Lord Duskwood entered the room then and cleared his throat loudly. “Winston, if you faint on me, I’ll have to carry you, and I’d rather avoid that.”
Winston exhaled a weak laugh.
Adeline clutched him closer. “We need to get you home.”
He nodded. “Help me stand.”
Oswald went to his side immediately.
Together, they lifted Winston carefully to his feet. His left arm hung uselessly. Pain ravaged his expression, but his eyes never left Adeline.
“I’ll be fine,” he murmured to her. “We’ve weathered worse storms.”
Adeline slipped her arm around his waist. “Not like this.”
He leaned into her, just enough to steady himself. “We’re going home.”
Behind them, Pike hauled Harston to his feet.
“Well done,” Winston said. “He’ll face what he’s earned.”
Adeline met Winston’s gaze. For the first time since childhood, she felt the walls of Harston Hall shrink behind her, small and powerless. They walked out together, Winston leaning on her, wind tearing at their clothes, Pike dragging Harston behind them. The sky opened into rain, but Adeline didn’t feel thecold. She felt only Winston’s hand clasping hers, tight and certain. They were leaving the darkness. And they were leaving it together.
Epilogue
The bells of Greystone church carried over the fields before the morning mist had fully lifted. They were bright bells, startled into cheerfulness, as though the tower itself had woken early to see a thing long waited for.
Adeline stood in the small room beside the chancel, sunlight sparkling on the worn flagstones. The old glass in the window threw soft colors across her gown. A shifting haze of rose and gold caught the edge of her sleeve and made it glow. Someone, Cordelia likely, had tucked a sprig of myrtle into the ribbon at her waist. She dared not touch it for fear her hands would tremble again.
Mrs. Grogan fussed with the veil, muttering in the fond, scandalized tones of a woman who could not believe she had become maid of honor to the girl she once comforted in a kitchen cupboard.
“Look at you,” Mrs. Grogan said, shaking her head. “Perfect as a picture. Though if His Grace doesn’t faint dead away at the sight of you, I’ll have words with him. And if he so much as thinks about complaining, I’ll…”
“Mrs. Grogan,” Adeline laughed, “I don’t think he dares complain about anything today.”
Mrs. Grogan sniffed. “Nor should he.” She adjusted the comb at the back of Adeline’s hair one last time. “There now. Don’t fret. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
Adeline touched the woman’s hands. “Thank you. Truly.”
Louisa burst into the room at that moment, skirts a little crooked despite Cordelia’s attempts, flowers in her hair already tumbling free.
“You look like a princess,” she said, eyes wide. “Papa said so too. He said it twice, even. And he told me not to say it to you before the ceremony…oh…” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell him I told you.”
Adeline steadied her smile. “I won’t. And you look beautiful.”
“I do,” Louisa said matter-of-factly. “But not as beautiful as you. Come see.”
She tugged Adeline toward the door just as Lord Duskwood arrived, straightening the lapels of a coat that looked as if ithad been bullied into respectability at the last moment. Oswald stared at Adeline for a long beat. All the questions between them were answered. There was no longer tension in his stare.
“Well,” he said, “Winston’s a lucky devil.”
Mrs. Grogan aimed a swat at his arm. “Language.”
Oswald dodged it with practiced ease. “Right. A lucky fellow, then.”
He held out an elbow, the gesture both teasing and unexpectedly formal. “If you’ll allow me the honor.”
Adeline’s breath caught. Oswald, who had once looked at her with suspicion, now looked at her with something else entirely. A steady trust earned one hard moment at a time.
