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“I thought you and Jack were in some . . . financial difficulties.” Aunt Sylvia uttered this cautiously as she turned back to the stove. She and Miss Lolly never pried. They were private themselves. And sharp-witted. Nina had long suspected they knew what she and Jack did in London. Or knew enough to know they’d do better not to ask.

“We’ve had setbacks.” Nina took the wadded gloves from Miss Lolly and smoothed them flat on the table. She ached to unburden herself, to let every detail pour forth.

“I earned the money when I worked for Alan, the man you met, or didn’t meet, rather.” Her cheeks burned.

“Enough to buy the bakery.” Aunt Sylvia was studying the milk in the pot.

“If I collect it.” Nina shifted on her stool.

“If.” Miss Lolly’s brows crept up to her hairline.

“When.” Nina gripped her elbows. “I’ll go tomorrow, I suppose.”

“To London. To collect your money.” Miss Lolly used the strainer to scoop nettles from the vat.

“Yes. No. Perhaps.” Nina felt sweat sliding down her back. She turned her eyes again to the garden. A mess. A royal blasted buggering mess.

“That’s what you said the other day, isn’t it?” Miss Lolly sounded suspiciously bland. “When he proposed.”

Nina started, gaze snapping back. Miss Lolly was doing a poor job hiding her smile.

“Lolly, please.” Aunt Sylvia put her hands on her hips.

“Fancy you couldn’t tell.” Miss Lolly shot Aunt Sylvia a triumphant look. She transferred the nettles to her gloved fist and gave a gleeful squeeze.

“Your aunt,” she said to Nina, “received more marriage proposals than a decade of debutantes.”

“It was extremely tiresome.” Aunt Sylvia sighed. “Did he propose?”

“He did, almost.” Nina’s voice was a croak. “But then he rejected me.”

“My,” said Miss Lolly. “That’s unusual.”

“I added a condition.” She gripped her elbows harder. “He’s clever and kind and funny and fizzing, absolutely gorgeous, you saw him, and I love him—I love him—even though I’ve always been certain it’s not worth it, loving someone, because it can end so poorly, and I might lose myself in the process, like Mother did. But he makes me feel like I’ve found myself, like I can do anything, because we can do anything.” She gulped, dizzy. “But I’m afraid too. I’m afraid to love him, because he’s afraid, of some part of himself he won’t show me. And if he’s already hiding, eventually I won’t be able to find him, whether or not he’s run off. And by then, losing him will feel like losing myself. Maybe it already does.” Her chest was heaving.

Miss Lolly and Aunt Sylvia were looking at each other.

“The condition you mentioned, what was it?” Aunt Sylvia asked.

“To face a very painful truth, about his nephew. I’d face it with him, of course. I said that. And he said no. And that means he’s going to harm the boy, inadvertently.”

Her breathing stayed shallow, as she glanced from aunt to aunt.

“Are you sure you didn’t reject him?” asked Miss Lolly.

“I don’t know. He might have thought so.” Nina bent double. “Does it sound like I rejected him?”

Aunt Sylvia cleared her throat delicately.

“Bugger.” Nina stood up so abruptly her calves bumped the stool’s lowest rung. “What’s the time?”

Aunt Lolly fumbled a watch up from a pocket, damp gloves smearing the face with green.

Seventeen minutes to the next train. Perhaps Alan hadn’t yet gone to the duke. Perhaps, if she went to London now, she’d get another chance to stop him from making a terrible mistake.

“Did you ever regret it?” She fixed her eyes on Aunt Sylvia. “Refusing all those suitors?”

“Never.” Aunt Sylvia gave her a radiant smile.