"It's about time you get home—"

"I had things to take care of—"

"There's someone here to see you—"

"Send them away—"

"I don't think you want me to do that—"

"Amelia, for the love of—"

"Are you courting Lady Humbert?"

Sampson stared down at his wife, his lack of sleep suddenly lifted. He scoffed, "Don't tell me she's sent a challenger?"

"Nothing like that," Amelia began, crossing her arms, "Though I would appreciate a notification of you taking on a second wife."

"I do not need to notify you of anything."

"I'm only saying I would appreciate the sentiment."

"And I would appreciate you not bringing home the scents of random men. But we can't all have what we want, can we darling?"

Amelia pursed her lips, "If my husband paid attention to his wife's needs then perhaps such a thing wouldn't—"

He grabbed her by the neck, his eyes far from kind.

Amelia only laughed, "You accuse me, when you come home smelling like a human—"

He let her go and she stumbled, slightly hitting the wall, which she used to regain her balance. "Fine," she spat, "I'll send them away."

"Do it quickly."

Amelia watched as he climbed up the stairs, before turning back to the parlor, where Lady Evans was waiting.

"I apologize. My husband is being most unreasonable."

"Quite the opposite," Beatrix eased, "It is I who have become a burden so early into the night."

"Not at all," Amelia smiled amicably, "It seems work was difficult. I swear that man has manners like an ape."

Beatrix laughed, "Not at all. I understand, and I apologize for imposing."

"You are always welcome here. I will let Marcellus know you stopped by."

She nodded, smiling, "I do hope you'll come, regardless."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, Beatrix."

"I can see myself out."

"No please," Amelia smiled, "Allow me."

…

News of what had occurred did not go without its share of gossip. Which was rather fortunate, because if the truth had been revealed instead it would have been quite a mess to clean up.

It was the only thing anyone seemed to be talking about, at Beatrix's gathering. It was a rather small affair, compared to the grandiose balls her father enjoyed giving, but regardless, the young prince was absent.

"Perhaps he's in mourning," Henrietta drawled, bringing a champagne glass to her lips.

"Do not act so vulgar."

"He'll arrive in time," Henrietta encouraged, "You invited him, after all."

Beatrix folded her hands over her skirt, "I'm afraid that does not mean very much at all."

"What are you saying?"

"The King. He's shown favor to Cordelia."

Henrietta scoffed, "As if you'd lose the throne to that child."

"But she's the Demon King's—"

"She's a brat. For once in your life use your beauty to your advantage."

Beatrix said nothing, merely sighed and looked away, saying something about how Henrietta could never understand.

But she did understand. Far too well. She didn't have the chance to say anything, though, because The Sampson's arrived, just then, demanding the greetings of the hostess.

"So glad you could make it, Marcellus, Amelia." Beatrix greeted them both amicably.

"I don't believe we've met," Amelia extended her hand towards Henrietta, "Amelia Sampson."

Henrietta looked her up and down, before nodding her head humbly, tipping the champagne glass in her direction, "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"Lady Humbert," Sampson began, "How lovely to see you again."

"How I wish I could say the same," she smiled pleasantly, before walking away. It did not come without a scolding from Beatrix, but Henrietta was already halfway into the crowd.

For something described as a small gathering, there were still enough people to fill the entirety of the Evan's ballroom.

She simply couldn't be bothered.

With the arrival of Sampson she suddenly felt the need to disappear from the party entirely. This man was ruining every single one of her chances to secure a proper husband. Men she had previously wrapped around her finger now hesitated to indulge her.

She'd been marked.

Like cattle.

She retreated further into the house, having visited enough times to be comfortable, and, climbing up the various staircases, made it out to the veranda which overlooked the Evan's estate.

But she was not alone.

Karlheinz had always been the sort of man she disliked the most. Dull, with no backbone. How long had he been here? No one had announced his arrival. It was driving Beatrix mad with the worry. He truly was a man with no concern for anyone but himself. Nothing but a boy.

Yet, even still, he was the future king.

"My lord," she bowed her head humbly, "Forgive me, I was merely looking to get some air."

"It's a lovely view," he said somberly, "I don't think I will ever tire of it."

"My lord," she said, "If I may. If you speak to no one else, then at least to Lady Evans. She fears she's offended you."

He glanced over at her, as though finally realizing who he was talking to. "Oh, Lady Humbert…" his gaze fell back onto the gardens, "No…no I am not offended."

"She worries her timing was insensitive. But the fate of…nothing was known, before the party was arranged."

"Yes, naturally…no one could have imagined…"

She pursed her lips to keep from saying anything that might get her exiled. "My lord, if I could be so bold—"

"Henrietta!" The french doors burst open, Beatrix coming in with the look of a mother scolding her children. "I've been looking everywhere! You must go apologize, you conducted yourself in—"

She stopped, upon seeing Karlheinz, her head dropping in a low bow, "Your Grace. Forgive me for speaking in such a way in your presence."

"Lady Evans," Karlheinz gave a shadow of a smile, shaking his head, "No, it is my own fault. I should have announced my arrival."

"No, I—it was very inconsiderate of me, to have a ball—"

"The blame could never be put on you, Lady Evans."

Henrietta watched silently as Beatrix and Karlheinz engaged in what seemed to be a battle of apologies. While she didn't care much for it, she supposed Beatrix deserved at least that much. So she slipped through the doors of the veranda, closing them shut as softly as she could manage. The key was always left in the door, and so she turned it, locking the pair outside.

She pulled the key out slowly, taking a glance around and then setting it by one of the tables that rested beside the french doors. The very least she could do was buy her friend some time alone with the young prince.

"How very deceptive of you, Lady Humbert."

She gasped to hold in her scream. If nothing else because surely Beatrix and Karlheinz would go to see what the matter was.

"You—!"

He held up his hands defensively, before silently pressing a single gloved finger to his lips. "I shan't disturb them."

She pursed her lips, looking upon him with disdain, before pushing past him.

"Lady Humbert—"

"I have nothing to say to you."

"How cold. I was merely going to ask how you found the Young Lord to be. I've been quite worried about his health."

Henrietta paused for a moment, looking him up and down. "He is as he has always been." She began, hesitantly.

He hummed at that, "Wide eyed and hopeful?"

"Weak." She spat.

Sampson couldn't help but chuckle at that, grin growing wide on his face. "Tell me, Henrietta. Of all the gentleman you've charmed, why not Karlheinz? Surely, you saw how enamored he was. It can't be out of loyalty to Beatrix alone."

Though they were no longer in front of the doors, from where Henrietta stood she could still see Beatrix and Karlheinz conversing out on the patio.

"The human girl…" she began, still looking at the young prince, "Karlheinz wouldn't have killed her. It had to have been you." She slowly moved her gaze over to Charles, accusation resting on her tongue.

He smiled in a way that was more genuine than Henrietta would have liked. "You truly infuriate me beyond all reason."

She merely shrugged, continuing on down the hall, "Then leave me in peace."

"I wish to kiss you again," he called after her, "If the lady would permit."

She clenched her jaw, biting back the need to growl, "If you wish only to bed me, Sir Sampson then I'm afraid you'll have to marry me."

He was right beside her, in a way that was almost frightening, grabbing her by the arm. "Then marry me."

She pulled away, eyes wide and gasp threatening to part her lips, "You're truly mad!"

He grabbed her by the arm again, and she brought up her other hand to try and stop him, but he simply grabbed that one too, pulling him to her while she turned her face away to evade a kiss.

"Sir Sampson, please—"

"I can't understand you—"

"Please," her voice trembled, her face still turned away, "When we're like this—when I'm with you—" slowly, she looked up, tears lining her eyes, "I won't maintain my purity."

Something snapped in him, feeling the sudden need to bite the woman on the neck, to draw out the fear that hid behind her eyes. But he held himself, bringing his hands up to her face. "Henrietta—"

A cackle rose from her throat as she pulled away, since he now longer had a solid hold on her, Henrietta reaching into the fold of her dress to pull out her fan. "Did you believe me? Perhaps you're more of a fool than Karlheinz."

Sampson narrowed his eyes, damn near growling.

"How boring," she sighed, slowly waving her fan in lament, "I was hoping for something more exciting from you, Sir Sampson."

In a moment she was up against the wall, crushed beneath his weight, her wrists on either side of her face.

"Don't underestimate a man like me, Lady Humbert."

"Then do not test a lady like me, Sir Sampson."

"If I took you now I wonder what you'd do," a crazed smile lined his lips, "No one would want you. Not even as a second wife. Then what would happen, Henrietta?"

"As if I would allow you to rob me of everything. People would come. Do you think I wouldn't scream?"

"On the contrary my dear," he released her wrist so that he could grab her chin, forcing her face to his, "I'd make quite sure that you do."

She raised her hand to hit him again, but he caught her by the arm, leaning in to kiss her regardless, and with her fan still resting in her palm she flicked her wrist, allowing the silk to spiral down, blocking his face.

"I am still a lady of dignity."

He seemed shocked, at least, but with how quickly he recovered one wouldn't know he faltered to begin with. "Then I will strip you of it."

"Denied."

He scoffed, "Denied?"

"Go back to your wife."

"She's right here, before my very eyes. If she were only to remove the fan, so that I could gaze upon her beautiful face."

At this, Henrietta couldn't help but laugh, in a way so genuine, that she dropped her fan, and relaxed in his hold. Sampson eyed her curiously. Henrietta merely smiled at him, motioning to the ground with her eyes.

"Won't you pick that up for me? You are a gentleman, are you not?"

Hesitating slightly, he looked at her, before collecting himself, resting on one knee while he offered it to her.

"Your fan, My Lady."

She smiled, taking it from him, commenting on the fact that the floor suited him.

He scoffed, slowly rising to his feet once more.

"You are charming," she admitted, rolling the fan over in her hands, "I can see why so many ladies swoon at your feet."

He smirked, "Is that your declaration of love, my lady?"

Henrietta scoffed with a shake of her head, as she began heading down the hall once more. She allowed him to fall into step with her. "This has all been very amusing," she looked at him while she talked, "But it goes without saying that we don't have any genuine interest in each other."

He hummed, "Perhaps that is precisely what makes it amusing."

"I am asking you to stop."

"And I am telling you no."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Because I am not as insincere as you wish me to be, Lady Humbert."

She sighed, revealing how tired she was, "I will never be your wife. Please stop wasting our time."

"Very well." He stopped abruptly, causing her to halt her steps as well.

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you wish for it, then I will humbly withdraw myself from the race to your heart." He gave a formal bow, with his hand over his chest, his other arm spreading out, parallel to the floor.

Henrietta stood frozen, slightly incredulous. "As simple as that?"

He glanced up from his pose, "As simple as that."

She hummed, still not believing him, but accepting it nonetheless. "If that's so then do stop telling others I'm being courted by you. I'm becoming so dreadfully lonely without my men to comfort me."

"Naturally."

She clicked her tongue; he was mocking her again. Her nose scrunched up in distaste. "Will you do all I ask of you?"

"That and more," he said it so sweetly she almost gagged, "There are few things that surpass my limitations."

She smiled, "Kill your wife. And then I will marry you."

He looked upon her with kind eyes. "Are you asking me in earnest?"

"Sir Sampson!" She cracked, shaking her fan at him, "I refuse to believe that you are so far gone!"

He leaned into her, "Please, call me Charles."

"Absolutely not—"

"Will you call for me, my lady?" He reached for her hand, pressing the back of her palm to his lips.

"Enough!" She yanked her hand away, "Stay away from me! I have no interest in conversing with the demented!"

"How cruel."

"You are the only cruel one, torturing me in such a way—"

"When will you admit that you are flattered—"

"You are confusing flattery with irritation."

He chuckled, and it was enough for her features to relax slightly. "You're correct, Lady Humbert," he put his hands in his pockets, smiling as he turned to her, "This is, in fact, very amusing."

She eyed him suspiciously, "…I'm glad you agree."

"My name is Charles Marcellus Sampson. I was born to a Vibora mother and a Vampire father." He said suddenly, looking at her in a way that made her breath catch in her corset.

"What are you doing?"

"I am reintroducing myself, my lady. In hopes of beginning a new friendship."

"I have no interest in being your friend."

"Oh? You should have said so, Lady Humbert. There are quite a few empty rooms we could have taken advantage of." He motioned around the hall, as if to prove his point.

"Do not say such things while in the Evan's household!" She snapped coldly.

He gave a dry chuckle, cocking his head at her, "Will you not introduce yourself?"

She opened her mouth to speak but then quickly shut it. Taking in a large inhale, she collected herself. "We should return to the party, Sir Sampson. I'm sure your wife is looking for you."

She picked up her pace so that he couldn't say anything more, picking up her skirt as she flitted down the staircase, wanting nothing more than to get away.

"You'll fall," he warned from the top, "If you do not slow down."

"Perhaps," she called, "But then I'd reach the bottom all the faster." Flashing a smile of fangs, she disappeared around the base of the stairs, returning to the main ballroom.

The crowd was a warm welcome, Henrietta feeling as though she could finally breathe, trying to peer through and see if there was anyone she recognized. But something caught in her bracelet, a small screech accompanying the incident.

Purple locks were trapped under the golden charms of Henrietta's wrist. She scowled, tugging at the back of the child's corset and pulling her in. Cordelia screeched again.

"Let me go!"

"It's your unkept mane that has damaged my jewelry, you brat."

"It hurts!"

"Stay still," Henrietta, spat, trying to free herself from the long hair, "Or perhaps we'll simply cut it—"

"You can't! I'm the—"

"Yes, yes, little one, I know who your father is."

"I'm not little. I'm the future Queen."

Henrietta snorted at that, finally freeing her wrist and shaking it in satisfaction. "The day you become Queen is the day I'll become a Sampson."

Cordelia made a face, scowling at the older woman, "What are you talking about?"

Henrietta sneered, turning, "It's none of your concern," she waved her away, "Do something about that disgusting hair of yours."

She continued on through the crowd, feeling more than just exhausted. Finding a free seat on one of the many couches lining the room, she collapsed, letting out a long sigh. Of all the people to meet at a party, it had to be Sir Sampson and that child. She didn't know how much more of this she could endure. Carefully looking over the charms of her golden bracelet, she made sure nothing had come loose. She pulled off a few of the stray purple hairs that were still caught between the intricate chains.

There was a large ruffling of skirts, someone joining her on the couch.

"Henrietta, isn't that right?"

She made to stand.

"Wait," Amelia reached out for her, "Please stay."

"I'm—"

"I want us to get along," Amelia explained, "Should Marcellus decide—"

"Fear not Amelia," Henrietta drawled, "I won't be taking your precious husband from you."

"I have no such concerns. If anything I'd be glad. He's never home. It's quite lonely in such a large house."

Henrietta smiled, "Perhaps you should acquire a cat."

Amelia said nothing, her expression blank. "I see why he's so drawn to you."

"Do not speak to me as if you know him or myself. I've refused your insolent husband enough times to lose track, and my humblest apologies, but I have no interest in befriending a woman who's loyalties do not rest with those of her husband. You first borns have everything handed to you on a silver platter and then cry because it is not gold."

Henrietta got up, refuse to say or listen to anything else. She'd apologize to Beatrix later, and gather her belongings the next night. For now, she had to leave. Because, she knew, staying at this party any longer would surely render her insane.

A/N: Ahhh I kinda really like this chapter? Sampson is everything you guys. Also, if you followed Masks, I had some art done for it which you can find on my tumblr! Reina has finally been brought to life! :D

Guest: I know Karlheinz is still just a baby boy. Poor thing he needs to get a handle on reality lol. Omg I'm so glad you do I personally love it also "tie me up and call me Henrietta" is most definitely a thing now lmao I'm so in love with this phrasing! Ooooh a gentle savage~ Don't put ideas in my head, that's such a lovely image! Thank you for your reviews as always! Big hugs :)