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“Then how do I move ahead if I cannot know?”

“It is one’s choice, Oliver, is it not? You may not be able to choose whom you fall in love with, but you choose with whom to stay in love. If you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with this woman, having children with her, bringing her into your family, and spending Christmases with her and dinner parties and quiet evenings at home reading books to each other...If she makes you a better person and makes you wish to cling to her and only her...I see no reason to stop yourself from pursuing her further.”

Oliver stared. The picture Millie had painted had once repulsed Oliver, but now, imagining Clara, spitfire—delightful, spirited, stalwart, unpredictable Clara—he knew she was exactly what he wanted. His heart swelled, overwhelmed with warmth and the feeling he could only describe as love.

Millie, having seen the change come over Oliver, eased into a conspiratorial look. “So...who is she?”

He grinned. “Can I trust you?”

Millie frowned, looking positively affronted. “If you have to ask, perhaps I shall leave you right this minute.”

Still, she remained at his side. “You’re too curious to leave.”

She frowned as he called her bluff. “You know you can trust me, Oliver. We’ve both kept each other’s secrets ever since we were little and you put that pilchard fin in Helena’s sandwich when we were all on holiday in Cornwall.”

He looked around. “Which you said you’d never repeat aloud.”

“Stop stalling. Tell me who she is.”

Oliver glanced around again, ensuring they were utterly alone and unable to be overheard, then turned to Millie and whispered, “Clara, the housemaid.”

Millie stared, then laughed. “Oliver, do be serious.” But when he remained still, her smile faded. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can be. And I am.”

She hesitated, her voice dropping even lower. “A housemaid? Why? How? I don’t understand.”

He couldn’t give away Clara’s secret, even though he trusted Millie with his life. Still, he could share things from his perspective. “She’s more than a housemaid, Millie. I promise. I can’t explain now, as it is her secret, but she is...remarkable.”

Millie looked hesitant. “I cannot say I know much about her, but she does seem rather fine for her station. And she has done me a great service as I’ve attempted to decipher who...well, never mind who.” Her expression shifted to amusement as her brow raised. “Leave it to you to fall in love with the most unavailable woman at the house party full of amiable women.”

He grinned. “It is fitting, is it not?”

“Quite.”

They shared a smile.

“Truly, though, I am happy for you, Oliver. And I hope you can find a way to make it all work.”

So did Oliver. For speaking with Millie had finally given him the clarity of mind he’d needed. He’d made his decision. Miss Clara Hatfield would hopefully, with all the help from heaven, be his for the rest of his life.

Twenty-Eight

New Years Eve and New Years Day passed by in a terrible, depressive blur for Clara, whose anxiety had increased exponentially since Mrs. Wintle had put her on special watch.

Not only did Clara avoid Miss Bowles like an illness, she had to also do the same with Mr. Cole, which was far more painful. Of course, he still left her tokens beneath his pillow to let her know he was thinking of her, but that only proved to make her heart ache even greater.

The final straw was the note he’d left for her Friday morning, when she knew she only had one week left at Bellthorne.

I must speak with you about a matter of great importance, but we obviously must do so in secret. Might we find a moment to steal away together? This afternoon in the library, when you see to the hearth. I shall wait there until you arrive.

Always.

He’d left both the opening and closing of the note off, once more for secrecy’s sake, but Clara had burned the note anyway.

She longed to meet with him in the library, to explain to him all that had occurred and why she now had to avoid him, but she couldn’t risk a single word to him. Not after Clara had already discovered that Miss Bowles suspected her to be the woman Mr. Cole had fallen for.

Margaret had warned her that Miss Bowles now openly complained about Clara “fraternizing with servants and gentlemen alike.”