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“I don’t know. You have years of novel reading experience on me. You tell me.”

“I suppose the opposite of fright, if you take it to be mean ‘horrid’ or ‘terrible’ or ‘alarming,’ is pleasing or delightful or soothing.”

“Yes,” he said. “Also: beautiful.”

She was warm now, from her head to her toes, from her heart to her soul.

“We didn’t see the comet,” he said, picking up the line she had used several times the last few nights.

“We can try again,” she said, picking up his.

The next morning, Diantha did a little manipulating of the dowager before breakfast. “Wouldn’t it be nice if Lord Marsden read to you some more this morning?” And, later, at breakfast, to Simon, she said, “Lady Harcourt was just saying she wished you would read to her some more today, but I think she is shy to ask you.”

He fell over himself to accommodate them.

And so Diantha was freed to undertake her larger mission.

She took the liberty of knocking on Miss Morgan’s door. It was bold, but she needed privacy, and barging in on the lady was less bold than what was to follow. She had learned that Miss Morgan was not fond of breakfast, preferring instead to take a tea tray in her bedchamber.

Diantha didn’t get the impression that Miss Morgan was surprised by much, but Diantha’s appearance at her door had apparently done the job. “Miss Brown!”

“Miss Morgan, would you … help me? I find myself in need of … advice.”

Why did she keep trailing off her sentences? It signified a kind of wishy-washiness she abhorred. She had spent all her time this morning plotting how to get here, and not enough, apparently, on what to actually say.

“Miss Brown, I assure you I am quite prepared to dispense advice. It is one of my favorite ways to pass the time.” She stepped back and gestured Diantha inside. “Please excuse the mess.”

The bedchamber was strewn with more clothing than Diantha owned. Miss Morgan picked up a hat that had been resting on the room’s lone chair and said, “Sit.” She herself perched on the bed.

Something in Diantha’s chest twinged. She was transported to the days when she and Thea used to hole up in her bedroom, chatting about everything and nothing.

“My dear lady,” Miss Morgan said, “please tell me what is troubling you.”

Diantha was giving herself away. It was Simon’s fault. He had chipped away at her defenses such that she was having trouble concealing her feelings in the usual way. “I must be assured that you’ll keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence.” She paused. “We don’t know each other well, but I feel I can trust you.”

“Oh, you can. You have no idea the secrets I’ve kept. No idea.”

Diantha couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose that’s why they’re secrets.”

“You might even call me a secret mistress.”

“I don’t know that you are the correct person to advise me in this matter, but I also don’t know who else to ask.”

“I am at your service.”

“I feel that perhaps you are less … shockable than your average young lady.”

“Oh, will you just come out with it, Miss Brown!”

Diantha was a bit startled by Miss Morgan’s exacerbated outburst.

“Dissembling does not suit you.”

“I know. I know. It is a most unattractive trait.” Diantha straightened her spine and reminded herself that she was accomplished at bursting in on people and saying unexpected, scandalous things. “I am considering whether to give away my maidenhood.”

“Oh, my.”

“I have shocked you.” How dismaying. She shouldn’t have come.