Adam knew that he could not long abide the company of Sir Toby Mornington, and was doing his best to avoid any obligation to interact with the young man.

That should not have been difficult. After all, Sir Toby made no effort to conceal the fact that he had come to Lawley Hall because he hoped that his uncle might make him his heir. However, it seemed that his triumph could not be complete unless he had forced Adam to witness every cruel, foolish moment of it.

“I am so glad to see that you have returned from your travels, cousin,” he kept saying. “When do you think that you shall go back? There is some living to be had in those parts, I believe, as a tutor of the English language. Yes, I believe that a respectable sum of some hundred pounds a year is common enough for a good tutor. You may not get that much at first, of course, but with time I am sure that you will be able to earn such a sum. It is enough to rent a room, I should warrant. I have no doubts that you will be quite comfortable, particularly if you choose a pleasant climate in which to pursue your profession.”

“I should be quite happy to live in such a fashion,” Adam responded readily. He could see that Sir Toby was wrong-footed by this declaration, and relished the sight immensely.

“I am delighted to hear it,” Sir Toby sneered. “You were always quite the scholar. Indeed, I confess that I have always thought that your talents would be quite wasted as a Duke. I believe that you have a gift for instruction of others on scholastic matters, and it would be a great pity indeed to see that gift squandered.”

“Indeed,” Adam replied. He knew that his cousin was doing everything in his power to awaken Adam’s anger, and he was determined to play no part in it. “I believe that one should use whatever natural gifts are available to one.”

What he did not say aloud, but what filled his heart, was that a single rented room in a foreign city truly did not sound so dreadful, so long as he could be with the one whose company he craved above all other things.

For a second or two a pleasant daydream emerged of what it might be like to walk through the streets of Paris or Rome, hand in hand with Miss Miller, enjoying her observations on every little thing and offering a few of his own in response, allowing the sun to warm them through, allowing themselves to forget all of the cares that lay behind them in a little village in England.

He was snapped out of the daydream, however, when his cousin made a little sneering noise as if to rouse him.

“Well, Adam, you look mightily pleased by the notion,” Sir Toby said, his lip curling. “It seems that the situation may resolve itself in a way that suits every party capitally. Apart from the dead lady and her child, of course.”

At this Adam actually took a step toward his cousin, his arm filling with heat at the desire to strike the man down, to give him what he deserved for the cruel and flippant thing he had just said.

But he managed to control himself. Instead he drew in a shallow breath and said in a restrained voice.

“I do not believe that you meant for your words to seem like a jest, cousin, for I am quite certain that you do not hold the lives of Miss Warwick and her son lightly merely because they were poor and obscure. That would be beneath you, and therefore I will not believe it of you.”

Sir Toby colored the way that he always did when he had drunk too much, and said between lips that barely parted from their frozen smirk, “Naturally, cousin. You do me great credit in reading my motives with such honesty.”

“Of course, cousin,” Adam said coolly. “I have many faults, but I hope that I will not echo my father’s mistake of believing the worst of my own flesh and blood. And, if I may take the liberty of making myself plain, he has indeed made a mistake. I believe the matter shall be set right before very long.”

“That would be the most desirable outcome, of course.”

They rode to the village together. Adam had not wanted to go with Sir Toby in the least, but Sir Toby had invented some errand that required him to go into the village, and he asked Adam to show him the way.

Adam was far too courteous to refuse a direct request from anyone, but he hated the idea of being seen with his cousin, hated the thought that others might believe him to be on good terms with such a man — or, worse yet, to have conceded his own place as his father’s heir to Sir Toby and to be content with the exchange.

He cursed the presence of Sir Toby. There was a mystery to resolve — the mystery of the little scrap of black cloth that had been found in little Freddie’s clenched fist. Yet instead of being able to pursue the matter, Adam was finding himself forced to entertain a man whom he wholly despised.

They rode primarily in silence. Sir Toby occasionally made disparaging remarks about this or that, remarking on how the countryside in this part of the world was far inferior to that in the vicinity of his own home.

“But I am sure that I shall learn to like it well enough when I am better acquainted with it,” he added hastily, his voice dripping with cruel implication.

Adam merely nodded. He knew that it was all an act, For one thing, the landscape where Sir Toby lived, only thirty miles off, was different from the lands around Lawley Hall in almost no way at all. Sir Toby was only trying to anger him, only trying to provoke a reaction, and he was determined not to give it.

He responded to Sir Toby’s observations only in disinterested grunts and was doing an admirable job of pretending that he was somewhere else until they rounded a bend in the road and saw two women walking down it, carrying heavy burdens, struggling under the weight of some great sacks.

They were both dressed for hard labour but were too far off to see their faces. However, Adam was certain that the older and shorter of the two was Mrs. Warwick — he could recognize her from her bearing.

“Oh, hello,” Sir Toby said, his eyes alighting on the figures in the lane. “Here is some sport. A local crone and her daughter, is it?”

“A respected woman in these parts,” Adam said coolly in response. It was true. Even those who would generally behave with roughness and disrespect would always remove their caps respectfully at the sight of Mrs. Warwick. It would be difficult to say whether this respect rose primarily from fear — very likely it did. Nonetheless, it had always served the old woman well.

“Respected but not respectable, no doubt,” Sir Toby said, urging his horse a little faster so that they might gain on the two figures in the lane. “I cannot imagine that a woman like that is part of any good society.”

Adam said nothing. He was looking at the other figure, who he could tell from her form and her bearing to be younger than Mrs. Warwick, though the particulars of her person were concealed by a large and heavy shawl.

Perhaps it was a local maid. There was no particular reason why Adam ought to have seen her before, and yet even from a distance he was sure there was something in her manner that he recognized.

He was certain that she was familiar, yet he could not say where he had seen her before, and she was too far away to make out her countenance.

“Well, why should we not greet them?” Sir Toby asked tauntingly. He urged his horse into a canter, riding alongside the two women in a mess of muddy puddles and flowing rainwater.

As well might happen, the dirty water splattered everywhere, and even from a distance, Adam could hear the two women exclaiming at the sudden sensation of being doused in icy water.

“Toby!” he shouted out in fury, enraged at the sight. He could not see his cousin’s face, but he could well imagine the look of complacent cruelty that currently occupied it.

He wanted to hasten after his cousin and chastise him roundly for his behavior, but he had no wish to inadvertently repeat the offense. He rode up as quickly as he could, carefully avoiding the many puddles and making haste to lift his top hat to the two women and greet them with a courteous, ‘Good morning’.

He scarcely wished to look them in the eye, so ashamed was he of his companion’s behavior.

But when he did look down, when he made eye contact with the two women, he actually gasped aloud.

There, swaddled in a thick shawl and cap, and looking much like any serving maid, was Miss Miller.

The first thing that struck him — the first thing that always struck him, even in a situation such as this — was her beauty. The chill of the day had brought the roses to her cheeks, and there was something in her lovely complexion that had taken on an extra brightness and clarity.

She looked quite different than the way she had the last time he had seen her. More tired, perhaps, but somehow more alive too - seemingly unconcerned by what others might think of her, walking freely. Her eyes, which he had not thought could possibly get any brighter, shone like a pair of polished jets.

However, at the present moment, another look occupied her face — one of distress and anger at the humiliation that his cousin had just inflicted upon her.

Mrs. Warwick was looking up at him too, with a look of calm assessment. What are you going to do? Her face seemed to say.

“Ladies,” he said, almost choking out the word in his horror and distress, “Ladies, I am more sorry at my companion’s behavior than I can possibly express.”

Sir Toby had halted his horse a little way off and was sitting astride his mount, looking at the three of them with such an expression of amused contempt that Adam’s very blood began to boil.

“Come now, cousin,” Sir Toby called out. “Do not distress yourself. I’m sure they’re very good sorts of women, but no doubt they’re more than used to a bit of dirt.”

His eyes came to rest on Charity.

“My apologies, lovely maiden,” he said, sweeping off his hat in an exaggerated gesture and smiling lasciviously at her. “I should never have splashed you if I had known that you were such a pretty wench. Kindly take me to your abode, and I shall do everything in my power to make amends to you.”

The suggestion dripping from his voice made his vile, bawdy meaning abundantly clear.

Adam was not entirely conscious of what he did next. He did not precisely mean to dismount his own horse, nor did he recall making the decision to stride up to Sir Toby’s with such menace that the creature shied away forcefully, almost unseating its rider.

He did not precisely know what he was doing when he seized Sir Toby by the ankle. Given that he had already been forced out of the saddle by the sudden motion of his mount, it did not take a great deal of exertion to bring Sir Toby tumbling to the ground.

He lay in the mud, his white breeches quite covered in filth, his hat askew. He blinked up stupidly at Adam as if he had no idea what had just happened.

“I say, my good fellow,” he said, in a strangely mild response. “It was only a bit of amusement. I am quite sure that the little strumpet does not mind in the least. These country girls have quite the sense of humor, and I am quite sure that she has heard much worse from plenty of men.”

It was at this point that Adam struck his cousin.

The first blow clearly left him dazed. His nose began to bleed profusely, the abrupt scarlet of it blending with the mud that covered his countenance.

For a split second the two of them regarded each other, and then Sir Toby was on his feet.

“Is that how it is going to be, cousin?” he taunted. “You will lie down and allow me to take every scrap of your inheritance without so much as a word, but you will risk your reputation in public to defend the honor of some little wench? What fascinating priorities you have. Perhaps your father was entirely right about you. You seem to behave with all the recklessness of a madman.”

The mention of his father inflamed Adam afresh, and the second blow seemed to come out of nowhere.

In a sense, perhaps it was better that he should strike Sir Toby while the two of them were both on their feet. It had been unmanly of him to raise his fist to his cousin while he was still lying dazedly in the mud.

Still, there was plenty of time to redress the injustice now.

The second punch forced Sir Toby to take several steps back, and after the force of the impact had cleared away, his face twisted into a hideous expression, and he launched himself bodily toward Adam.

Adam was able to defend himself against the random blows of his uncoordinated cousin with relative ease, but the very sight of it was absurd to him.

“Stop this at once!”

The familiar voice rang out, catching Adam off-guard and off-balance. He whirled around to see Miss Miller regarding him with a look of such fierce disdain that he felt quite ashamed of himself.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked. Her hands were placed on her hips in the manner of a fishwife, but her tone was as refined and imperious as any he had heard her used before. Adam found her very beautiful at that moment, and not a little intimidating.

“He insulted you,” Adam said.

“As well he might,” Miss Miller replied. The disdain in her voice grew even stronger - Adam had hardly thought that such a feat was possible, but the evidence of it was in his very ears. “A foolish dolt like that may do whatever he wishes, and it is a far greater reflection on his own character than it should ever be on mine.”

Adam nodded in supplication. The moral authority in her voice made him feel ashamed.

“What I am asking you, however,” Miss Miller continued, “is why you have chosen to brawl in the lane in this unseemly fashion. Do you think that because your father wishes to strip you of your title that you are no longer obliged to behave in a manner befitting a gentleman? Are your manners and principles so easily discarded?”

“No indeed,” Adam replied. He took a step toward Miss Miller. “I was overcome by anger, it is true, but you have made me see that my behavior was unbecoming.”

“If you wish to duel me, then duel me, Harding,” Sir Toby called out from somewhere on the ground behind him. “I am more than equal to the prospect. Indeed I should relish it.”

Adam could only do his best to avoid rolling his eyes in disdain. It seemed remarkable to him that the fact his cousin was lying in a puddle of mud, tinged with his own blood, was not sufficient to discourage him.