Page 148 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘You ought to have told me!’ she said in low, urgent greeting.

Lydia turned questioning eyes to Aunt Mildred. Having only met Mrs Lindell once before, she did not know if this was normal behaviour.

Aunt Mildred did not seem unsettled by the strange greeting. ‘To what do you refer, Mrs Lindell?’

‘The most extraordinary thing – I was utterly undone,’ Mrs Lindell went on excitedly. ‘Why did you not tell me?’

Lydia’s interest waned. Mrs Lindell was a committed gossip and Aunt Mildred a negligent one – there could be any number of things she had seen fit to withhold. Over the top of her coiffured head, Lydia could already spot several young persons of her acquaintances that she wished to speak to – and how marvellous was that? She had made more friends in this past fortnight than in two whole years in London.

‘Tell you of what?’

‘Of your niece’s acquaintance with the Marquis!’

As though drawn by a thread, Lydia turned slowly back around to Mrs Lindell. Next to her, Aunt Mildred had stiffened minutely.

So here it was. Gossip had spread, just when Lydia had begun to feel at ease, to lower her guard. She searched Mrs Lindell’s face, trying to ascertain what, exactly, she might have heard. It could not be the full story, for she did not appear appalled, but then, her love for the aristocracy was well-known. Perhaps Lydia having been jilted by so high a personage had only elevated her in Mrs Lindell’s eyes but there was no guarantee it would do so for others.

‘I did not consider it of particular interest,’ Aunt Mildred said guardedly. ‘May I ask who, pray, informed you?’

Mrs Lindell let out a delighted trill of laughter.

‘You do not know?’ she asked. ‘He told me, himself. Look, here he is, now!’

33

For a moment, Lydia was certain of being in some sort of strange dream. For so incongruous was the idea of Ashford, here, in Marnsley, that she could not believe her eyes. But there he was in the doorway. Lydia’s heart began to quicken.

‘He called on us this afternoon,’ Mrs Lindell said, speaking very quickly through a beaming smile. ‘To inquire after Rose Cottage – it is for let. I could hardly believe it, but he was most amicable. He tarried with us for an hour, chatting about the village – asking after you specifically, Miss Hanworth! And there was I, not knowing you shared a friendship! I invited him tonight, of course I did, but I had no real expectation of his … I shall go and greet him!’

As she bustled off, Lydia’s eyes were still glued to Ashford’s figure. He passed through the threshold of the ballroom, unhurried, though his eyes were scanning the room hungrily. People turned to regard him as he passed, with a little curiosity, but not as much as there would be as soon as word spread as to his identity. At the moment, he simply garnered the same excitement any handsome stranger must inspire.

Lydia wondered if she was going to be sick.

‘It is rather warm in here,’ Aunt Mildred observed, slipping her hand through Lydia’s elbow. ‘Let us take escape to the terrace where I believe they are serving lemonade.’

Ripping her eyes away from Ashford – now greeting Mrs Lindell with a smile – Lydia followed Aunt Mildred, only just managing to keep her pace to a sedate walk and not a mad dash. Mrs Lindell had set up a refreshment table on the terrace – though as the dance floor was so well populated, they were almost the only people making use of it.

Lydia accepted a goblet of iced lemonade and took an unladylike draught. The sudden tartness on her tongue had her eyes watering, and she jolted back to herself with a start.

Aunt Mildred said nothing but fixed her beady eye upon her.

‘It appears,’ she said, ‘that perhaps my sister did not apprise me of the entire story.’

‘I …’

Lydia could not think what to say, how to begin to explain. What was he doing here?

But Aunt Mildred’s gaze was looking over her shoulder now. ‘Brace yourself,’ she warned.

For there was Mrs Lindell, veritably skipping towards them with a wide smile, and Ashford behind her, putting up a hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun. He looked quite irritatingly well, bathed in golden light akin to one of the Renaissance paintings in Hawkscroft’s gallery, and how dare he, really? Come here, to disrupt her life in such a way when she was only just beginning to like it, looking such a way?

It was appalling behaviour.

‘There we are!’ Mrs Lindell said. ‘I was worried you had disappeared. May I present to you Lord Ashford, Miss Hanworth?’

Ashford bowed before Aunt Mildred. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard a great deal about you.’

Aunt Mildred looked him over in that hard-eyed way she had, as if she were sucking out your soul with the force of her gaze. Ashford bore it with only a flicker of nervousness.