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He was no longer attempting to seduce her—she could tell the difference already. Before, he’d intentionally looked at her lips, deepened his gaze, and smirked.

Now, he maintained contact with her eyes, smiled sincerely, and had not once looked to her lips.

And heavens above, if she wasn’t both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

You are impossible, Clara, she scolded herself. Of course she did not wish for him to add her to his list of conquests.

But if he wished to kiss her and only her...

She shook the dangerous thought from her mind, which Mr. Cole assumed to be her shaking her head at him.

“Not even begging will work?” he questioned.

She drew farther away from him, leaning against the wall with her hands cushioning her back from the harsh, cold stone. “Why do you wish to know so very badly?” she asked.

“Because you intrigue me. You are unlike any maid I have ever known.”

“Do you know many maids?”

“Not in the way you are assuming,” he said with a knowing look. “We have more than half a dozen maids at Strandwick.”

“That is your home?”

He nodded.

“And you share it with your parents and...you mentioned sisters?”

“Yes, twins. They are thirteen years old now.”

Clara didn’t want to appear too interested, but she’d always wanted sisters of her own. They always appeared to make a person’s life far more entertaining.

“Do you get along well enough, despite the age difference?”

“I’d argue we get along better,” he replied. “I grew out of teasing them faster.”

“You, grow out of teasing? I hardly believe that.”

He grinned. “Oh, I tease them still. But not in a manner that upsets them too greatly. We do get along very well. There is nothing I would not do for them.”

“They will miss you for Christmas, then.”

“As I will miss them. We share some of the best traditions—caroling, decorating, playing bullet pudding.” He smiled, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “The youngest of the twins, Violet, loses every time. Though last year, I pretended to have caused the flour to fall, so she did not have to embarrass herself in front of a boy she had taken a liking to—so I dug for the coin myself.”

Clara smiled at the image of Mr. Cole with flour across his features as he dug for a coin amidst the mess—all for his sister.

“She must have been appreciative,” Clara said.

“Oh, I’d never received so many sugar plums from her in all my life.”

Clara laughed. She knew prolonging their conversation was dangerous—not only because it increased her chance of being discovered, but also because it increased Mr. Cole’s appeal.

And yet, she also knew she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She didn’t want to sit in bed and stare at the cobwebs blowing across the window. She didn’t want to worry about her mother and Algernon any longer. She didn’t want to dwell on thoughts of tomorrow—another day of work, this time on Christmas.

She wanted a single night off. A night of freedom. A night of enjoying the attention of a man who wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought.

What if he’s fooling you? Using it as a tactic to get what he wants?

But she couldn’t convince herself that was true. He had flirted with her, teased her, and annoyed her to high heaven. But taken advantage of her? Not once. And there had been plenty of opportunities for him to do so.