“I tried to tell them that you were careful. But they didn’t believe it. They had been told these things by their parents to warn them against ruin. And it was doubtlessly good advice. Their parents wanted respectable marriages for them—either in service or out of it. They were under strict orders from their families not to dally with aristocrats or anyone else.”
“It is a wise warning, undoubtedly.”
“I do suspect, though, that they were jealous, too.”
“Stop,” he said, feeling ridiculous, knowing his cheeks were heating again. “I was a young, pompous fool.”
“To the girls below stairs, you were a prince. More than one talked of what it might be like to bed you. For Astrid and Hannah it was rather much that I, the workhouse girl, had ensnared your attention.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this at the time?” He wished he had understood more of her world, of her experience, back then. That way, when she vanished, he would have known the right questions to ask.
“I told you—it felt like I was betraying them. And all of the servants. If I complained of conditions downstairs. Even though we were—you were still—”
He nodded. “I wasn’t one of you.”
“You were ourmaster. We were in service to you.”
“I do understand,” he said, meeting her eye again. “I know it might seem like I couldn’t, but I do. As least as well as I can.”
She nodded. He wasn’t sure she believed him. He wasn’t sure thathebelieved himself. Could he really understand what it was like to be a servant? He couldn’t say. But for her, he would try.
“When I got that note, I could only think that Astrid and Hannah had been right. They had been counseled by their parents, after all—they must know more of the world than an orphan who had been valued and loved by no one. It made it easy to believe.”
“Do you still have it?”
“The note?”
He nodded.
“No, I destroyed it long ago. I kept it, for a time, but it was far too painful to read over.” She paused. “Augustus, if you didn’t send the note, then who did?”
That was the question that had haunted him for half the night. The other half of the evening, he had spent consumed by thoughts of all the time they had lost, all the sorrow he had wasted on such a horrific misunderstanding. The other half of the hours between one and seven in the morning had been consumed by this question. He had been unable to land on any definite answer. Many people could have imitated his hand—certainly, he had never kept his study under lock and key. He had much correspondence there. All one would need was a deft hand for imitation and a letter of his own to craft such a thing.
“I have no idea. I have thought of it again and again since last night. It could have been anyone in the house, I suppose. My old secretary, Mr. Brownlow, frequently wrote in my stead—he had been my father’s secretary. He has been dead years now. He could have done it. Perhaps, he heard of our affair and thought he should take care of it.”
“Do you think he would have?”
“It is hard for me to believe. He was such a dry man—but it is possible. He may have felt he owed it to my father to watch after me. But he has been dead these past ten years, if it was him, we’d never be able to confirm it.” He paused, wondering if he should tell her the next part. He wanted to be as honest with her. “At different times, I have suspected my mother. That perhaps she knew about us and that she somehow dismissed you. I questioned her about it, recently, in fact. She denied it. Now that I know about the note, I believe her more than I already did.”
Olivia shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it. Your mother was always very kind to me.”
“She liked you,” he said, the truth giving him pleasure to share. “And she would never do something so underhanded.”
“No,” Olivia said, “Not your mother. If she would have dismissed me over such a thing, which I don’t believe she would have, it would have been with an explanation and a new post elsewhere.”
She was right, he knew. “Do you have any notion of who it could have been?”
“I do think I know, rather. Or I have a strong suspicion.”
“Really?” he startled. He was shocked that she would know when he hadn’t the slightest clue.
“If I tell you, you must promise to do nothing. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Even for all the pain it has caused.”
“Of course,” he said, agreeing without thinking.
“I suspect it was Astrid.”
Anger flashed in him at the thought of the woman interfering between him and Olivia. But, for her sake, he controlled himself.
