Blimey! thought Nory. The world’s gone mad. First Guy gets counseling and now this!

“I heard there’s been a bit of a bust-up between you and Isaac,” said the marquis. “I don’t know what it’s about, it’s none of my business, but I’m sorry to hear it. Isaac’s not been the same since you left.”

Nory wondered if Isaac was sobbing into his pillow nightly like she was. Probably not.

“I told Isaac he was a fuckwit, by the way,” added Pip.

“So I heard,” Nory replied.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Always.”

“Don’t lose hope.”

This advice was so incongruous coming from Pippa’s mouth that Nory had to force herself not to rear back in surprise.

“Give him time,” Pip continued. “When things have calmed down a bit, he’ll realize that you had his best interests at heart. And stop sniveling, it makes your eyes unappealingly red.”

“Is this something I ought to know about?” Lord Abercrombie asked.

He didn’t know about Heba’s paintings, and as much as Nory would have liked to tell him what had happened, she was in no position to break Isaac’s confidence again.

“No,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “Just something Isaac and I have to work out for ourselves.”

Despite her protestations, Mitch—as she was apparently now expected to call him—called her a cab to take her the short distance home. She was secretly grateful. The streets had quietened down now, and though she was well used to holding her keys in her fist, it made a nice change not to have to.

Monday’s trading was even busier than Sunday’s had been. Luckily, Seb had come in with Matilda at lunchtime, because it meant Andrew had help in the shop while Nory was leaned against the worktop in the kitchenette, listening as her brother slammed her over the phone.

“You don’t have all the facts, Thom,” Nory said wearily.

“I knew something like this would happen.”

“Something like what, Thom, what did you know would happen?”

“That you would screw him over. He’s a mess, Nory.”

Nory massaged her temples. “What’s he said?”

“Nothing. That’s just it. I can’t get anything out of him. Whatever went down with you two has messed him up proper. You always do this; you swoop in like a whirlwind and then you leave.”

“Why am I always the bad guy? You only ever think the worst of me. Maybe it was Isaac’s fault.”

“Was it?”

Nory sighed. “No,” she said quietly. “None of this was Isaac’s doing. I messed everything up.”

“Like I said.” Thomas sounded triumphant.

“I’m hurting too, you know.” Her voice broke.

“You’ll come up smelling of roses. You always do.”

“What did I do to you, Thom?” Her voice was brittle, rusty even to her own ears. “Why do you hate me?”

There was a pause.