Page 138 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘How can you say that?’ she said – implored. ‘You must have felt it. It cannot have been just me.’

He looked down and away.

‘I cannot give you what you want.’

‘That is not what I asked!’

‘That is all that matters,’ he said. ‘You said you did not want the trappings of title and duty and service. You said you wanted romance and courtship and love. That is not what I can give you.’

‘Why not?’

‘What does it matter the reasons?’ he said. ‘I cannot give you what you want. That should be enough of an answer for you. I cannot change who I am because you would wish it otherwise. You might not like it—’

‘I do like it,’ she said. ‘That is the issue. When you are not being a crushingly dense prig, I like it a great deal. And for a moment I thought—’

She broke off, a sob in her throat.

‘I suppose it does not matter,’ she said, through a constricted throat. ‘You have made the decision for both of us.’

They stared at each other for another long, long moment – the longest one of her life, perhaps, as she willed him to say anything, anything else.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose I have.’

From the end of the hall, there was the unmistakeable sound of the grandfather clock striking midnight.

It was the tenth day. And she had lost him.

30

Wednesday – The last day

No one else was there to bear witness to their parting the next morning, for after the festivities and dramas of the night previous, Hawkscroft was quiet. No one had seemed in any particular hurry to rise, and Pip, Lydia and Jane would certainly not have woken by such an hour, if it were not for the fact they were returning to London that very morning. After the events of the previous night, Lydia did not wish to linger for even an hour longer than needed.

Outside, on the front steps, Ashford was waiting for them. For a moment, Lydia’s treacherous heart leapt with hope – had he come to say he had made a mistake? Admit he had been wrong? But as soon as she saw his expression, neutral and distant, she knew he had not.

‘I came to say goodbye,’ he said. ‘Lady Phoebe is still resting.’

‘At last,’ Lydia said.

Ashford nodded.

‘Goodbye, then,’ he said. ‘I hope you have enjoyed your visit.’

Lydia gave a small, incredulous shake of her head. After all they had shared, such formality was ridiculous.

‘Oh yes, marvellous,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Do keep us in mind for the next one.’

Ashford’s expression remained perfectly benign. ‘My family owes yours a great debt of thanks, for your aid last night,’ he continued, so very formal.

He looked to Pip. ‘I underestimated you,’ Ashford said. ‘I am sorry.’

‘That’s all right,’ Pip said, cheerfully. ‘Fact is, people often do.’

A screech on the driveway had them turning to see the hired chaise draw in. It was the same one they had arrived in, looking, if possible, even more garish than it had before. Ashford did not appear to notice.

He extended a hand to Pip, who shook it firmly before leaping directly into the carriage, Jane – carrying Lydia’s reticule – following behind.

Ashford turned to Lydia. He opened his mouth, closed it, then held out a billet.