XII

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"Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say infinitely when you mean very; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite." C.S. Lewis

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XII.

The second dance had already begun, and Adam could hear the whispers about Jack and Claire immediately. It was news apparently, that the first lady Lord Jack Beresford stood up with was Claire Denham, a girl of no situation or consequence.

Adam wove around the crowd, managing to smile at people who curtseyed and bowed as he passed them. He barely had time to register the mothers who tried to put their daughters in his path. He noticed then that Grace and Kate were standing beside a seated Mrs Denham. There chairs all about the perimeter of the assembly hall, being occupied by those of a more delicate constitution.

Adam had always liked Mrs Denham. He had enjoyed her warmth as a boy, and how he had always felt welcomed and valued by her. He had admired how she mothered her children, and how she and her husband shared a loving union, one that he could have only dreamed of for his own parents.

He was momentarily saddened by the fact that she was now widowed, and how he would have paid his respects years ago had he known.

Mrs Denham was the first to notice his approach, and the first look she gave him after not having seen him in more than a decade was one of disgust, and it made Adam stop in his tracks. What had he done to deserve that?

Nevertheless, he persisted, and joined the party after inhaling a deep breath of courage. He cleared his throat and bowed his head respectfully to the ladies.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise, while Grace appeared very hesitant, nervous, and confused at his sudden coming.

"Mama, you remember Lord Beresford," she stammered. "Lord Beresford, my mother, Mrs Denham, and my sister, Mrs Ellis," she introduced, reacquainting them.

"Good evening, ladies," Adam said as calmly as he could manage, trying to keep himself from staring, and focussed on what he had meant to do. It did not help that being so near to her, he could truly appreciate the beauty the possessed out of that dreadful uniform. He averted his eyes from the curve of her throat and her smooth, elegant décolletage. "Mrs Denham, I hope you are feeling better and your injury is much improved," he said politely, offering her a smile.

Mrs Denham did not return the pleasantries, however, and merely scowled at him. This reception angered him, and the only explanation could be Grace had been telling tall tales. He had never done a thing to offend the Denhams. Why, as a boy, he had hoped on more than one occasion that they would allow him to live with them. He had always been on his best behaviour.

"Mama," hissed Grace, when she realised that Mrs Denham would not reply.

"Yes, much better," Mrs Denham replied reluctantly. "I thank you," she added, even more reluctantly, as though it pained her for the words to pass through her lips.

Adam needed to speak with Grace. There could no longer be any delay. But he knew he could not pull her aside and take her away for a private conversation. There were too many eyes, and there would be too many questions. Despite everything, Grace still had a reputation, and Adam was not so ungentlemanlike that he would tarnish that, no matter her past actions.

"May I have the next dance, Grace?" he asked, before correcting himself to, "Miss Denham." She was not in his employ at this moment.

Grace looked like a frightened rabbit, and both Mrs Denham and Kate were shocked at the invitation.

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