“I didn’t notice.” She’d been too uncomfortable.
“Celeste, he hangs on your every word. He listens to you.”
“He is dedicated to the charity—” Celeste started.
“He wantsyou.” Beatrice’s words echoed George’s claim.
The idea was still too fantastical for Celeste to believe. “The Dragon of London can’t be interested in me.”
“Whyever not?”
“I’m a bit—” She searched for the right word. “Pugnacious, to be honest. I’ve also been called too independent. And there are women who are far better looking than I am who have tried and failed to capture his attention.”
“Maybe, he has come to recognize your value. You are lovely, Celeste, even though you aren’t what is in fashion. Few of us are. However, a man worthy of you will appreciate what you bring to his life. I find Salcombe a true gentleman, regardless of what the gossips say. The question is, what do you think of him? Do you respect him?”
“Of course, I do,” Celeste answered, and that was true. Her admiration grew with every interaction. However, she was realistic. “Bea, if he was interested, shouldn’t he be more forthright about it?”
“Ah, Celeste, no man is forthright until he knows he is on firm ground. Especially if he is just discovering he has a heart.”
The thought that Oliver had been trying to express his feelings, and that she had been deaf to his words, appalled her. “What do I do, Bea?”
Her friend had a ready answer. “First, stop overthinking.”
“How does one do that? Especially if I have been rather callous toward him. I never imagined he might be attracted to me. He’s so full of life and honest and wonderful.”
“If he is all those things and he genuinely cares, you needn’t worry. He will seek you out.”
“But what if?—”
“What if the moon falls into the ocean? Some things are beyond your control, child. But heed me on this. Stop trying to manage everything.”
“How do I do that? I’m responsible for the charity. It is what Father wanted.”
“I think your father’s true wish was for you, and each of your sisters, to be happy. He has pushed you out of your grief and into the world. His spirit may even be a heavenly hand bringing you and Salcombe together.”
Could that be true? Celeste thought back to when she first realized she needed someone to help her start her charity. She had immediately thought of Oliver, even though she hadn’t known him. At the time, she’d considered the idea of asking him to be her lead patron as divine inspiration because she had known immediately he would attract attention to her cause.
And then she realized another truth. “I’m in love with him.” There, she’d said it, even though she feared she wasn’t worthyof such love. “But what if he might have been telling me that he thinks of me as a good friend?”
“That is the risk of love, my dear. One must trust the feelings, even if it turns out they are not returned. That is Shakespeare, and every poet who has ever picked up a quill or pen.” Beatrice set down the sherry glass and yawned, covering her mouth as if slightly embarrassed. “I’m for bed. Are you coming?”
“Of course, yes.” Tomorrow. She would talk to Oliver in the morning. She’d be honest, or so she promised herself as she followed her friend up the stairs, her mind already roiling with all her fears, doubts, and wants. Oh, yes, she wantedhim.
Unfortunately, pride was important to her. She didn’t want to look a fool. If she misinterpreted his intentions, she might lose her charity’s lead patron. Although that might already have happened.
But what if Beatrice was right and he did have feelings for her?
“Celeste, you are doing it again,” Beatrice said. The statement startled Celeste into realizing they had reached their bedroom doors.
“I just—” Celeste started, but Beatrice cut her off.
“Darling girl, for once, let yourself believe you are lovable just the way you are. I certainly love you.” With those words, Beatrice entered her room.
A maid was waiting for Celeste in her room to help her undress. She let the girl brush out her hair and then dismissed her.
The house was quiet. Celeste blew out the candle, plunging the room into moonlight and shadows. She climbed into bed, knowing she probably would not fall asleep?—
A light rap sounded on the door. Celeste sat up, not certain if she'd heard correctly. There was another soft knock.
