Surely she wouldn’t change her mind, not after last night. Louisa had changed her mind, though, and decided that men and marriage were the only sensible option. One can’t expect these things to last, Pat dear, can one?

Pat didn’t want to think about that now. She would retreat, she decided: find one of the quiet nooks with which Rodington Court was liberally equipped and settle down with a book. If she wanted company there would, God willing, be Fen; perhaps Miss Singh too. She’d avoid Haworth at all costs, sit it out until the storm passed, and then leave. There was nothing else to be done.

She went down early for breakfast, on the grounds that the ghastly man was a late riser. Miss Singh was already there, with a book propped in front of her.

“Good morning,” Pat offered, just as a clap of thunder broke almost overhead.

“Not much of one,” Miss Singh remarked. “What a shocking day.”

“No prospect of improvement, either.” Pat hesitated, but it needed to be said. “Are you all right, Miss Singh? You’ve been having a rotten time of it. I’m sorry for setting off yesterday’s explosion.”

“If it hadn’t been your comment, it would have been someone else’s. Believe me, I’ve seen enough of that man to be sure.”

Pat nodded. “I dare say. Good work with the water. It’s the only way with a biting dog.”

“Quite.”

“Are you going to stay?”

“Here?” Miss Singh made a face. “I don’t want to leave Aunt Mattie—the Countess, you know. She’s my godmother, but I grew up calling her aunt; I lived with the Wittons for a couple of years while my parents travelled. I don’t want to abandon her in time of trouble. Unfortunately, my presence makes Haworth worse.” She spoke with remarkable calm, considering the amount of insult her words encompassed. “It is hard to know what to do.”

“Yes.” Pat contemplated the chafing dishes, and helped herself to sausage and mushrooms. “So...will Mr. Keynes stay?”

She tried to ask it casually—delicately, even. Miss Singh sounded equally calm as she replied, “Unless the Earl asks him to leave for attempting to murder his son-in-law.”

“Oh, yes, true. Sterling effort. I’m sorry I drenched him.”

“It was probably for the best.”

Pat caught Miss Singh’s eye at that point. They both started laughing at once, Miss Singh’s shoulders shaking, Pat forced to put down the toast she was buttering. “Oh goodness,” Miss Singh gasped, wiping her eyes. “One shouldn’t laugh, but really.”

“Laugh or cry. Still, he leapt to your defence in a most impressive way. Or are you a pacifist?”

“Not when it comes to Maurice Haworth,” Miss Singh assured her. “And...well. As it happens, Preston asked me to marry him last night.”