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She found herself doing the same, whether she was mirroring the gesture, or because her own heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest, she couldn’t say.
“We are going to be discovered here in—he pulled out a timepiece—five minutes’ time.”
“What is happening?”
“You are, of course, free to leave before that happens.”
“Simon!”
“I understand that you have recently come into some property,” he said mildly.
She gasped. “You put Lord Harcourt up to that!”
“I did no such thing. It was his idea. Whatever he said to you—and I have no idea what that was—was his own doing, and, I’m sure, genuinely meant. My point is merely that you don’t need to be here. You have your cottage. You have your future.”
“And if I stay?”
“We must place ourselves in a compromising position so that we may be discovered.” He looked at his timepiece again. “Which will happen in four minutes.”
She had the most ridiculous urge to laugh. Or perhaps to cry. “You’ve decided to ruin me after all.”
“I have arranged for us to be discovered here. If ruination is still your aim, I shall oblige.”
“You would do that? What about your own reputation?”
“It turns out I care about your getting what you want more than I care about my reputation. So if ruination, or the appearance thereof, is still your desired outcome, it is within your grasp.”
“I don’t—”
He held up a hand. “But. Let us get our terminology right. It is indeed you who have ruined me. For so many things: for a life of the mind, for a life of duty, for life as a bachelor. You’ve ruined all my plans, Miss Brown. I’ve gone and fallen in love with you.”
She didn’t know what to say. Surely Miss Austen had some words of advice for a lady in a situation like this, or at least a witty rejoinder.
No, no, it turned out that Miss Austen was letting her down.
“So, to recap”—Simon made another glance at the watch—“you now find yourself presented with three choices. One: Leave out that door.” He pointed to a small door behind him. “It opens onto a servants’ staircase that will take you back upstairs. Two: We are discovered here, I cry off, and you finally get what you thought you wanted. Three: We are discovered here, I come up to scratch, and we marry.”
Three! She shouted. But only inside, for her mouth was still not cooperating. Or perhaps it was her lungs that were letting her down, for she had the notion that speech required breath, and she was having a terrible time catching hers.
“And by the way,” Simon went on, “I’ve dispensed with my mother. Well, that makes it sound like I’ve murdered her. I’m giving her this house—good riddance; goodbye to the ghosts of Number Seven Park Lane—and getting another. In case that makes a difference—should you be inclined to select option three but like to remain close to Lady Harcourt.
“But I should also point out that I have a number of cottages at Galecroft. I am currently in the process of trying to convince James’s widow to move into the dower house there, and I believe I am making good progress on that front, but there is another that might be suitable as a … retreat. Should, say, the lady of the estate want a space that is all hers. It is not on a river, but there is a pond nearby.”
Diantha had heard what Simon said, but she was having trouble absorbing it. Her mind kept catching on one phrase he had used: what you thought you wanted.
With great effort, she found her voice. “You didn’t tell Lord Harcourt what I did?”
“I did not.” She thought he might take offense at the implication that he was less than trustworthy—she would have understood if he hadn’t, ultimately, been able to keep her secret—but he only smiled fondly. “I haven’t, and I won’t. But I must tell you that regardless of how tonight unfolds, I think you ought to assume your sister’s late husband will make public what he knows about the dowager.”
“But if I can’t marry him …”
“Is that enough?”
“I …” Of course it wasn’t enough. Why had she ever thought it would be? She had been so singularly focused on the immense task of rendering herself ineligible in Mr. Hill’s eyes that she hadn’t thought through the potential consequences of “success.”
“You needn’t worry. Archie and Effie and I encountered a strikingly similar situation to do with Clementine and Olive, and I promise you, we can make sure your brother-in-law holds his tongue. But for that, you are going to have to speak to Archie, or allow me to do so on your behalf.”
She heard footsteps outside the main door. It almost sounded as if someone were stomping.
