It was a bad sign that Ada was gone when Tim woke up in the wee hours of the night. He berated himself for falling asleep after making love, especially considering he’d proposed to her in the middle of passion. The sensible thing to do was to reiterate that proposal with clothes on, in an upright position.

When morning finally came, he washed, shaved, and dressed with exactly that course of action in mind. But before he’d taken three steps outside of the schoolyard, he had second thoughts. The likelihood of Mr. Noakes kicking him out of Winterberry Park yet again was high. So was the chance that he would run into Mary Mull or someone else who would tangle things up even more. He could send a note, but as he tromped back into the schoolhouse and down the aisle in the deserted classroom to his desk, it seemed that the chances of that letter going awry were too high.

No, the best course of action, he told himself as he plopped into his desk chair and surveyed the grading he needed to do, was to wait until the dance that night. That way, he could get Ada alone, outside of the confines of Winterberry Park and away from everyone’s meddling.

So, of course, the day dragged by. He finished his grading, straightened the bookshelves in the schoolroom, and even got out a broom and cleaned up the entire room and hallway, even though a girl from town came several times a week to do the job. He tidied up his apartment as well, sweeping and dusting and scrubbing until it shone like it hadn’t in years.

Which was how he noticed that Alice’s garter was at the opposite end of his bureau from where he’d left it the night before.

“Oh, no,” he sighed, picking it up then tossing it down again. Garters didn’t move on their own, and the only person who had been in his apartment since he took the dratted thing from the cottage was Ada. She had to have seen it, and who knew what she had thought about it?

There was nothing to do but move forward. As soon as he could, he dressed in his finest suit and combed his hair, taking as much care with his appearance as he could, before leaving early for the dance. In the confusion of the last few days, he’d forgotten once again to ask Ada to go with him to the dance, but he had every reason to believe she was still going. If he could catch her right at the beginning, he could explain everything.

The Valentine’s Day dance was being held at Lanhill’s town hall. Even though he was early, there were still quite a few townspeople loitering in front of the building, or outside the train station across the street, in the waning February sunlight. Ada wasn’t among them, though. No one from Winterberry Park was.

Tim frowned, heading into the hall to see if Ada was there. The large community room that made up the bulk of the town hall was decked with pink roses and red hearts. A bower of hothouse flowers had been set up on the small dais where his students performed their concerts. One side of the room was lined with tables that held everything from heart-shaped cakes to a huge bowl of plum-colored punch. The door to the storage area in the far corner was open, and a few young men from town were busy bringing out chairs to set against the walls, but no one from Winterberry Park was in sight.

Tim let out a breath, lowering his shoulders. There was nothing to be done but to wait. His whole day, his whole life, was waiting. At least he could make the wait better with cake and punch.

He had just finished pouring a ladle of punch into a cup when a feminine shout of, “There you are!” set his teeth on edge. Alice.

Reluctantly, Tim turned. Sure enough, Alice had just flounced through the door, her gaggle of friends flanking her sides. Tim glanced around the hall. The band was just setting up, and half a dozen couples stood waiting for things to start in earnest, which meant there were far too many witnesses for what was bound to be one of the more unpleasant conversations of his life.

He gathered his courage all the same and strode to meet Alice and her friends. “Alice,” he began, his face contorting through several expressions. He couldn’t make up his mind whether stern or compassionate would be best in a situation like this.

“I thought you would come to my house to fetch me,” Alice said, racing up to meet him and resting her small, gloved hands on his forearm. She wore a dress of garish pink with so many flounces that it looked as though a constant breeze surrounded her every time she moved. “But, of course, I understand why you couldn’t,” she went on, then leaned in to whisper. “My father has been suspicious. We will have much to overcome to gain his approval, but gain it we shall.”

Tim winced, backing away enough so that she was forced to let go of his arm. She tried to come after him to grab it again, but he held up his free hand and said, “Look, Alice, we need to talk.”

“Talk?” She batted her eyelashes, her cheeks pink.

“There’s been a horrible misunderstanding,” Tim went on, cringing.

Alice’s dreamy smile faltered. She blinked, then put on a more forced smile. “Oh, no, there hasn’t been a misunderstanding,” she said. “We’re in love, remember? And we’re going to be together forever.”

Tim made a sound and dodged as she tried to throw her arms around him. “No, Alice. You are mistaken. I’m afraid we are not in love.”

“Yes, we are,” she insisted, a harder edge coming to her smile.

“No.” He spoke the single syllable with a grimace, wary that the whole thing was about to fall apart in a far worse fashion than he’d anticipated. “I’m sorry, Alice, but I don’t love you.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, jaw clenched.

He let out a breath and shook his head. “I’m afraid the sentiments that you’re interpreting as my regard for you have, from the start, been directed toward someone else.”

“Someone else?” She balled her hands into fists.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” As desperately as Tim tried to remind himself that he was the adult and the one with the upper hand, the sudden fury in Alice’s young eyes was far too akin to the rage he’d seen from her father. Visions of meat cleavers and bloody butcher’s aprons filled his imagination. “Please forgive me if I have said anything that led you to believe the feelings I have for…another—” There was no need to embroil Ada in the mess, if possible. “—were intended for you.”

“But they were intended for me,” Alice insisted. “You love me. I love you. We’re going to be married and live happily for all our lives.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I refuse to hear this.” Alice stomped, anger turning her cheeks a bright red.

“I’m sorry if….” Tim’s words trailed off. The hall was filling quickly, and most of the people who had been there as his confrontation with Alice had begun were watching intently. But what sent a chill through him was the sight of the tall, Winterberry Park footman he’d given his letter for Ada to. Tad, he believed Ada had called him. And if one member of the Winterberry Park staff had arrived, the rest couldn’t be far behind, including Ada.

“How dare you snare my heart in your sensual trap only to crush it?” Alice demanded, far louder than Tim would have wanted. “You cannot simply make me fall in love with you and then cast me aside.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim did his best to focus on the confrontation in front of him, even though all he wanted to do was rush to find Ada. “It was never my intention to turn your head at all.”

“But all the things you said to me,” Alice went on in a more plaintive tone. “All the significant looks and all the coded signs.”

“Coded signs?” Tim blinked at her. “What coded signs?”

“Why, the way you would set your chalk just so on the edge of your desk to let me know your feelings, the way you would write my name on the chalkboard with a certain flair, and the way you made those special marks on my test papers.”

Tim gaped at her. “Um, I’m afraid I did no such thing.”

Two more Winterberry Park footmen and the kitchen maid walked through the door just as Alice shouted, “You did!”

Tim took a deep breath. His hand was clenched so tightly around his glass punch cup that he was afraid it would shatter. “Miss Jones. At no time have I harbored any tender feelings for you. You are a pupil of mine and nothing more. I’m sorry if this hurts you, but I love another. Any romantic fantasies you have had of me are completely of your own creation.”

“But you gave me a rose,” Alice insisted, her eyes turning glassy with tears. “And you told me to meet you at the cottage.”

“The rose was intended for another,” Tim said, his patience at an end. “And I never asked you to meet me anywhere. You misunderstood something that you overheard is all.”

“You cruel, cruel man!” she shouted, drawing every eye that wasn’t already turned to them. “How could you?”

“Miss Jones, please lower your voice,” Tim sighed.

“I will not lower my voice.” Alice stomped, fists balled. “I want everyone here to know what kind of a heartbreaker and villain you are.”

“Miss—”

“You toyed with my affections, sir, and you will not get away with it.”

Before Tim could blink, Alice grabbed the punch cup in his hand and tossed the whole thing at him. Cold, plum punch instantly soaked him from face to trousers. The shock of it left Tim frozen as Alice spun and marched away.

She hadn’t gone more than three steps when she plowed headlong into Tad. The impact produced a crunch and a grunt from both parties, but as soon as Alice recovered, she glanced up at Tad, who blinked and smiled at her in return.

“Oh. Hello,” Tad said, a grin spreading across his face.

Alice’s jaw dropped as she gazed up at him. “Hello,” she echoed breathlessly.

Tim could hardly believe the tableaux in front of him as the two young people stood there, clasping onto each other, presumably to keep themselves from falling over. He pushed a lock of punch-soaked hair out of his face, hardly believing that life could be so topsy-turvy as to throw those two together at such a moment.

He wasn’t given long to contemplate, though.

“Oh, dear. Look at you.”

A chill shot down his back and he turned just as Mary swept up to him, looping her arm through his.

“You look a right mess, love. Let me take you off somewhere so we can get you cleaned up.” Her eyes glittered with mischief, and she bit her lip as she raked him with a glance.

“I’m quite all right,” Tim insisted as Mary dragged him toward the door. “You don’t need to fuss over me.”

“Oh, but I do,” Mary insisted.

Tim let out an impatient breath but let her lead him through the arriving party guests and out to the hall. He didn’t protest when she tugged him outside into the dimming twilight either. Anything he could do to flee the scrutiny of half the town and get away from Alice was good enough for him. Even though he also wished to be as far from Mary as humanly possible.

“Here now. Let me just take care of this for you,” Mary said once they were in the relative shelter of the garden in front of the train station. She reached for the buttons of his jacket. “She made quite a mess of you, didn’t she?”

“Please,” Tim said, utterly out of sorts. “Please unhand me. I won’t fall for your petty attempts at seduction.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his just as she started on the buttons of his soggy shirt. “Petty attempts?” she said with an indignant clip.

Just like Alice, the only way to deal with the situation now on his plate was abruptly. “I don’t want you, Mary. And I don’t appreciate your attempts to come between me and—”

His sentence was cut off as a large, meaty hand clapped over his shoulder and spun him away from Mary. He half expected to see Sam Jones, out for blood, but the sight that met him was even worse.

Not that he had much of a chance to see anything before Wat Harmon planted his bare-knuckled fist squarely across Tim’s jaw. The crack that resounded through Tim’s skull caused more than a few people on their way into the dance to stop and gasp.

“I’ll teach you to lay hands on my woman,” Wat bellowed, raising his fist again.

“I didn’t lay hands on her,” Tim said, far more panic in his voice than his masculine pride wanted to admit to. “I never touched her.”

“You’re touching her now, you bastard.”

“She’s touching me, and I won’t have it.”

Tim leapt out of the way to avoid a second, devastating blow. His jaw already ached more than it ever had, pain radiating through his whole head.

The people heading to the dance stopped walking to watch the unfolding fight. They were joined by guests already at the dance, who started flooding back through the door to see what was happening. Tim thought he spotted Tad and Alice with them, but he barely had time to look before Wat took another swing.

“Stop!” Tim implored him. “This is all a misunderstanding. I don’t want Mary.”

“He tried to grope me, he did,” Mary insisted.

Tim would have gaped at her in betrayal, but Wat growled and charged at him. His shoulder thumped hard into Tim’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and carrying him several feet through the air until they both crashed into an unsuspecting cluster of onlookers. Somehow, they all managed to stay on their feet, but it was a tangle of arms and legs and pain.

“You’re a bloody liar,” Wat shouted. “Everyone knows you was with a woman at your bloody schoolhouse last night.”

A gasp went through the crowd, Tim’s shock forming a part of it. Had people seen Ada enter the schoolhouse? Did they see her leave?”

He defended himself with. “I did no such—”

“I seen her,” Wat bellowed over him. “Seen her come out of the place in a hurry and go on her way to Winterberry Park.”

He must have seen Ada, but it sounded as though it had been too dark for him to know for certain who he was seeing.

“I can assure you,” Tim said, straightening and trying to maintain a fraction of dignity, soaked with punch and bruised from Wat’s blow, “you didn’t see what you thought you saw.”

“You callin’ me a liar?” Wat roared, looking as though he would throw another punch.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Tim shouted. He glanced desperately to Mary. “Tell him.”

Mary had shrunk back into the crowd and watched the fight with a calculating flash to her eyes. She bit her lip as she glanced to Wat, making Tim wonder if she was second-guessing whatever game she was playing at last.

Wat rounded on Mary, looking as though he’d just as soon hit her as Tim. “Is he speaking true? Were you with him last night?”

“No!”

The answer was strong and definitive, but it hadn’t come from Mary. It had come from Ada.

Ada rushed toward the scene in front of the town hall, her heart in her throat. There was still enough light to see that Tim and Mary’s Wat were fighting, and that Tim was coming off the worse for it. She wouldn’t have dreamed of anyone wishing to fight Tim for any reason, until Wat bellowed his accusation about seeing someone he thought was Mary leaving the schoolhouse the night before. That was when she’d broken away from Mrs. Musgrave, Mr. Noakes, and the remaining staff of Winterberry Park to run to Tim.

“Mary was not at the schoolhouse last night,” she said, stating her case as she pushed her way to stand by Tim’s side. She looked Wat straight in the eye and said, “It was me you saw.”

“You?” Wat rubbed his stubbly chin, glancing between Ada and Mary uncertainly.

“Yes. Tell him,” Ada prompted Mary.

The look Mary wore sent dread straight to Ada’s gut. It was shrewd and calculating, as if she’d figured out how to win the war between them. “It wasn’t me,” she said slowly, turning to Wat. “You know I’d never do anything like that to you, sweetheart. I love you.” She glanced back to Ada. “She must be telling the truth. Ada here spent the night with the schoolteacher yesterday evening.”

Ada frowned, puzzled over the way Mary spoke as though making a declaration.

Her puzzlement lasted until Mrs. Musgrave asked from behind her, “Is this true, Miss Bell?”

Ada squeezed her eyes shut in dismay. After all this time, Mary had won. If Ada stayed silent, Wat would likely use it as an excuse to pound Tim into a pulp. The man barely needed an excuse to get into a fight on the best of days. If she admitted the truth in front of Mrs. Musgrave and Mr. Noakes, she would be in direct violation of the terms of her employment by behaving in an immoral and promiscuous manner, and would be sacked on the spot.

She opened her eyes and glanced to Tim. The only thing that kept her from despair was the depth of love in his eyes. He took her hand, adding physical support to what was in his eyes. In an instant, the mystery of the garter was forgotten. There had to be some other explanation, because the Tim she knew and loved was the one who grasped her hand, ready to stand by her until the end.

Taking a deep breath, Ada turned to Mrs. Musgrave. “Ma’am,” she began, her voice shaking, “I’m afraid—”

“It couldn’t have been Ada,” Tad spoke up over the hushed and expectant crowd.

Ada blinked, whipping to face Tad as he stood on the town hall’s stairs. Everyone else in the increasingly dense crowd turned to stare at him as well. Tim squeezed Ada’s hand harder. Her heart felt as though it were on the verge of stopping in her chest.

“Ada couldn’t have been here in town last night,” Tad went on, coming down off the stairs and stepping into the center of the confrontation. With as blank and benign an expression as he always wore, he looked straight into Mrs. Musgrave’s eyes and said, “Ada was helping me with those curtains last night. Remember?” He glanced to Ada with a look of unmistakable kindness and camaraderie. “The ones up in the guest bedrooms that gave us such trouble.” He laughed and rolled his eyes at the imaginary memory. “We were up past midnight trying to get those things sorted.”

“Yes,” Ada said slowly. Her cheeks burned bright with the lie, but she committed to it fully. “I didn’t know when we were going to be able to finish the task.”

Mrs. Musgrave studied her with a frown. Then she looked to Tad. Finally, she turned to Mr. Noakes. “Did you order the curtains in the guest bedrooms washed?”

“I…I suppose I did,” Mr. Noakes said with a sniff. “I didn’t realize young Tad was going to stay up all night getting things done.”

“He was insistent,” Ada blurted. “And I couldn’t let him do all that work on his own.” She glanced to Tad with a look of utmost thanks.

Tad shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”

The comment skated far too close to revealing the whole story as a fabrication for Ada’s liking, but Mrs. Musgrave seemed to accept it. She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve never known Ada to throw herself at a man, unlike some people.” She glanced to Mary, who was busy dragging Wat away from the scene and into the town hall. “It sounds like the whole thing was a misunderstanding.”

“Sounds familiar,” Tim muttered so that only Ada could hear.

“We’ll forget the whole thing.” Mrs. Musgrave waved her hand as if to dismiss a particularly annoying fly and marched on into the hall.

The scene broke up, and those who had been watching made their way up the stairs and into the dance. When there was no one left on the street but Ada, Tim, Tad, and, of all people, Alice Jones, Ada said, “Thank you, Tad. I do believe I owe you my job.”

“It weren’t nothing,” Tad said with his usual, slightly dim but always jovial smile. “I just hate seeing that Mary get the upper hand is all.”

Alice rushed forward, grabbing Tad’s arm. “He did something wonderful, I just know it,” she said, glancing up at Tad as though he were an angel and a military hero rolled into one.

“I am much obliged to him,” Ada said, on the verge of laughing, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“I knew it,” Alice sighed. “I knew from the moment I saw him that he was wonderful.”

“Am I?” Tad grinned with pleasure. “I dance pretty well,” he went on. “Interested in taking a turn around the dance floor?”

“Of course,” Alice sighed.

The two of them headed back into the hall. Ada and Tim followed, but just inside the door to the community room, Ada tugged Tim to a stop.

“Before we dance, you have some explaining to do,” she said with a sharp frown.