Ada tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders and clutched the basket of eggs she’d been sent into town to fetch close. She hated being out after dark in the winter. At least the sun was starting to set later, but it still wasn’t late enough for her. She knew Lanhill and Winterberry Park like the back of her hand, but that didn’t stop every shadow from dripping with menace or every sound in the bushes convincing her she was about to be attacked by a highwayman.

She picked up her pace as she neared the gate that separated the end of Winterberry Park’s lane from the road. In the distance, she could see the cozy glow of the house already. Her bones ached to be home. She was practically sighing in relief already.

“Ohhhhhh!”

The sound of a woman groaning in pleasure that came from the shrubs just inside the gate stopped Ada cold. Her eyes went wide, and she stared at the bushes. They were moving, rustling in rhythmic fashion.

“Yes, oh, yes,” the woman sighed, then shifted to gasping in time with a man’s deep grunts.

Ada’s face went red. She recognized Mary’s voice, but that was as far as her imagination took her. Who the woman was with and why they would be tumbling in the bushes next to the gate on a cold, February night was an utter mystery to her.

Being careful not to make enough noise to disturb them, Ada hugged her eggs tighter and shot off up the path to the house. She’d always known Mary was a little bad, but that was beyond the pale. As she reached the kitchen door and crossed into the warmth and bustle of Winterberry’s downstairs, she debated whether she should tell Mrs. Musgrave or Mrs. Carlisle what was going on, or whether she should leave Mary to the natural fate that awaited all women who indulged in passions they shouldn’t have.

She still hadn’t made her decision by the time she deposited the eggs in the kitchen, put away her cloak and other winter things, and slipped into the servants’ hall for a quick cup of tea to warm her before she returned to her chores. Mary was a pill at the best of times, but she’d surely lose her position, without a reference, if Mrs. Musgrave knew what kind of behavior she engaged in. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be the cause of anyone’s ruin.

“All right, there?” Ben, the head footman, asked as he popped into the room and poured himself tea.

Ada pursed her lips. “Ben, what would you do if you knew one of the staff was up to no good, but if you said something, they’d be dismissed?”

To her surprise, Ben laughed. “You worried about what we all might say about your gentleman caller?”

Ada blinked, frowning at him. “My what?”

Ben finished a long sip of tea, then nodded toward the ceiling. “That Mr. Turnbridge of yours.”

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of Ada’s stomach. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben finished his tea and put the used cup on the sideboard. “Your Mr. Turnbridge. He was here earlier looking for you. Mr. Noakes turned him away, of course. Cheeky beggar, he is, coming to the front door to see a maid.”

“Mr. Turnbridge came here to see me?” Ada was filled with equal parts amazement, hope, and anxiety. “Do you know why?”

Ben shrugged. “Why else would a fellow come to see a pretty girl.” He winked at her, then marched out of the room and on to whatever task he had.

Ada sat where she was, blinking in confusion. She debated whether it was safe to assume that Tim had come to finish the conversation they’d started at the cottage the day before. Had he intended to ask her to the Valentine’s dance tomorrow? Or was there something else he wanted to discuss?

She finished her tea without coming to any conclusions, then got up to return to work. But no sooner had she set foot in the hallway than Mary came breezing in through the kitchen door, a smile on her face. Ada’s face went red with embarrassment all over again.

Mary paused in the act of removing her cloak to stare at Ada. “What are you looking at?” She scowled.

The easier course would have been to run, to forget the whole thing, and to focus on discovering why Tim had been at Winterberry Park. But between the satisfied smirk on Mary’s lips and the contempt in her eyes, Ada decided she wasn’t willing to let it go.

“I heard you just now,” she said in a low whisper, approaching Mary with a dark scowl.

“Heard me? Whatever are you talking about?” She crossed her arms and rested her weight on one hip.

“In the bushes?” Ada hissed. “With a man?”

Mary’s eyes went wide, and she dropped her arms as she stood straight.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go to Mrs. Musgrave to have you sacked right now,” Ada said.

“You can’t prove anything,” Mary started. She opened her mouth to say more, but stopped. A flash lit her eyes, and her smirk returned, sending a chill through Ada. “You wouldn’t like it if the truth came out anyhow.”

“What truth? That you’re a feckless harlot?” Ada arched a brow in challenge.

“I was only taking what was offered to me,” Mary told her with a grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that your Mr. Turnbridge is quite the hot-blooded fellow.” She licked her lips, flickering one brow.

Ada’s gut seized up. “You leave Mr. Turnbridge out of this.”

“Oh, Mr. Turnbridge was definitely in this,” Mary said, grabbing her crotch and thrusting her hips.

Ada gasped in disgust. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and fury. “That’s a disgusting fabrication,” she hissed.

“There was nothing disgusting about it. The poor man’s probably gone without for so long that he was just bursting to get his willy wet. Who was I to say no?”

“Tim would never do that,” Ada insisted, shaking with rage. “He’s an upright man, a schoolteacher.”

“Even schoolteachers get an itch now and then,” Mary said, then sighed salaciously. “He can school me anytime.”

“You’re lying,” Ada said through clenched teeth.

“Am I?” Mary asked. “You said you heard me yourself.”

“I heard you with someone. It’s not possible that it was Tim.”

“No? Did they tell you that he was up at the house just now?”

Ada’s throat closed up. But just because Tim had been at the house—to see her, not Mary—and because she’d heard Mary in the bushes with someone did not mean that a single thing Mary said was true.

“I still say you’re lying,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Mary.

“Am I, now?” Mary took a step closer to her. “Well, how about this. I made arrangements to have a little private time with your teacher yesterday. At Violetta’s cottage. The two of us were planning to give each other lessons.”

Ada gulped, taking a step back. She was certain Mary was lying, certain beyond a shadow of a doubt. Except it would explain why Tim had been at the cottage. She didn’t know that he had ever so much as looked twice at the cottage before that day.

But no, just because he had been there didn’t mean what Mary was saying was true.

“I still think you’re lying,” she said, ready to resort to desperate measures to wipe the snide grin off Mary’s face.

“You can think what you’d like,” Mary said, her nose in the air. “All I’ll say is that your teacher can wrap me over the knuckles with that stick of his any day.” She sent Ada one last smug look, then walked past her into the servants’ hall.

Ada balled her hands into fists at her sides, so furious that tears stung her eyes. Mary had to be lying. She had to. Tim would never do that to her. He was good and true. He loved her, she was certain. He wouldn’t be lured off into the bushes to shag the first bit of skirt that came his way. And he wouldn’t arrange for wicked assignations with the likes of Mary at Violetta’s cottage.

But he had been there, at the cottage. And he’d just been at Winterberry Park too.

She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d been wrong about the one person she thought more of than anyone else. Clutching a hand to her heart, she dashed down the hall and up the servant’s stairs to the main part of the house. It was a blessing that the family wasn’t home, because it meant she could flee to the library and throw herself into one of the overstuffed chairs by the cold fireplace.

As her tears began to flow, she tugged Tim’s handkerchief from her apron pocket and held it to her eyes. “Oh, Tim,” she wailed, hating how weak she sounded.

She dabbed at her tears, then hugged the handkerchief to her cheek, rubbing the embroidered T against her hot skin. It was the closest thing she could manage to Tim’s touch, which she needed then more than ever. He wasn’t unfaithful. He couldn’t be. That wasn’t something the man she knew would do. And Mary was a notorious liar. But there was too much circumstantial evidence, too many things that didn’t quite fit together. Something was very, very wrong.

“Oh, hello, Ada.”

Ada straightened with a gasp as Tad walked into the room. “Tad.” Her heart sank. Of all the people that could possibly find her in such a state, and over such a muddle, Tad was the last one she wanted to see.

“You all right?” he asked, approaching her cautiously, but with a kind smile.

Ada sighed, lowering her eyes and debating whether to answer the question honestly, or at all.

“I was about to head downstairs for supper,” Tad went on, coming closer still, “and I—oh.”

Ada glanced up to find Tad staring at her with a puzzled look. Or rather, staring at the handkerchief twisted in her hands.

He reached for it. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere,” he said.

“You’ve…what?” Ada let him pluck the handkerchief from her hands.

Tad’s smile turned relieved. “My mum gave this to me before I left for service. Put in a right amount of work, she did.”

“That’s your handkerchief?” A shiver passed down Ada’s spine. She’d practically been making love to the thing since picking it up at the cottage.

“Yeah.” Tad tucked it into his jacket pocket. He paused, then drew it out again. “Sorry. If you need it, I’d gladly lend it to you.”

“No, no.” Ada pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. “But….”

She wasn’t sure what came next. Her mind felt as though it had shattered, but the pieces were fitting back together. And with them came a heaping amount of suspicion.

“Tad,” she began, then cleared her throat. “When you came to meet me at the cottage yesterday, did you see anybody else there?”

He looked startled for a moment. “Other than Mr. Turnbridge?” He spoke without meeting her eyes, and his face quickly turned beet red.

Ada studied him. There was definitely something he wasn’t saying. “Yes. Other than Mr. Turnbridge.”

“Um, well…the thing is…I, uh….” Tad looked as though Ada had asked him to strip down to his skivvies.

She shook her head, searching for another way to ask what she wanted to know. “The other day, when you wrote me that letter, you said you wanted a reply.”

“Wrote you that letter?” Tad laughed. “I didn’t write you that letter.”

Ada blinked, then stood. “You didn’t? But it was signed with….” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Her gaze lost its focus. It was sighed with “T”. Which meant Tim must have written it. But that still didn’t explain why he was at the cottage.

“Imagine,” Tad laughed on. “Me writing a letter. My mum would be proud of that, eh?”

It took an incredible amount of effort to drag herself out of her thoughts enough to ask, “Would she?”

“Why, of course. She’s always been furious that I never learned my letters.”

Ada blinked, her mouth dropping open. “You can’t read or write?”

“No, ma’am.” He tilted his head to the side. “I always meant to learn, but it’s too hard.”

“But then, how did you end up with the letter?” She started to pace, feeling as though she were inches from unraveling a giant mystery.

“Mr. Turnbridge gave it to me,” Tad said, standing straighter and smiling. His smile instantly faltered. “Sorry I didn’t get it to you right away, like he wanted me to.”

“You didn’t?” She was so close to figuring things out that she could taste it.

“Well, I intended to,” Tad went on. “But Mary came by and said I was wanted upstairs, so….”

“Mary.” Ada stopped her pacing and hissed out the name. She balled her hands into fists and stomped. “I knew that witch was behind this whole thing.”

“Uh…well…she’s a bit….”

Ada glanced to Tad in question. His face, neck, and ears were all bright red.

“Never mind,” he said in a haunted voice.

“Oh, I mind, all right.” Ada headed for the door. “I mind quite a bit. And I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

“No?” Tad followed her out to the hall.

“No. I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess if it’s the last thing I ever do,” she said, marching across the front hall and on through the dining room to the servant’s stairs. She hated going out after dark, but if it meant that she could finally sort the lies from the truth, she was willing to do it. And the only person who could set her mind straight, the only person who, she suspected, knew what was truly going on and could enlighten her was Tim himself.