holding diamonds, money, jewelry. Her payment. Her salary for committing a deed for the kind sir. Without flinching, she laid it all on the table. "Here," she said, her tone emotionless, unfeeling. "I give it all back, and then some more. Take it, take everything I worked for, just… just let me go. Just let us go."

Jerome took a step forward. "Marguerite—"

Challenger looked at the riches that were offered willingly to him, then looked at her, his face devoid of any emotion. "I have more than enough wealth, thank you very much. I do not need or want your measly possessions. They are worth nothing to me." He stood up, walked towards her and stopped only when they were almost a breath's away from each other. He continued to speak in a quieter tone. "I do, however, value your word above anything else. And you already gave it to me. Now I demand your compliance, Marguerite Krux. There is nothing more or less to that." He gave something almost akin to a kind smile. "You are free to leave, but do remember, I have who you value the most. Do anything foolish and you can be assured that she will be promptly taken cared of."

Marguerite's eyes widened; her mouth fell open to form a silent scream of protest and grave objection. "You can't—" she began to say. "You have no right—"

"Oh, but I can, and I will, if I please. And as for rights, my beautiful servant—" He ran his finger along the side of her face, and she had to slap his hand away. George just grinned snidely at her, never disconcerted with the outright rejection of his touch. "As for rights, I believe I acquired that when I bought your services from you." He stepped away from her, and continued well until he was almost out of the same room that Marguerite and Jerome were in. "Well now. As much as I love your company, I'm afraid our business here is finished. My assistant will be here any moment now to give you what you need for tomorrow. After that, please let yourselves out; you already know how. Good night, Mrs. Krux, Lord Duncan."

To be continued…

PS. I know, I know, you might be wondering why I chose Challenger to be the 'villain', but there's a reason for this. I promise.