XIII

"Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you."

—Ruth Bader Ginsburg

XIII.

Adam's eyes tore from Grace, whose mouth was still agape in shock, to the two ladies that had just been announced to the assembly. And there she was, standing at the entrance, her innocent eyes searching for him. Unbeknownst to Sarah, her fiancé had been about to realise a lifelong dream in the arms of another.

A thousand pounds of regret fell down upon Adam's head as he realised the magnitude of his actions. He had succumbed to his mother's pressure during the Season. He had finally engaged himself to someone she deemed worthy. When unbeknownst to him he would be reunited with Grace only a few months later. Only they were not reunited. He had beheld Grace for mere seconds, really, known her to have been honest and sincere in her affections for a brief moment before his obligations had caught up with him.

Upon returning his gaze to Grace, his beautiful, innocent Grace, he realised that she did not know the significance of the two ladies. She did not know the name of his fiancée. And he would have to break that to her and ruin this reunion in a mere flash.

But Grace was quicker than he had given her credit for, and upon seeing Lady Sarah and her mother being claimed by the duchess, the realisation was painted all over her face.

"Oh," she whispered, immediately putting distance between them, which Adam felt deep within his soul.

"You must promise that we will continue this discussion," Adam said under his breath, looking at Grace intently. "We must speak again."

Grace frowned helplessly. "What are you saying?" she asked, taking another step away from him. "She is who I think she is, is she not?"

Adam regretfully nodded. "Yes, but –"

"Then you must go to her," Grace instructed firmly, turning on her heel and darting away from him, back in the direction of her mother and sister.

Grace quickly disappeared into the crowd, and all Adam wanted was to go after her, but he knew he couldn't. He had meant what he said. They would speak again. He walked away as well, but in the direction of his own family, catching the eye of Lady Sarah almost immediately.

She smiled sweetly at him. It was the perfect adjective to describe her. Sarah was sweet. She reminded him of a mouse, with dainty, angular features. Her hair was a soft brown, and her eyes a dark green. She was average in height, standing at his shoulder, and her figure was draped in the latest high waisted fashions.

The daughter took after the mother almost exactly, though a few lines graced Lady Ashley's face to betray her age. She was a very elegant woman with excellent connections and had done everything in her power to put her sweet Sarah in the path of amiable gentlemen during the summer.

His own mother was beaming from ear to ear, heartily approving of their presence, which made him think that Cecily must have known they were coming. She had banknotes in her eyes now that they were come, and she could almost taste the twenty-five-thousand-pound dowry that was promised alongside Sarah.

As soon as Adam reached the party, Lady Ashley and Lady Sarah both curtseyed. He bowed his own head respectfully. "Lady Ashley, Lady Sarah, what a surprise. We had not expected you so soon," he murmured politely.

"The duchess wrote to hasten our arrival, milord," replied Lady Ashley. "She thought that Sarah would most enjoy the opportunity to stand up with you in front of your people."

"Was it a difficult journey, Lady Sarah?" Adam asked, turning his attention to Sarah.

"Oh no," replied Sarah, shaking her head. "I had not realised Hertfordshire was so near London in the grand scheme of things. You are quite fortunately situated. You must escape to town all the time."

Adam did not know if he would call thirty miles a quick journey, but he supposed it nearer than travelling to Newcastle. "Not as often as my mother would like," he replied with a small, dutiful smile.

Adam could sense her eyes, feeling her all the more powerfully now that they had realised his mother's probable cruelty. He longed to go back to her. Instead, he looked upon Cecily with hard, cold eyes, willing his mother to read his mind. He would be confronting her, make no mistake.

Cecily eyes narrowed at Adam's stare. "The music is not to my taste," she announced, "but the dancing has been quite animated. Adam, why don't you ask Lady Sarah to dance?" she urged.

Susanna was behind their mother, standing beside Peregrine. Her eyes were begging for news, having watched his display with Grace. He would not escape Susanna later.

At a loss, Adam lifted his arm. "Would you care to dance the next with me, Lady Sarah?" he asked.

Sarah gladly nodded, placing her gloved hand on his forearm. "I would be delighted," she agreed.

Adam hated the action immediately. He felt terribly guilty in an instant. Guilty for ever encouraging this union with Sarah, and guilty in knowing that he was hurting Grace again. Hurting her seemed like an unforgivable sin.

Hurting either of them was unforgivable, and Adam hated his mother in that moment.

"Are we a welcome surprise, milord?" Sarah asked tentatively, seeming to notice his cool mood.

Adam's head snapped down to hers, and he chastised himself, knowing that he had the heart of an innocent in his hands, and he needed to treat her with the kindness she deserved.

"I am glad to see you," he told her. Glad to be engaged, however, was another conversation to be had, and that time was not in the middle of an assembly hall.

***

When the music stopped, Adam noticed his brother out of the corner of his eye. Jack was standing away from the family party, so Adam excused himself to go and check on him.

Jack was not holding a drink but was merely standing on the edge of the hall, watching the scene before him.

"Are you well?" Adam asked him.

"I should ask you that, should I not?" he murmured. "I noticed your interlude with Grace. And that was before your fiancée waltzed into the assembly."

"Are you well, Jack?" Adam asked again, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Jack scoffed. "Of course," he muttered. "I am only bored."

Adam followed Jack's line of sight quickly, noticing then that his gaze was focused on Claire Denham, who was once again dancing with the gentleman that she had spurned Jack for.

"Do you know that man?" Adam asked him.

"His name is Arthur Slickson. Do not you remember him?" Jack answered all too quickly. "We were all in the school room together when we were little. Only he is not a boy anymore. She had danced with him three times."

The name he recognised, and he could not place it with the face he recalled.

"If you wish to, you could ask Miss Claire to dance again," Adam encouraged. "If it pleases you, Mother will hate it."

Jack chuckled at that. "No," he decided. "She didn't really want to dance with me anyway. The minute he asked for her hand, she leapt at the chance." He shook his head, before turning his attention to Adam. "What were you and Grace discussing so intensely?" he asked. "She looked quite distressed."

Before Adam could answer, he heard a yelp of pain from some twenty feet away. Mrs Denham had climbed to her feet and was suffering the pain of her leg injury. Grace and Kate were both trying to support her. The blacksmith, Mr Ellis, Kate's husband, had quickly come to his mother-in-law's aid and was helping her towards the door of the assembly hall. With her mother safely supported, an anxious Grace quickly went to fetch a devastated Claire away from Arthur Slickson. Mrs Denham struggled to walk, limping terribly, and the display, Adam could tell, was terribly embarrassing for her.

Much to his anger, he saw the sneer on his mother's face as she averted her eyes from Mrs Denham.

***

Adam's parents made it to midnight before they dutifully said their goodbyes to the few members of the parish whom they felt were high enough to speak to.

Cecily was a perfect hostess, riding in the carriage back to Ashwood House with Lady Ashley and Sarah, and personally showing them to their rooms when they arrived. Only after everyone had retired was Adam able to fish through his belongings for the very letter that he had so long believed Grace had sent him. He was certain that if he compared it to the others for long enough that he might be able to find slight differences in the handwriting.

Clutching the letter in his hand, Adam angrily made his way down the hall to his mother's bedroom. He knocked on the door twice, and he heard her beckon.

Cecily was sitting at her dressing table, pulling pins out of her hair. She frowned when she saw Adam. "Oh," she realised. "I thought you would be Naismith. But now that you are here, I really ought to tell you that you need to be more attentive to Sarah," she scolded. "You only danced with her once. Lady Ashley noticed that, I hope you realise."

Adam didn't hear a word she said as he slapped the letter down on her dressing table in front of her. Cecily jumped at the sound it made, before setting the last pin down on the table beside it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"You tell me, Mother," snapped Adam.

Cecily unfolded the letter and read it briefly, before discarding to the side. She then combed her fingers through her hair. "Why on earth would I want to read those silly love letters?" she muttered. Cecily had known of Adam's correspondence with Grace. He had received letters at his London home when he had been home on school holidays.

"That is not a love letter, Mother," said Adam icily. "That is the letter that Grace supposedly wrote me to end our understanding. Only Grace is not the one who wrote it."

Cecily said nothing as she leaned into her reflection, brushing something off of her face. "Really, Adam, I do not want to hear about that silly girl," she huffed. "It is highly inappropriate seeing as your fiancée is presently a guest at Ashwood."

"Did you write this letter?" Adam demanded to know.

"Stop it," snapped Cecily angrily. "It is late, and I am tired."

"Did you write this letter?" Adam pressed again. "You knew that no matter what happened, I would come back to Ashwood, and I would find her. You knew I loved her. You knew I would marry her one day. There was no changing my mind. So, you put a stop to it. You forged this letter. Tell me the truth!"

Cecily sucked in a sharp breath as she turned her torso and looked up at him. "Do you know, I have a good mind to sack her!" she exclaimed. "She is nothing but trouble. You can do so much better than her, Adam! Sarah is rich, she is titled, and she is a sweet girl! She will make you a wonderful wife! Why are you so blinded by an insignificant servant?"

Through clenched teeth, Adam said, "She is not, nor has she ever been, insignificant." His voice more of a growl now, he added, "I won't forgive you for this. You took her away from me, and I won't have you doing that again. Sarah is a sweet girl, but she isn't Grace. She is the only girl I will ever wed. That is a promise. That was my promise to her."

Cecily's eyes narrowed. "Do not threaten me, Adam. It will not end well. That is my promise."