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“I will stay with Lady Harcourt this evening,” Miss Morgan said. “I was already planning to anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?” Diantha asked.

“Yes, Archie and I are conspiring to spell you off in the evenings, so you may have a true holiday.”

“That is kind of you, but not—”

“So, tonight, I will stay beyond the time you would normally return. Well, you can return, and prepare yourself for your investigative mission, but I will remain.”

“But …”

“You needn’t worry about the gentlemen. The only one of the gentlemen who can countenance the cold is Simon, and he goes to bed frightfully early.”

That would explain why Diantha and Lady Harcourt always met him in the breakfast room.

“And I can personally attest to the fact that my husband spends the night with me,” Lady Stonely said.

“As does Archie with my sister,” Miss Morgan said. “The gentlemen were meant to stay together in the outbuilding, but Archie and Effie are apparently unable to be parted from their ladies for even a night.” She rolled her eyes to communicate her opinion on the matter of such overly uxorious gentlemen. “Poor Simon, left alone in the outbuilding all night. Do you know that they have been calling it the gentleman’s cave?”

“Well,” said Diantha, happily defeated by their logic, “apparently I am to take the waters under the stars this evening while listening to the brook.” She was unaccountably excited. “But what if it is not a clear evening?”

“It will be,” Miss Morgan said, and Diantha had no idea how she could possibly know that.

12

Absurdly Named Comets

Simon enjoyed another evening with his friends, and with Miss Brown. Although he wasn’t sure why he had thought of it like that, as if there were two groups of people in the drawing room: friends, and Miss Brown. As if she occupied her own category.

Was she not his friend?

He thought back to that extraordinary night in August, the one they weren’t supposed to talk about. Suddenly overwarm, he got up and went to stand by a window, opening it a crack.

He observed the room. Whereas the prior evening had seen Simon and Miss Brown conversing away from the others, today she was firmly ensconced in the wider circle, having been shepherded there after they dined by Lady Stonely, who was talking animatedly about the magazine business. He had only partially followed the conversation, but it was clear that Miss Brown was engaging in it in a way she hadn’t previously.

So in addition to being his friend, it appeared Miss Brown was making headway with the others.

Did that … annoy him?

No, no. He thought back to her wrenching observations about Frankenstein, made both in conversation and via one of her slips of paper. He ought to be made happy by observing her talking and laughing with everyone. Simon well knew the comfort of friendship generally, and the balm provided by these particular people.

He was struck with another notion: He was spending an awful lot of time observing and thinking about Miss Brown.

He ought to stop doing that. He had turned down her outrageous proposal. They had their unspoken agreement not to speak of that night. Miss Brown was intelligent and competent. She had assured him on two occasions now that she had resolved the issue of the unwanted proposal.

So everything was fine. Everything was—

“Simon, I trust you will be taking in tonight’s celestial display?”

Olive, intruding on his thoughts.

Which was also fine. It was welcome.

“Is that why you’ve opened this window?” she asked. “Are you trying to get a peek already? Isn’t it too early?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the comet!”