Chapter 11
LILY
The morning room had become my own personal hell.
“No, no, no.” Adeline's voice cut through my third attempt at a curtsy. “You're bobbing like a buoy in rough water. A lady descends with deliberate grace.”
I straightened, fighting the urge to massage my aching knees.
We'd been at this for two hours. Curtsies, posture, how to enter a room without looking like I was storming a castle.
How to accept a calling card. Which topics were acceptable for morning calls versus dinner conversation.
The seventeen different social landmines disguised as polite questions I needed to deflect without causing offense.
“Again,” Adeline commanded, settling back into her chair like a particularly judgmental empress.
“I'm not sure my knees can survive 'again,'” I muttered, but I bent anyway, focusing on the smooth descent she'd demonstrated. Keep your back straight. Eyes down but not too far. Hands gathered at your sides, not clutching your skirts like you're about to fall off a cliff.
“Better,” Adeline conceded. “Though you still look like you're preparing to be executed rather than greeting a duchess.”
“To be fair, meeting a duchess in this century sounds roughly equivalent to execution.”
Her lips twitched—the closest she'd come to a smile all evening. “Sit. Before you collapse and prove my point about your lack of stamina.”
I sank gratefully into the chair opposite her, resisting the urge to sprawl. Ladies perched. They didn't slump. My spine apparently needed constant reminding.
“You're doing better than I expected,” Adeline said, pouring tea with the kind of effortless precision I'd never master. “Though your modern sensibilities keep showing through.”
“Is that your polite way of saying I have opinions?”
“It's my polite way of saying you broadcast them across your face like a scandal sheet.” She handed me a cup. “When Lady Pemberton asks you about your travels from Yorkshire, you cannot look like you're calculating the historical accuracy of your own lie.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You absolutely would. I could see you working through the railway schedules in your head.” She took a sip of her own tea. “A proper young lady wouldn't know the exact timetables. She'd simply say, 'the journey was tiresome' and move on.”
“So, I'm supposed to be decoratively vague about everything?”
“You're supposed to be unremarkable enough that no one looks too closely.” Her gaze sharpened. “Speaking of which—Constance Sterling.”
I nearly fumbled my teacup. “What about her?”
“Don't play coy. I saw the aftermath when I arrived.” Adeline's smile was sharp. “August looked like he'd survived a battle, and you looked entirely too pleased with yourself.”
“She threatened to tell his father about me.”
“Of course she did. Constance views any woman within a mile of August as competition.” She took another sip, watching me over the rim. “What did you think of her?”
I considered my words carefully. “She seemed. . . protective of what she considers hers.”
“Territorial,” Adeline corrected. “Like a dog with a bone it doesn't even want but refuses to let anyone else have.” She set down her cup with deliberate care. “I loathe her.”
The frank admission surprised a laugh out of me. “You don't believe in diplomacy?”
“Not when it comes to Constance Sterling. She's vapid, grasping, and has all the genuine warmth of a December morning.” Adeline's expression turned calculating. “The only thing she's ever loved is the idea of being Mrs. August Hawthorne.”
“She seemed very convinced that's what she was going to be.”
“She’s wrong.” Adeline studied me with unsettling intensity. “Though to be fair, August let her believe it longer than he should have. He has an unfortunate habit of avoiding difficult conversations until they become impossible ones.”
I thought of August's expression when Mrs. Hartley had announced Constance's arrival. The resigned dread. “He said he was planning to end things with her.”
“Did he?” Adeline's eyebrow arched. “Or was he planning to continue letting it drift until his father arranged the wedding and he had no choice?”
The question landed uncomfortably. Because I didn't know. Didn't know August well enough to say whether his claim was genuine or just something he'd told himself to avoid being trapped.
“Either way,” Adeline continued, “your presence has forced his hand. Constance won't tolerate another woman in his house, legitimate cousin or not. He'll have to make a decision now.”
“That wasn't my intention.”
“I know.” She picked up a small cake from the tea tray, examining it with more attention than it deserved. “Though I suspect you're not particularly sorry about it either.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I don't have any designs on August, if that's what you're implying.”
“Don't you?” The question was mild, almost curious. “Because you looked at each other with remarkable intensity when I arrived. The air was practically crackling.”
“We'd just had an argument.”
“Mmm.” She didn't sound convinced. “Well. Regardless of your intentions, you've complicated his life considerably. Which, speaking as someone who's known August since we were children, is probably good for him.”
“Good for him?”
“He’s too controlled. Too careful. Following his father’s path because it’s easier than carving his own. You make him question that—and for someone like August, doubt is dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Dangerous because men like him, who've built their entire lives on certainty, don't know how to handle doubt.” Her gaze locked on mine. “Which is why you need to be very careful about what you make him doubt. And why.”
The warning was clear. I took a sip of tea to buy myself time, but Adeline wasn't finished.
“Now.” She set down her cup with the finality of a judge's gavel. “Let's discuss what happened during your walk this morning.”
My stomach dropped. “August gave you a full report?”
“He gave me context. You witnessed an arrest. Nearly caused a scene defending a Weaver you'd never met.” She stood, moving to the window. “He said you were distraught. That the woman being arrested reminded you of your research.”
“The disappeared people. The ones the Unraveler erased from existence.”
“Careful.” Adeline's spine straightened. “Those are dangerous accusations.”
“Are they accusations if they're true?”
She turned back to face me, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “What do you think of them? The Weavers.”
The question was loaded. Like the wrong answer would shatter whatever fragile trust we'd built.
I thought of the little girl from the forest who'd saved me, whose voice had bloomed impossibly in my mind this morning. Tomorrow. Nine. Old bell tower.
I pictured the woman being dragged through the streets in chains, jeered at by strangers. Of August's maps, covered in pin markings.
“I think,” I said carefully, “that calling an entire group of people monsters makes it easier to justify hunting them.”
Adeline went very still.
“And I think,” I continued, because apparently I was incapable of self-preservation, “that the people in power always decide who gets to be called dangerous. And that those decisions are rarely about actual threat and more about control.”
The silence stretched. I waited for her to call for August, to declare me a Weaver sympathizer, to end this entire charade.
“That's an interesting answer,” Adeline said quietly. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. Not warmly, but with something like respect. “And probably the only honest thing you've said since I arrived.”
I blinked. “You're not—”
“Angry? Concerned? Planning to report you to August?” She moved back to her chair with deliberate grace. “No. Though I'd strongly advise you to be more careful who you share those opinions with. Most people in Oxford wouldn't be so. . . understanding.”
“And you are?”
“I'm pragmatic.” She settled back into her seat. “And I've watched too many people disappear for asking the wrong questions. So, I don't agree with everything August does, but I keep my head down and my opinions private.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” Something flickered across her face—weariness, maybe, or old anger carefully banked. “But it's also safe. Which brings me back to you.”
“Me?”
“You lied to August this morning.” She said it matter-of-factly, like commenting on the weather. “About what you saw on that street. He knows you lied. And he's deciding whether to confront you directly or simply watch you until you reveal the truth yourself.”
My mouth went dry. “He told you that?”
“He didn't have to. I know him.” She poured herself more tea with steady hands. “So here's my advice, ‘cousin.’ If you're going to do something foolish, make sure you have an excellent excuse prepared. And for God's sake, don't get caught.”
“I'm not—”
“Don't.” She held up one hand. “Don't insult my intelligence by claiming innocence. I don't know what you're planning, and I don't want to know. But whatever it is, understand that August is already suspicious and one misstep will end very badly for you.”
She stood, smoothing her skirts with brisk efficiency. “Now. We need to practice your entrance and exit. Lady Pemberton is hosting dinner next week, and the way you walk into a room currently suggests you're either fleeing a fire or preparing to start one.”
I followed her to the center of the room, mind racing. The walls of this elegant prison were closing in, and every polite smile I practiced was another loop in the noose.
“Lily.” Adeline's sharp voice pulled me back. “You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too loudly.” She demonstrated a graceful turn, her movements fluid and controlled. “Whatever's occupying your mind, set it aside. For the next hour, your only concern is convincing Oxford society that you're a perfectly ordinary young woman from Yorkshire.”
“Right. Perfectly ordinary.”
“Mock if you like, but mastering these rituals might save your life someday.” Her expression turned serious. “Strange things happen to women who don't know how to play the game, Miss Whitmore. And stranger things happen to those who play it poorly.”
She resumed the lesson—drilling me on posture, on grace, on the thousand small ways a woman could be judged and found wanting in this world.
But her warning echoed in my mind long after.
Strange things happen to women who don't know how to play the game.
I just hoped I was playing the right one.