He gazed at Laura silently.

“I’ve tried to live differently from them. Always facing reality, prioritizing reason and discernment in my thoughts. I never allowed myself to follow my emotions. That effort was so consistent it became a part of me, like Mr. Dalton’s smoking habit. Now, as I intended, I’ve become a completely different person from my mother and father. When strong emotions arise, I stiffen. I immediately analyze and judge, responding accordingly.”

“That sounds like a fine trait.”

He spoke in a soft voice, one he rarely used even with those closest to him.

“I admire Miss Pendleton’s rationality. Anyone with proper judgment would feel the same as I do. Always calm, gentle, and just. You are gentle because you are wise, and kind because you are strong. Your parents in heaven must be proud of such qualities.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course.”

Laura smiled. Mr. Dalton looked up at her smiling face with a warm gaze.

Under his gaze, Laura felt a languid warmth, as if she had sipped wine, sweeping through her body. Deep within her heart, the affection she had always kept hidden for him stirred, clamoring to break free.

With her eyes, her expressions, her words, and her gestures, she longed to convey her feelings to him. She wanted to be the cigarette case he held, caressed by his touch, or the shirt he wore, clinging to his body, or the fire in the hearth he warmed himself by, enveloping him in heat.

Crack, crack—her heart’s defenses kept breaking apart. At the same time, a gentle flush of a lady in love spread across her face.

Mr. Dalton’s gaze upon Laura grew peculiar.

Laura flinched. Had her true feelings unwittingly shown on her face? Had she exposed an improper affection that would make her a laughingstock and embarrass Mr. Dalton?

Terrified, Laura summoned the reason that had always been her weapon in crises. She quickly found the most appropriate words to defuse the situation.

“I hope a lady who sees Mr. Dalton’s true nature and loves him wholeheartedly will soon fill that empty place. How far along is she, Mr. Dalton?”

Mr. Dalton’s gaze sank into a dark abyss.

Laura’s heart fluttered with relief.

With a shadowed expression, he answered rather curtly, “Very far away.”

‘He must mean London,’ Laura thought, recalling Miss Lance. Of course, it makes sense. They must already be promised to each other.

‘Indeed, Mr. Dalton wouldn’t act in a way that could cause misunderstanding without a plan. He’s not some scoundrel. My worries about Miss Lance were just my imagination. Thank goodness.’

But strangely, despite her thoughts, her nose stung, and her chest ached sharply.

Laura gave a bright smile.

“Distance is no obstacle anymore. There are trains now. Wherever that lady lives, it wouldn’t take more than two days to meet her.”

He gave a wry, self-deprecating laugh.

“There’s a greater obstacle than distance keeping her from coming to my side.”

“What’s that?”

“She doesn’t know I love her.”

“Oh…”

Laura’s eyes darted. She recalled Miss Lance, who had seemed utterly smitten with Mr. Dalton before leaving London. Had he not noticed her feelings?

‘Or perhaps he has his heart set on another lady?’

Laura couldn’t make sense of it. She had prided herself on her keen sense for others’ affections, but with him, it didn’t work. Yet she couldn’t bluntly ask whom he loved. Such a direct question would breach etiquette.

Unable to bear his somber expression, Laura asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“How could I win the love I couldn’t gain in London here?”

“A letter… No, that won’t do. Perhaps you could visit London again?”

“I can’t leave Whitefield for long.”

He looked out the window, his expression forlorn. It was the face of a man tormented by his inability to win the heart of the woman he loved.

Laura grew increasingly melancholic. The more she felt, the more desperately she tried to suppress her emotions. She racked her brain to find ways for the man she secretly loved to win another woman’s heart.

Clever as she was, she soon found an answer.

“What about hosting a hunting party?”

“A hunting party?” he asked.

“Yes. If you hold a hunting party, you could invite all the gentlemen and ladies from London to Whitefield. Send invitations to everyone you’ve met in London. Offer hunting, dance parties, dinners, card games, concerts, picnics—every delightful amusement at Whitefield. They’ll all come rushing by train. Surely, the lady you love will be among them. Once she sees Whitefield, she’ll undoubtedly fall for you.”

Laura emphasized the last sentence, thinking it would entice him, but he looked as if she’d suggested inviting a swarm of rats into his home. Then again, he was the famously reclusive Mr. Havisham.

“As someone who enjoys a secluded life, you might not like the idea. But you could keep the lady at Whitefield for at least a week. Winning her love in that time should be easy.”

At the mention of a week, the discomfort on his face vanished. Spending such a long time with the woman he loved under one roof must have seemed appealing.

“…But I have no idea how to prepare for such a social event. My steward wouldn’t know either. The last grand ball my family hosted was in my great-grandfather’s time. If dozens of gentlemen and ladies from London came, the servants would feel struck by lightning.”

“Oh, that’s troublesome. Menu planning, table arrangements—there’s so much to organize from start to finish, and your steward lacks experience.”

“Could you help, Miss Pendleton?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’ve attended countless balls and dinners in London. You’ve hosted splendid dinners and tea parties at your townhouse. No one is better suited to manage such a large event.”

“But that would mean coming to Whitefield constantly, as if commuting. It would disrupt the children’s lessons.”

“That’s fine. At Dunville Park, my marriage prospects are considered more important than the children’s studies. If I explain to my sister, she’ll surely let you go. Daniel and George will get a holiday of sorts.”

The gloom from moments before had completely dissipated, and he looked vibrant. He seemed thrilled at the prospect of hosting the woman he loved at his estate.

For a moment, Laura felt profoundly nauseated—a sensation she had never experienced before. She couldn’t find a word to describe it.

“Alright. I’ll help.”

Mr. Dalton beamed and extended his hand. Laura placed hers atop his. He bowed and kissed the back of her hand.

“What could I do without you?”

He murmured softly as he lifted his lips. Laura smiled, trying to withdraw her hand, but he held on. His gaze lingered on her gloved hand.

She felt a tingling sensation where his eyes rested.

Feeling her face flush, Laura teased, “What favor are you about to ask now, Mr. Dalton?”

He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Join the gathering, Miss Pendleton.”

“…Pardon?”

“As one of the invited nobles, enjoy the event.”

It was an unexpected request, and for her, an impossible one. She was no longer a noble. She had given up everything and was now a worker in someone else’s household. She couldn’t dare step back into that world.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Dalton, but I must decline.”

She expected him to ask why, but he seemed to understand her thoughts.

“I don’t want my dearest friend to hide away like a housekeeper, only working.”

“Please forgive my refusal, Mr. Dalton. I truly can’t accept. It wouldn’t align with my purpose of helping you. As the host, you must introduce your guests to suitable friends. Inviting me there would neglect your duties.”

“I think inviting you would elevate their status.”

“They wouldn’t see it that way. Nor would the lady you love.”

“Then I’d be terribly disappointed in her. If she dismisses the daughter of the mentor who saved my childhood merely because of lineage or class, I’d want nothing to do with her.”

Laura opened her mouth to respond, but he raised his free hand, covering hers and pressing firmly. Her hand was enveloped in his large ones.

A subtle pressure gripped her hand. Laura lost her voice, as if her mouth had been sealed.

“Without you, I can do nothing. Without your help, my tongue would freeze, my eyes would glaze, and my feet would stick to the ground. I’m ashamed to admit it, but in matters of love, I rely entirely on you.”

Laura’s eyes wavered.

“Please, stay by my side. Guide and lead me. Like a sheep following a shepherd, I’ll follow only you.”

Her heart swirled with a tumult of emotions: pity for Mr. Dalton’s dependence on her, pain that his love was for another woman, and fear that she might have to witness him court someone else.

But the strongest feeling was joy—joy that she was so needed by him. Even if she was only a friend, the fact that this man trusted and relied on her, that she could do something for him, made Laura so happy it almost hurt.

She nodded.

He grinned broadly, clearly delighted at repeatedly winning her agreement. Gently stroking her small hand in his, he said in an excited voice, “I never thought I’d look forward to a social event, but nothing in life is certain. I leave everything to you. Spare no expense. Treat my house, my servants, my estate as your own. Do whatever you wish, as if you were the mistress of Whitefield.”

Laura struggled to maintain her usual calm demeanor.

The rain had stopped. Their clothes had long dried by the fire. They left the cabin.

Passing through the dim chestnut forest, they entered a path of white birches where sunlight began to filter through. Mr. Dalton, walking beside Laura, held her shawl in one hand, the other in his pocket, whistling softly. He seemed in high spirits.

Clutching her father’s sketchbook, Laura looked up at the sky.

Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back.