Page 115

“I am all anticipation, my lord.”

“In fact, I wonder if I might ask you to assist.” Simon paused, but he wasn’t sure why, for if Janes agreed to help, Simon was going to have to tell him everything. “Do you remember when I said I wanted to put my best foot forward for a certain lady? It turns out that doing so is going to require a bit of logistical assistance.”

The half smile became a full one. “I should like nothing more, my lord.”

21

Good Deeds

Simon Courteney, the Earl of Marsden requests the honor of your company for an afternoon of music and merriment to be held on the twelfth day of October 1823, at four o’clock in the afternoon at Number Seven Park Lane

October 12

Twenty-one days since Earls Trip

Diantha had entertained the notion that Simon was having a party solely to get her out of the house. He had, after all, written a personalized note on the back of the invitation.

Archie, please bring everyone.

It was amusing, really, how easily the household had embraced the idea that the dowager should attend the party. Diantha had been waiting on bated breath for Mrs. Baldwin to call and had been fretting about how to convince Lord Harcourt that his mother should accept the invitation she would be issuing.

But then Simon wrote and summoned them, and Lord Harcourt thought it was a fine idea. When Diantha suggested that if he was going, they didn’t need her tagging along, he disagreed, informing her that yes, they most certainly did need her tagging along.

So she might have thought it was all for her. Simon made gestures of that sort. He brought her ribbons the color of the forest and procured stacks of plates for her to throw at walls.

Or he used to.

Which is why she would have thought the party was a means to get her out of the house. But she hadn’t seen him in three weeks—he hadn’t been to see the dowager, or the earl. There had been no sign of or word from him since Gurglewood. So she had to conclude that their … affair had ended.

Well, of course it had ended. It had never been going to extend beyond the confines of the holiday. She was forced to conclude that Simon’s regard for her had ended. She told herself it was for the best. She didn’t want his ongoing scrutiny. It would only make it harder to do what needed to be done.

“Well, don’t you ladies look stunning?” Lord Harcourt said when Diantha and the dowager descended the stairs. Diantha didn’t know about stunning. She was wearing an evening dress that, while pretty enough, was quite old. She hadn’t occasion to wear an evening dress for ages. But she wasn’t alone; the dowager’s dress was at least half a dozen Seasons out of date. Diantha consoled herself that her simple white satin gown had aged well enough.

The younger countess, though, did look stunning. She seemed to have, in the past week, passed out of the period of illness and was looking extremely well. Her skin glowed against a simple yet elegant dress of pink sarcenet with an embroidered overlay.

“Miss Brown,” Lord Harcourt said, “might I have a word before we depart?”

“And I shall tell you, Emma,” said the younger countess to the older, “about the absurd hat my sister is going to be wearing this evening. We shall have to watch for it.”

Diantha followed Lord Harcourt into his office, a familiar wariness rising within her.

“This won’t take long, but please take a seat.”

She knew enough not to preemptively offer to leave the premises with her belongings, but she couldn’t help fearing he had somehow found out about her plan with Mr. Baldwin. Had he intercepted her correspondence? He wasn’t the type to disrespect someone’s privacy like that, but perhaps a servant had—

“How do you think the party will go?” he asked as he opened a desk drawer.

Oh. He was merely worried about his mother. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I can be prepared to depart early with her ladyship if need be. But she will be familiar with several of the attendees.”

“Yes, it will be a regular Gurglewood reunion.”

“I find it curious that Lord Marsden is hosting a party. I have never known him to do so.”

“Nor have I,” Lord Harcourt said cheerily.

“Have you any insight as to the reason for the apparent change of heart?”

He pulled a piece of paper out of his desk and regarded her with an odd intensity. “I can honestly say I have no idea.” After a moment, he grinned. “Let me amend that statement. I can honestly say that he hasn’t told me anything about his motivations for hosting this party. I do have my suspicions, though.”