Then, slowly, Helena began.
“I met him a few years ago, when I first entered Her Grace’s service. He was at Ashworth Hall, managing the estates. We worked together more than once—questions of staffing, repairs, accounts. He was… kind. He listened. He explained things without condescension. He treated me as someone whose opinion mattered.”
“And over time,” Cecilia said, “your feelings deepened.”
“It was gradual,” Helena murmured. “Not like a thunderbolt. Simply… a growing awareness. I started looking forward to seeing him. His voice made me feel calm. I started noticing when he entered a room and feeling his absence when he left.”
“Have you ever told him?”
“How could I?” Helena’s voice cracked, then steadied again by force of will. “We are both dependent on our positions. A misstep would be disastrous. If I spoke and he did not return my feelings, the awkwardness would be intolerable. And if hedid…” She broke off. “If he did, we could do nothing without the Dowager’s approval—and she has given no indication that such a match would be welcome.”
Cecilia was quiet for a moment.
“But the Dowager has surprised you before,” she said gently. “She surprised everyone by supporting my engagement to Sebastian.”
“That is not the same. You are a lady, by birth if not by current circumstance. I am a companion—a servant with slightly better manners. The situations are not comparable.”
“They are more comparable than you think. I was invisible. You are invisible. The only difference is that I was forced into being seen—and you still have the choice to remain hidden.”
“Remaining hidden is safer.”
“Yes,” Cecilia said. “But is it what you want?”
Helena did not answer.
She did not have to.
The truth was written in the sorrow behind her eyes, in the years of feeling buried beneath composure.
Cecilia reached no further—she simply waited.
At last, Helena whispered, “I want him to see me. As the Duke sees you—as though I am the one person in the room who matters. I want to know what it feels like to be chosen, not merely… useful.”
“Then perhaps,” Cecilia said, “it is time to stop hiding.”
Helena gave a small, fragile laugh. “And risk everything? My security, my livelihood, the one life I know how to live?”
“Is the life you are living making you happy?”
Silence answered for her.
“I cannot promise you a happy ending,” Cecilia continued gently. “But I believe you will regret it all your life if you never let him know. Even painful certainty is kinder than a lifetime of wondering.”
Helena breathed out slowly.
“You make it sound so very brave.”
“It is terrifying,” Cecilia said. “But sometimes the terrifying thing is also the right one.”
Helena smiled—a small, sad smile that held both hope and resignation.
“You seem to have acquired a surprising degree of wisdom, Miss Ashwood.”
“I have had excellent teachers. Yourself included.”
Helena looked down, then up again, eyes bright with unshed tears. “If I speak to him—and he does not return my regard—”
“Then you will survive it,” Cecilia said softly. “And you willknow.”
