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“I’m sure that is an exaggeration.”
“You’re right. I’ve also thought of when I would see you again.”
She did her best to hide her smile from him, but he caught the tail end of it as she straightened. “I...I fear I must apologize for the way I treated you just now. Scolding you and such. I...I truly believed...Well, it matters not any longer. I am sorry for the way I acted.”
Oliver instantly shook his head. “There is no need to apologize. Especially because...” He hesitated. “I...I do have a confession to make, Clara. One that I hope you will forgive just as readily.”
A wary look crossed her eye as he pulled out Clara’s letter to her mother and extended it toward her.
“You found it,” she breathed, holding the parchment to her chest in clear relief. “Where?”
“Beneath my covers. You must have dropped it when you attempted to change my bedding with me in it.”
He gave a gentle, hopeful smile, one he’d hoped to receive back, but she merely ducked her head.
“I must beg your forgiveness, but I read it,” he continued. “I thought perhaps you might’ve left it on purpose, but before I finished, I knew it was clearly meant for your mother’s eyes alone. Forgive my curiosity and breach of trust. I intended to have it returned to you at once, but in between the Christmas festivities and not wishing to cause trouble for you, I held onto the letter in case a moment presented itself.”
She nodded, looking away from him with a calmness he was relieved to be on the receiving end of once again.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For returning it to me and for being honest with me. I am not angry that you read it.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. Anyone would have. Myself included.”
He nodded. “Remind me not to leave any letters unopened around you.”
To his relief, her lips raised, if only a degree.
“I truly am sorry for reading something so private,” he said sincerely.
She merely shook her head once again. “It matters not. You knew most of what was written anyway.”
“On the contrary. I only have more questions now.”
She folded it up and tucked it into her reticule with the other letters he hadn’t forgotten about. “I’m sorry to cause you more grief with unanswered questions. But I...”
Her words trailed off as he shook his head. “Please, do not justify your actions again. I have been most unjust in pressing for answers from you when I shouldn’t have. I give you my word, I shan’t ask for more information about things you cannot share, and I shall do so with ease. For that is what...friends do.”
He emphasized the word intentionally. He truly wished to be Clara’s friend...even if his thoughts had strayed to more lately, he’d set them aside, as Clara had said herself she had no intention of marrying, and that was absolutely something he was not willing to pressure a person into.
“Friends,” she repeated, no malice or disappointment in her tone. “If that is true, then...then perhaps I can share with you more.”
But Oliver shook his head. “Please, do not feel pressured to do so.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Mr. Cole, you are aware that I am capable of making my own decisions without feeling pressed into doing them, are you not?”
He could not stop the smile that stole upon his lips. How he loved her spirit.
“Very well,” he said. “As your friend, and if it is of your own accord, I will gladly listen to whatever you choose to tell me.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Were you truly leaving for Bellthorne when you spotted me?”
“I was.”
“Then, if we take the route off the main road, perhaps you may walk me home if we remain out of sight, and I shall share with you what I can.”
With spirits lighter than ever, Oliver nodded. Together, they slipped back through the town, remaining mostly unseen, aside from Lord Dalmeer, who looked between him and Clara with an amused—and almost approving—smile before allowing them to leave without a word, as his own attention was taken by Miss Prescott and her pretty smile.
