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William nodded. “I understand, but I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

“Impossible? But why?”

“I have a conflict of interest,” he said. “I promised to guide you, and to that end I can recommend several other very good solicitors who each work with excellent barristers who I am sure would be happy to represent you, but I’m afraid that I cannot.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. You’ve known my mother for years, but you were perfectly willing to be her solicitor,” she argued.

“Yes, but the circumstances were very different,” he said with a rueful smile.

“William, I don’t understand why—”

“I wasn’t in love with your mother.”

Her protest died in her throat. “Oh.”

After a moment of silence, he said, “I thought that might shock you, but I didn’t realize I would render you speechless.”

“William…”

“My conflict of interest is you, Sylvia. It’s always been you. I know that this is probably all wrong. I should wait a year—maybe two—until you’ve had some time, but I can’t stand the thought that while I’m sitting back and waiting, another man could sweep you off your feet. You are too wonderful for me to risk that, so I’m telling you now. So that you know.”

“William…” she repeated, his name a whisper now.

“I can’t compare to a Harley Street doctor who went to Eton and whose family can probably trace their line back centuries. I’m proud of what I’ve built here, but I’m probably never going to be the member of a club or be able to bring my daughter out as a debutante. However, if one day you think you might feel any sort of tenderness toward me, I’ll be right here. Waiting. If not, I would count it one of the great privileges of my life to call you my friend.”

His confession was more intimate, more loving than anything Hugo had ever said to her, and what’s more, she believed William. In this moment, she saw a lifetime of memories in a new light. William trailing around after Izzie and her when they were children because they happened to be around the same age became William wanting any chance to be around Sylvia. His subdued response to finding out that Hugo had asked her to marry him hadn’t been because he thought she was putting on airs but because another man had captured her heart. William bringing sandwiches to the shop over the past few months hadn’t just been a gesture of friendship but a chance to spend time with the woman he loved.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Then don’t say anything.”

“I just—I’ve only just decided to divorce Hugo and—”

“Sylvia, you don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“But I do, because I don’t want you thinking that you’ve frightened me off.” She smiled when he looked at her, unabashed hope in his eyes. “You’re right that it is too soon, but that doesn’t mean that it was a bad idea to tell me. It is the very opposite of bad.

“I can’t make any promises, because I need to make sense of my life and think about the woman I want to be now that I’m not pretending to be the woman Hugo wants me to be. I need time.”

“You can have all of the time in the world,” he said.

“Have patience with me, William, because my answer is not no.”

A grin split his features. “I can live with ‘not no.’ ‘Not no’ is wonderful!”

She laughed. “I’m very glad to hear that you think so. I should say, there is one thing that I can emphatically say yes to.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“I would love nothing more than to continue to call you my friend.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you, Sylvia.”

“I must apologize if, for a number of years, it felt as though I didn’t appreciate that,” she said.

“All that matters is that you found your way back to Glengall Road.”

She smiled. “I think you may be right about that.”