The following morning, with a drizzle of rain slicking the London streets, Adelaide arrived outside the townhouse belonging to the Greens. It sat on the outskirts of Fulham, in a less affluent neighborhood to the Gilletts and the Colbornes. Still, the building was pretty and opulent in its own way, with sandstone walls and a series of elegant balustrades all the way up the bright façade.

“I shall only be a moment, Rosemary,” Adelaide said, getting out of the carriage and making her way up to the front door. She knocked lightly on the pillar-box red surface. Prior to this, Leah had always come to the Colborne house. Even when dropping her at home, Adelaide had never set foot inside Leah’s house.

A moment later, a woman came to the door. “Hello there, Miss. How may I assist you?”

“I was wondering if I might speak with Miss Green,” Adelaide replied politely. The woman was in her mid-fifties, with a slight frame that reminded her of a sparrow.

“Oh… I’m very sorry to tell you, Miss, but Miss Leah is not at home.”

“Do you know when she might return?”

The woman shook her head. “She has gone to her aunt’s house in the countryside and has given no indication as to when she might return. Might I ask your name, Miss?”

“Lady Adelaide Colborne.”

The woman’s eyes brightened. “Ah, you are Miss Green’s acquaintance in Belgravia? Your father had some business with Mr. Green?”

“That is correct.”

“And you are acquainted with a Lord Gillett?”

Adelaide frowned. “I am.”

“There is a letter here, addressed to Lord Gillett. Miss Green instructed that it be sent with the evening post. However, seeing as you are here, might you place it in the hand of Lord Gillett?”

“Certainly.” Adelaide paused for a moment. “And you are sure that Miss Green did not give any sort of directive regarding her return to London?”

“I am sorry, My Lady. She did not.”

“Very well. Might you have a forwarding address where I might send correspondence? I can ensure that Lord Gillett receives the same information.”

The woman nodded. “Of course, My Lady. I will have it written on a card for you, so you may know how to reach her.”

“Thank you.”

The woman turned and disappeared inside the house, before returning with a small square of cream card and a folded letter with Miss Green’s stamp on the back. It was a rich emerald shade, unusual to find in wax sealant. Adelaide admired the color as she took the items.

“Please, send my warmest regards to Miss Green upon her return,” Adelaide urged. “We shall be sorry to miss her company at the Colborne residence, for the season is almost at an end and we shall soon disperse to the countryside. Indeed, she will be most welcome at Kiveton Hall when the cold weather sets in.”

“I’m certain she’ll be delighted to hear such kind words, My Lady.”

Offering a polite farewell, Adelaide turned and made her way back to the waiting carriage. The driver held open the door before returning to his box. Inside, Rosemary had fallen asleep upon the squabs and Adelaide did not have the heart to rouse her. Presently, the driver snapped the reins, setting them on a course for Belgravia.

Once safely inside the Colborne residence, Adelaide retreated to the library. Her father remained in a sickly state, keeping to his rooms to shift the last of his cold, whilst her mother spent a great deal of her time out of doors. The afternoon tea they had enjoyed the other day appeared to have reignited the friendship between Lady Leeds and Lady Phyllis, and the pair had been inseparable ever since. It cheered Adelaide, to see her mother so engaged in lighthearted activities. Still, she could not help but feel a touch lonely as she padded into the library and sat down in the farthest armchair. It was her favorite, offering a fine view of the gardens and the willow she loved so much.

In her lap, she held the address card and the letter from Leah. The first had been written in a rushed hand: Elm Bank Cottage, Rufford, Lancashire. Meanwhile, the second had been written in a slow, deliberate style that moved effortlessly across the vellum.

Do not even contemplate it, Adelaide chided herself. And yet, she could hardly resist the temptation of looking within. After everything she had seen and heard, she felt she owed it to Jasper to take a first peek. If it was bad news, she reasoned she would rather tell him herself than have him read it in a faceless letter.

For the better part of half-an-hour, the letter sat on a small table by the garden door. Adelaide did not touch it. She drank tea and ate a lemon cake, her eyes constantly fixed on the sealed square of paper. No matter where she stood in the room, it called to her. Indeed, her attempt to read a book failed miserably, for she could not concentrate beyond a single line.

“This is hopeless,” she muttered, to no one at all. Perhaps, if I were to read it first, I could help Jasper to decipher the words within. I can reconstitute them so that they might make sense to him. Their last conversation left him so confused.

Another ten minutes passed by, until Adelaide could not abide it any longer. Striding over to the letter, she turned it over and peeled away the seal. With her heart pounding, she sat down in the armchair and unfolded the letter. A full page of elegant penmanship greeted her. However, it did not take long to realize that the contents were not so pleasing to the eye:

Dear Lord Gillett,

It is with a heavy heart that I am writing to you. Indeed, I never thought I should find myself in such a position as this. You see, dear heart, I have admired you since the moment I laid eyes upon you. I thought you charming and amusing and endlessly kind. However, your kindness does not seem to extend to me. You show it to those around you, yet I am exempt. Perhaps, I have simply misunderstood you. Perhaps, you are shy, as Lady Adelaide has alluded. I do not know.

However, the truth of the matter is this—I cannot wait upon uncertainty any longer. Familial pressures prevent me from entertaining a prospect that may never materialize into anything else. I know I shall seem cold and unforgiving, but that is what it means to be a lady in this world. We cannot wait upon empty promises and futile hopes. I must seek security, or risk the future legacy of my family. I now know that this is something you cannot offer me. If you could, you would have already done so.

And so, with reluctance, this is the last letter you shall ever receive from me. You have broken my heart, whether you intended to or not. I do not believe I shall ever be able to look upon you again, without having those feelings reignited in the most terrible way. I do not wish to be sour with you, but I believe it is my duty to inform you of the wrongs you have done. You led me to understand that you felt affection for me. You led me to dream that something more might blossom between us. Indeed, you even sent your little pet to feed those thoughts into my mind.

You have behaved most cruelly, Lord Gillett. I shall find it difficult to forget. Although, I shall find it far more difficult to forget you. I thought you were different to the other gentlemen in this harsh city. I thought you might prove to be a beacon amongst the storm. Now, I see that you are entirely the same, merely packaged in a prettier-speaking parcel.

Please, do not seek to correspond with me, as I do not wish to hear from you. If I desire your company again, it shall be upon my stipulations. Until that day arrives—if it should arrive at all—I ask that you dwell upon all I have said, in the hopes that you may learn from your mistakes.

I might also add that your friendship with Lady Adelaide is insulting and unnatural, especially when you behave in a romantic fashion towards other ladies. Nobody enjoys the feeling of playing second violin to someone so woefully outspoken and inferior in character. You ought to remedy that, above all else.

I wish you well.

With Regards,

Miss Leah Green

She had left no forwarding address, though she clearly had not instructed her maid to keep it private. Adelaide held both the letter and Leah’s location in her trembling hands. Anger and sadness coursed through her veins, snaking around her heart and squeezing tight. Jasper did not deserve this sort of affront. He had done nothing to offend, other than keep his emotions under the correct amount of restraint.

He is different, you foolish girl. It is his difference that prevented him from wooing you in a manner that would have damaged your reputation. He abided by the rules of propriety, and you punish him for it? I think not, Miss Green. You do not know what you have cast aside, for Jasper is the sweetest of gentlemen. He may taunt and tease and chide, but his heart is golden beneath it all.

For several minutes, she sat in a state of shock and despair. Fury rippled through her, setting her nerves on edge. She could hardly believe the audacity of Leah, to speak in such a cold and outlandish manner to a man who had shown nothing but courtesy and affection. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to tear the letter up and toss it into the fire.

“You ungrateful sow,” she spat aloud. “He might have made you his queen, had you shown some restraint of your own. What else was he supposed to say when you backed him into a corner like that? He is shy, you dolt. He does not understand women.”

Adelaide was stunned by her own disdain for the girl. Nobody knew of familial expectation better than her. She was engaged to a known scoundrel for the very same reason—to protect her family’s future, as there was no son to take her father’s titles when he died. She understood the pressures. She understood the necessity. And yet, she could not shake the enraged knowledge that Leah had made a terrible mistake.

You might have been one of the fortunate ones, but you have settled for an inferior gentleman, she thought furiously. You have settled for Lord Alastair McGillivray—I would bet my life on it. A safer wager.

Now, the stark fact remained… what was she going to tell Jasper? She knew she could never bring herself to inform him of every detail within the letter. It would wound him too deeply. Despite their misgivings, he was her dearest friend. Her only friend, now that Leah had vanished into the countryside.

No, I cannot tell him the truth.

She got up and let herself out of the garden door. A drizzle of rain continued to fall, casting a fine mist down upon her hair as she headed for the safety of the willow. Beneath it, she perched on the bench and allowed the cool air to sink into her lungs. This was the best medicine for clearing her mind. Under the willow’s fronds, she could think more clearly. It had always been so.

As far as she could tell, two options diverged before her. She could confess to what she had done and let Jasper read the letter, or she could hide it from him and pretend that Leah had disappeared without a trace. The latter seemed tempting, but it provided several hurdles. If Jasper felt as though the relationship might be salvaged, he would go in search of her. That could only end in disaster. However, she had already decided that the first avenue was not possible—she would not do that to him.

So, what in heaven’s name do I do?

The idea came to her as she stared at the page one last time. Words came drifting back—the ones she had spoken on the front steps of the Green residence. The season would soon be over, and everyone would be returning to their countryside homes. Jasper would return to Oakwell Hall, while the Colbornes would go back to Kiveton Hall.

Jasper and Miss Green never encountered one another outside the London season. Adelaide saw no reason for them to start now, not if she could fabricate a reason to keep Jasper away. A means of letting him down gently instead of crushing his soul with the contents of the letter.

I shall write a letter. I shall offer affection and kindness, that may ease Jasper into the prospect of a life without Miss Green. Yes… I will plan it over the course of this coming fortnight; the last before we all depart.

With Leah safely in London, as soon as she returned from Lancashire, there would be no way that either of them could ever discover the truth. Leah had made her feelings clear. She did not want to see Jasper ever again. Besides, Adelaide was certain that her friend would come back to London with an engagement to announce. A man like Alastair McGillivray could not tarry at his age.

Cheered by the idea, she rose from the bench and ducked beneath the fronds of the willow tree. Hurrying towards the house, she grasped paper, quill, and ink from one of the library shelves before settling down to write. It could not wait, for she knew poor Jasper was already in torment. He had departed the Colborne house in a dark cloud of despair the previous afternoon. Now, she would create something to brighten his mood.

The only trouble was, she did not know what to say. In all her life, she had never written a romantic note, nor had she received one. Reuben’s attempts could not be described as poetic or quixotic. His were far more brusque and often bordering on indiscreet.

I suppose I shall have to be honest, she mused. I shall have to think of him as an admirer might. Indeed, I must make a list of his most excellent qualities and play upon them.

She did just that, writing a small list of his merits and virtues. Kindness, generosity, warmth, humor, graciousness, strength, propriety, and good-heartedness. It proved rather tricky to think of him in a romantic light, for he had always been her friend and nothing more. Having never experienced love herself, she did not know how she ought to express such feeling.

Pressing the nib of her quill to the paper, she found her instincts took over. Before she knew what was happening, the ink danced across the page, spilling out a series of emotions that did not feel as if they had come from her. Every dream and fantasy she had endured in her life, she poured onto the cream vellum.

From my imagination to yours, dear Jasper, she thought, as she lost herself entirely to the task at hand.