Page 102 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Would we call it abject?’

‘—for in truth I acted more in defence of Waldo than the animal.’

‘You did?’ Lydia said, looking quickly up at him.

‘I saw you about to dismount from Bumper,’ he said, with the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. ‘And thought I had best intervene first, for who knows what you would have done to him.’

‘Did you know he had a temper?’

Ashford shrugged. ‘Not beyond mere crotchetiness. Though we do not know each other that well.’

‘He is married to your cousin,’ Lydia objected.

‘They married so quickly,’ Ashford said. ‘You have never seen such a courtship: gifts, letters. You know, he sent her two hundred freesias, the night after they met?’

‘That story is true?’

‘Yes,’ Ashford said. ‘My uncle was furious – he sneezed for days – but approved the match, of course, and then … They disappeared here.’

‘Really?’ Lydia said, surprised. From the little she had seen of Lady Phoebe, this week, she would have supposed her to be very sociable.

‘There are house parties, of course, and Christmas celebrations, but mostly they are alone in marital bliss.’

Lydia raised her brows at the faint edge of rancour in his voice.

‘I do not mean to sound bitter,’ Ashford said quickly. ‘I just – I have missed her, this past year.’

‘And now she will be leaving the country,’ Lydia said.

She turned back to face the room, eyes travelling to where Sir Waldo, von Prett and Lady Phoebe were singing together by the piano. Ashford followed suit. Despite Sir Waldo’s teasing the day prior, Lady Phoebe had a lovely voice, which harmonized rather beautifully with his. One might struggle to find a couple more visibly in love.

The sight should have prompted a jealous sigh from Lydia, but she found herself frowning instead.

‘So long as she is happy,’ Ashford said. ‘That is what matters …’

He did not sound certain.

‘Is she happy?’ she asked. ‘She seems so cheerful, but how can she be, after what has occurred today? And if she can hide disquiet after something like that …’

What else might she be hiding, under her unflappable cheer and beautiful smile?

‘You underestimate our powers of repression,’ Ashford said lightly. ‘Our family is famous for it.’

‘Ashford,’ Lydia said reprovingly, ‘pray, be serious.’

‘I am being serious. One can never tell, with Phoebe,’ he said. ‘She is like my mother in that way.’

‘Oh?’ she said, as casually as she was able, feeling that any wrong word would break the moment entirely.

‘She can be absolutely beside herself,’ he said, ‘and still look as though she is having the time of her life rather than put anyone out by showing it.’

He fell silent. Lydia waited a beat before speaking.

‘You know,’ Lydia said. ‘My grandmother met her – your mother, I mean. When she was a small child.’

Ashford turned to look at Lydia, his expression unreadable.

‘When Grandmother became a lady’s maid for Lady Selby,’ Lydia said, ‘all the Daubneys came to visit. They were quite the handful, apparently, but very sweet – your mother laughed a great deal.’