Adelaide Midwinter was not a fool. Sometimes she looked like it, and heaven knows she sometimes acted like it, but regardless—she was not a fool.

So she was completely aware that her husband thought her unaware of his intoxicating infatuation with Dorcas Lane. She had been raised her entire life made to believe that her duty was to serve her husband. Why should she have missed this?

Adelaide took some comfort in the knowledge that he tried to hide these facts from her, because it showed that he wished to avoid causing her pain. But she also guessed that he did not see that with every passing day continuing this façade, a part of her soul seemed to wither and die. For regardless of what Miss Lane had said, she would always be second best.

She hadn't asked for this. She had been little more than a naïve, bright-eyed young child when she had married Timothy. She certainly hadn't known about his burdensome romantic past.

And yet, she was being forced to pay the price.

Timothy finally notices this the day Adelaide stops caring. She had shut herself down to protect herself, he realizes— to protect herself from the hurt and the pain and the shame that came with the knowledge that your husband was hopelessly in love with another.

So he gathers his courage and faces his wife with the truth. "You knew," he says simply. "All this time, you knew."

"Of course I knew, Timothy," she replies smoothly. "I am your wife, much as you would sometimes like otherwise. It is my duty to know these things about you." Any day prior, she would have spat out an angry statement, or thrown something fine and fragile against the wall. But not now. Now, she simply didn't care.

"I am so sorry," he says, and pauses. Adelaide studies him for a long moment. The expression on his face betrays shame, embarrassment, and strangely enough, fear. She does not understand why he is afraid, until he states, "I cannot make these years up to you."

Now she understands. He is afraid he is too far gone to beg for her forgiveness, that he is too lost a soul for her to save. And suddenly she is back in shallow water, where she can regain her lost footing and understand her husband again.

"No, you cannot," she finally says honestly. Timothy's faces flashes with upset, regret, and a hint of understanding. Adelaide decides that he looks better with his emotions displayed openly on his face. She simultaneously decides to bring that part of him back. "But you can try," she finishes.

With those words, Timothy nearly flies into her embrace. For as much as they have had their share of struggles and strife, she was his wife, and she stood with him in times of turmoil. And while Dorcas Lane made him feel like an unsteady ship, unmoored, lost out at sea, Adelaide's embrace was warm and anchored.

Because while he was a fraud, she was his salvation.