Christopher nodded.
“That’s mad. Surely Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert know better?”
“Mum does,” Christopher said. “She wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise. You know she looks at you like a daughter. To her, I’m sure it’s no different than if we’d really been brother and sister.”
I nodded.
“I’m not sure about Father. But he certainly never said anything about it.”
“Probably wouldn’t dare,” I said. “Your mother would have him for breakfast.”
“No offense, Pippa,” Christopher answered, “but at the moment I really have bigger concerns than whether or not my grandfather wants me to marry you.”
Of course. “The blackmail.”
He glanced at me. “That’s what it was. Wasn’t it? I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.”
“It was absolutely blackmail. He knows about Lady Austin and the drag balls, and he wants you to pay him to keep quiet about it. A thousand pounds.”
We took a few steps in silence, the quiet only broken by the crunch of our shoes on the gravel and the singing of birds in the copse of beech trees on our right.
“I don’t have a thousand pounds,” Christopher said.
I shook my head. “I don’t, either.”
There was another break, and another few steps.
“What are we going to do?”
My heart warmed. We were still a team, it seemed, even if Grimsby’s extortion hadn’t included me. I slanted a look at him. “Your mother is supporting Francis. Maybe she can sell a few more secrets and make enough for you, too?”
A thought struck me, and I added, “Maybe we can figure out who Crispin wants to marry. The news that the scion of the Sutherlands wants to marry a commoner, and a foreign one at that… that ought to be worth something to the tabloids, don’t you think?”
Then another thought struck, and I derailed myself this time. “Wait. You don’t think he meant Florence Schlomsky, do you?”
“The American heiress?” Christopher fought off a shudder while he thought about it. “Rather him than me. Although I suppose it isn’t out of the question. She’s about as common as muck, for all her money. And she’s definitely foreign.”
“But they just met yesterday. I introduced them.”
Or not. Not only had I not introduced them, actually, but I truly had no idea whether they’d ever met before yesterday. Flossie clearly hadn’t realized that Crispin wasn’t Christopher, but he could have pretended to be Christopher last time, too. He could have been skulking around our building on multiple occasions, thanks to Evans not realizing who he was. He and Florence might have met before. And Crispin might have fallen for…
That’s where the rub was, honestly.
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to marry Florence Schlomsky,” Christopher said, echoing my thoughts. “Least of all my cousin. She’d drive him mad within a fortnight, wouldn’t she? And it’s not like he needs her money.”
“If he thinks he’s about to be disinherited, he might.”
Christopher looked at me. For a long moment, before he shook himself. “This is madness, Pippa. There is no way Crispin would consider marrying the American manhunter. He has his faults, but he has always, reliably, shown good taste.”
“She isn’t that bad,” I tried, but then an image popped into my head, of Crispin waiting at the altar, in full morning dress, Christopher at his side, while Flossie swept down the aisle the way she’d swept up the hallway in London last night, only this time she was wearing white ruffles and orange-flowers and a full, flowing veil, and my brain shut down. “You’re right. There’s no way St George would be pining for Flossie Schlomsky. Someone else, then. And if we could find out who, I bet it would be worth…”
“No,” Christopher said. “I’m not going to ferret out my cousin’s innermost secrets so I can sell them to the highest bidder. I wouldn’t want him to do that to me. I’ll get the money some other way.”
“We could get engaged,” I suggested. “You and me. That might be worth a bit to the gossip columnists.”
He looked at me, and I added, “Your grandfather might like it, too. There might be some money in it. A betrothal gift, or something like that. I’d break the engagement later, obviously. I don’t want to marry you, either. But it might work for long enough to pay off Grimsby.”
Christopher didn’t speak. Too overcome with the idea, probably.
