Page 85 of Brown-Eyed Earl

“Well,” he said, “I shall be raising your wages, effective immediately. I was thinking something along these lines.”

He handed Diantha a piece of paper on which was written a sum double the amount of her current wages. She had to swallow a gasp. With that kind of money coming in, her cottage, or something like it, would be within reach in half the time she’d planned.

But again, it didn’t matter, because she didn’t have time. She had only six months. Less. It would be five months when they returned home.

Still, Lord Harcourt didn’t know that—thank Heavens. And she appreciated the gesture, more than he knew.

So she smiled and said, quite sincerely, “Thank you.”

She also wondered if Simon had put him up to this.

“You are most welcome.” He stood. “I bid you good night, Miss Brown.”

An odd sort of embarrassment overtook Diantha as they made their way out of the sitting room. It wasn’t shame. When it came down to it, she agreed with his assessment of the value of her labor. Just that she felt … unsettled. By what, she wasn’t precisely sure. Her newfound riches? Having had a rather vulnerable conversation with Lord Harcourt?

Perhaps it was the fact that if he knew about Mr. Hill, about her letter, he wouldn’t be saying such kind things. He wouldn’t be doubling her wages.

“Oh, Miss Brown,” he said before he mounted the stairs. “One more question.”

“Yes?”

His eyes were dancing. “Your village of Greychurch. Does it in fact have a gray church?”

“It does. A handsome one that seems rather too large and grand for such a modest place, situated on one end of the village green.”

“I thought so. I would be remiss if I didn’t point out the hypocrisy of your disparagement of the Gurglewood moniker as too literal when you yourself are considering retiring to a village called Greychurch.”

“My lord, I have never said anything against Gurglewood as a name.”

He grinned. “Perhaps not, but you’ve thought it.”

Diantha found Simon outside. As expected. She’d known it had been he who’d sent Polly to her room after everyone had gone to bed, insisting that she sit with her ladyship. “His lordship specifically asked me to,” she’d said when Diantha tried to demur. Diantha hadn’t asked which lordship.

“Simon,” she said, approaching the fire. “Polly sent me.”

“Diantha. I didn’t want you to miss the comet.” He winked and gestured for her to sit.

He had sent Polly. She wondered, as she settled herself in the chair next to his, what other manipulations he had undertaken on her behalf. “I had a very interesting discussion with Lord Harcourt earlier this evening. Did you have anything to do with it?”