Page 18 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘It is all just a little …’

‘Daunting?’ he said, in the same low voice. ‘That is only natural. If you have any questions, you need only ask me – or Reeves, for that matter.’

He raised his voice minutely as Reeves drew between them, decanter in hand.

‘You flatter me, my lord,’ Reeves said, neutrally, though Lydia fancied the corner of his mouth rose just slightly, and Lydia’s opinion of Dacre rose with it. He was certainly the least awful person here. Indeed, she had met both Sir Waldo and Dacre only this evening, and though the only physical difference between the two brothers was in their choice of facial hair, she felt that, even if blindfolded, she would have no difficulty telling the two apart. They held themselves so differently: Dacre’s quiet assurance so much calmer than his rowdier brother.

Abandoning her schemes for the time being, there being very little else to do that Ashford would notice, Lydia spent the rest of the meal in observation. It was not often she broke bread with people she had hitherto only read about in gossip columns. Lord Dacre, on her left, seemed by far the steadiest, taking all of his brother’s teasing with equanimity, while offering none of his own. Mr Brandon, with the exuberance and mane of a golden retriever, was certainly the liveliest, and angelic Miss Hesse the most agreeable. Lady Morton, bewitching and arch, had lived up to every inch of her reputation, flirting with an audacity only permissible when one was rich and titled and widowed. Though whenever her attentions fell upon Lord Hesse, Lady Hesse’s lips pursed into a cat’s bottom of displeasure that suggested she did not agree.

Next to all these characters, Ashford was … well, rather dull. He was not the loudest, nor the funniest – indeed, he barely laughed at all – and his only notable feature appeared to be an ability to maintain a civil expression even under the toothiest of smiles Lydia could send his way. It was rather irksome. Clearly, all momentum had been lost – if anything, Ashford appeared to be enjoyed himself, which was certainly not the point of Stage One at all.

It was a relief, then, when Lady Phoebe rose to lead the ladies away to drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to the port. There were only so many hours of the evening left, and Lydia was determined to make use of them.

She quickly found, however, that she was not the only person with an agenda. No sooner had Lady Hesse seated herself in an armchair than she had Lydia in her sights.

‘It is so marvellous to make new acquaintances,’ she said, fixing Lydia with a false smile and a gimlet eye. ‘I rarely do so, these days. So tell me, Miss Hanworth, how did you and Ashford first meet?’

‘At the Alcot ball,’ Lydia said, after a beat of hesitation. She very much doubted Lady Hesse’s interest was motivated by curiosity alone.

‘Not long ago,’ Lady Hesse noted, with a smile. ‘And you are already invited to Hawkscroft!’

She was watching Lydia closely. Did she suspect the true reason behind Lydia’s invitation?

‘I have always believed in bringing new people together,’ Lady Phoebe said, with a calm belied by the haste with which she was now pouring the tea. ‘It makes everything so much livelier.’

‘It certainly suits me,’ Lady Morton said. ‘I am at sixes and sevens to know which gentlemen ought to be appointed my flirt. You have delivered such an embarrassment of riches.’

Lady Phoebe and Lydia both laughed – one could not help it, such outrageousness was irresistible – but Lady Hesse’s mouth puckered.

‘Goodness,’ she said acidly. ‘You speak as if they are all yours for the taking.’

‘Are they not?’ Lady Morton said with a toss of her fine head. ‘I count only one married man amongst them.’

‘And my son,’ Lady Hesse said frostily, ‘who is only three and twenty.’

‘Ah, a fine age,’ Lady Morton said in a reminiscing sort of way. ‘So much vim and vigour.’

Lady Hesse opened her mouth, as if to deliver a snapping retort no doubt, but was interrupted before it could pass her lips.

‘Knock knock!’ Sir Waldo boomed, peering his head around the door frame with a silly grin upon his face. ‘Is it safe to enter? Ought we to bar our ears?’

He bounded into the room without waiting for a reply, with the rest of the gentlemen following behind. Mr Brandon made an immediate beeline for Miss Hesse, while Pip eschewed the sofas to begin a slow circuit of the room; Lady Phoebe took this in with a worried frown, before evidently deciding it was better to ignore him. Ashford, bringing up the rear with Hesse and Dacre, caught Lydia’s eye as soon as he crossed the threshold, and sent her a smile. Lydia pretended not to see it. By the end of the evening, she vowed, he would not be smiling at her so.

‘That was quick,’ Lady Phoebe commented, as Sir Waldo seated himself heavily next to her. ‘Was the port not to your liking?’

‘Oh, I could not be without you for another moment, darling,’ Sir Waldo said, taking her hand.

‘Oh, you two,’ Lady Morton said fondly. ‘And I here, having not been paid a single compliment all evening.’

She cast Lady Hesse a wicked glance under her eyelashes. ‘Surely you have noticed my new gown, Lord Hesse?’

‘Oh, Hesse’s notice is reserved for horses, cricket and cards,’ Lady Hesse said before her son could answer.

‘Mother,’ Hesse said, ‘I have long put away such frivolous pursuits, you know that.’

‘I know, darling. In fact, I worry you work too hard! He has completely thrown himself into running the estate this past year,’ Lady Hesse told them all proudly. ‘Darling boy!’

‘Mother,’ Hesse said again, folding his arms across his chest. ‘I am not a boy.’