Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Tipton House, London

April 1818

A delaide met Oakley at the top of the stairs. "How do I look?" She twisted this way and that for his inspection.

"Exquisite. I daresay, if you were not already engaged, Kem would propose the moment he set eyes on you."

She smiled and took his proffered arm. "Is anybody here yet?"

"Yes, almost everybody. You are eagerly awaited . "

With a deep breath and a nod, she turned with him down the stairs to face the great, the good, and the inescapables of Society, gathered in the saloon below. Now that enough time had passed for talk of the spectacle at Lady Ardley's soiree to die down, Lady Tipton had arranged a dinner to formally announce Adelaide and Kem's engagement. She had made no secret of being impatient to share the news abroad, delighted by it as she was. Indeed, she had gone so far as to confess that she thought Adelaide and Mr Hanson exceedingly ill-suited and had only refrained from saying so for fear of causing her niece distress.

Lord Tipton had accepted the alteration in marriage partners with far more aplomb than he had received the news that Adelaide's scandalous past had been exposed . On that matter, he remained resolutely furious. His anger was all directed towards the Bookers, Oakley insisted, though Adelaide found that difficult to believe. Thanks to her, the Richmonds had gone from being a well-established family of the ton to the focus of Society's intense scrutiny, and Oakley's true identity had never seemed more tenuously concealed. She could not blame her uncle for his resentment, which she felt in his every veiled look and clipped address.

Kem came to her as soon as she entered the saloon, his handsome countenance overspread with what Adelaide was only lately coming to comprehend was pride. It was a novel feeling to be the object of somebody else's gratification, but she was in no way averse to it.

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "You look beautiful. I thought I loved you best in blue, but this gown is most definitely my new favourite."

She bit her lip self-consciously, still not used to compliments of any sort, let alone such effusive praise as Kem was wont to give. "I have never worn pink before. It is not a practical colour to wear for polishing grates."

The corner of his mouth twitched very slightly, giving him a startlingly rakish appearance. "Well, it is an exceedingly practical colour to wear for bewitching one's future husband."

She shushed him quietly, explaining with a shy laugh, "Unless you wish my face to match my gown!" She pressed a palm to her cheek, praying that she would not blush like a schoolgirl—and then, because she suspected it was too late regardless, added, "Although, I thank you for the information. I shall be sure to add at least a dozen more like it to my wardrobe."

This did nothing to diminish his rapacious expression, but he had not the opportunity to reply, for Oakley had apparently tired of being discreet while they whispered to each other.

"Look lively, you two! If you have quite finished your love-making, there are guests to attend to."

And there were; no sooner had they turned to face the room than they were descended upon by the rest of the party. Lord and Lady Sawlton were the first to approach. Now that the confusion surrounding her acquaintance with Kem had been cleared up, Adelaide had formed the beginnings of a very pleasing friendship with his sister. Emma and her husband had both proved to be delightful company, displaying not a hint of the conceit of which Lady Sophia had accused them. They greeted her now with the warmest smiles, repeating their already generously given felicitations.

Next to approach were Lord Worthe and his brother. They both bowed, Mr Ashley saying, "You look remarkably well this evening, Miss Richmond. Every bit as lovely as the last time I saw you—at Lady Trowbridge's ball, last year, if you recall. Though, I must say, it feels as though I have seen you a lot more recently than that—" He stopped speaking when his brother elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"

Lord Worthe shook his head at him, evidently vexed, but quickly turned his attention to Adelaide. "Miss Richmond, an honour and a delight, as always."

"Thank you, my lord, though now you simply must tell me what your brother was about to say." She had spoken teasingly, but her amusement faded upon seeing him glance with distinct unease, first at Kem and then at Oakley.

"It is scarcely worth mentioning, madam." He smiled, but if he had been trying for nonchalance, it did not work and only made Adelaide more curious.

"But you have mentioned it now," Kem said warily. "You might as well tell us what ‘it' is."

"Aye, come on, out with it!" Oakley added.

After a quick glance over his shoulder at Lord Tipton, which unsettled Adelaide further still, Lord Worthe shook his head. "It is nothing of any great importance. Certainly nothing worth encroaching on your special evening."

"How would it encroach?"

"Truly, Miss Richmond, it is nothing," he said firmly. "I beg you would forgive my brother's indiscretion ."

Looking abashed, Mr Ashley echoed his brother's plea for forgiveness.

A prolonged and expressive look passed between Lord Worthe and Kem before the latter inclined his head and changed the subject.

"What was that about?" Adelaide whispered as soon as the pair had moved away.

"I do not know, but I shall find out before he leaves," Kem answered—and thus, what had been meant to be a joyous evening of celebration became the longest, most nerve-racking few hours in Adelaide's recent memory. While she ought to have been enjoying the delectable feast and wonderful company, she was preoccupied imagining every conceivable explanation for Lord Worthe's discomfort—and coming up with nothing positive. Had some new horror from her childhood been discovered that was, even now, being circulated about town? Something to cause her aunt and uncle even greater dismay?

At long last, the party came to an end, and every guest was waved off until only Kem remained with the family. Adelaide longed to ask him or her brother whether they had discovered their friend's secret, but she could not seem to summon the courage. Instead, she sat with her aunt and sipped her coffee and prayed that whatever it was, it would not steal away her newfound happiness.

In the end, it was her uncle who forced the issue, when he asked, "What were you both conspiring about with Worthe and his brother after dinner?"

Oakley and Kem exchanged a quick glance, then Oakley spoke. "It may be nothing, Father, but they attended an assembly in Luton recently, and while they were there, they made the acquaintance of a young lady who they say bore a singularly strong resemblance to Adelaide."

Adelaide stared at them numbly. She had been preparing herself for disaster but—were they suggesting this lady might be her sister? She knew not what to think or feel or say about such a revelation. Oakley met her gaze. He wore his customary hopeful expression, and she would not have been surprised if he had already decided this stranger was irrefutably related to them and was troubled by nothing more than which bedchamber should be hers when she came to live with them.

"I feared this would happen," Lord Tipton said, sounding displeased.

"What?" Oakley asked.

"That Adelaide's story would give every person with a passing likeness to one or other of us leave to assert a similar connection. She claims to be a Richmond, I suppose?"

Oakley shook his head. "No. In fact, Worthe said she unequivocally discounted the possibility."

"Then why the devil are we discussing her?"

"Because her resemblance is apparently more than passing," Kem answered.

"More like the way in which I resemble my late grandmother?" Adelaide asked.

"More so. So much so that Worthe and Ashley both initially took her for you."

"You mean a twin?"

"Impossible." Lord Tipton made a disgruntled noise. "If Adelaide had a twin, the orphanage would have ensured they were kept together. "

"Not necessarily," Lady Tipton said quietly.

"Most likely, though," he insisted. "Moreover, in the shadows of a candlelit ballroom, who could really tell?"

"In any case," Oakley said with what sounded like forced ebullience, "Worthe is planning to visit her and has said he will report back on whether the likeness is as striking in daylight."

Lady Tipton tugged at her necklace. "Should you not go with him?"

"No, he should not," her husband said flatly. "We have only narrowly escaped the ignominy of Adelaide's past being uncovered. We do not need to remind everybody of that by chasing after a new scandal."

"Father!" Oakley said sharply.

"Hear me, Oakley. The whole notion is so improbable as to be impossible. Do not risk your reputation on it."

There was an uncomfortable pause before Kem spoke to fill it. "Worthe preferred to go alone. He enjoyed their dance, apparently, and wishes to call on the young lady without the inconvenience of an entourage."

"Good," said his lordship. "The rest of us may safely stay out of it, then. Lord Worthe may chase his country girl if he chooses. It has nothing to do with us."

"Please do not dismiss her entirely," Adelaide pleaded, finally finding her voice.

Everybody turned to look at her.

"I…I know ‘an earl does not acquire an orphaned niece without also inheriting the obligation of providing her with a fortune'. And I know that such an obligation must seem an even more disagreeable prospect after the example I have set. But this girl has not run away an ywhere, so there is no cause to suspect that she is reckless or rebellious or disloyal. There is no reason to suppose she has an unsavoury past to conceal or impertinent manners to overlook. Indeed, there is no reason to think ill of her at all."

Her uncle was almost wincing as she spoke, her words seeming to give him real pain. She was sorry for it, but she did not recede, for the matter felt suddenly and peculiarly important.

"I beg you would not take out your disappointment with me on an innocent girl by refusing her the chance to know whether we are her family."

There was another pause, longer and weightier than the last.

"Adelaide, dearest," Lady Tipton said at length. "Why ever would you say such things about yourself?"

"She did not," Lord Tipton said soberly. After sighing heavily, shaking his head, and banging his glass down disconsolately on the table next to him, he looked Adelaide in the eye and concluded, "I did."

His wife expressed her disappointment eloquently and not very politely, and his son's protests were not much more civil. Kem, Adelaide could tell, was barely keeping his anger in check. She ignored them all, for her uncle had risen from his chair and seemed intent on coming to sit next to her on the sofa. She knew not what to expect, and when he lowered himself down next to her, she began shuffling away to put more distance between them. She froze when he reached for her hand. His uneasiness was palpable, but to her surprise, he did not seem angry. He seemed overwhelmingly sad .

"Adelaide, I wish this was the first time you had made me consider a hard truth, but I cannot say that it is."

"I am sorry, I?—"

"No." He placed his other hand over the one he held, encasing it, and shook his head. "It is I who must apologise. I could try and excuse everything I have said and done to you since you came into our lives by claiming it was to protect Oakley's future. Alas, whilst that is always a paramount consideration, I cannot pretend it is the reason I may have, on occasion, appeared…unfeeling. I fear the truth is far less honourable."

He glanced at his wife as though for comfort, but by the turn of his countenance, Adelaide did not think he received any. He nodded to himself and continued.

"I was ashamed—deeply ashamed—to discover that I had neglected my brother's child for two decades. If it turns out he had others, my shame will be greater still, but it is high time I ceased hiding from it. You are right to call me out on comparing you unfavourably to your father. I ought never to have done it, and I will admit that it has given me some exceedingly uncomfortable reflections.

"I was angry with him for choosing a different life, away from this—" He gestured vaguely to the room. "—away from me, and I took it out on you. I wished to blame him for your situation, to believe it was his fault that you had lived such a difficult life. But it was not his fault. It was mine."

Lady Tipton tried to contradict him, but he shook his head, silencing her. When he continued, he was still addressing Adelaide, nobody else .

"It is not my fault that Robert died or that you were adopted. But it is my fault that I listened to my father's edict to denounce him. He was a good man, a good friend—the very best of brothers. It was a shameful thing to throw him over and a still greater evil not to heal the rift after my father died. If I had, I would have been able to look after you and Oakley from the start. It must be of little consolation for me to tell you that I wish I had."

Adelaide was quite overcome, having never had so many words from him in a week as had just spilled out of him in one speech. He looked similarly affected—and tired, as though his admission had cost him dearly. She squeezed his hand. "Obedience is a virtue, too. You evidently had my father's whole share of it, just as I inherited Oakley's whole share of waywardness."

He patted her hand and chuckled lightly. "You have your father's spirit, child. He was cowed by nobody, afraid of nothing. He would have been prodigiously proud of you."

His words touched a chord deep in Adelaide's heart and without a moment's thought, she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Uncle!"

He stiffened but conceded to patting her on the shoulder before saying, awkwardly, "Yes, well, enough of this, now." He extricated himself from her arms and stood up, nodding officiously at everybody in an obvious attempt to dispel his embarrassment. "Let Lord Worthe have his investigations, then. If it turns out there is more to this young lady's story, then we shall hear it. That I promise you."

Adelaide looked at Oakley and smiled to see his hopeful grin returned, this time happy to be able to share in his sanguinity. She glanced around the room at her aunt and uncle and lastly at Kem, a sense of profound contentment settling upon her. She could do nothing but wait to find out whether her family would continue to grow, but the wait would be with the family she already had, a family who loved her, and that was reward enough to be going on with.