“Except, it’s not,” the doctor said.

“She’s lived with him. And some of the women on that list I supplied for the grand jury were friends of hers at one point.” Grace’s lips thinned as she remembered putting their names to paper, digging up memories of women who had left parties at her former home with tears on their faces and bruises forming on their arms. “Years of seeing women used and disposed of when no longer entertaining tells her it very well could be true. She’ll not want to stand in public when the rest of the world learns what she’s always known.”

“She deserves her own punishment for blocking her ears against you,” Elizabeth said, her feral side lurking closer to the surface in the days before the trial.

“And she’ll have it, Elizabeth,” Thornhollow said, tossing what remained of his food into their basket. “I’ve moved in society long enough to tell you that a stain of this magnitude will spread to Grace’s mother as well. She’ll not be received anywhere.”

“Which for her will be worse than any hangman’s rope,” Grace agreed. “Tongues will wag and her name will be on them. A punishment to fit her crime of stopping my own.”

“I do so love your voice,” Lizzie said, reaching out to touch Grace’s arm. “String said it was there, and hearing it these past months has been nearly worth the wait.”

Thornhollow cleared his throat. “You do know not to mention String when—”

“Yes, Doctor,” Lizzie snapped. “How could I forget with the constant reminders?”

“All right,” Grace said, patting her friend’s hand. “He’s only trying to ensure that everything follows the course we have planned.”

“And speaking of that,” Thornhollow said, “what are your plans for tomorrow, Grace? I hope it goes without saying that you’ll be nowhere near the courthouse.”

“It seems my plans are in direct opposition with your own, then.”

“Grace, be reasonable,” Thornhollow said. “I understand the importance of this for you, but having you anywhere near your father is out of the question. Not to mention the logistics are ridiculous. A mental patient can’t simply attend a court proceeding, first of all, and secondly if your father spotted your face in the crowd, the game would be up.”

“Of course a patient would attract attention,” Grace agreed. “But a widow in the press of the crowd wouldn’t. And under her veil could be any face at all.”

“And where do you propose to secure widow’s reeds?”

“Your sister had them sent to me. She’s also been in correspondence with Janey, and they’ve agreed that with my aversion to crowds it would be best to get me out of town, with your blessing—which, of course, she provided a signature that really was remarkably like your own. You’ve been so busy preparing for the trial Janey’s been far too intimidated to question you about it.

“Adelaide’s coming to get me tonight, supposedly whisking me off to happy seclusion. Really we’ll be at the inn, right alongside the Times fellow. Adelaide said he’s quite handsome and has promised good seats for herself and her widowed friend for the trial. I’ll undoubtedly have an excellent view of the witness stand.”

Thornhollow sighed and threw a stone in the lake. “Introducing the two of you was one of my larger mistakes. I should tell Janey I’ve changed my mind and have you thrown in isolation until this whole mess is through. You’d have plenty of privacy there.”

“Try it,” Elizabeth said, baring her teeth.

“You’re a rather stunning widow,” Adelaide said as she pinned Grace’s veil on the next morning. “We’ll keep that face covered for more reasons than one. I’ll be thumping fellows left and right just to clear a path for us otherwise.”

Grace smiled, though it felt weak even to her, as she tried to keep a calm face in front of her friend. “I don’t think you’d mind thumping them.”

“A few,” she agreed, fixing her own hat in the mirror. “Though if I were to go after my prime target I’m sure the bailiff would wrestle me down.”

“I’d very much like to see you toe-to-toe with my father,” Grace said. “He’s not much for women’s rights.”

“We’re all lucky the judge is, otherwise I don’t think this would have ever made it to trial. Although, Melancthon tells me as soon as whispers of trouble spread to Boston your father’s political enemies were here to make sure the right voices were heard. Guilty or not, they weren’t taking chances on it being hushed up.

“Regardless, as much as I’d like to take a swing at your father, I think dear little brother would be my first victim.”

Grace laughed, the sound tinged with desperation, her veil puffing out with her breath. “You love him dearly and him you. Why neither one of you acknowledges it I don’t know.”

“Because we’re Thornhollows,” Adelaide said. “Emotions are not in our blood.” She turned from the mirror, face suddenly serious. “I’ll have you know my intentions for helping you, Grace. I think it’ll do you good to see your father put away for all the demons he’s brought upon you. You’ve earned the right to that, and I’ll see you have it. But you also need to know that I share my brother’s opinion that you’ve removed yourself too thoroughly from your own feelings. It doesn’t come naturally to you as it does to myself and Melancthon. I fear you’re nearing a precipice, and I’d rather be next to you when you go over.”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Grace said as they left their room, ignoring that her hands trembled inside each other. “But I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve gone to great trouble just to help me, and I have no way to repay you.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Going against Melancthon’s wishes is its own reward.”

They had to walk to the courthouse. Mr. Turner, Adelaide’s gentleman friend from the Times, joined them. The streets were packed with carriages, most of them headed for the same destination. Newspaper boys yelled from street corners, and prostitutes called from alleyways, hoping to distract a few of the novelty seekers with something more pleasurable than rhetoric.

Mr. Turner cleared the way for them once inside the courthouse, his press badge bringing them closer to the front than otherwise possible and his glib tongue explaining the need of seats for the two women as well. Grace settled in, her black skirts swishing around her as she crossed her ankles, grinding them together almost painfully to give herself something to focus on other than the fluttering of her stomach.

Even though it had bordered on cool outdoors, the inside of the courtroom was uncomfortably warm, the press of bodies adding heat. Words flew through the air, blurring together in a din that filled Grace’s ears and had her retreating inside herself despite the physical veil in front of her face. She sat still and stony while Adelaide made conversation with Mr. Turner.

The courtroom erupted when her father was brought in, everyone around her rising to their feet, some screaming about the ridiculousness of the charges, while others jeered him. Grace stayed in her seat with Adelaide’s hands on her own, only too glad to have her view blocked by a man’s back at that moment.

The judge banged his gavel repeatedly, only gaining order once he threatened to bar the public from the proceedings if they couldn’t control themselves. A dark murmur passed through the crowd but they found their seats, the man in front of her one of the last to rest. Grace felt her breaths coming shallow and quick as she saw Nathaniel Mae close up for the first time since being dragged screaming from her own home, her belly heavy with his child.

He seemed no worse for wear, his black mustache trim as ever, no hair on his head out of place. He rested easily at the defense table, calm as if he were taking in a ball game on a summer’s day. He turned to speak to Mr. Atkinson, his lawyer, and Grace felt even the smallest of inhalations catch in her chest as his eye passed over her.