Page 67 of A Game of Scandal

“What a lot of … writhing,” I said weakly.

“I always say a house isn’t a home unless there are plenty of writhing bodies flinging themselves through the gate to hell,” Ash agreed cheerfully.

Tearing my eyes from the artwork, I took my first good look at Ash. He didn’t seem nervous or worried about us being here. He was buttoned up into an expensive-looking suit, pressed and polished and almost impossibly handsome, with his dark hair brushed back and tied in a black ribbon. My fingers itched to pull it undone.

“Why are you frowning at me?” Ash asked, glancing down and dusting some non-existent dirt from his sleeve.

“You look all wrong,” I said. “As though you’re wearing someone else’s clothes.”

“I’ll have you know that this suit is impeccably tailored,” Ash grumbled, clearly offended.

“No, you look beautiful,” I said quickly, receiving a delighted grin in return, a flash of white that was a stark contrast to the funereal darkness of his suit. “Only, you don’t look … like you.”

“She thinks I’m beautiful,” Ash said to Laetitia, nudging her with his elbow.

“I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Laetitia sniffed.

“Frederick!” Another voice joined us, and a woman in a fussily trimmed black dress appeared, sweeping down the staircase. “You didn’t tell us our guests had arrived.” She continued down towards us, and I noticed the way she clung to the banister, how her steps weren’t entirely steady.

When she came to a stop in front of me, I saw the resemblance to her son in the elegant slash of her bone structure, the liquid darkness of her eyes – only hers were red-rimmed and slightly unfocused. She must have been lovely once, but now she looked pale and faded, neglected like the house.

“Lady Archer,” I said. “Thank you so much for inviting us into your home.”

“We’re delighted to welcome you, Lady Felicity,” she replied, taking my hand and holding it for a beat too long. Her fingers were cold as ice. “It has been a long time since we had guests. Laetitia.” She nodded in her direction, and it was clear that one curt word was all the greeting Laetitia was to expect.

“I was sorry to hear about your son,” I said gently.

“Thank you.” The words came out dully. “It’s been a terrible shock. The funeral takes place in a couple of days.” Her mouth stretched into a horrible impression of a smile. “Please, come through to the parlour for a drink.”

She drifted off towards a door to our left, and Ash tucked my hand through his arm.

“Laudanum,” he said grimly. “And it’s not because of Perry, though that hasn’t helped. She’s been using the stuff for years.”

“Oh!” I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I squeezed the arm under my hand.

Ash exhaled, pushed his shoulders back. “I told you it would be awful,” he said, his tone holding a warning, and for the first time since we arrived I saw the tension he was trying to hide for my sake.

“I can handle it,” I insisted.

Inside a rather gloomy sitting room, Lady Archer was already pouring herself a drink from the well-stocked drinks trolley.

“We prefer to be informal,” she said, with all the brightness of a bouquet of badly made artificial flowers. “Can I get you something, Lady Felicity? A sherry, perhaps? I know Laetitia will have one.” Lady Archer flicked her glance over my would-be chaperone in a dismissive gesture. I remembered that Laetitia had said there was some distant family connection between them.

“That sounds lovely,” I replied. I wondered whether the “informality” Lady Archer mentioned was in reality due to a lack of staff.

“So you’re staying with Laetitia,” Lady Archer said, once we were all seated. Ash had not said a word yet, only sat silent and watchful near the fireplace.

Like the clothes he wore, everything about his posture seemed wrong – stiff and still, no spark of the half-wild creature I knew him to be, no sign of the laughing man who just this morning had sat in a boat with me, trying to keep the whole thing from tipping over as I had been so determined to learn how to punt for myself. (A quest in which I had largely succeeded and which only resulted in us getting slightly damp, despite Ash’s repeated resigned claims that a captain always went down with his ship.)

“Yes,” I said, sipping my drink and glancing at the woman beside me. “She’s been kind enough to play hostess. I’m enjoying my time in Cambridge.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been subjected to the company of Laetitia’s dreary intellectuals!” Lady Archer trilled. She leaned forward in her chair towards me, so far that I feared she would fall out.

I glanced at Laetitia, who watched Ash’s mother with a neutral expression. “I was fortunate to meet some of Miss Tiffins’ associates. I found their company stimulating,” I said.

“How remarkably tactful of you.” Lady Archer’s mean-spirited words were drenched in honey.

“Lady Felicity has a keen mind,” Laetitia said evenly. “Our gathering benefitted from her fresh perspective. It’s encouraging to see a generation of young women who would choose not to be limited by the bounds of tradition. It gives us hope that lasting change is truly taking place.”