Page 142 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ Perhaps he had expected to feel more relief, watching Lydia – Miss Hanworth – be driven away from him, but some agitation was to be expected, surely? It had been a strange few days, after all.

‘It is done,’ he told her. ‘I have made my decision.’

‘You can unmake it!’ she said eagerly. ‘Ride after her ventre a terre and tell her you were wrong.’

‘Ventre a terre?’

‘As fast as the wind, throwing caution to the – well, you know.’

The image was absurd. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Phoebe! Will you not leave it be?’

‘No!’ Phoebe smacked a hand down on the table, shaking all the crockery. ‘One must seize happiness, Ashford. It is a rare enough thing, and you are in danger of letting it slip you by.’

‘Rest assured I am very happy!’ Ashford snapped. There was silence for a moment. Then, a tiny giggle escaped Lady Phoebe’s lips.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said at once, pressing a hand to her mouth. ‘I am not laughing at you, I promise.’

‘You wretch.’

But Ashford could not prevent an answering smile, however begrudging.

‘I just want you to be happy,’ Phoebe entreated, reaching across to press his hand. ‘Come, will you take a turn with me?’

He rose, following her through the parlour, out of the doors, and onto the gardens. There, in a perfect mirror of the tour they had made on the day of his arrival, they made a complete circuit of the gardens. By unspoken agreement they left the serious matters untouched, speaking only of unimportant this and inconsequential that, but even so, the distance between them felt vastly smaller.

‘You know,’ Lady Phoebe said, as they began to reapproach Hawkscroft from the rear, ‘I never liked this house. It is not very friendly, is it.’

‘I do not think anyone would describe it such,’ Ashford agreed. He took a sidelong glance at her. ‘You could leave, you know.’

‘Yes, I think I will,’ she said. ‘Though where or what I would do, I cannot think.’

‘Wherever or whatever you wanted,’ he said easily. ‘What did you think you would do in Paris with … my mother?’

‘I did not much consider it,’ she admitted. It was her turn to steal a glance at his profile. ‘Your mother promised she would organize everything.’

Ashford felt a prickle of tension run upon his spine. ‘How kind of her,’ he said pleasantly. Then, less pleasantly: ‘I suppose she has a great deal of time on her hands, with no duties or responsibilities to attend to.’

‘She asks after you,’ Lady Phoebe said, ‘in every letter we exchange.’

‘She might ask me herself,’ Ashford muttered, though he knew this was unfair. For years after she had left, he would receive a billet from Paris each month. He had not been able to open a single one. He didn’t know what he was worried about finding inside, but he could not face it, somehow – a weakness he despised and yet … Eventually, she had ceased writing, and that had been even worse.

‘It is not too late,’ Lady Phoebe said gently, and he turned his head to find her still looking at him, ‘to mend those fences.’

Wasn’t it? These were old wounds. Before this week, he had thought them safely healed, and yet now they felt so very close to the surface. He did not like it. Better to close that chapter, put it in in the same box as Miss Hanworth and never consider each one again.

He could not say that to Phoebe, of course. ‘I shall think on it.

‘Liar,’ Phoebe accused him softly. She shook his arm a little. ‘We must do better, you know. Speak with one another honestly – as we used to, before everything became so muddled.’

Her face was serious as she blinked up at him.

‘I should like that,’ Ashford said, adding, after a beat of hesitation, ‘If you do not wish me to remain with you here, I …’