"I cannot believe we are doing this," Theo grumbled on their ride back to London the next day. They were alone in the carriage together. Theo had given Emilia the option of riding with them as well, but she decided to be with Will. Addie wasn't surprised, of course, but Theo had given her a strange look.

If it had been any other day, he likely would have protested that his sister shouldn't be alone with the man that had ruined her. But by now he trusted Will. And this way, Theo got to pull Addie onto his lap like he was doing now.

"I swear if anything happens to you or my child," he said, nuzzling his face into her hair so his words came out muffled. His arm wound its way around her increasing belly.

Addie wasn't going to be dissuaded. This was her only chance to prove she hadn't killed her husband, and she was not going to waste it.

"It will be fine," she soothed, leaning back into him. She twisted and placed a kiss atop his head.

As the carriage drew closer and closer to the busy streets of London, Addie could feel Theo becoming stiffer, holding her tighter.

When they arrived, everyone took their places. Addie was the last to enter the abbey before the procession began. They had designed it that way to bring maximum attention to her attendance. It was an effective strategy, to say the least. There seemed to be a collective gasp as she made her way down the aisle to the front. She heard whispers demonizing her name and saw looks disdaining her presence, but yet she continued. Addie refused to carry the guilt that others flung at her.

Candlelight flickered in the dimmed church, but Theo still caught her eye. He sat toward the back of the pews, much to his chagrin. She wanted to believe that he understood her need to make this stand alone, but his face did not indicate such. Addie briefly saw King Ernest, his hatred for her evident though he remained seated. She sent a quick thank you to Will in her mind.

Finally, she sat, smoothing her mourning gown beneath her unsteady hands. Addie trained her eyes on those shaky fingers, knowing that at this moment it was the only safe place to lay her gaze. Emotions as she never knew them before rose within her.

It wasn't difficult to play the grieving widow that the public was hoping to see. Addie honestly did grieve for George. His death was meant for her, and while she refused to accept the blame that others placed her with, she had a guilt of her own.

George was a complicated man, and ultimately, a selfish one. But Addie knew everything he did stemmed from his desire to be accepted as someone he knew he was not. Could he be blamed for that? The jurisdiction and persecution of society ruled over his actions, turning his real self into inconsistent characters he couldn't keep up with.

Regardless of his actions, in the end, she still regretted his unfair death, and as the proceedings began, tears flowed freely from her eyes. How had it come to this? She would find who was responsible or die trying. For her sake, for Theo's sake, and for George.

Words, endless but unmoving words, were spoken in tribute to his life. Finally, it was her time to stand.

A commotion of hushed whispers began to echo behind her as she made her way to the pulpit. She couldn't blame them, for what she was about to do was highly untraditional; a risk most would not take, a route most would not make.

With a deep breath, she prepared her voice to be heard. Addie shook, and she hoped that her words would not fail her now when she needed them the most. With a familiar uneasiness, her tongue was heavy and awkward in her mouth. Addie prayed that her thoughts would ring true.

She was no longer a woman who was unsure of herself. Never before had she been more certain of what she was about to say. Addie wasn't saying words that she merely believed she should say, nor was she spewing the first thoughts that came to her mind: Addie was speaking the things that she believed and knew to be true. So, she cleared her throat and spoke.

"His Royal Highness was an honorable man," she began. "He did not deserve the death that befell him, of this I am certain. I saw in him a desire to uphold this nation's honor and values. He was willing to communicate with me about his views and welcomed me as an ally. He was an ally as I am an ally to His and Her Majesties.

"I stand here today to denounce any accusation that I would harbor ill will toward any member of the royal family. I do not seek to displace any members of the monarchy, government or otherwise. Instead, I seek to engage with these institutions to advance our nation. We spend far too much time hating what we just don't understand. I am here today to seek understanding so that we might find strength, and in it—"

"Don't listen to her!" a clear voice rang throughout the congregation, interrupting Addie as her final word was spoken.

"—peace," she whispered.

"Don't listen to a word she says!" The man yelled again as gasps of indignation and confusion sounded around them. "She is nothing but a low-life servant. She is no princess, duchess or queen. She is no one." The last words were whispered but loud.

Addie knew that voice. She knew that awful, despicable voice well. Quickly she scanned the crowd for his face.

"That woman is a fraud."

Addie saw the finger pointing at her before she saw the face. The face of the man who had debased her in the dead of night.

She connected with his gaze, crazed as it was. He wore the liveried uniform of a royal servant.

"Adam," she breathed, barely a sound accompanied it.

"I tried! I tried to get rid of her for you all." His eyes were wide, crazed. He looked around wildly, as though he expected applause, gratitude. "But instead, the Prince—"

And then Addie was enveloped in cacophonous sound. King Ernest erupted from his spot in the audience with a sounding "Seize him!" to which Adam responded by drawing a pistol from his side, training it with lackadaisical precision on Addie.

The weapon fired as Adam was hit from behind. Adam and his gun flew forward, and as if in a fluid movement with the rest of the scene, Addie threw herself backward to dodge the flying bullet. She fell in a heap of black fabric on the tiled floor, her head hitting the wooden post behind her with a thud.

"Adelaide!" she heard Theo's voice straining through the chaos. She struggled to get up to find him but was instantly pushed back down. "Don't move," Theo's voice said, nearer this time. She opened her eyes to see his concerned face hovering above hers. His one hand was moving faster than she thought possible, probing her body for signs of injury. The other stayed firmly on her stomach, as if in protection. "Are you shot? Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," she breathed. Addie moved her hand to her head where a pain throbbed at the base of her skull. "Just here, where I hit my head. Where is Adam?"

"Emilia kicked him to the ground. The guards have him," Theo responded despondently, his hands moving to where she indicated. A small amount of blood appeared on his fingers.

"Emilia?"

Theo nodded numbly.

"It is nothing, Theo. Let me get up."

"It is not nothing, and I will carry you."

"You may give me your arm, but you won't carry me, Theodore Shepard."

"Fine," he said tersely, realizing he would not win. He moved back to allow her space and offered his hand for assistance. Addie reached out to grasp it, but her shoulder twinged in pain. She sucked in a breath with a grimace.

"What was that?" he asked with acute awareness.

"Just my shoulder." She shook her head, still reaching out to grab his hand when he abruptly dropped it. He knelt down next to her to inspect the offending body part and Addie strained her neck to see as well. There she found a gash, seeping in blood as Theo examined it. It appeared to go straight across the top of her shoulder in a clean slice.

Addie checked behind her to find the stray bullet embedded in the wooden post that had collided with her skull.

Theo expelled a breath as she followed her line of vision. "Just a flesh wound," he said with relief.

She gave him a weak smile and peered up at him through sooty lashes. "See? Everything is fine."

"It is not fine," he growled. "I told you this was a terrible plan."

She disagreed but allowed him his grumpy nature as he lifted her up onto her feet. Those in the audience who had not cleared out at the sound of gunfire sat staring at her. Sounds of weeping and whimpering could be heard in the background. The king, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. She should say something, but now words were fleeting, pain obscuring her voice.

"I...he...he is partly right," she said, loathing how her voice wavered. "After the death of my family, I went into hiding. During that time, it is true that I worked as a servant. But I assure you, my blood runs with the blood of my grandfather, King George III, and my father, King William IV. Now," she said as their faces began to swim before her, "if you would excuse me."

And with that, she allowed Theo to lead her out of the church and into the harsh sunlight that captured every spot of blood, every tear of fabric and every unwiped tear in its revealing nature. It would seem that nearly all would be revealed on this day, and she found she could not argue with that.

****

He should have killed that son of a bitch when he'd had the chance. Theo should have sliced Adam into a million pieces and sent him to the bottom of the Thames. But instead, he had shown mercy to his despicable soul, a gift that never should have been given.

Theo paced outside the door to his bedchamber as the doctor assessed and treated Addie's wounds. He grew less and less patient as the sunlight dimmed outside, telling him that it had been hours since they had returned from Westminster.

The entire journey to Kingfield House had strained Theo in ways he had never known. Shortly after leaving the church, he disregarded Addie's protests and picked her off her feet. She had been cutting dizzying paths through the crush of people, her consciousness wavering.

Theo had known that despite the lack of severe bleeding, wounds could worsen if not dealt with quickly. And Addie had not been moving quickly.

The physician had insisted that Theo stay outside the room. In an effort to hasten the old man, he may have shouted at him who exactly he was to be treating. Theo recalled his words being something along the lines of, "She's a bloody princess for fuck's sake!" The results of which did indeed lead to a swiftness, but not the one he had been hoping for. Instead, he had been swiftly removed from the room, despite his objections that this was his house and he could do as he pleased.

Really, he wasn't sure how the man had done it.

So now Theo was left to wear a path into the carpet with his pacing.

"How is she?"

Theo whirled around, not having heard Andrew come down the hallway behind him. He appeared worn, his usual precise attire in a haphazardly arranged look. Dark circles were apparent beneath his cool eyes. And despite this all, Theo still swore at him.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"At Bow Street," he responded quietly. "I was only just released."

"Oh," Theo mumbled, instantly feeling regretful. "I didn't realize—"

"It is fine." Andrew cut in, seeming indifferent but tired. "Imagine my surprise to hear that I was no longer suspected of Prince George's murder because another had confessed." Andrew scanned the hallway wearily as he spoke. His eyes were unfocused, not glancing once at Theo. It occurred to Theo that the older duke must not be tired, but exhausted. Andrew gave none of his usual effort to mask his evasive nature.

"It was Adam," Theo bit out, trying not to sound too harsh for Andrew's sake.

But the other man gave no response. It was as if he hadn't heard Theo. Andrew was staring at the wall, his attention on nothing in particular.

Theo wasn't sure what to say or do. Thankfully, after several more seconds, Andrew appeared to snap out of it. "I know."

"You know?" Theo asked in surprise.

Andrew nodded. "Will sent me a message at Bow Street explaining what had happened."

"Where is Trotten?"

"He said to meet him here," Andrew responded.

"I'm here."

The viscount walked down the hall toward them, his strides long and purposeful.

"Where is Emilia?" Theo asked immediately.

"She's safe at my house." He stopped in front of them and stuffed his hands in his pockets before glowering at Theo. "No thanks to you."

But Theo wasn't interested in being goaded today. Emilia was safe, and that was all that mattered. He wouldn't regret his decision to allow her to come to the funeral. It was very likely that if Emilia hadn't been there, Addie would be dead.

Theo ran cold at the thought, reminding him of why there were standing there in the hallway.

"Do you know what they did with him, Trotten?"

Will opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the bedchamber door swinging open. The wrinkled old physician stood in front of them, his face unreadable. Theo held his breath.