Page 78

“I thought it best you knew, your ladyship,” Mr. Hurst finished saying as they came upon the small, gathered crowd in the front hall. “Here they are.”

“What is the meaning of this late intrusion?” Lady Dalmeer questioned, looking utterly upset that her evening was not going perfectly according to plan. “And why have our king and queen seemingly absconded?”

“Forgive us, your ladyship,” Mr. Cole said at once. “We⁠—”

“They have fooled you, your ladyship,” Miss Bowles interrupted, stepping forward with a haughtily raised chin. “Just as I warned.”

Lady Dalmeer did not even cast a glance at Miss Bowles as the young woman continued.

“You see? Your housemaid Claire has been parading around your property, pretending to be a lady, and convincing Mr. Cole to fall in love with her.”

“That is not—” Mr. Cole attempted, but Miss Bowles pressed forth.

“Claire is the one who stabbed me. I wouldn’t doubt if she pushed Miss Sterling’s lady’s maid down the stairs so Claire could practice as a lady’s maid.”

Miss Sterling stepped forward. “I can assure you that did not occur. Grace was injured due to a carriage door slamming into her fingers—not her being pushed down the stairs.”

“And,” Miss Bowles continued, ignoring everyone else around her but the countess, “I also caught her returning to Bellthorne with a pair of skates she had clearly stolen from you. The woman’s despicable.”

Clara shook her head. “Nothing of what you just said was true, Miss Bowles, and you know it.”

Miss Bowles’s eyes flickered with doubt for a moment before she sneered. “Then why⁠—”

“Enough,” Lady Dalmeer interrupted shortly. She faced the gentlemen in her hall. “And who are you both?”

“This is my solicitor, Mr. Babbington,” Mr. Cole said.

“And I am Miss Clara Hatfield’s solicitor,” Mr. Peddles added, “come to visit her on an urgent matter.”

“Miss Hatfield?” Lady Dalmeer questioned. “I know of no such Hatfield who was invited to my house party.”

“You see?” Miss Bowles said, fairly whispering in the countess’s ear. “Another way in which they have attempted to prey upon your good nature. Sneaking her in, lying to you.”

Lady Dalmeer closed her eyes in a look of long-suffering, then shook her head. “Will someone please explain to me what on earth is going on out here? And who this Miss Hatfield is?”

Clara drew a deep breath, and Mr. Cole gave her an encouraging nod.

“That is my name, Lady Dalmeer. I am Miss Clara Hatfield.”

Thirty-One

Oliver watched in silence, forcing himself to remain back as Clara held her ground.

“You are a housemaid here?” Lady Dalmeer questioned, eying her up and down. “The one who was just crowned queen?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was hired for your house party as Clara Hunt. But my true name is Miss Clara Hatfield, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Michael Hatfield, a gentleman and his wife.”

Lady Dalmeer listened, completely unresponsive as Clara continued, though Millie stood in the back beside Miss Sterling, both of them exchanging looks that said, “I knew it.”

“Two months ago, my stepbrother stripped me of the ability to live my life. Ever since, I have been attempting to regain my social status that was unrightfully taken from me. I had nowhere else to turn but servitude.”

“Yes, an imposter, indeed,” Miss Bowles piped in. “A liar. No doubt a thief and despondent, as well.”

Clara turned calm eyes on Miss Bowles. “I am no thief, Miss Bowles. The only thing I have ever told a lie about was my last name, and that was to save another soul beside my own. There is only one despondent woman standing in this hall at the moment, and it surely is not me but the woman who dismisses her lady’s maids at the drop of a hat and one who tells falsehoods about women by whom they feel threatened.”

Oliver had never been prouder. That was far more satisfying than anything he could have said to the woman.

Miss Bowles’s mouth dropped open. “Why, I never⁠—”