Mary rushed down to the cottage early. She wanted to be sure she was ready for Mr. Turnbridge when he arrived. Her plan to drive a wedge between the teacher and Ada would surely work, but she would have to exert all her feminine wiles to carry it off.

As soon as she unlocked the front door and whisked herself inside, she headed straight for the bedroom. That was where it would all happen. She tossed aside her cloak and made quick work of the buttons of her uniform dress. She hated the unattractive, black thing, and was certain she looked a thousand times more beautiful in her chemise, corset and drawers. Although, on second thought, she could probably do without the corset too. She stripped that off, then draped herself across the bed.

She tried several different positions, biting her lip as she decided which one would be the most seductive. She’d settled on lying on her back, propped on her elbows, with her legs spread wide open, everything that mattered on display to whoever walked into the cottage’s main room, when there was a knock at the door.

“Hello?”

Mary gasped. It wasn’t the teacher. It was a woman.

“Hello?”

Worse still, it was Ada.

Mary didn’t wait. The second she heard the doorknob turn, she leapt off the bed and gathered all her clothes from the floor. Heart in her throat, she searched the small bedroom, desperate for anywhere to hide. There was plenty of space under the bed, but the closet seemed a much better option.

She lunged for the closet as the front door creaked open, shoving all her clothes inside, then leaping after them. As quietly as she could, she shut the closet door, held her breath, and waited.

“Hello?”

Ada stepped into the cottage with a puzzled frown. It was supposed to be locked. She searched the main room, but nothing seemed to be out of order. It looked exactly like it had the last time she’d come down to dust and straighten, by Mrs. Croydon’s special request. It was likely that the Croydons had snuck down to the cottage to enjoy an afternoon of privacy without her knowing about it, and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if they’d simply forgotten to lock the door behind them.

She let out a breath and shook her head. She was here for a reason, to sort things with Tad, and she needed to keep her wits about her to face that. Tad would be there any moment. She’d sent him a significant look in the servant’s quarters before slipping out. Fortunately, as painful as the conversation she was about to have would be, it would be short, and once it was done, she could focus on what mattered.

As soon as she heard footsteps approaching the cottage, she sucked in a breath and clasped a hand to her stomach. She turned away from the door, gathering her thoughts and running through the words she’d rehearsed in her mind. The door opened, and heavy footsteps crossed into the room. She turned.

And gasped.

“Oh. Hello.” Tim stood before her, a bright smile on his handsome face and a single, pink rose in his hand. Tim. Not Tad.

Ada’s heart flipped with joy and nervous excitement in her chest. Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was stand where she was and gape at him.

“I’m glad we have a chance to meet like this at last,” Tim went on, approaching her slowly, twirling the rose’s stem in his fingers. There was a charming shyness in his expression, even though his eyes were alive with fire. “You know I’ve wanted to speak to you about this for a long time.”

Warmth spilled through Ada, and she smiled. “You have?”

She wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was, or how he could appear so…certain after stumbling across her in the cottage by accident. Why was he at the cottage anyhow, and where did he get a rose in the middle of February?

She didn’t have a chance to find out. Tim came closer and presented the rose to her. “I had to search all over for a bloom as fresh and beautiful as you are.”

Ada caught her breath, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s beautiful.” She held the rose to her nose and breathed in. “Wherever did you find this?”

Tim shrugged. “Thewlis’s store had a bunch of them brought in from a greenhouse in Cornwall. They’re supposed to be for decorations for the Valentine’s Day dance, but he let me buy one.”

“How kind of him. And how kind of you.” She glanced up at Tim with her head still tilted down, which she hoped would produce just the right, flirtatious image to spur him on to more.

“Ada, I—ouch!” Tim surged forward to take her hands, but ended up pricking himself on one of the rose’s thorns.

“Oh, are you all right?” Ada skipped back to set the rose on a small table beside the sofa, then rushed to Tim. “You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”

She grabbed his hands and turned them up to inspect them. The intimacy of the move brought them even closer together. They both paused, their eyes met, and it was as though the air had filled with an electric charge.

“Ada,” Tim began. “I hope you know how much I look forward to the time we spend together.”

“Yes,” Ada whispered. It felt like a silly answer, but all she wanted to say to him, about everything and in answer to every question he could have asked her, was yes, yes, yes.

“I’ve been thinking about ways we could spend more time together,” Tim continued.

“I’d like that,” she said. Any moment. Any moment now, he was going to ask her to the dance.

“I think about you all the time,” he went on. “Sometimes even during lessons, when I should be concentrating.”

“I know,” Ada laughed. “I mean, I find myself doing the same thing. Thinking of you, that is.” She glanced shyly up at him.

He burst into a charming, modest smile. “Things have been so chaotic at the school lately.”

“Oh?” Ada fluttered her lashes. He was going to get around to asking her to the dance soon, wasn’t he?

“And it has had me thinking that I need help.”

“Help?” She did her best to keep her expression neutral. What did his classroom have to do with the dance?

“I thought, perhaps, another teacher would make my burden lighter and my life more enjoyable. In so many ways.”

The heat in his eyes doubled, but Ada felt herself deflating. “Another teacher,” she said, trying to keep her smile and remain positive. “Yes, I suppose that would be helpful.”

“And I was thinking,” he started, leaning closer to her, “that—”

The sound of whistling floated in from the path leading up to the cottage’s front door. Ada gasped. Tad. She’d know his whistling anywhere.

“Oh, no.” She pulled away from Tim, scanning the room desperately for any kind of escape. In the rush of being with Tim, she’d forgotten that she’d asked Tad to meet her. If he saw her with Tim, not only would it break his heart, it would give him a reason to go to Mrs. Musgrave to have her sacked. And while she wasn’t certain Tad was the vindictive type, a broken heart could lash out in unexpected ways.

The cottage was small, only two rooms. The main room contained the living area where she and Tim stood and a small kitchen in the back corner. There was a kitchen door leading out to the overgrown vegetable garden, but Ada would never be able to make it through before Tad burst in on them. And she didn’t think she could bear either for Tad to see her with Tim or, worse still, for Tim to think that she had arranged a clandestine rendezvous with another man, even though she had.

“What is it?” Tim asked, glancing toward the front door. “What’s the problem?”

Ada scrambled for an explanation that didn’t involve admitting to Tim she’d arranged to meet another man alone. “Um, I’m not supposed to be away from the big house,” she said, which was partially true. “We have so much to do. If anyone from Winterberry Park were to see me here, I’d be in trouble.”

“Then quick.” Tim grabbed her arm and turned her toward the bedroom door. “Hide.”

Ada nodded. “You need to hide too,” she added as she bolted for the bedroom. There wasn’t any other way that she could see. She shut the bedroom door behind her and searched for escape. The windows seemed a likely option.

But before she could even think of wrenching open one of the windows above the bed and climbing out, she heard Tad exclaim something indistinct in the main room. Which meant he could hear whatever she did in the bedroom. There was no way she could open the window in time. Worse still, the bedroom door hadn’t latched, and was slowly swinging open again.

Ada glanced desperately around the room. There was no way out that didn’t involve her facing a heap of trouble she didn’t want to face. The only thing for it was to drop to the floor and slide herself under the bed. She’d hide there with the dust until it was time to come out.

Tim watched Ada dive into the bedroom, his heart beating in his throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to lose her position at Winterberry Park dishonorably, even though he intended to coax her out of working as a maid so that she could come teach at his school. Really, he wanted more than that, but one thing at a time.

“Hello there.”

He snapped back to the door as the tall, rather dim footman he’d given his letter for Ada to the other day strode in.

“Oh, it’s you,” the man said. He stepped farther into the cottage, glancing this way and that as though he were searching for something.

Tim had no time to waste. He had to get out of the house and loop around to the bedroom window so that he could help Ada climb out to safety, and he couldn’t let the Winterberry footman know that she was there as he did. Judging by the way the man was scanning the room, he was looking for someone anyhow.

“It’s all right,” Tim said, striding toward the man. “I received my reply to the message I had you deliver yesterday.” He reached the footman and shook his hand heartily. “Thank you so much for your assistance.”

“Wha—” The footman blinked as his hand was shook. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m much obliged,” Tim said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to get to.”

“Well, all right.” The footman smiled, cheerful, but dim. “I’m meeting someone here myself.” He blinked. “Oh, you know her. It’s—”

“Sorry,” Tim interrupted him. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I simply can’t.”

Tim darted toward the door and out into the waning evening light. He made sure to shut the door behind him, then looked for the best way to loop around the side of the house to the bedroom. There would be a window, he was sure, and with luck, he could open it and help Ada sneak out.

He made it two steps away from the door before none other than Alice Jones burst out from behind a shrub into his path.

“I was so hoping I’d arrive before you did,” she said with a gasp. “But that doesn’t matter. We’re together at last.” Her eyes shone with an ardent glow, and her cheeks were flushed bright pink.

“Alice?” Tim was so surprised that he had no clue what to say. He glanced up and down the lane, praying that no one was nearby to witness the odd encounter.

“I heard you speaking in code,” she went on, grasping the lapels of his coat and fawning over him. “Such a clever way to speak, and so romantic. I knew exactly what you meant, though, and I’m here. I’m yours.”

Tim raised his arms and did his best to wriggle away from the mad girl’s grasp. “Code? Oh, I—”

“I’m ready,” she went on, sighing and reaching for him again. Tim dodged out of her way, but that didn’t deter her. “I’m ready to go to the ends of the earth for you. I’d gladly do whatever it is you require of me, even—” She lowered her eyes and peeked up at him with a look so heated it sent a chill straight to his heart. “—naughty things.”

“Oh…well…I….” He glanced around again, more desperate this time. The girl had obviously lost her mind. She had a frantic look about her that had his skin crawling. If it had been up to him, he would have set her straight with a stern lecture and bolted for the hills. But Ada was in the process of trying to escape the cottage so that the footman wouldn’t see her. He couldn’t let her job hang in jeopardy because some schoolgirl had a crush on him.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Alice asked, advancing on him once more and confirming his suspicions about the crush.

“Erm….”

“I understand,” she said with a sudden gasp, leaping back. “We must be discreet.” She glanced up and down the path that ran in front of the cottage, a knowing smile forming on her lips. “I’m good at sneaking. I sneak out of my father’s house all the time. I know exactly what to do.”

“You, uh, do?” Tim winced, glancing over his shoulder to see if Ada had climbed out the bedroom window yet.

“Yes.” Alice clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh, it’s so romantic. We’ll sneak around to the back of the cottage and go in that way. Then you can do whatever you want with me.” She sighed.

Tim gulped. “Alright.” He grimaced. “You go around that way, and I’ll go this way.”

It was a weak and ridiculous diversion, but Alice’s eyes lit up. “All right. I’ll see you inside.”

She picked up her skirts and jaunted off around the right side of the cottage.

Tim adjusted his collar, which suddenly felt too tight, and tromped through the overgrown garden on the left side.

Only, when he reached the bank of windows that looked through to the bedroom, they were all shut tight. Worry gnawed at him. Ada must have had trouble opening them. She must still be in the bedroom. He would have to figure out a way to pry open one of the windows from the outside so that he could climb in and rescue her.

Tad wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. The last thing he’d expected when he left to meet Ada at the cottage was to see the schoolteacher instead. Not that he minded. Mr. Turnbridge was a jolly chap. He certainly knew a thing or two more than Tad knew. But that didn’t explain where Ada was. He’d seen her leaving the house. He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of her nearing the cottage while he was still at the other end of the river path.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief his mam had sent him, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead that he’d worked up while hurrying to make it to the cottage on time. There had to be an explanation. Ada couldn’t have vanished into thin air, and she was much too old for the fairies to steal her away.

Handkerchief still in hand, he walked to the bedroom door. Halfway there, a rose sitting on the table by the sofa caught his eye.

“That’s odd,” he said, pausing to study it. “Roses in February?”

No sooner had he tucked his handkerchief loosely in his pocket and reached for the rose, then there was a bump at the kitchen door. He leapt back, barely noticing that his handkerchief fell out of his pocket. If it was Mr. Noakes or Mrs. Musgrave, he would be in a fine pickle. Both the butler and the housekeeper had worn deep scowls as they watched the staff earlier. They must have known shenanigans were afoot, and they were probably trying to catch him in the act of…something.

The kitchen door rattled again, and the lock clicked open. Tad dashed toward the closest escape.

But instead of dashing back outside, he leapt through a door that took him straight into the bedroom.

“Psst, are you here, my love?” a young woman’s voice said behind him.

That frightened him even more than the possibility of Mr. Noakes or Mrs. Musgrave. Surely it must have been the ghost of Mr. Croydon’s dead lover, come back to haunt whoever dared step foot in her cottage. He had to hide. There was nothing else for it.

He dashed toward the other door in the room and launched himself through it, but instead of ending up outside, he found himself stuffed in a closet. A nice-smelling closet, mind you, but a closet all the same.

“There you are.”

Tad nearly jumped out of his skin at the cooing, female voice that whispered to him. It was pitch black with the door closed, but he knew the woman wasn’t a ghost, because he could feel her.

And my, how he could feel her! His hands brushed against the bare flesh of her arms, the flimsy material of a chemise, and tempting curves under it. He was as red-blooded as any man, and in an instant, his cock was straining against his trousers.

“Hello,” he said in what he hoped was the kind of voice men like Mr. Croydon used when addressing their mistresses.

“Hello yourself,” the woman said.

Ada. It had to be Ada. He had come to the cottage to meet her, after all. Was this what she’d wanted? To corner him in a closet and—

He gasped as her hand burrowed through the folds of his coat to grab his crotch.

“Oh! You are big, aren’t you?

There was something familiar about the woman’s purring voice. It wasn’t Ada, but damned if he cared. Especially when she flicked open the buttons of his trousers and stroked his cock. He groaned, but the sound was swiftly silenced as the mystery woman pulled his head toward her. Their mouths met in a kiss. That was all he cared about.

Alice fixed her hairpin back into the bun at the back of her head with a triumphant smile. Her friends had thought her scandalous for learning how to pick a lock with a hairpin, but the skill had come in handy on more than one occasion.

She pushed open the kitchen door and tip-toed into the cottage. It was a lovely place, filled with exotic art and fine furniture. Everyone in town knew that Violetta, the woman who had lived and died there, had been Mr. Croydon’s mistress. Alice had found the former actress fascinating growing up. Her papa had forbidden her to ever speak to the woman, though.

She crept deeper into the cottage’s main room, looking around and waiting. Surely Mr. Turnbridge would join her for their secret, romantic moment at any time. He’d gone around to meet her, after all. The two of them were meant to be together. Her body thrilled at the thought of what her friends would say, how they would look at her in awe once they heard all about the assignation. It would be perfect.

But Mr. Turnbridge was nowhere in sight. Alice slumped her shoulders as she walked deeper into the room. Where was he? She crossed her arms and huffed an indignant breath. Even though they were sneaking, he shouldn’t keep her waiting like that.

A thump sounded from the bedroom. Her heart soared, and she rushed to the door.

But as she reached for the handle, a single, pink rose sitting on the table beside the sofa made her stop. She turned back, picking up the rose.

“My favorite color,” she sighed, breathing in the bloom’s scent. “Oh, that’s just lovely.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. Mr. Turnbridge was so sweet to think of something so romantic. Now, if he would just appear and—

A woman’s muffled cry from the bedroom shocked Alice out of her thoughts. She wasn’t alone. That was why Mr. Turnbridge was nowhere to be found. Someone from Winterberry Park must come down to the cottage to clean it on occasion, and they must have run into him.

She couldn’t just leave without giving Mr. Turnbridge a sign of her devotion, though. There had to be something she could do.

Without time to think, she picked up her skirts with one hand and yanked at the lace garter that held one of her stockings up. It came loose right away. She deposited the garter on the table where the rose had been, then, clutching the rose to her breast, raced toward the kitchen door. How romantic to almost be caught in an amorous assignation with her one true love? Although if her papa found out, there would be hell to pay.

She dashed through the kitchen door, shutting it behind her and making sure the lock fell back into place. Then she paused to sniff her rose once more. No one could possibly ask for a better token from a lover. She would have to be sure to leave Mr. Turnbridge a lock of her hair as soon as possible. Her friends would be so jealous.

Ada lay under the bed, frowning and confused. She’d heard Tim and Tad speaking in the main room, then silence. For too long. Then someone had scrambled into the bedroom…and straight into the closet? It didn’t make a lick of sense.

She was in the middle of sliding out from under the bed to investigate, when the window over the bed rattled.

“Oh, no!” she gasped before she could remind herself to be quiet.

Fear clawed at her. Investigating the closet was forgotten. She rushed to the bedroom door, throwing it all the way open, then shutting it behind her as she dashed into the main room, which was now empty.

She glanced around, panicked and desperate. What was supposed to be a simple meeting to explain to Tad why she couldn’t go to a dance with him had turned into what she was certain was a matter of life and death. Tim had been wonderful in the three seconds she’d been able to talk to him. It felt as though there was so much left unsaid, though.

The thought had just begun to distress her when a scrap of white caught her eye. She walked toward it, bending to pick up a handkerchief. It hadn’t been there before. Puzzled, she turned it over.

A smile blossomed on her lips, and her heart felt as though it’d sprouted wings. The handkerchief was embroidered with a “T”.

“Tim,” she whispered, clutching the simple piece of cloth to her chest.

It must have been a sign. It was his way of telling her that their conversation wasn’t over, that he would find her again, and that they would pick up where they left off. She lifted it to her nose and breathed in the scent that was richer than any rose. It was perfect.

With a final glance over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door, she rushed toward the main door and out into the February evening. It was growing dark, and she couldn’t see much around the edges of the house. But that was perfect. It meant no one would see her as she ran back up to the main house.

At last, Tim managed to push one of the bedroom windows open. With a burst of strength, he pulled himself up over the sill and tumbled down onto the bed in a cloud of dust. Fearing he’d made too much noise, he sat still where he was for a moment, listening. The house was full of creaks and sounds, but old cottages often were.

More importantly, Ada was nowhere to be seen.

He rolled off the bed and headed to the door, crossing into the main room. It was empty and almost the same as how he’d left it. Almost.

Sitting on the table, where Ada’s rose had been, was a simple, lace garter. He rushed to pick it up and turn it over. It was sweet and delicate, exactly the sort of thing he would have expected Ada to keep concealed under her plain maid’s uniform, and it was embroidered with a fanciful “A”.

“Oh, my love,” Tim sighed, raising it to his nose to breathe in its flowery scent. Nothing had ever been so wonderful. Better still, the fact that she’d left it for him was a certain sign that she would be his. He regretted that they hadn’t been able to speak more before they were interrupted, but the token she’d left for him was proof that there could be so much more between them.

He tucked the garter into the pocket inside of his jacket that sat over his heart. It was where Ada belonged, as close to him as he could manage. Then, with a final look at the cottage, he hurried to the door and out into the darkening evening. He had a future to plan, and Ada would be at the center of it.

All in all, Mary was convinced her plan had turned out far better than she could have imagined. The closet had heated in a hurry. She’d stripped off the schoolteacher’s coat, then his jacket and shirt. She’d gotten the man down to his skivvies, and had coaxed his impressive cock into a salute. He wasn’t a half bad kisser either.

He’d tugged her chemise up over her breasts and had his hands full of them, kneading and squeezing, and brushing his thumbs over her nipples. Her drawers were just about soaked through, and she was practically climbing the closet wall looking for purchase so that she could impale herself on his flagstaff.

And Ada thought she had the schoolteacher wrapped around her little finger. Mary wanted to laugh. She’d never been with a man so eager to sheathe his sword. Ada certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a man like this. Ada would probably think baking cakes and sipping lemonade with him was the height of romance. Ada would—

“Oh, Ada,” the man in Mary’s arms groaned, jerking his hips, his cock against her stomach. “Ada, Ada, Ada!”

“What?” Mary exclaimed.

The man gasped, and a splash of something hot and liquid shot against the underside of her breasts. Suspicion slammed into her, and she yelped, pushing the closet door open.

Dim light flooded the tight space, but it was enough to see that the man who’d just come in her arms wasn’t the schoolteacher.

“Tad!” Mary screamed.

Tad opened his eyes. His expression of complete satisfaction tensed to a rictus of horror.

He screamed, jerking away from her.

Mary screamed back at him.

Tad screamed even louder.

Mary bolted from the closet, gathering as much of her clothing and her coat as she went. She clutched the bundle tight as she darted through the house and out the front door. Rather than running toward Winterberry Park, she sped in the opposite direction, making sounds of wretched disgust. She’d wash in the river and dress in the dark, but it still wouldn’t wipe away the horror of what she’d done, or rather, whom.