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Her heart sank. He was going to sack her. Why else could they not wait until after the holiday? Either Mr. Hill had told him everything, or Simon had told him … something.

It must have been Mr. Hill. She trusted Simon. Which was, itself, a surprising and buoying thought, but one she would have to examine later, for she was currently occupied being sacked.

But on the other hand, how would Mr. Hill have reached Lord Harcourt here? If he had visited the London house, he would have found no one home. If he’d sent a letter, it would be waiting there.

“You have been my mother’s companion for nearly a decade now,” Lord Harcourt said.

She wasn’t sure if that had been a question or a declarative statement, but she thought it best to err on the side of the former and said, “Yes, my lord.”

“You have always addressed me as ‘my lord.’”

Again, she wasn’t sure if he was asking or telling. “I … yes.” She paused. “My lord.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Miss Brown, I should like to discuss the terms of your employment.”

She steeled her spine. But, mortifyingly, tears sprang to her eyes. What good was a stiff spine when one was crying? She squeezed her eyes shut for a long second and willed the tears away. She reminded herself that it wasn’t as if she’d be out on the street tomorrow. She had enough money to go somewhere else. Figure out a way forward. “You needn’t make a big speech, or any speech. I shall gather my things and go.”

He recoiled. “Go? Where would you go?”

“I am not sure.” She kept her gaze on the floor. “If I could stop off briefly at Mollybrook to—”

“Good Heavens! I’m not going to sack you! Did you think I’d called you here to sack you?”

“I …”

“You did! I don’t know whether to be incredulous or affronted. Why on earth would I sack you?” He shifted in his chair, maneuvering himself so he was directly in her line of sight. “Miss Brown, I can think of no prospect more inconvenient than the notion of your leaving our household. How would we manage without you?”

Diantha was flooded with relief. Did anything feel so good as a reprieve?

But also, she was going to have to leave his household. They were going to have to manage without her.

“I asked you to stay back,” Lord Harcourt said, “in order to discuss whether we can still properly call you a companion.”

She was confused. “What else would you call me?”

“Can you be a companion to someone who doesn’t know who she is anymore?”

What a curious question. “My lord, I fear that question is too philosophical for me.”

“What I mean is, isn’t what you’re doing these days more akin to nursing?”

“I don’t think so. It is akin to …”

“What?”

She’d been going to say it was what a daughter would do, but she didn’t want to be presumptuous. “It’s not that different from what you do.”

“Except you do more. You handle the … delicate matters.”

“Well, the maids do, really,” she said. “I merely assist.”

Lord Harcourt cocked his head, regarded her as if she were a bit of a mystery. “Do you remember when my mother went wandering last May, at Mollybrook?”

“Yes.” That had been a terrible day. They’d had to enlist the help of the tenants to look for her. She was found unharmed in one of the cottage gardens. It had given Diantha the fright of her life. “I am sorry again about that.” She still felt the shame of it. She had no idea how the dowager had slipped away.

He waved away her apology. “I heard you with her afterward. I followed you upstairs to make sure all was well. You helped her change, and wash. You brushed and braided her hair.”

Diantha bowed her head. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t do, were you a lady.”