Hope Between the Pages by Pepper Basham (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📕

promised me that she will get you to the church, posthaste.” His smile faded from his profile as we walked along the dock. “But I must warn you, my beautiful dear, I have been unable to convince my mother to attend.” He paused and turned to face me. “You know I hoped she’d have a change of heart, but she won’t accept you apart from your class.”

A heaviness sank through me, for his sake more than mine. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”

“No matter.” He shook his head, renewing the walk. “I’ve disappointed her most of my life, but I didn’t want you to have to bear her disdain. What she misses from life due to her prejudice!”

“As long as I have your favor, I can bear whatever she launches at me.”

“Till death us do part, my beautiful dear.” His smile resurrected in full bloom and he leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You can do no wrong in Victoria’s eyes, as well as my father’s, though he keeps his admiration quiet for fear of Mother’s wrath.”

I squeezed in close to him, admiring his profile and wondering at how all these beautiful feelings could fit inside without rupturing my chest. Tomorrow, I would belong to him, with him, forever, and I couldn’t imagine anything on earth so wonderful. Tears crept into my vision and my feet faltered.

He turned to me, his gaze sobering with concern, but I smiled. “I love you, Oliver Camden.”

And with that admission, he laughed loud enough to garner attention from those nearby, grasped both my hands in his, and brought them to his lips. “I will not take it for granted, Sadie. We are in this together, my dear girl. Whether wars or fiercely unhappy mothers or time itself, we can weather them all.”

Chapter 16

Nothing. Not one hint of Oliver Camden or a deed to Blackwell’s. Anywhere.

Clara stared out the attic window on the opposite side from where she’d begun. Maybe one more day of searching the attic and she’d finish. Then what? Where else could she look?

She reached her hand into her skirt pocket and her fingers slid around a key ring. Maybe all hope wasn’t gone.

Gillie had given her an old set of keys on her first morning at Camden House and suggested searching some of the outbuildings if the attic didn’t prove successful, but was the effort really worth it? Just because Sadie had some connection to an Oliver Camden over one hundred years ago didn’t mean any of this pillaging through decades of debris would provide any documentation to prove their connection. A century was a long time.

Clara dropped down on an antique rocking chair she’d uncovered and rubbed at her tired eyes. After her phone call with Mom last night, she really needed to return home. Uncle Julian had made an unwelcome visit, stirring up anxiety with his veiled threats and leaving Mom more rattled than she’d admit. Thankfully, Robbie had intervened, but the fact that Clara had been in England five days with nothing to show for it but a photo of a soldier’s grave didn’t bode well for Blackwell’s future.

Lord, I know that You are in control of everything, even the dead-end roads, but I could really use Your help right now.

“You look as though you need a break.”

Clara peered up to find Max standing in the doorway, his smile quirked with what she was beginning to recognize as his preferred expression. Bemused. He wasn’t wearing his usual brown gardening attire, but instead sported a pair of jeans and red fitted sweater, both of which accentuated the sturdiness his large jacket had cloaked that first day at the airport.

Clara looked away, blinking at the turn of her thoughts. She wasn’t currently searching for an Englishman. She stifled a groan. Well, to be honest, what American female avid reader didn’t daydream about an Englishman now and again?

But right now, she needed to find a deed and get back home. Besides, Max probably wasn’t even interested in some old-fashioned, daydreaming American woman who was very close to losing her source of income.

She breathed out a sigh and rocked back on her heels. “What did you have in mind?”

“A trip to Fenwick, perhaps?”

Clara pushed up from her crouched position and dusted off her skirt, casting him a grin. “Venturing away from the garden, Mr. Weston?”

“Only when absolutely necessary, you understand, and Fenwick isn’t really venturing far.” He patted the doorframe, scanning the room before his gaze returned to hers. “Besides, I’d be remiss in not introducing you to the village.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I believe it’s exactly your sort of place.” His brows rose. “Magical, even.” He stepped away from the threshold into the hallway as Clara met him. “Perchance, do you know how to ride a bicycle?”

She looked down at her plaid flared skirt and vintage-styled blue sweater. “A bicycle?”

He shot a grin over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairway. “You’ll look like one of the ladies from Call the Midwife.”

A laugh burst from her as she chased after him. “You watch Call the Midwife?”

“Only because I love my mother.”

Okay, maybe crushing on her current Englishman wasn’t such a waste of time after all.

A pair of old-fashioned-looking bikes waited at the front of the house. The one for Clara even had a little basket on the front. With the sky a gorgeous shade of blue and the backdrop of the evergreen hillsides, they took the mile driveway from the house, through the castle-like, if overgrown, gatehouse entrance, and down a winding road with stone fences framing either side.

“I can’t believe it’s December,” she called to him as they coasted along the narrow road. “It feels like autumn.”

He rode alongside on her left, the wind giving erratic tugs to his wild blond hair peeking from his derby. “I thought you might prefer this sort of outing rather than simply taking a car, and since the weather seemed to oblige…”

“I didn’t realize how much I needed the break.”

“Mum said you worked through