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He may be a bit of a rogue, but this man was a gentleman. A gentleman with two little sisters who sounded as if they loved him as much as he loved them.

“They were the only reason I almost didn’t choose to come here for Christmas,” he continued, his smile fading. “Missing them at this time of year is terrible, but Violet and Vivian had both wished for me to come at the chance of finding a wife.” He grinned. “They⁠—”

He stopped himself so abruptly, Clara frowned. “What is it?”

“I was about to share something with you, but I think I’d like to use it as leverage.”

She tried to be mad, but his mischievous little smile captivated her. “You are despicable.”

“Resourceful,” he corrected. “I shall tell you what I had been about to say if you give me but a glimpse into your own past.”

The candle beside them flickered low, causing his face to darken a moment before lighting it all the brighter. Dark whiskers shadowed his jawline, and his brown eyes shone radiantly.

If she was weaker, she would’ve given in a long time ago, but her resolve was still what it was eight weeks ago—if not stronger.

“Thank you for the offer, but I shall keep my past to myself.”

He rose his brow in surprise. “Your past is truly so terrible?”

“No, it is merely important for it to be kept a secret.”

“Why? Are you fugitive from justice?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Would you tell me if you were?” he asked.

“No.”

He chuckled softly. “Very well. How about you tell me something you can share. For example, where your family are now.”

An unexpected lump grew in her throat at the question. If she didn’t swallow her emotion now, he’d know that had to do with her secret.

“My mother is still at home,” she replied simply, “I never had any siblings, and my father died when I was fifteen.”

His brow furrowed, all humor fading away. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

“Were you close?”

She nodded. “Very.” She turned to the window again, imagining Father doing the same. “We used to watch the stars during the Yuletide whenever it was clear at night.”

His voice softened all the more as he replied, his own eyes on the stars now. “Which was what you were doing this evening?”

She nodded. “It helps me feel closer to him.”

They remained silent for a moment, standing side-by-side, their attention directed at the night’s sky. There was no status between them in that moment—at least not for Clara. They were not a maid and a gentleman. They were not a former lady or a rogue. Merely a man and a woman, spending the night before Christmas together in a stairwell, speaking of family memories at Christmas.

Clara had never felt such contentment since Father’s death. And the fact that it had come alongside her time with Mr. Cole was a conundrum in itself.

She refocused her attention on him. “There, I have shared with you. Now you must share with me what you were about to say before.”

“I was merely going to tell you that my family have made me promise to marry in the new year.”

Clara tipped her head to the side. “But you have already told me that.”

“Have I? Silly me.”