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She would write back and tell him as much. Mr. Hill had said six months, and only six weeks of those six months had elapsed. She didn’t want to leave the dowager, or the countess, or the earl, any sooner than she had to. Or Olive Morgan, who called every few days.

Oh, who was she fooling? That was all true, but the person she most didn’t want to leave was Simon.

She took another deep breath, hoping to stop her thoughts from racing any further out of her command.

She had told Simon she had a plan. And she did. If it was happening sooner than she would have preferred, what of it? She was lucky it was happening at all. She would send the bank draft and make sure that when the invitation was issued, it was accepted by Lady Harcourt. In fact, the timing was good: A successful week-long holiday had just been had. Next to that, a few hours at a local party was nothing, or so she would point out. At said party, Mr. Baldwin would perform the “ruination” as planned, and fail to come up to scratch, also as planned.

What Diantha didn’t have a plan for was what came next. She told herself, as she had so many times in recent weeks, that even after paying Mr. Baldwin, she wasn’t going to be out on the street. She had enough money to keep herself sheltered and fed while she determined her next move. She took Simon’s point that no one was going to hire a fallen woman as a governess, but perhaps if she left London, she could find a school, or an orphanage, or …

Her thoughts were gathering speed again, threatening to get away from her. She performed some more breathing.

December was too soon.

No. December was fine. Everything was unfolding exactly as she had planned. Her manipulations had been successful.

19

The Too Many Countesses Problem

September 28, 1823

Seven days since Earls Trip

A week later, Simon sent a note to Archie and Effie asking them to come to his house that evening.

“It looks smashing in here, Simon,” said Effie, who had not seen his refurbished library. “Much less stuffy.”

“Brandy?” Archie asked, who was pouring himself a glass.

“No,” said Simon, whose stomach was in an uproar. Honestly, his stomach had been in an uproar since the night Diantha made her unexpected appearance in this very library. Sometimes a minor uproar, sometimes major, but the unsettlement had become a familiar state.

“Though I was fond of that purple paper,” Effie said from a corner where he was examining the wall. “But this is much more you. Very subtle, very refined.”

“I have something to tell you,” Simon said, and he’d used his Parliament voice, though he hadn’t meant to. The Parliament voice was deeper, and more commanding, than the way he usually spoke.

Effie, who was stroking the new wallpaper, looked over his shoulder with startlement.

Archie, across from Simon, raised his eyebrows.

“Well,” said Effie, coming over and joining them by the fire and nodding at the brandy decanter on a side table. “You’d better pour me one of those.”

Once Effie was settled with his drink, Simon opened his mouth to speak.

What came out was: “I met my mother last week at Galecroft.”

That wasn’t what he’d called them here to tell them. Well, he would of course have told them about it eventually, but it wasn’t why he’d summoned them.

“Oh, right,” Effie said. “How did you fare?”

“She is moving here.” He paused, thinking back on his “conversation” with her. “After the holidays. She is not pleased.”

“Well, good for you,” Archie said.

“I decided to take your advice and rent a place in Town. If left to my own devices, I’d rather be at Galecroft when Parliamentary duties don’t require my presence here. It’s ridiculous that I’ve been letting my mother keep me away. So we shall essentially swap places, but I’ll also rent another place here.”

“And will you tear down that overwrought shrine to your brothers at Galecroft?” Archie asked.

“I don’t think I will. Perhaps I will do some planting around it to soften it. I regret that I didn’t know them better, that we didn’t have more time as adults to … be brothers. But I plan to invite Frances to occupy the dower house, and with Mother absent, I think she may accept. For her sake, and mine, I think it will be nice to honor my brothers.” He quirked a smile. “And, really, the more ridiculous shrine is the entryway here.”