Page 116 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

Nodding, Lydia slid a hand into her bodice.

‘What are you doing?’ Ashford expostulated.

‘Hush!’ she reprimanded him sharply. ‘The key, recollect! Goodness, it has fallen deep.’

‘Quickly,’ Ashford said, voice strained, eyes staring determinedly up at the ceiling.

‘There!’

‘Is it out?’ he asked, still holding his eyes aloft, as if the sight of her rummaging would turn him into stone.

‘Yes, yes,’ she said impatiently, thrusting what she hoped was the correct key into the lock. For a moment, she did not think it fitted, but after a few moments of Ashford’s careful jigging, the door at last creaked open. He shut it carefully behind them, leaving it just a sliver ajar. ‘Just in case this door sticks too.’

It was tempting to throw open every cupboard and utterly ransack the place, but they forced themselves to remain calm and systematic and began with the grand mahogany desk that stood at the very centre of the room, which was covered in sheafs of disordered papers, pens, ink and wafers.

‘Such disorganization,’ Ashford said critically.

‘Your desk is as neat as wax, I take it.’

‘I certainly would not leave it in such a state as this – how is one meant to find anything?’

‘It is almost as if he does not wish us to find anything,’ Lydia said, picking up a stack of papers, and beginning to leaf through. Beside her, Ashford did the same.

It became quickly apparent that most of the papers were bills. Even knowing Sir Waldo and Lady Phoebe’s extravagance as she did, the sheer quantity was still shocking. There were bills for servant’s wages, for coal, for liveries, candles and wine. There were bills from the coachmaker, the butcher, the florist and the tailor, all jostled amongst one another in hopeless confusion. As Lydia progressed further through the pile, she began to see duplicates, reminders, politely worded final warnings that the credit was overdue.

‘This is a mess,’ she said, and she meant more than just the desk. ‘How can one couple spend so much money?’

‘Quiet,’ Ashford hissed. She turned sharply. He had stilled, cocking his head to one side.

‘Good afternoon!’ Elspeth called loudly. She had been stationed far down the corridor, so as to give us as much warning as possible.

‘Quick – hide!’ Ashford instructed.

‘Where?’ she said, looking wildly about.

‘Get behind the curtains,’ Ashford said. ‘I’ll think of some excuse to explain my presence.’

The sound of footsteps from outside.

‘I’ll be discovered straight away,’ she hissed. ‘It will look more suspicious.’

‘Will you stop arguing for once in your life?’

‘I am right, and you know it!’

‘Do you have anything better?’

There were audible footsteps along the hallway now. Lydia and Ashford stared at one another, naked panic in their eyes.

‘We shall say we were having a liaison?’ she said. ‘Waldo will be so shocked, he won’t—’

‘A liais—?’

Lydia was not sure who was more surprised when she kissed Ashford. As the door began to creak open, she threw herself bodily toward him with such force that he had to put his arms about her just to keep her from falling to the ground. He made a muffled noise of shock against her mouth but after a single frozen moment where she was doing rather the lion’s share of the work – which was not the most sensible division of labour, given she was certainly the lesser experienced of the two – he began to return it. Quite convincingly, actually – and yes, she rather thought she understood what the books had all been going on about now, for this was truly rather—

‘What on earth are you doing?’

They leapt back from one another in shock. For a moment, Lydia had entirely forgotten the purpose of such a stunt, to shock Sir Waldo out of any suspicion. But it was not Sir Waldo standing in the doorway.