Page 67

“Come,” he said. “I shall truly help you across now.”

Together, they skated their way down the rest of the pond, remaining upright for the most part with more subdued laughter than before. Finally, they reached the other side, and he unstrapped her skate for her.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the skating and for the adventure. I loved every minute of it.”

He smiled over at her. “I wish I could spend more time with you.”

Clara nodded. “As do I.”

“Is there a time?”

She hesitated. “I know not, as my time is never my own.”

He nodded, attempting to accept her answer as she backed away.

“Goodbye, Oliver,” she said with a warm smile that boosted his spirits until she turned and walked away with the skates in her hands.

He longed to run after her, to beg her to start a life with him and leave servitude behind. He would save her mother and her, care for them both, bring them to a family who would love them as their own.

But then, was he—a rake, a once-happy bachelor—capable of settling down and bringing as much joy to Clara as she would surely bring to his life? Enough to make her want to leave her promise behind of remaining single forever?

As much as he wished for an answer now, none would come, so he simply watched Clara walk through the snow toward Bellthorne, knowing she took his heart with her.

Twenty-Six

Clara was all smiles when she returned to Bellthorne with the pair of skates in hand. She happily deposited them with Harriet, who thanked her profusely, then the two went about their tasks.

Clara finished faster than usual, her spry spirit kicking up her legs and buoying her actions until dinner was nearly upon them, and she changed her apron to meet with Miss Sterling.

“Clara,” Mrs. Wintle said, stepping in front of her as she left her chamber. “You must help with the dinner service tonight.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wintle. I shall return directly after seeing to Miss Sterling.”

“You will not be seeing to her any longer. Or Miss Bowles.”

Clara’s heartbeat thudded dully in her ears. “Oh, I was not aware Grace has recovered.”

“She has not. But I’m afraid you are no longer welcome to see to any of the ladies.”

Clara stared at the woman’s stern features. She half-expected them to smile with a gloating nature, but the woman hardly looked pleased.

“May I...ask why?” Clara questioned. “Miss Sterling has expressed nothing but appreciation and approval for my work and treatment of her.”

Mrs. Wintle looked away. “It was not Miss Sterling who complained but Miss Bowles. You may continue with your cleaning duties for the duration of the house party, nothing more.”

Clara blanched. “What did she say?”

“She told me how you drew blood by pricking her with a hair pin.”

“Mrs. Wintle,” Clara said incredulously, “I-I didn’t draw blood. I would have had to press so intentionally hard. And I checked. There was not even so much as a red mark. Then Miss Bowles had the audacity to strike me.”

Mrs. Wintle paused, taking in the information. “It matters not how a guest behaves. We must ensure their happiness at all times.”

“Then allow me to only continue seeing Miss Sterling,” Clara suggested. “Ask her. She will be more than happy to have me.”

“It matters not. If one more complaint occurs from any guest, I’m afraid I will have to dismiss you altogether before the house party ends.”

Which meant that Clara would absolutely not be keeping her place at Bellthorne after the party, either. Would the housekeeper even give Clara a character so she might find work elsewhere?