The question of Tad and the dance kept Ada up, tossing and turning, all night. If she were a different sort of woman, more like Mary or Martha, she would have laughed in the young man’s face and told him she wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of him. But that kind of behavior was cruel. She wouldn’t engage in it. And Tad wasn’t so bad. True, he wasn’t particularly bright, but he was kind and hard-working. He would make some young woman a lovely beau someday. But not her.

She tossed to her other side, looking out the tiny window at the stars. Tim was the man for her. She’d known it since the moment she first met him. He’d only just opened his school then, and the urge to better herself had been too much to resist. She’d marched into town after a long day of work, ready to argue to get her way, only to have Tim show delight at her desire to learn to read.

He’d been so accommodating to her. He’d tutored her diligently, teaching her so much more than reading. She’d learned maths too, and a bit of history and how the government worked. She’d enjoyed staring at him while he wasn’t looking, memorizing the strong lines of his face, his deep, dark eyes, and the slight dimple in his cheek.

But he’d never been forward with her. He’d never taken advantage of her interest. Her woman’s intuition told her he harbored tender feelings toward her too, but he’d always been professional, never crossed the invisible line of propriety.

She shifted again, looking up at the blank wall as sleep continued to elude her. Did he really have those feelings for her? Or was it all in her imagination? Perhaps she should accept Tad’s offer to take her to the dance.

She flopped to her back, staring at the ceiling and letting out a sigh. No, even if Tim wasn’t madly in love with her, she couldn’t lead Tad on. He wasn’t for her. But she had no idea how to let him down easy.

The question was still rattling around in her brain as she got up, washed and dressed, and went downstairs to start her mountain of tasks for the day.

“Good morning, Ada.”

Tad’s voice startled her out of her thoughts as she buttered her toast at breakfast. She jumped in her chair and turned to give him a tentative smile. “Good morning, Tad.”

She waited, darting her eyes around the table, where the rest of the bleary-eyed staff was trying to eat and wake up. No one was watching her, which meant that Tad would surely try to pry his answer out of her now. She held her breath and waited.

But Tad took a seat at the other end of the table, sending her another smile. She smiled back, then quickly bit into her toast so he didn’t read too much into it.

“The weather is nice, so we’ll start with the carpets today,” Mrs. Musgrave announced from the foot of the table. Mr. Noakes gave her an approving smile from the head. “Ada, I’ll need you to go into town to purchase two more carpet beaters this morning.”

“Yes, Mrs. Musgrave,” Ada said, relieved beyond measure. An errand into town would mean she had time to think. It might even give her a chance to run into Tim. She wouldn’t dare ask him outright if he had plans to invite her to the dance, but at the very least, she could hint about it.

She finished her breakfast quickly, fetched her cloak and winter things from the pegs by the door, and started off for Lanhill as soon as she could.

“Do you want company walking into town?” Tad called after her as she started across the kitchen garden for the lane.

His question set her teeth on edge and brought a blush to her face. “Uh, no, thank you,” she called back to him. Now was the time. Surely he would ask for her answer now.

“All right, then. I’ll see you when you return.” Tad raised his hand to wave before marching on to whatever he was doing, whistling as he went.

Ada frowned as she walked on. Why hadn’t he asked for her answer?

She decided now was not the time to worry about it. Mrs. Musgrave wouldn’t be happy if she dawdled on her errand. The only reason she was asked to go into town instead of the other maids is because she’d proven that she wouldn’t be distracted by gossip or linger to gaze into shop windows.

That didn’t stop her from engaging in conversation when it came to her, though.

“Ada. You’re looking a bit troubled today,” Clara Fallon said as Ada passed in front of the parsonage.

Ada paused, unable to resist fawning over the Fallon’s four toddlers, who were spread out over the winter grass of the vicarage’s yard like puppies set out to play.

“It’s nothing,” she said, smiling at the babies. One of the older ones, either Bonnie or Amelia, Ada couldn’t tell, waddled over to her. She scooped the girl up and cuddled her.

Clara rested a hand on her hip and studied Ada. “That doesn’t look like nothing to me. And squeezing one of these little angels isn’t hiding how troubled you are.”

Ada sent her friend a sideways look. She missed working side-by-side with Clara, like they had when Clara was employed at Winterberry Park. Clara always knew when something was bothering her.

“I’ve had an invitation to the Valentine’s Day dance,” she revealed.

“Did Mr. Turnbridge ask you at last?” Clara’s face lit up.

It fell when Ada shook her head and said, “No, Tad, the footman, asked me.”

“Oh.” Clara’s shoulders fell. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It doesn’t. I wouldn’t have thought Tad had it in him to ask. Besides which, I wasn’t aware he had any sort of tender feelings for me. At least, not until just recently.”

“Has he made advances toward you?” Clara looked worried.

“Not exactly,” Ada sighed. “Though he has stared more lately.”

“Stared?” Clara burst into laughter. “Young men are so ridiculous sometimes.” She paused. “Unless it was an inappropriate stare.”

“No. That’s what’s so puzzling. He never showed me much interest, but now he looks at me like he ought to.”

“Ought to?”

Ada sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Regardless, I couldn’t possibly accept his invitation to the dance.” She finished her statement, then her face pinched as she questioned herself.

“Because Tim Turnbridge might ask you?” Clara filled in her thoughts.

“But he hasn’t,” Ada confessed with a rush of breath. The baby in her arms squirmed to get down, so Ada let her go. “He hasn’t indicated that he knows about the dance at all. Maybe I’m imagining the whole thing between the two of us.”

“You most certainly are not,” Clara said, keeping an eye on her little ones. “Arthur helps Tim out all the time at his school—he’s over there now—and he’s as certain as anyone that Tim adores you.”

“Really?” Ada’s heart felt as though it had been lifted up on a balmy breeze.

“Certainly. If he hasn’t invited you to the dance already, he’s sure to ask you in no time.”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful.” Ada reveled in the thought for a moment. Reality swooped back in too soon. “But what about Tad? He’s the one who’s asked. I don’t want to hurt him or break his heart.”

“That’s because you’re a good person,” Clara said with a smile.

“So what do I do? How do I tell him no gently?”

“Well.” Clara tilted her head to the side in consideration. “The key is not to embarrass him in front of the others at the big house. Whatever words you find to decline his invitation, they should be delivered away from everyone else.”

“Good idea. He’s going to feel bad anyhow, but at least he doesn’t have to feel bad in front of other people.”

“Right. Is there a place up at Winterberry Park where you could take him aside and let him down easy?”

Ada thought about it, chewing her lip. With so much cleaning going on, they could be interrupted in any given room of the house at any time. She would do best to take him somewhere outside of the house.

“I’ll think on it,” she said. “But for now, I’d better go buy the carpet beaters Mrs. Musgrave wants and get back to the house as soon as possible.”

“Yes, no one should keep Mrs. Musgrave waiting,” Clara agreed with a wide-eyed look of mock dread.

The two of them shared a laugh and a hug, then Ada hurried on her way. She wracked her brain for places she and Tad could talk as she purchased the carpet beaters, then continued home.

Only as she was hurrying up the lane to the house did the answer come to her. Violetta’s cottage. She grinned. It was close enough to sneak off to, far enough away to give them some privacy, and best of all, no one would be there. The key was hidden right next to the door, and she and Tad could be there and back before anyone knew they were gone.

But as soon as she started looking for Tad, Mrs. Musgrave was on her.

“Everyone else has started,” she said, taking her watch from the pocket in her apron and staring pointedly at it. “You’d best get upstairs.”

“Yes, Mrs. Musgrave.”

Ada curtsied, resting the beaters against the wall and hurrying upstairs.

All of the maids and footmen were needed to roll up the grand carpets that lined the hallways and public rooms of the house. She was hard at work before she knew it, which didn’t give her time to whisk Tad off for a private conversation. But she did manage to steal up to his side, making it look like work.

“I need to speak with you,” she whispered as they worked side by side, rolling up the hall carpet.

“To me?” he asked, blinking.

“Yes. It’s important. It’s about the dance.”

“Oh.” Tad grinned.

“But we can’t talk here.” Ada glanced around, anxious about whether they would be seen talking. So far, no one was looking. “Meet me later this afternoon.”

“Where?” he asked.

“At Violetta’s cottage. Once we’re done with work, before supper.”

“If you say so,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll be there.”

Relief washed through Ada. Once she and Tad talked, she’d seek out Tim and ask him where things stood between the two of them. Everything would work out for the best, she was sure.

Alice Jones was much more mature than the other girls her age, if she did say so herself. Which she did. She was prettier than the rest of them, that was for certain. She checked her reflection in the windows of the schoolroom several times a day to be sure. Her clothes were finer than her friends’, because her father was a prosperous butcher in town. And she was smart, even if the grades on her exams didn’t always reflect that. They were stupid questions anyhow.

But the way she knew for certain that she was far, far above her peers was because Mr. Turnbridge loved her.

She sighed and leaned her cheek on her hand, her elbow on her desk, and watched Mr. Turnbridge at the front of the room. He was lovely in every way, tall and handsome, with perfect, dark hair. She could see herself walking out on his arm, everyone in town staring at them and saying how lucky he was to marry such a beautiful young woman.

Because, of course, they would be married as soon as she finished her schooling in the spring. There was no doubt about it, now that she was convinced of his love. And as soon as he sent her the love poem she was certain he was writing to ask her to the Valentine’s dance, she could declare how she truly felt.

“Alice. Psst!”

Alice’s daydreams were interrupted as Petunia leaned in and hissed at her. Her friend’s interruption forced her to turn away from Mr. Turnbridge just as Rev. Fallon approached him.

“What do you want?” Alice snapped at Petunia.

Petunia just giggled. “He’s going to catch you staring one of these days.”

“And then you’ll be in trouble,” Bethel, her other bosom friend, commented from the row directly behind them.

“That just goes to show what you know,” Alice said, tilting her nose up.

“It’s what we know we know,” Petunia said, then frowned. “What do you know?”

“I know a great deal more than you,” Alice said, putting her friends in their places.

She turned her attention back to Mr. Turnbridge and Rev. Fallon, who now had their heads together in serious conversation. It was a good thing Alice sat close enough to overhear everything they said.

“And are you certain of her regard for you?” Rev. Fallon asked. His arms were crossed, and he tried to keep his voice down, but Alice heard all the same.

“Yes,” Mr. Turnbridge answered. Alice’s face heated with pleasure. Of course he knew she loved him.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Rev. Fallon shifted, fixing Mr. Turnbridge with a puzzled frown.

Mr. Turnbridge let out a breath. “We’ve known each other for so long now. I’ve been teaching her, after all. But neither of us has said anything, declared our feelings.”

Alice positively glowed with delight. She leaned forward, straining to catch every word they said.

“Understandable.” Rev. Fallon rubbed his chin. “There are obvious difficulties in the two of you spending time together outside of working hours. And what with the way people talk….”

“Psst,” Petunia interrupted again.

Alice jerked toward her with a scowl. “What? I’m trying to listen.”

“You should be trying to finish your maths exam,” Bethel said from behind them.

Alice tilted her head up. “Who needs maths? All I need to know is how to keep house, cook, and be a good wife.”

Her friends sniggered. “And who in their right mind would marry you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Alice said, grinning like a cat with a canary.

“She’s gone mental,” Bethel giggled.

Mr. Turnbridge cleared his throat. Alice gasped and turned forward, only to find him staring at her, Petunia, and Bethel with a frown. “Ladies, this is an exam. No chatting and no cheating.”

“Yes, sir,” Petunia and Bethel said in unison.

As soon as Mr. Turnbridge glanced back to Rev. Fallon, Alice said, “See? He called me a lady, not a girl.”

“He called all of us ladies,” Petunia reminded her.

Alice sniffed and tilted her nose up. She tried to return to her exam, but the conversation in front of her was simply too delicious.

“I’ve made arrangements to meet her after school,” Mr. Turnbridge said.

Alice sat straighter. He glanced in her direction, then mimed writing. Petunia and Bethel would try to tell her he was ordering her to get back to her exam, but she knew better. He was speaking to her, not to Rev. Fallon. It was all part of their code.

“That’s something,” Rev. Fallon said, lowering his voice more, but not enough. “Although you’ll still have to be careful. Propriety, of course. If you’re seen to be entertaining a young woman at the school….”

“We aren’t meeting at the school,” Mr. Turnbridge said, just barely loud enough for Alice to hear. “We’re meeting at Violetta’s cottage, after school, around four o’clock.”

Alice gasped, her heart leaping in her chest. He wanted to rendezvous with her. At the infamous cottage by the river. At four o’clock. Joy burst through her brighter than anything she’d ever felt. Everyone knew that the cottage in question was a naughty place. At last, Mr. Turnbridge was going to declare himself. The two of them could stop the clandestine, coded love affair they’d been sharing and actually spend time together. The whole world would know he loved her, and in no time, she’d be Mrs. Timothy Turnbridge.

She sighed loudly. Mr. Turnbridge glanced her way, wearing a puzzled frown. Alice sat up straighter, taking up her pen with a knowing smile. She winked to let him know she’d gotten the message and that she would be with him later.

The rest of the exam passed in a haze. She couldn’t concentrate on numbers and was certain she’d done poorly, but that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t need to know maths with Mr. Turnbridge as her husband. She handed in her test paper, smiling at Mr. Turnbridge as she added it to the pile on his desk. And though he didn’t give her any special acknowledgement, she knew that was all part of his plan to keep their romance secret.

“You only finished half the questions on your exam,” Petunia needled her as they headed out to the schoolyard for recess with the other children.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alice said with a sigh.

“It will matter when your father sees it,” Bethel told her. “Didn’t he say that if you failed again, he would send you off to work in service?”

“He wouldn’t do that, not now,” Alice sighed. “Not when I’m so close to being married.”

Her friends laughed. She glared at their rudeness.

“Mark my words, the moment your father hears you have a beau, and one who’s so much older than you, he’ll tan your hide and his,” Bethel said.

“He will not,” Alice insisted. “He’ll be as pleased as I am.”

“Do you remember what he did to Bobby Walters last summer when he caught the two of you kissing under the chestnut tree?” Petunia teased her.

Alice’s face heated. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“That ended with Bobby sporting a black eye and so many bruises on his bum that he couldn’t sit for a week,” Bethel laughed.

Alice tilted her chin up and sniffed. “Bobby wasn’t worthy of my attention. Mr. Turnbridge is.”

“I still say you’re dreaming,” Petunia laughed.

“Not even that,” Bethel added. “She’s sick in the head.”

“I am not,” Alice snapped. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

“How?” Petunia crossed her arms.

Alice broke into a secretive smile, thinking of the rendezvous she had planned for after school. She was certain Mr. Turnbridge would give her his poem then. He might even read it aloud to her. He might bring her flowers, and, if she was lucky, they could do something as scandalous as kissing.

“You’ll see,” she said, not wanting to share her secrets with her friends. “And when you do, you’ll both be so jealous.”