"We are going to have that thing that everyone talks about, that indescribable, indefinable thing that everybody wants to find...here's to endless stargazing."

—Ella Harper; The Years of Loving You

Ashwood, Hertfordshire, 1794

Eleven-year-old Grace Denham winced as she heard the floorboard creak beneath her foot as she crept down the dimly lit wing of Ashwood House. It was one of the many, and Grace prayed that the red rug muffled some of the sound.

"Adam!" Grace hissed out into the corridor. "Come out!" she demanded. "This is far from amusing!"

Grace continued to venture down the corridor carefully, holding her breath as she took every step and preparing herself for the sound of footsteps, moving with purpose to scold her for being somewhere that she was not permitted.

Grace felt as though the eyes of the Beresford family portraits that hung on the walls were following her, knowing that she was somewhere that she was not supposed to be. Oh dear, she was going to be in such trouble.

"Adam!" Grace hissed again. This was all his fault. Grace had wanted to stay in the kitchen; after all, that was where she was allowed to be. But Adam had managed to persuade her to venture upstairs to the wing that housed the Berefords' bedrooms.

It frightened her to thing that each on the ten-foot doorways that she crept past could have been the Duchess' bedroom.

Grace's hips were suddenly seized in a pinching grip, and Grace fell backwards against a taller figure, who promptly burst out laughing as Grace yelped in fright.

Grace wiggled out of his embrace and turned on him, looking up into the hazel eyes of her friend, thirteen-year-old Adam Beresford. He had large eyes that always seemed so bright with happiness, and the remains of his youthful cubby cheeks swelled when he smiled, or deviously grinned. A lone sandy curl fell into his eyes and he shook it away.

"I am so dreadfully sorry," he lied, looking down on her, "but you are far too easy to tease." Adam had grown about six inches over the summer, and now he stood a head and a half over Grace.

"It is always you who teases me." I wonder why I put up with it," Grace huffed. "One of these days it will be me who manages to frighten you!" Grace declared with determination.

Adam's face, which had been round with his smile, suddenly fell, and Grace realised exactly why. The moment the words had left her lips, she knew that they were sharing the same thought.

"I wish I did not have to leave you," he whispered quietly.

Adam's mother and father had announced only a few weeks ago that Adam was to leave Ashwood that very September to attend Eton College. He was thirteen now, and his parents were determined that Adam begin his proper education befitting of a young man of his station.

"I want to go to our school," hissed Adam impatiently.

Their school was simply the village school, taught by the vicar in a classroom adjacent to the church. Adam, and his two younger siblings, Jack and Susanna, both attended.

Adam's father insisted that his children be socialised. His mother, on the other hand, wanted a governess for them. Adam detested the idea and loved going to school in the village.

The school was where he and Grace had met several years ago, and they had been the closest of friend ever since.

In fact, Grace could not recall a day in the past few years in which she had not seen Adam. They were inseparable, almost.

"Adam, you cannot go to school here," Grace said regretfully.

"Why not? You are," Adam pointed out.

"It's a village school, silly, and I am a village girl," Grace countered. "Mama says boys like you go to school faraway to become gentlemen."

Adam hissed exasperatedly. "That's what my mama says, too. I need to become a gentleman," he said distastefully. "I need to give up my childish ways and grow up." He spat a raspberry. "What exactly about me is childish?"

Grace giggled. "Blowing raspberries for a start," she teased.

Adam smirked. "I still wish I did not have to go," he said again, the sadness in his voice ever increasing. "Mama won't even let me come back on holidays. She says gentlemen holiday in London."

Grace had not realised that. She had thought he might be back at Christmas, that they might only be parted for a few months before he returned from school. "What?" she gasped. "What do you mean you aren't coming home for holidays?"

Adam's expression grew more sour. "I begged her, I promise I begged her," he swore angrily. "I don't know what it is that she hates about me being here, but she is determined for me to be away from here until I become a gentleman and get married." He shuddered.

Adam and Grace suddenly turned when they both heard nearing footsteps and hushed voices echo down the long corridor. Grace gasped, and Adam thought quickly as he grabbed Grace's hand and dragged her behind one of the thick, red velvet drapes.

The drapes were still drawn, this wing of the house having not yet been opened, and so Adam and Grace were concealed in the little window space. They could have easily sat up on the window ledge, but Adam hugged Grace tightly, not leaving even an inch between them. Grace huddled into his chest, closing her eyes and praying that if it was Adam's mother approaching, that she did not discover Grace in a place where she was explicitly not allowed.

"I cannot believe this, Cecily," hissed Peregrine Beresford, the Duke of Ashwood, and Adam's father. "You want to give up this house? My family's home?"

"Of course not, Perry," snapped Duchess Cecily Beresford, Adam's ever so elegant mother.

Grace had never heard the Duke and Duchess of Ashwood referred to as anything but. It seemed so strange to hear their Christian names. Grace was not at all certain that she had been aware of them before today.

"I merely want to shut the house for a few years and relocate to the London house. Don't you think it would be better for the children?" she urged. "The culture, the society in London is simply far greater than what we have at our doorstep in Ashwood."

Grace felt Adam stiffen as they listened.

Much to her panic, the duke and duchess seemed to pause near them as their quarrel grew.

"I agreed to send the boy away," huffed Peregrine. "I know he needs his education, and God knows that boy needs to grow up ... but I don't like London, and I never have."

"Perry, this is not about you," Cecily said condescendingly. "This is about the children. Who are our immediate connections in this village? The closest friends I would ever consider inviting to dine with us are thirty miles away." Cecily sighed exasperatedly. "If you need an example of what exactly an Ashwood connection is like then you need look no further than little Grace Denham."

Grace's eyes snapped open as she heard her name, and once again she felt Adam grow tense.

"The boy can have friends," Peregrine sneered.

"Oh, come now, Perry. Surely you are not so dense!" growled Cecily. "I put up with his little friend when they were young. It was ... sweet even. But he is not a child anymore, and neither will she be in a short while," Cecily retorted. "One only has to see how Adam dotes upon her. She has her hooks in Adam already!"

Peregrine laughed. "She is but a child!"

"She is a pretty-ish sort of girl who will no doubt grow up into a pretty-ish sort of woman, and her acquaintance with Adam will only become more dangerous. He is headstrong and stubborn as it is. He will not think twice about his responsibilities with Grace under his nose and filling his head with thoughts of her all the time!"

Their argument was quickly becoming too much for Grace to understand. She didn't know what they were talking about. She had no idea what it was to have her hooks in something. She did not even own a fishing line! But what she could tell from their tone was that the duchess disliked Grace immensely, but then Grace's own mother had been telling her that for years.

Adam's hold on Grace did not loosen one bit as they listened to his parents argue.

"Oh, really, Cecily," the duke complained condescendingly. "I really do think you are overstating it a little bit. Adam is still young, and he does not understand the way of things yet. He will learn, and when he does, we will ensure that he is married to the right sort of lady."

Cecily sucked in a sharp breath. "And I agree," she said stiffly. "He does need to learn what is expected of him, but I guarantee that no suitable bride will make her way here while he is still besotted with that girl. We need to sever this connection, and the time is now. He is young enough to forget her, Peregrine."

Their words kept flying over Grace's head as she continued to struggle to understand what they were saying. Now his mother was complaining about Adam, it seemed. But why? Adam was the kindest, sweetest, albeit terribly playful, boy she had ever known. What complaint could she possibly have?

The duke sighed, resigning now. "And you would have us all go?" he asked her. "Jack and Susanna also?"

"Yes," confirmed Cecily. "Jack shall have a tutor and Susanna shall have a governess, and Jack will join Adam at Eton when he is old enough. Susanna shall be finished ..."

"Susanna is only seven," Peregrine remarked. "You want to be in London that long?"

"Peregrine," Cecily attempted tenderly. "When we return here, our sons shall be gentlemen, and our daughter shall be a finished lady. They will be prizes for any noble family." Chuckling, she added, "And Grace Denham will be married to a ... a butcher or someone, and Adam will never trouble himself with thoughts of her again."

"If I am to have any peace, make the arrangements," Peregrine finally agreed.

Grace heard them part, the duke walking one way, and the duchess the other. Both she and Adam stood motionless until they could not hear the sounds of footsteps anymore.

Adam's grip loosened, but he did not release Grace, only giving her room enough to look up at him. She saw an unfamiliar intensity in her eyes. He looked angry and upset, and it hurt her to see him this way.

"I didn't understand what they were saying," whispered Grace, "but I did hear that they do not like me." Not that the revelation was a surprise.

"I hate my mother," hissed Adam.

"Don't say that!" scolded Grace. "It is a sin to disrespect your parents."

"I don't care," snapped Adam. "What she said was horrid and I do not forgive her for it." He exhaled sharply. "She thinks I could forget you! Bah!" he sneered. "I could never forget you," he said with determination, his hands moving from her waist to cup her face.

Grace's eyes widened at his close proximity as Adam seemed to study her face.

"She imagines I will marry someone different. How angry she will be when I tell her every day that I am away that the only girl I would ever marry is you, Grace."

Grace thought her friend defiant, that he would deliberately anger his mother to spite her. "You mustn't tell tall tales," she scolded. "If you do, then surely your mother will prevent you from coming back to Ashwood."

Adam's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed. "I am not lying, Grace," he said earnestly. "I will only ever want to marry you. I know it."

Grace stared into Adam's eyes, searching for any falsehood. She could see the sincerity there, and it stirred a fluttering in her stomach that made her fearful but terribly happy at the idea of always having Adam with her. "If you're teasing me, I will hate you forever," Grace whispered.

Adam smiled, his eyes lighting up at they did, and his cheeks swelling as they always had. "I'm not teasing you," he promised. "I'm being perfectly serious. Why would I want to marry anyone else?"

Grace jumped up, suddenly wrapping her arms around Adam's neck and letting her feet dangle beneath her. Adam cuddled her to his chest as he chuckled. Though he wasn't strong enough to hold her for long, and they soon fell to the ground, still concealed in the space behind the drapes.

Adam fell backward and Grace lay atop his chest, their noses only inches apart.

"You are my Grace," Adam murmured, almost inaudibly, as he reached up to tuck a fallen strand of her charcoal coloured hair behind her ear. "How beautiful you are."

Grace could feel the thundering of Adam's heart, and she was certain her own pulse matched his.

"Will you marry me then, Grace?" Adam asked her, his voice louder now. His eyes had not left hers as he awaited her answer.

"We can't get married," Grace mumbled. "We are too young."

"Will you marry me when we're old enough?" Adam pressed.

"But you're leaving Ashwood," protested Grace, the thought returning to her mind. "You're leaving here. What if you do not come back?"

Adam pursed his lips, a determined flash in his hazel eyes. "Of course, I am coming back. You're here, Grace."

Grace loved hearing the conviction in his voice. "Why would you want to marry me?"

Adam's eyes narrowed. "Because I love you, of course," he said bluntly, as though it was obvious.

Grace gasped, and sat upright, quickly climbing to her feet and clapping her hands over her mouth. Adam followed suit, standing up, still very close to her, but frowning.

"What?" he demanded to know. "Why would I ask you to marry me if I didn't love you? Don't you love me?"

Grace had never really thought about love. If she did think about it, she would think of her parents. They loved each other, she thought. Her father always kissed her mother when he came home. They laughed together and spoke secrets to each other.

Adam was her best friend. He always had been. He was the one she told her secrets to. She laughed with him more than anyone. And dear God would she miss him when he went away. "Maybe I do," Grace confessed.

Her admission put the brightest smile on Adam's face, and he immediately went to the small, gold ring that he wore on his little finger. He had only recently begun wearing it. It had been a gift from his parents upon his enrolment at Eton.

"I will give you a girl's ring when I have my own money," promised Adam. "But I want you to keep this for me," he insisted, placing the ring in the palm of Grace's hand and closing her fingers around it. "I'm coming back for you, Grace, I promise. And when I do, I am going to marry you."

Feelings of joy and excitement coursed through Grace, which was a stark contrast to the despair she had only been experiencing just minutes earlier. Grace gripped Adam's ring tightly.

"I have an idea," said Adam suddenly. "Jack."

"What about Jack?" wondered Grace. Why had his thoughts suddenly gone to his younger brother?

"Jack is going to be a clergyman when he grows up," Adam said excitedly. "Mother insists. He could marry us now."

"What? Will we be married properly if Jack says the words that the vicar says?" Grace asked him excitedly.

Adam grinned. "I don't know, but it means that I will have a wife in Ashwood who I will return for one day." Adam seized Grace's hand and his kissed it, sending all the blood rushing to Grace's cheeks. "I promise, I promise that I will come back and be your husband properly when I am a man," he swore. "Will you marry me, Grace? Please?"

"And when you come back, I will be your wife?" A smile appeared on Grace's lips at the idea of being with Adam always.

Adam nodded.

"Then yes," she nodded, "I will marry you."

Adam beamed, wasting no time in surprising Grace with her first kiss. He lifted her off the floor in excitement as he pressed his lips firmly to hers, smiling even wider as he pulled away.

"Promise you'll write to me," Grace insisted. "Every week. And I will write you every week, too."

"I will write to you every week, if you promise that you will wait for me," he bargained seriously.

"I will wait for you," promised Grace.

Adam took her hand again and dragged her out from behind the curtain. "Come on," he urged, "let's go and find Jack." And they ran off together in search of Adam's eleven-year-old brother.