Author's Notes: Thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys! Oh, if I could just cook, I would send you cookies! But alas, I am not a talented cook, as I have been told by my family so many, many times… *gasp!* You might end up dead from what I'll give you, and then what? *WEG*

Anyways, the thankies are at the bottom. Oh, and one question… do you guys read Harry Potter? It's just that I've gone astray once more and now I am way above my head, trying to gobble up Draco/Hermione fics! Hehe, I'm deranged like that! :) Oh, and shameless plugging! I've written some fics for that, so if you're curious on what I've done to those two, give my name a little click. Its archived here ;) Oh-kay, you're probably wondering, what's this got to do with TLW? Nothing! So let's get it on!

Behold the Façade

Chapter Fourteen

There was a throbbing pain at the back of her head. At first it was too intense; the pain was like little knives plunging themselves repeatedly on her skull. It was truly a wonder how her head was still intact when it should have been hacked into tiny pieces by now.

A moan decidedly escaped from her tightly compressed lips, and she was helpless from keeping it to herself. Immediately, she opened her eyes, and then cursed silently for doing it. Stars began to dance wildly around her, and just beyond the ridiculously dancing stars, she noticed that everything were swirling in an alarmingly fast rate.

It was enough for Marguerite to throw up.

Suddenly, gentle hands lifted her back off the bed – she was lying in a bed? – until she was seated. Then, while she was kept seated by purposely having her back rested on someone's chest, a glass of water – green? – appeared in front of her, held by small hands. Female hands.

"Marguerite," a voice suddenly said, frighteningly very close to her ear. Sure enough, it was a female voice. "Drink this. It would help with the dizziness."

Marguerite never even bothered to think on the specifics, about who this was or what was being given to her. In any other situation, she would have been held back by her distrust, by her instinct to never ever accept anything from someone she didn't know. But self-preservation tactics be damned. She was just eager enough to drink anything to stop the nausea that was quickly consuming her. She was just that desperate to make the dancing stars and the swirling furniture go away.

With shaking hands, she reached for the glass, and drank it all. After she did, she frowned at the after-taste of the liquid. It tasted like boiled rocks and leaves, coupled with sweet honey and sour vinegar. It was an understatement to say it was most disgusting. "What the hell was that?" she demanded in a voice so hoarse she was surprised it came from her own mouth.    

A chuckle came from beside her, and then the glass was taken from her hands. "Medicine," she was told. "It may have a nasty taste but it could sure help clear that head of yours."

Marguerite was about to argue on that when she noticed that her vision seem to – slowly – return to normal. The dancing stars and the swirling furniture began to fade into oblivion. Thank God!

Just then, she turned to the one holding her, her expression filled with questioning and suspicion.

And then the questioning and suspicious look disappeared, and genuine relief flooded her face.

"Veronica!" Marguerite said, her face breaking into a smile. But the smile was small and quite unsure. "Where am I? Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in—"

Veronica just smiled at her. "Lay down first." She said. "Twenty questions later." She then proceeded to push Marguerite back into the bed, and then covered the older woman with a blanket. She sat beside the bed and peered at her patient. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I think." Marguerite answered. Her tongue was thick from disuse, and at first she had trouble enunciating the words. "Quite confused, really."

Veronica nodded. "You should be," she said. "That blow to your head was nasty. Ned and I were afraid you suffered more than just a concussion." The seriousness in her tone then changed into something merrier. "But if you remember my name then I guess you're going to be okay. What was the last thing you remember?"

Marguerite frowned. "Wait a minute. Aren't I the one who should be asking you questions, and not the other way around?"

The other woman bit her lip from grinning outright. "Yes, of course. Ask away."

"Thank you." She paused, and then asked. "Where are we?"

"In my house." Veronica answered.

"Why am I here?"

"Jerome brought you in after that incident at the chapel, just like what was indicated in the plan I gave to both of you."

Marguerite sat up so quickly that the act left her breathless and quite dizzy. "The chapel," she whispered. "Oh my God—"

"Marguerite, please," Veronica stood up and tried to push Marguerite back, but the latter was rigid and unheeding. She sighed, and then sat again. "You shouldn't move—"

"Veronica," Marguerite said as she turned her eyes on her. "You have to tell me what happened after…"

When she said nothing after that, Veronica took it as a sign that she should start speaking. "Very well," she started. "Jerome brought you here yesterday, quite bloody from the wound you received at your head. You have several burns on your face, neck and hands, but none too severe; I've already placed some balms so you don't have to worry about them. It's a shame, really, that that wedding gown of yours is ruined. It was really beautiful." She pointed at something lying on the table. "The protective covering you placed on your body worked perfectly. You don't have any burns or wounds on your body." Veronica paused, and then said, "You were very fortunate to have stopped at the right moment and at the right spot, Marguerite. Jerome told me that if you were a little closer to the center aisle… it would have killed you. Even with the covering on, the impact of the explosion on your unprotected head would have killed you." Her voice fainted away into a mere whisper.

Marguerite stared at her, unblinking, her jaw set on tight. "I need to know…" Her face became distorted with quite a few conflicting emotions, none of which Veronica could understand or interpret. "I need to know what happened to the… Roxtons."

Veronica's face hardened at that. "Funny," she said. "They're the ones who should be dead by now, but by sheer luck they're among those who survived." She grimaced. "And we all thought revenge would be so sweet."

An almost imperceptible look of relief flashed on Marguerite's face, and she let out the breath she never knew she was holding back. "They're… alive?"

"Unfortunately." Veronica seemed to miss the expression on Marguerite's face, or if she did she never indicated any signs of noticing it. "I can't say the same for the others, though."

Marguerite slowly sank back to the bed. "How many died?"

"Fourteen." Veronica answered. "Those unfortunate enough to sit close to the bouquet that hid the bomb died outright. Some broke their necks when the impact threw them out of the chapel."

"Fourteen…" Marguerite repeated faintly.

"Fourteen." Veronica affirmed firmly. "But don't worry, most of those who died were very unpopular and have no families that would want to know what the hell happened to them."

"But the Roxtons," Marguerite said. "They lived. They would want to know what happened that day. They'd investigate—"

Veronica appeared to be nonchalant. "They won't have anything." She said. "Sir Challenger's a smart man; he's already dispatched everything that would link him to this whole incident. This would just pass as one of those events that happen before the coming war, a premonition of what could happen if the war erupts, if you will. The authorities would blame the revolutionaries for this, you'll see. You don't have to worry."

Marguerite nodded at that. Then, when everything seemed to be settled, she sat up once again, her face ashen and broken.

Veronica stifled the urge to chuckle. "Keep doing that and you'll end up looking like a 'Jack in the Box'." She mused.

But the humor was lost on the other woman. "Evelyn," she muttered as she gingerly moved to lift her feet off the bed. "I have to see her. Where is she?"

Veronica stood up. She placed her hands on Marguerite's shoulders. "You shouldn't get up," she said sternly. "You're too weak."

"But Evelyn, I have to see her!" Tears began to form on her eyes, tears of desperation, of regret, of relief. Her emotions were too complicated and too complex to decipher, and the confusion built within her just seemed too overwhelming to bear. "Veronica, you don't understand. I have to see her!" She seemed hysterical now.

"Not now, Marguerite!" Veronica said, her voice deepening to one that said she was beginning to tire from her patient's attitude. "You will see her. But not right now; not when you barely have enough strength to stand on your own feet."

"But is she alright?" Marguerite asked, always the mother that was worried for the safety of her child.

Veronica shook her head. "I haven't talked to Sir Challenger yet," she said, "But I'm sure Evelyn is alright."

*

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S NOT HERE?"

John never gave a damn about what the others thought of him, so why should he start now? He ignored the pointed gawks and look he received from those around him; all he knew was that he was frustrated and confused and now they're telling him that they have no record of a Marguerite Krux being admitted to the hospital? Surely there has to be some mistake. "She should be here. I was told she was here!"

The nurse stared back at him, her face never showing any amount of fear. Clearly she had faced hysterical patients before and knew how to handle them well. "Lord Roxton," she said in a placating tone, "I already told you that we have never admitted a person named Marguerite Krux. Now, if you would just like to step into my office—"

"Well, check again, damn it!" John seethed. He leaned heavily on the cane and ran fingers through his hair. His wounds and burns began to throb like hell. "She has to be here. I was told she was here!"

"If you please, Lord Roxton, I would want you to see for yourself the list of patients we have admitted yesterday. We don't have her on that list. She was never brought here."

"Fine," John said. "Give me that bloody list."

The nurse seemed to leave him in great relief. John closed his eyes and cursed, not knowing how to handle the situation, not knowing how to break the news to his brother and mother. Surely they are anticipating the news of Marguerite's well-being, but how in hell was he supposed to tell them that she wasn't here?

Maybe she's dead. Suddenly the dread he felt from this thought overpowered the one he felt from learning of her absence. John ran his hand through his hair once again. Maybe she died. Or maybe she was just sent to another… damn it, I'll have to comb through every single hospital to find her—

"Here you are," The nurse was back and now she was handing him a list. "Please go and check for yourself."

John glared at the nurse, and at this she seem to have finally felt the need to fear him. He quickly yanked the list from her hands and scanned it. Countess Nicole Beaugrent, Count Miguel Beaubory, Lady Victoria Roxton, Lord William Roxton, Lord John Roxton, Lord Jerome Duncan, Countess Hilda Crant, Baron Richard Antel, Baroness Marie Pomfrey…

The nurse was right. There was no record of a Marguerite Krux. It was as though she had disappeared into thin air.

"Bloody hell," John cursed. He turned away from the nurse. Where are you, Marguerite? Where in hell are you?

Then he suddenly turned towards her again. A thought, an idea, finally formed in his brain. Perhaps he does have a chance to learn where she is… from the man who told her she was brought in here in the first place. "Lord Jerome Duncan," he spoke. "What room is he in? I have to see him."

The nurse nodded, and then checked. Then she raised her eyes to his. "He was in room 309. But I'm sorry to say this, Lord Roxton… Jerome Duncan already left this morning."

"WHAT?!" He exploded as the thought of his only hope evaporated as quickly as it came.

"His wounds were superficial and weren't too severe. His doctors treated it and he was sent home immediately after." Her tone now had a certain degree of trepidation in it.

John nodded at this, and tried to calm himself down. The poor nurse was beginning to have a nervous breakdown and it was all because of him. "Thank you," he said sullenly. "You have been of great help."

He was about to turn away when she called him. "I'm… I'm sure this isn't any of my business," she began, and John wondered what she was going to say. "But, Lord Roxton… is this Marguerite Krux your wife?"

The question surprised him beyond words. But when he answered, "No. She isn't. She's my brother's wife-to-be," the disappointment and the regret he felt at having said those words surprised him even more.

To be continued…

Torture is your business, your only business - Maloal

To those wonderful enough to review Chapter Thirteen:

LadySammyMRoxton – Aha! One day, when I'm going to be asked how on earth I get to have the biggest ego in the universe, I'll just tell them, "It's all LadySammyMRoxton's fault!" ;p Thank you for the kind words, my dear!

Galxychld – Thank you very much for the review! To be honest I love making John as adorable as he is in the series. And what type of woman in her right mind wouldn't want John Roxton going gaga over her? *grin* Marguerite's just so lucky!

Cara – I'm sorry if I'm making you confused over two Roxtons…. I know, who wouldn't be? They're such a breed of fine young men… *gets all dreamy-eyed* Ahem. ;p Anyways, thank you, thank you, thank you for the review!

Veggie5 – so much for my chants! To quote my Harry Potter fics, "those professors of yours are bloody insufferable gits!" Arrgggh! Oh well, there's always food… ;p Always heed my advice, for I am truly wise! (not to mention deluded!) I should be locked up at St. Mungo's! Oh-kay, enough HP references already!

Wishes – glad you enjoyed the massage! And thank you for the review!

TheChosenOne – Yup, the little girl is Evelyn. As for Challenger, well… as scary a thought he might be, he still is one nice thought to entertain! Heehee :) Thank you for the review! And thank you for the review of my 'Cry of the Blood' *mentally adds you to the growing list of those who want me dead for not finishing that*

Fab – Ah, I live to stimulate you with questions, my friend ;) I hope I'm satisfying your curiosity as we go along each chapter. Don't forget to leave me with your thoughts, too, I love hearing those ;)

Ariadne – Smart girl, one shouldn't trust a writer as twisted and deluded as I am. They always get readers into trouble… ;p I hope this chapter answered your question on what I did to Marguerite ;)

TLWROX – Your words delight me, my friend! They always do! Thank you so much! And me, kill William? Now why on earth would I do something like that? *bats eyelashes innocently* I have a heart of gold! I cannot do something like that… well, not much… ;p

AerinBrown – Then alive shall William be delivered to you. Woohoo! ;) Anyways, Challenger will get his punishment soon enough… just you wait… ;) Oh, I love it when I get all mysterious like this… ;p

KatAnn – You *so* do not want to see me doing my dance. The imagery will just haunt you for days! And yes, *drums fingers impatiently* still looking forward to your e-mail… but of course, I'll wait for it. Patiently. Oh, shoot patience! I want it now… pwease? Pwetty, pwetty pwease? *those sounded *so* wrong…*

AgentSteph – Ain't Roxton just the perfect guy? Devilishly handsome, good with guns and children… oh, why can't all men be like that? The injustices in this universe… ohhh! Anyways, if the 'to be continued' is killing you, wait till you see where this'll end… WAHAHAHA!!! ;p

Greggo's Girl – Well hello there! Thank you for the wonderful, wonderful review. And I hope this chapter explained *sorta* what on earth happened to Marguerite. And evil Challenger? Yes, that man can just be so deliciously evil… *evil snort* Anyways, hope you drop by again, okay? I'll be hunting you if you don't! Hehe, you should know that I am one deluded writer… just ask the others! ;0

Mags968 – Very glad you liked chapter thirteen. I'm wondering how many pages you've already printed out ;) And thank you for the great review!

Beckers – Oh, I'm responsible for Beckers turning blue! *lets out a horrified gasp* your fans will kill me! Oh no! *WEG* Anyways, thank you for reading and reviewing!

Smiley – Blame stupid ff.net for that! I've had this ready to be posted at the usual time, but they won't let me! Anyways, THANK YOU! You're just a wealth of nice things to say… I'm always looking forward to your reviews! So thanks… again!