She shrugged, sheepish. “How could I sleep when the answers have to be hidden in here somewhere? All we need is one loose thread, Giles, and then perhaps we can unravel the mystery. With any luck before that awful Gervais.” She glanced at the broken window and shuddered. “Knowing he is here makes the clock tick faster, but rest assured, I am always at my best under pressure. The Sentinel thrives on a deadline.” She smiled; one of the wry, honest, just-for-him smiles that he adored so much. “Thank you for keeping that secret from Vee. I’ve wanted to say that for days but…”
“Your sister is watching us like a hawk to make sure we act within the bounds of propriety.”
Diana pulled a face. “She has it in her head that you and I…”
“I know.”
“My baby sister has always had an overly romantic view of the world and, thanks to Olivia, is laboring under the misapprehension that we are the perfect pairing regardless of all our many differences. I’ve tried to tell her that she is barking up the wrong tree and that oil and water do not mix but—”
“Are we really oil and water, Diana? Because from where I stand I think I have more in common with you than I do with anyone.”
She batted that observation away like a fly. “We do but we come from different worlds. I am a forger’s daughter from Clerkenwell and you are a duke from Mayfair.”
He shook his head. “I am a duke’s bastard from God knows where. But even if I weren’t, do you really think the title makes a difference to the man who carries it? That that alone puts us worlds apart?”
She averted her gaze to pull some ledgers from the shelf behind her. “It makes no difference as I am not cut out to be your duchess.”
“I do not recall asking you to be.”
Diana’s spine stiffened as she realized the gravitas of what she had said, and she tried to cover it by selecting more books to add to the pile she was making on the desk. “I wasn’t suggesting for one moment that you did, it was merely a flippant reaction to my sister’s and Olivia’s silly ideas. As if you and I could tolerate each other for eternity.”
It was a statement rather than a question but she couldn’t meet his eye, and that in turn made him hope that she was lying.
“But if I could ask…” He had no idea why he felt compelled to be honest but couldn’t seem to stop. “If the chaotic mess of my life were miraculously gone and my ruination and scandal didn’t loom on the horizon like the Grim Reaper… if I were in a position to ask anybody to spend eternity with me, it would be you, Diana.”
She stilled but did not turn around. Did not speak, either, although he had no clue what he expected her to say. How exactly did one answer a proposal that wasn’t a proposal? What was the point of pushing for something that was as unfair as it was untenable? Even if she felt the same, he couldn’t in all good conscience have her, and his conscience was already burdened enough without taking on another load of crushing guilt. Never mind that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ruined her life out of his own selfishness. His situation was precarious, his feelings for her futile, and if by fluke they succeeded in their illegal quest and he kept Harpenden and the title, he would rather die than make her live his lie, too.
The net was closing in.
The wolves were baying at his door.
It was late and he was tired. Petrified and overwhelmed. Every nerve he possessed was frayed and his emotions veered all over the place. This wasn’t the time for misjudged soul baring or inappropriate declarations.
“I think I am in love with you, Diana.” When he acknowledged that thought he hadn’t intended to speak it aloud, but it echoed in the silence. Then hung there while she stood as still as astatue. Facing the wall of ledgers rather than allowing him to see her eyes. Hugging one to her chest like a shield as if warding off an enemy rather than lowering her guard to a man who wanted to be so much more than her friend even though he realized that was impossible.
When the silence stretched to a breaking point and he could not bear it any longer, Giles edged toward her. “Say something. Anything…” He caught her elbow, gently forced her to face him, his heart in his mouth, choking him. Two green eyes shimmered with a maelstrom of emotions he could not read. “If I could ask, when all this is over, whatever the outcome, would you consider me?” She blinked like a startled deer and took a step back.
In case she bolted he closed the distance. Took her hand. Her fingers flexed in his but did not pull away.
“What is going on!”
They jumped apart at Vee’s voice, but while Giles still reeled from the truth of his unexpected declaration and had no more words to explain anything, Diana became no-nonsense and slapped the ledger she had used to guard her heart hard upon the desk.
“Clearly we both couldn’t sleep. Hardly a surprise when we have so much to do and so little time to do it with Gervais hot on our heels.” She pointed to the boarded window. “He tried to break in last night.”
It was the perfect deflection. Vee’s eyes widened as she tightened her dressing gown. “Gervais followed us here?”
“No, sister dearest—he beat us here and might have already made significant headway on his own investigation, which puts us on the back foot.” Diana grabbed a file of paperwork from the shelf. “Seeing as we are all here, we might as well make some effortto catch up. Vee, you take 1795, Giles do 1794, and I’ll rummage through this.” She tipped the contents of the file on the desk and, without so much as a questioning glance his way, yanked out the chair.
Despite the strong coffee coursing through her veins, Diana was still struggling to focus on the mountain of yellowed bills and receipts. It had nothing whatsoever to do with tiredness and everything to do with Giles’s astounding news an hour ago.
He loved her.
He.
Loved.
Her.
