“I remember,” Archie said warily.
“What did you say to us?”
He searched his mind. “I think I said I was ordinary.”
“You are an earl, man!” Simon objected.
“Yes, but I didn’t do anything to earn that title, or the benefits that come with it.”
“I, for one, believe you are anything but ordinary,” Effie said, “and I would believe that no matter your title or lack thereof. As previously discussed, you are among my favorite people on this earth.”
“So it is proximity to you that makes me not ordinary.” Archie smirked. If they were going to mock him, he was going to dish it back.
“No,” Effie said, “it is, also as previously discussed, your astonishing capacity for love and loyalty that makes you extraordinary.”
Archie felt his face heat.
“You were moaning about how you didn’t do anything of use,” Effie went on, “and we corrected you, establishing that you find people, and you love them. And if there’s anyone in this world who could use some of that love right now, it’s those Morgan girls.”
“I think what Archie is saying,” Simon said wryly to Effie, “is that his feelings for Clementine Morgan are quite a bit different from his feelings for Olive Morgan.”
“I know that, you dolt.” Effie turned to Archie, who was still bewildered—by this conversation and by his recent realization. “My point is merely that this is not the catastrophe you seem to think, Archie. In fact, what we have here is a situation where your exact skills are called for.”
“I . . . What am I going to do?” The question came out quietly this time, rather than wailingly, but he was no closer to answering it.Havinga realization was one thing, knowing what, if anything, to do about it was quite another.
Effie raised his eyebrows. “Well, you’ll have to talk to her, I’d imagine.”
“I don’t suppose you’d write to her for me?”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” Effie threw up his hands.
“I am in jest, Effie.” Archie was trying to lighten the mood, to give himself—all of them—a respite from the weight of revelation, a breath between unanswerable questions. “Even I know such a declaration must be original.”
“What sort of declaration are we speaking of?” Simon asked.
“What sort do you think, Simon?” Effie said irritably, swatting Simon’s shoulder. “Honestly, have you been paying attention at all?”
Simon deflected Effie’s continued swatting. “Yes, of course I have. I just want to hear him say it. I want to make surehehas been paying attention.”
“We are speaking of a declaration of love,” Archie said quietly, “and not the fraternal kind we’ve been talking about this past fortnight.Love.” As the carriage rumbled to a halt in front of his house, a kind of muted but righteous certainty began flowing through his veins. He was sure about this path, but also terrified. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?” He paused as the answer to his own question rose in his mind. “I can’t control that, can I? All I can do is tell her how I feel and try not to make a muddle of it. I’ve got to leave the rest to her. Her answer will be her answer, but to get it, I must first ask the question.”
“There’s a good man,” Simon said, at the same time that Effie said, “See? You’re very good at this sort of thing.”
“The problem ishow?” The certainty Archie had felt a moment ago was starting to fray at the edges. “I’m liable to make a hashof such a declaration at the best of times, and this is not the best of times. And I feel as if the declaration requires a certain degree ofpanache. I wish Sir Albert would allow the girls to travel to Hill House, where I might have some hope of speaking to Clementine outside, where we can both breathe.” He was going to have to approach her in London, on account of her imprisonment, and thinking about trying to talk to Clem, to reallytalkto her, in that small, closed drawing room, made his breath go shallow.
“What am I going todo?” There was no more certainty now; it had been crowded out by panic. “Show up in Sir Albert’s drawing room and make a stumbling speech in front of both Clementine and him? I suppose the logical answer is to ask his permission first in order to secure a few minutes alone with Clem, but I can’t dothat, because he is certain to give it.”
“And that would be bad because . . . ?” Simon asked, his brow knit.
“Because if Clementine doesn’t want me, then I’ll have effectively forced her hand. It would be as good as abducting her!”
“I think it highly unlikely that Miss Morgan won’t want you,” Effie said.
“She doesn’t want to get married!” He should have led with that. “She has said as much, frequently and forcefully.”
She had suggested an illicit arrangement, one he’d rejected out of hand, but if that was all he could get, he would take it. But how was he to secure that type of arrangement if he couldn’t speak to her alone? How were they meant to . . . execute that type of arrangement?
Was he ever going to see her again outside the watchful eye of her father?
