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He knew what the stakes were this time.

23

What You Thought You Wanted

“Are we late?” Lord Harcourt asked as he followed Diantha and both Ladies Harcourt into Simon’s house.

“We must be,” the young Lady Harcourt said, “for I can hear the music playing already.”

They were met by an exceedingly well-turned-out gentleman Lord Harcourt greeted as Mr. Janes. When he apologized for their apparent tardiness, Mr. Janes said, “Not at all, my lord. We are saving seats for you.”

Diantha couldn’t help but look up as they passed through the entryway. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see. Perhaps nothing, for her visit here two months ago had begun to feel like a fever dream. But no, there they were: angelic, rifle-wielding James and Michael. She hoped Simon’s talk with his mother had been successful. She wondered what success in that endeavor would look like. She regretted not having asked him what his aims were.

She regretted so many things.

Mostly that today was very likely to be the last time she would ever see him.

Her heart was pounding as they entered the ballroom, which was furnished with rows of chairs. Four musicians at the front were playing a perfectly unremarkable rendition of Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14—apparently, Simon’s tastes did not run to the avant-garde as Olive’s did.

Diantha was glad they were late. It meant they hadn’t had to greet Simon personally. Of course, that would have to happen after the music, but she could use the time to settle in, to adjust to being here, in Simon’s house, in Simon’s presence.

It was not to be, though. Just as she was about to take her seat, which was on an aisle, Mr. Janes tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, “Miss Brown, could you come with me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

It was only as they were descending the stairs that she wondered how he knew her name. Due to their tardiness, he had quickly passed coats off to a maid and hustled them up to the ballroom. No introductions had been made. She only knew his name because Lord Harcourt had invoked it.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, but your assistance is required.”

Oh, oh no. He was slowing at a door she knew. This was Simon’s library.

He rapped on the door and opened it, and when she hesitated at the threshold, he gently pushed her over it and closed the door behind her.

She felt as if she were plunging into the pool at Gurglewood.

She opened her mouth. Simon rose from a chair by the fire. She closed her mouth.

He took her breath away. Part of it was that he was wearing the most extraordinary blue coat. And, come to think of it, a cravat tied in a knot more elaborate than she’d ever seen him sport. He was undeniably handsome.

But most of her breathlessness was that he looked so very much like himself.

“I wanted you to see my new coat,” he said.

She blinked. That was not how she had expected to be greeted.

“But now I am going to take it off.”

He did, and his waistcoat, too, then proceeded to untie his cravat and roll up his sleeves, and, oh, those forearms.

She found her voice. “What are you doing?”

“I would say that I’m here to ruin you, but since I was already here and you have arrived secondarily, perhaps it is more accurate to say that you’re here to ruin me.”

“I don’t—”

“But that isn’t right, either, for you have already ruined me.” He placed a hand over his heart.