“Of course.” Fen looked pleased, and a little pink. “Naturally I will. We can find a discreet corner after breakfast—this house is just a lot of discreet corners stuck together, isn’t it?—and settle down for a proper talk.”

“That sounds like a good idea. We won’t be doing much else.” Victoria cast a rueful look at the window.

They chatted about possible entertainments for the day while Fen helped herself to breakfast. Victoria was far more voluble than Pat had expected once she’d let her guard down. Pat wondered what it must cost her to keep up the remote, silent facade for fear of unpleasant comment, and sent extra maledictions in Haworth’s direction.

Jack and Preston came down as the women were finishing breakfast. Preston beamed when he saw Victoria in a way that Pat suspected would let the cat out of the bag before too long. She took the opportunity to excuse herself, and Fen followed.

“Hello,” Fen murmured as they headed upstairs.

“Hello, you.” It felt peculiar to walk next to her, demurely clad in a day dress, after last night. The taste of Fen’s lips, the weight of her breasts, the way she’d moved under Pat’s hands. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, well.” Fen pulled a face. “Not really. The storm. And the prospect of today.”

She hadn’t changed her mind about ending the engagement. Pat couldn’t help the skip in her heart. “I can see that. You’ve spent more time in the Court than I have: what’s the best discreet corner to lurk in?”

“There’s a couple of small sitting rooms on the ground floor of the East Wing that nobody seems to use, and two more on the first floor. All the bedrooms on that side are empty. Apparently the wind catches them dreadfully.”

“It’s catching the entire house fairly badly. Should we—?”

“I ought to speak to the Earl and Countess first. I can’t say I’m much looking forward to that.” They’d reached Pat’s bedroom. She paused at the door; Fen gave her a gentle shove inside, and quietly closed the door behind them.

“Um,” she said.

She’s going to say it was a terrible mistake. Or a delightful evening but not to be repeated. She’s going to ask me to be discreet. The thoughts buzzed through Pat’s head. She made herself stand straight. Whatever Fen wanted, she would be decent and dignified about it.

“Gosh, you look alarming,” Fen said. “Are you intending to give me bad news?”

“No!” Pat said hastily. “Not at all. Er, are you?”

Fen shook her head. She looked miserable, and Pat remembered her earlier thoughts and stepped forward, opening her arms. Fen moved into them as though it were entirely usual to do so, resting her head on Pat’s chest. “Oh goodness. Sorry.”

“That’s all right.” It would always be all right to hold her. Pat wrapped her arms around Fen’s shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I feel awful. Leaving Jimmy and the Wittons in the lurch, and I know it’s all his fault, but I still feel it.”