by Merry Farmer
“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.
Chapter 8
Tim finished the last of his simple meal and took his dishes to the kitchen area in the corner of his open living space. The plumbing that brought water to the second floor was new and not always reliable, but he managed to rinse his plate and the pots he’d used to cook before dragging himself to the armchair beside the potbellied stove that warmed his apartment.
He flopped into the chair and rubbed his eyes. Something odd was definitely going on, but he didn’t have enough pieces to put the puzzle together. The maid, Mary, had to be at the center of things, but what did she want? In spite of the way she’d thrown herself at him, he found it hard to believe that she harbored any tender feelings toward him. He barely knew her. The only person he’d had any interest in at Winterberry Park, other than the Croydon family, was Ada, and the indomitable Mr. Noakes had kept the two of them thoroughly apart.
If only he could find a way to reach Ada, to tell her what he knew and listen to things from her side so that they could put it all together. He was certain that it would take two whole minutes to sort the mess out.
To sort most of it out, at least. He glanced to his bureau and the lacy garter that still sat where he’d tossed it in disgust earlier. Schoolgirl crushes were a common thing, of course, but knowing that didn’t soften the awkwardness of being the object of one. Of course, Sam Jones and his bloody butcher’s apron complicated that whole aspect of the tangle all the more. If he could only—
A knock at his apartment door startled Tim out of his depressing thoughts. He could only imagine what new horror awaited him as he pushed himself to stand and drag his feet across the room to the door. With his luck, it was probably Sam, having discovered that he was the object of Alice’s fascination and come to finish the job he’d only threatened to do earlier.
The knock sounded a second, tentative time just as Tim reached the door. He fixed his expression into one of strength and determination, then threw open the door.
His heart dropped to his gut, then bounced up to the highest heights. “Ada. What are you doing here?”
She stood in the doorway, a look as resolute as his own tightening her expressive lips and pinching around her eyes. Her cheeks were pink with cold, but the hardness around her instantly melted as their eyes met.
“What is going on?” she asked, far more passion in her voice than a casual inquiry warranted.
Relief spilled through Tim. He opened the door wider and rested a hand on her waist as he ushered her into his home. “I was just sitting here pondering the same thing.” He shut and locked the door, then moved to take Ada’s cloak. “Come in by the stove. You look chilled through.”
She let him drape her cloak, hat, and mittens over the back of one of the chairs at his kitchen table, and warmed her hands over the stove. “I feel chilled through,” she said. “But not because of the weather.”
“No?” The twisting sensation that she was going to take him to task for something blended with excitement that they could finally speak without interruption.
Ada huffed out a breath, turning to face him fully. “I stumbled across Mary doing something…inappropriate in the bushes on my way home from an errand in Lanhill earlier.” Her cheeks burned an even hotter shade of pink, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. Tim didn’t know how to respond to the information, so he waited as she went on. “When she came up to the house later, she said that she’d been doing…things…with you.”
Tim’s brow flew up. His face and neck heated as the reasons behind Mary’s advances took on a whole new meaning. “But I didn’t do anything,” he said, half to himself. “I didn’t take her up on her offer.”
It was Ada’s turn to look shocked. “Did you encounter her earlier?”
/> “I did,” Tim started, but forced himself to stop and take a breath. There was no point in tangling the web tighter. He considered the best way to tell his side of the story before going on.
His home wasn’t conducive to entertaining. There weren’t enough chairs. But after a quick look around, he closed his hand around Ada’s elbow and led her to the bed. She went with him, still frowning, frustration dripping off of her, and sat as he sat. Judging by the serious look she’d fixed him with, she was ready to sort through the mess.
“I went up to Winterberry Park earlier to speak to you,” be began.
Her expression lightened. “You did?”
“Yes. I think there was some serious…confusion about everything that happened at Violetta’s cottage yesterday.”
“There most certainly was,” Ada said, letting out a breath of relief and shifting to face him more fully.
“But when I got to the Park, Mr. Noakes turned me away,” Tim went on. “He said the staff was not to be disturbed while working.”
Ada pursed her lips. “Old Mr. Noakes has been a pill since the Croydons left. He’s ruling the house with a rod of iron.”
“I’m sorry,” Tim said, reaching for her hands. A zip of energy shot up his arm as they made contact, leaving his heart beating faster. But he had a story to tell. “I left, since it was the only thing I could do. Before I got to the end of the lane, Mary chased after me.”
Ada scowled. “She’s been wretched lately, ever since I fought to defend Ruby against her and Martha when we were all called into Mrs. Musgrave’s office.”
For some reason, that information clicked into place. Mary had a vendetta with Ada. Of course that would lead to vicious behavior.
“In the course of our conversation, if it could even be called that, she, well, she threw herself at me,” he confessed.
Ada pressed her lips together hard. “That harlot,” she hissed. “Behavior like that, and she already has a fellow who she cavorts with on a regular basis.” She stopped short with a gasp, sitting straighter, eyes going wide. “I bet that’s who she was with in the bushes.”
“Who?”
“Wat. Her fellow. I thought I saw him heading out along the road just before I finished my errands in Lanhill and headed back to Winterberry Park.”
“It must have been,” Tim agreed. “Because it certainly wasn’t me, no matter what she told you. I never would have done anything of that sort with her, anything at all. I don’t know why women, and girls, have been throwing themselves at me so much of late.”
“Women?” Ada blinked at the plural. “And girls?”
Tim shook his head. “One of my older students, Alice Jones, has developed tender feelings for me.” His face burned with embarrassment. “She was there at the cottage that day.”
Ada’s mouth dropped open. “Is that who that other woman’s voice was?”
Tim sighed. “Alice is barking up the wrong tree, though. Because I—” He stopped, suddenly self-conscious about everything he was feeling, everything he’d felt for such a long time.
“Yes?” Ada asked, leaning expectantly toward him.
Their hands were still entwined, so he squeezed hers. Now was the time. If ever he was going to declare himself, put everything on the line, it was now.
“I love you, Ada,” he said in a rush, before his courage gave out. “I’ve loved you for ages. Ever since the first time you came to me asking for help reading.”
“Oh, Tim.” Her eyes swam with happy tears as she clutched his hands.
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t more open earlier,” he went on inching closer to her on the bed. “I wasn’t sure whether I was being unprofessional by falling for a student or whether the affection that I felt between us was only natural.”
“It was natural,” Ada insisted, scooting so close to him that their legs touched. “I’ve felt it too, almost from the beginning. You’ve been so kind and so patient with me. How could I not fall in love?”
A quiver of victory swirled through him. “Are you saying….”
She nodded, brimming with happiness. “I love you, Tim. More than I’ve been willing to let myself admit to.”
Tim let out a breath, his head spinning with joy. “My darling.”
“Which is why I was so confused when Mary told me the two of you had arranged to meet at Violetta’s cottage for…notorious activity,” she said, slipping back into a half-frown.
Tim’s urgency to sort things out returned tenfold. “I never arranged such a thing,” he said. “She told me that you were the one who would meet me there.”
“What? When?” Ada blinked.
“After I first took my letter asking you to the Valentine’s dance to Winterberry Park. I gave it to the footman.”
Ada’s expression pinched into a combination of frustration and relief. “Tad. The footman who gave me your letter is named Tad. And when I opened the letter and saw that it was signed only with a ‘T’, I thought Tad was the author.”
Tim’s jaw dropped. Part of him wanted to laugh. The rest of him was too stunned to speak.
“That’s why I was at the cottage,” she went on. “I didn’t know what to say to Tad, because I love you. I couldn’t crush his feelings like…like Mary or Martha would have. So, when I ran into Clara Fallon in Lanhill the other day, I asked her what I should do, and she said to let Tad down easy in a place where his disappointment wouldn’t be on display for all and sundry to see.”
“So it was coincidence?” Tim blinked. “The fact that we were both at the cottage at the same time was pure coincidence?”
“That or fate,” Ada said, her lips tilting up into a smirk. “After all, if we hadn’t met each other there, neither of us would have had reason to be confused. And if we weren’t so confused, we wouldn’t be here now, working to sort things out.”
“And I’m beyond glad we’re getting to the bottom of things,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist and holding her close. “Because I love you, Ada. And it’s about time I do something about it.
And without stopping to think about the propriety, about whether he should or shouldn’t, he slanted his lips over hers, kissing her with all the passion that had been building up in him for more than a year.
Ada’s heart sang at the press of Tim’s lips against hers. She’d longed for his kiss almost since the moment she’d met him, and it was everything she’d dreamed it could be. She slipped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting him know she was open for more. Much more. She might have been a nice girl, but she was still a woman.
“Oh, Ada,” Tim sighed, tightening his embrace. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“So have I,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair and stealing another kiss. She didn’t care if she was as bold as Mary, she wanted Tim. She welcomed his kisses and kissed him back ardently.
But kisses weren’t enough. Excitement made her bold, and with a quick twist, she shifted to straddle Tim’s legs, sitting on his knees and kissing him with abandon. It felt as though she’d been waiting her whole life to be so shameless, and nothing was going to stop her.
To her delight, there was no sign that Tim wanted to stop either. The intensity of his kiss deepened as he nibbled at her lower lip and teased his tongue along hers. His hands moved from her waist to lift and bunch her skirt so that she could get closer to him. He brushed his hands against her thighs, tugging at her garters to loosen her stockings. They slackened, and he pushed them down over her knees, then he smoothed his hands over the bare flesh of her thighs.
Ada caught her breath. The intimacy of the touch was so unexpectedly delightful that it sent her heart fluttering, making it difficult to breathe. A delicious ache formed between her legs and spread all through her, threatening to ignite her from the inside, especially as Tim stroked higher and higher up her thighs, all the way to the hem of her drawers.
He didn’t stop there. Her eyes popped wide, and she shuddered as he parted the slit in h
er drawers and brushed his fingers against the center of her womanhood.
“Oh, my,” she gasped, widening her legs to allow him to touch more of her.
“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice deeper and darker than she’d ever heard it.
She loved the way he sounded, the way his eyes flashed with fire as she met his gaze. She nodded as he continued to tease and stroke her in a way that drove her wild with pleasure.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this before?” he asked on, circling the entrance of her womanhood.
She shook her head, moving restlessly along with his hand. The sensation was so exquisite that she felt as though she might burst. It didn’t seem right for the two of them to be so buttoned up in all their winter clothes while he stroked her like that.
Then he slipped a finger inside of her. She gasped at the feeling, letting out a mewling sound that was entirely unlike her. Or rather, it was like a version of her she’d only ever dreamed about. Her body felt hot, and wetness flowed where Tim touched her. He drew his finger out, then thrust two inside of her. That was even better, setting every nerve in her intimate places alight.
He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue echoing what his fingers were doing. Ada sighed with the pleasure of it, moving her hips to increase the sensation of his touch and grabbing handfuls of his hair as the pleasure grew more and more intense. Urges like nothing she’d ever known filled her, spurring her to do…she wasn’t sure what. She just knew that she was his and would be his in any way he wanted her.
“I love you,” Tim whispered, fumbling at the buttons of her blouse with one hand while his other continued to penetrate her. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she gasped, overwhelmed with pleasure.
He was clumsy with her buttons, but as soon as she grasped what he was trying to do, she leaned back and helped. She unbuttoned her bodice, shrugging out of the sleeves and pushing it down to her waist with her skirt. Then she made quick work of her corset and chemise, all while continuing to move against his hand, which continued to do exquisite things to her.
