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“But I do,” Elizabeth said, her voice unsteady after being attacked.

“What was that?” The judge leaned in as Atkinson pulled in another breath to continue.

“I said she has no proof!” he repeated.

“I do!” Elizabeth cried, pounding her tiny fist on the rail. “I do have proof, Mr. Judge, sir. Senator Mae, he’s got a birthmark right above his—” She broke off, her face a picture of perfect misery.

“Where, child?” the judge asked gently while Atkinson struggled for words.

“It’s right above his privates. A port wine stain, in the shape of a heart.”

“Bailiff,” the judge said, rising to his feet, “if you would please escort Mr. Mae to his holding cell, where I will determine whether he does or does not have this mark.”

“I . . . I object,” Atkinson said.

“To what?” the judge asked. “You can take his pants down yourself if you like, but I will know.”

Grace watched as her father was escorted through a door, his head held high, but tension keeping it unnaturally still as his defense team and the judge exited with him. Adelaide reached over and wordlessly squeezed her hands. Alone on the stand, Elizabeth wiped her face, head inclined ever so slightly to the right.

The courtroom was silent when the men reentered, everyone filing back to their places. The judge placed a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder as he passed behind her. He settled himself in his chair, and Pickering took the floor before him.

“Prosecution would like to enter into evidence that the defendant does indeed have a port wine stain in the shape of a heart above his privates.”

The courtroom erupted and Grace’s heart flew into her throat as the rage that had belonged to only her poured from their mouths. She caught the barest glimpse of her father’s face, pale and peaked, before the man in front of her rose to his feet shouting that he should hang.

“How is Lizzie?” Thornhollow asked that evening in Adelaide and Grace’s shared room at the inn.

“Janey sent a note, said she’s resting,” Grace said, accepting the cup of tea that Adelaide handed her.

“As should you,” Adelaide said. “This trial must be taxing for you.”

“Which is why I didn’t want her there,” Thornhollow reminded them both.

“She wants to be there, and that’s what matters,” his sister said. “I feel as if the two of you could jaw over the whole thing all night, each of your morbid brains imagining each pitfall through to the end rather than just seeing it out. I’ll take myself to bed, thank you very much.”

Grace and the doctor sat together quietly for a moment after the door shut behind her. “Do you still want to be there?” he finally asked.

“It’s not been easy,” Grace admitted. “But yes, I want to come tomorrow. You’re testifying for my sake. Not being there would be an abandonment of sorts.”

Thornhollow sighed. “It’s clear I can’t stop you, but the courtroom was a circus for the notoriety of the thing. Now that there’s a true scandal involved, it will only escalate.”

“Doctor, I—” Grace broke off, searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“I know that face,” Thornhollow said. “It usually comes before you admit you were wrong about something.”

“Then you can’t know it very well,” Grace shot back, and the doctor threw back his head, laughing.

“It’s good to see you riled,” he said. “I much prefer it to this cold, thoughtful thing that used to be Grace.”

“I know,” she said, eyes on the floor. “I had to remove myself when we went through Nell’s room with the policemen, and there was a comfort to the emptiness. I held on to it too long. It was all I had when I killed Beaton and I didn’t feel it, Doctor, I swear. I didn’t feel a thing when I cut his throat.”

“I believe you,” Thornhollow said.

“And that was so frightening,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “But it gave me power, to feel nothing. Me, who was so powerless. And I reveled in it for a time, but last night I knew I had to give Elizabeth something for the jury in the way of proof. So I let myself see. I saw my father, and I saw it all, right into the depths of his eyes, where there was that same nothing. I won’t do that. I won’t become him.”

Thornhollow leaned forward. “Good. I would have you be Grace, whichever side of her you’re using in the moment. But, Grace.”

Grace’s tea sat in her hands, untouched and cold. “I know you have reservations, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I know you don’t want to dirty your theories by using them to falsely accuse my father. Everything you’ve done for me culminates in this. It’s the right thing to do, and I thank you for it.”