“I expect you to show some measure of respect for the sacrifice Mama and I have made to keep you here. Can you imagine my surprise to receive a stack of tradesman’s bills for such fripperies, when I’ve been obliged these four years to wear thrice-darned stockings and gowns that are years out of season?”

His color deepened, whether with embarrassment or anger, Clara couldn’t tell. “If you must know, the cufflinks were for a ball, at which I met Viscount Wrexham, who is keen to finance an expedition. And the farrier bill was for a hunter I rented who threw a shoe when I was riding to the hounds. All activities which have a bearing on my future as a naturalist. I gain more notice socializing than in sequestering myself like a monk.”

Her mind latched onto one phrase. “An expedition? To where?”

“Nothing has been finalized yet. And it needn’t concern you, in any event.”

“Of course it concerns me. I’m to be your secretary.”

Simon’s gaze slid guiltily to his coffee mug. He made no reply.

A growing sense of numbness built in Clara’s chest. It slowed her heart and breath, making her feel as if she were gradually being turned to a block of ice. “Aren’t I?”

“As to that…”

“You promised me, Simon. You said I’d have a role in your work. That you’d make a home for me when you came down from University.”

“And I will.” He met her eyes, his color high. “When I settle, I mean to make you my housekeeper.”

Something inside of Clara shriveled and died. “Your housekeeper?”

He leaned forward in his chair. “You must have known it wouldn’t lead anywhere. The notes and drawings I sent you—they were just a bit of fun. A way to amuse you. It was a kindness, for I knew your life as a companion would be very dull indeed.”

The chill in her blood was positively glacial now, making her shiver from the inside out. She clamped her teeth to stop them chattering.

“Come now,” he said. “You’re intelligent. Smart enough to have taught the young ones at the village school. But my course of study is something outside of your experience. The knowledge is far too complex for a woman.”

“‘Those who admire and love knowledge for its own sake ought to wish to see its elements made accessible to all.’”

“What?”

“Herschel said that.”

He scrunched his brows. “I don’t think so. I didn’t write that in any of my letters.”