The three weeks before Victoria's ball passed in a flurry of activity that left little time for anxiety to take root. Felicity threw herself into establishing the Blackwood Foundation, using Princess Sophia's patronage to secure a spacious building in Bloomsbury that would serve as headquarters and temporary housing for women seeking assistance.
"The contractors say they can have the first floor ready by mid-January," Sarah reported during one of their daily planning sessions. She had proven invaluable as Felicity's secretary, her intelligence and organizational skills making her indispensable. "And the Duchess of Marlborough has donated enough furniture to outfit at least twelve rooms."
"Twelve women and their children given a fresh start," Felicity said with satisfaction. "It's more than I dared hope for when I first imagined this project."
"You've inspired people, my lady," Sarah said warmly. "They see genuine compassion rather than fashionable charity, and it makes them want to contribute."
Little Emma, who had been playing quietly in the corner with a set of wooden blocks, suddenly ran to the window with an excited cry. "Mama, look! It's snowing!"
Indeed, the first substantial snowfall of the season was beginning to blanket London in white. Felicity moved to join Emma at the window, marveling at how the city was transformed by the soft covering of snow.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Adrian's voice came from the doorway, and Felicity turned to find her husband watching her with an expression that made her heart flutter even after months of marriage.
"Like a fairy tale," she agreed, moving into his arms as naturally as breathing.
Adrian's hand came to rest protectively on her slightly rounded stomach—still hardly noticeable beneath her gowns, but growing more evident each day. "How are you feeling? And before you say 'fine,' remember that I can tell when you're not being entirely truthful."
Felicity laughed softly. "I'm feeling wonderful, actually. A little tired perhaps, but Dr. Harrison says that's perfectly normal for this stage."
"Good," Adrian murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Because I need my warrior queen at full strength for Victoria's ball."
"Warrior queen?" Felicity raised an eyebrow at the dramatic description.
"What else would you call a woman who's conquered London society, earned royal patronage, and is about to face down her enemies at their own elaborate scheme?" Adrian's smile was warm with pride and love. "You're magnificent, Felicity. And in five days, you're going to prove it to everyone who's ever doubted you."
The support of London's most influential women proved invaluable as the ball approached. The Duchess of Marlborough called personally to offer advice and encouragement, while Lady Jersey arrived with her own intelligence about Victoria's preparations.
"She's been making mysterious visits to a lawyer's office in Gray's Inn," Lady Jersey reported over tea in Blackwood House's drawing room. "And she's been seen with that dreadful Thomas Ashworth person on several occasions."
"A lawyer," Felicity repeated, exchanging concerned glances with Adrian. "What could she need legal counsel for?"
"Nothing good, I imagine," Lady Jersey said dryly. "But whatever she's planning, you have the support of everyone who matters. Princess Sophia has made it quite clear that she considers you under her protection, and anyone who insults you insults the royal household."
That evening, as Felicity and Adrian dressed for a small dinner party at the Pemberton residence, she found herself watching her husband's reflection in her dressing table mirror. He looked devastatingly handsome in his evening wear, but it was the expression on his face as he helped fasten her sapphire necklace that made her breath catch—such tenderness, such love, such absolute devotion.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, catching her watching him.
"That I'm the most fortunate woman in London," Felicity replied honestly. "And that no matter what Victoria has planned, she can't take this away from us. What we have is real, Adrian. It's strong enough to withstand anything."
Adrian turned her chair so she faced him, kneeling before her so their eyes were level. "Do you remember the night I told you about my revenge plot? When I revealed that you were part of my scheme to destroy your family?"
"I remember everything about that night," Felicity said softly.
"I told you then that you were the final piece of my plan," Adrian continued, his hands finding hers. "And I was right—but not in the way I originally intended. You weren't the final piece of my revenge, Felicity. You were the final piece of my redemption."
Tears pricked at Felicity's eyes. "Adrian—"
"I was so consumed by anger and vengeance that I'd forgotten what it meant to actually live," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But you reminded me. You showed me that love is stronger than hate, that compassion is more powerful than revenge, that building something beautiful is infinitely more satisfying than destroying something ugly."
He pressed a kiss to her hands, his gray eyes holding hers with unwavering certainty. "Whatever Victoria reveals at that ball, whatever accusations or evidence she presents, none of it changes the fundamental truth of what we are to each other. I love you, Felicity Blackwood. Completely, eternally, beyond all reason or logic."
"I love you too," Felicity whispered, her heart so full it ached. "More than I ever thought it was possible to love another person."
Their kiss was tender and passionate, full of promises and absolute trust. When they finally broke apart, both were smiling despite the tears on Felicity's cheeks.
"Now," Adrian said, rising and offering his hand with gallant formality, "shall we go show London society what true partnership looks like?"
The Pemberton dinner party was a smaller affair than the grand ball had been, with only thirty guests seated at an elegantly appointed table. Felicity found herself seated between Lord Pemberton and an elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Sir William Hartley, a distinguished barrister.
"Lady Blackwood," Sir William said warmly, "I've been hearing remarkable things about your charitable foundation. Royal patronage, substantial funding, practical solutions to genuine problems—quite impressive for someone so new to London society."
"You're very kind, Sir William," Felicity replied. "Though I confess the credit belongs to many people. My husband's support, Princess Sophia's patronage, the generosity of society ladies who've contributed so substantially—I'm merely the organizing force."
"Merely?" Sir William chuckled. "My dear young lady, being the organizing force is the most important role of all. Anyone can write a check, but creating sustainable change requires vision and determination."
As the dinner progressed through multiple courses, conversation turned inevitably to Victoria's upcoming ball.
"I understand it's to be quite the spectacle," Mrs. Pemberton said with barely concealed curiosity. "Lady Victoria has spared no expense—a full orchestra, decorations from Paris, champagne from the finest vineyards. She's clearly determined to make a statement."
"The question is what statement," Lady Jersey said dryly. "I've known Victoria Ashford since she was in leading strings, and she's never done anything without calculated purpose."
"Perhaps she's simply trying to reestablish her social position after the... disappointment of losing Lord Blackwood," someone suggested diplomatically.
"Or perhaps," Sir William said quietly, his sharp legal mind clearly assessing the situation, "she's planning something more elaborate than mere social competition."
His gaze moved to Felicity with concern. "Lady Blackwood, I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but if you find yourself in need of legal counsel at any point, I would be honored to assist. I've had some experience with cases involving defamation and malicious intent."
The offer, delivered so carefully yet pointedly, made it clear that others had noticed Victoria's machinations and were prepared to defend the Blackwoods if needed.
"That's very generous, Sir William," Adrian said, his hand finding Felicity's under the table and squeezing reassuringly. "Though I hope such assistance won't be necessary."
"As do I," Sir William replied. "But in my experience, when someone invests as much time and resources as Lady Victoria apparently has, they're planning more than just a party."
Later that night, as they prepared for bed in the comfortable intimacy of their shared chambers, Felicity found herself reflecting on Sir William's words.
"Do you think she really has something substantial?" she asked Adrian as he helped her out of her evening gown with practiced ease. "Some actual evidence or revelation that could damage us?"
"I think," Adrian said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, "that Victoria is desperate. And desperate people do desperate things."
"But what could she possibly have? We've been honest about your revenge plot, about my humble origins, about everything that matters."
Adrian was quiet for a moment, his hands stilling on the fastenings of her corset. "There is one thing I haven't told you. Something about my father's death that I've kept hidden even from you."
Felicity turned to face him, seeing genuine worry in his expression for the first time since they'd learned about Victoria's ball. "Tell me now. Please, Adrian. No more secrets between us."
Adrian took a deep breath, then led her to sit on their bed, his hands holding hers with gentle firmness.
"My father didn't die of drink and despair, as I've always claimed," he said quietly. "He was murdered. Poisoned, to be precise. And the man who ordered his death was Marcus Whitmore."
Felicity felt the world tilt slightly. "Murdered? But how do you know? Why didn't you go to the authorities?"
"Because I had no proof—only the word of a servant who witnessed Whitmore's son, the doctor, administering what he claimed was medicine but was actually poison." Adrian's voice was tight with old pain and rage. "By the time I investigated, the servant had disappeared, presumably paid off or threatened into silence. And without evidence, accusing a respected physician of murdering a disgraced earl would have made me look like a madman consumed by grief."
"So you planned your revenge instead," Felicity said slowly, understanding dawning. "The fake injuries, the reclusive behavior—all of it was so you could investigate and punish those responsible without interference."
"Yes," Adrian admitted. "And over the past three years, I've been gathering evidence. Records of payments, testimony from other victims of Whitmore's schemes, documentation of my father's intelligence work that proves he was targeted deliberately."
"Does Victoria know about this?"
"I don't know," Adrian said honestly. "If she does, if she's somehow gotten access to information about my father's murder... she could twist it to make me look like a vengeful madman who orchestrated an elaborate deception to destroy innocent people."
Felicity absorbed this information, her mind racing through implications and possibilities. This was serious—more serious than social embarrassment or accusations of social climbing. This touched on murder, revenge, and years of carefully maintained deception.
"We need to prepare," she said finally, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "If Victoria knows about your father's murder, we need to be ready to tell the truth—all of it, completely, with whatever evidence you've gathered."
"You're not afraid?" Adrian asked, studying her face.
"I'm terrified," Felicity admitted. "But I'm also certain that we're stronger together than Victoria is with all her allies and schemes. We tell the truth, Adrian. We trust that justice and love are more powerful than malice and manipulation."
Adrian pulled her close, his arms tightening around her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. "How did I get so fortunate as to marry you?"
"You chose revenge over happiness," Felicity said with a soft laugh. "And somehow found both."
As they lay together in the darkness, wrapped in each other's arms, Felicity felt a strange sense of peace despite the challenges ahead. Whatever Victoria revealed at her ball, whatever accusations or evidence she presented, Felicity knew one fundamental truth:
The love she shared with Adrian was real, tested, and unshakeable. And that love would carry them through whatever storm was coming.
The ball was in five days. And the Blackwoods would face it together, as partners in every sense of the word.
Let Victoria do her worst. They were ready.