Page 23 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

Saturday – Five days remaining

Lydia awoke the next morning to aching toes and the overwhelming scent of fetid trout.

She sat bolt upright and looked wildly about the room, half expecting to see a pail of fish at the foot of her bed, for what else could have caused such a stench?

There was no pail, only Jane, standing before the fireplace, hands pressed against her face.

‘What on earth is that smell?’ Lydia gasped.

‘I don’t know,’ Jane wailed through her fingers.

Lydia’s stomach gave a threatening heave. She scrambled out of bed and dashed across the room to throw open the nearest window, thrusting her head out to take in a great gulp of fresh air.

‘Did something crawl in here to die?’ she said, trying to calm her rolling stomach.

‘I shall go for help,’ Jane called, running for the door.

Lydia turned back to the room to take a tentative inhale.

The hour was nearing ten, and she needed to dress for breakfast. Perhaps the smell would not be so bad, now …

She gagged and turned swiftly back to the window, cursing her own bad luck.

She had spent hours last night awake in bed, replanning her campaign, and not one of her plans had included missing breakfast. She could not cede the field to Ashford so early in the day!

By the time Jane reappeared, Reeves in tow, the situation was bad enough that Reeves – who had hitherto expressed no emotion stronger than a mild smile – physically flinched, before ordering a fleet of maids and footmen to move Lydia to another set of chambers at once.

By the time this was achieved, however, and Jane could finally help Lydia into her dress – a gown of simple, unadorned blue crepe of Aunt Agatha’s selection that would, she hoped, drive all thoughts of bananas out of Captain von Prett’s mind – it was nearing eleven. Breakfast would almost be at a close.

‘I can still smell it,’ Lydia said, wafting her hands back and forth in front of her face.

‘It lingers on your gowns,’ Jane said, sniffing and wincing. ‘Perhaps a spritz of lavender water …?’

There was a knock at the door and Lady Phoebe swept in full of apologies, and closely followed by a maid bearing a tray of bread rolls and chocolate.

‘I shall send over a gown for this evening while your others air,’ Lady Phoebe offered through the handkerchief pressed to her face, while Jane began dousing Lydia in lavender water. ‘With some swift altering they will suit.’

‘Thank you,’ Lydia said, blinking with surprise. It was a piece of kindness that – given Lydia’s behaviour this week – she could not have expected.

‘You might find them a trifle … simple for your preference,’ Lady Phoebe warned. ‘My wardrobe is sorely lacking in flounces.’

A piece of kindness with a slight sting in the tail.

‘And you will wish to remain at Hawkscroft to recover your energy after this horrible start, of course,’ Lady Phoebe went briskly on. ‘Most of the party is bound for a shopping expedition, but Sir Waldo intends to remain here, so you shall not be entirely alone.’

‘No, no,’ Lydia said hastily. ‘I shall join you.’

‘Are you certain? You have not had breakfast …’

Lydia took a hasty sip of chocolate and a bite of a roll.

‘I am ready,’ she insisted.

She could not abandon the field of battle for the entire day, not for a little fishiness.

With a reluctant nod, Lady Phoebe acquiesced, and together they walked briskly along the corridor and down the grand staircase – though Lydia did notice that after a few steps, Lady Phoebe made certain there was slightly more than an arm’s length between them.

‘I have no idea what could have caused this,’ Lady Phoebe muttered, her face pinched with stress. ‘Short of a fish rotting somewhere, I cannot think what caused that most awful smell.’

‘Nor I …’ Lydia broke off as they swept out onto the front steps.

The rest of the party were milling in the morning sunshine, awaiting the arrival of the carriages.

There was Captain von Prett, ever-correct in buckskins, top boots, and a close-fitting coat of navy blue standing on the lawn and laughing gaily with Miss Hesse, the picture of lovely innocence in a gown of ivory cambric, while Mr Brandon hovered close by.

There was Lady Morton, ravishing as always in a novel walking dress of Pomona-green poplin, flicking a small piece of fluff from Hesse’s many-caped driving coat while a peevish Lady Hesse looked on.

There was Reeves, standing to attention at the base of the steps, looking on, eyes slightly narrowed at where Pip was examining an unperturbed Lord Dacre through his quizzing glass.

And there, waiting on the bottom step, was Ashford, an expectant air about him, looking up with eyes aglow as Lydia appeared. His expression was smooth and pleasant. Too pleasant.

Lydia narrowed her eyes. The night before, when the party had broken up for bed, Ashford had been the one to hand her a taper candle to take upstairs.

‘Sleep well,’ he had said, with a smile that, upon recollection, she realized had been deeply suspicious.

‘ You sleep well,’ she had said in – admittedly immature – riposte.

‘Oh, I shall,’ he assured her.

‘Well, I’m glad .’

At the time, Lydia had felt gratified at stealing the last word.

Now, as a breeze ruffled her gown and disturbed another waft of fish from the material, another recollection rose to the forefront of her mind.

What had Mr Brandon said the afternoon prior?

Once he stuffed rotten eggs under the floorboards of my bedchambers …

you would not believe the scent they made!

‘Where have you been , Phoebe?’ Sir Waldo said petulantly, bounding up the stairs toward them. ‘I have been waiting to speak to you.’

Lady Phoebe paused to lend him her ear, and Lydia began to descend without her, her glare intensifying with each step she took.

‘Good morning, Miss Hanworth,’ Ashford said. ‘I hope you enjoyed a restful night?’

Another breeze had ‘eau de fish guts’ drifting from her and Ashford’s neutral expression broke as he tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a smile as he recoiled.

‘I suppose you think yourself clever,’ Lydia hissed.

‘I have no notion what you mean,’ Ashford said loftily. ‘Though – an entirely unrelated topic – I am not sure that I care for your perfume. New, is it?’

‘I shall make you sorry for this,’ she warned.

‘Perhaps you could do so while standing downwind?’ Ashford asked. ‘I’d be most grateful.’

‘Is everyone ready?’ Lady Phoebe called, skipping down the steps, and clapping her hands to attract everyone’s attention. ‘I think you will like Eagleton; it is—’

‘We can all hear you, my dear,’ Sir Waldo interrupted. ‘No need to shout.’

‘Oh, goodness, was I?’ Lady Phoebe faltered – though Lydia had thought her speaking at quite a normal volume. ‘Well … Eagleton is not the largest of towns, but it has several interesting shops, a splendid jeweller, and a milliner that has the most prodigious array of ribbons.’

‘I do love ribbons,’ Lady Morton said, ‘but I am afraid I have decided to remain here, my lady. I received some correspondence this morning that begs my attention.’

‘Oh,’ Lady Phoebe said, crestfallen. ‘Will you not be terribly bored, all alone? Sir Waldo is seeing to business all day, I’m afraid.’

‘That is true,’ Lady Morton said, with a concerned pout. ‘Unless I can persuade another strapping gentleman to entertain me?’

Her eyes were on the captain, but he had raised his face to enjoy the feeling of the sun upon it and was not attending.

‘I shall,’ Hesse offered eagerly. ‘I have several letters, too – important ones! On important business matters.’

‘Perfect,’ Lady Morton said before Lady Hesse could object. ‘Lady Hesse, you have raised such a kind son, you do have my compliments.’

‘Thank you,’ Lady Hesse said frostily. ‘You know, I am persuaded Cynthia and I shall remain as well. She could do with some quiet. All the excitement is too much for her.’

Miss Hesse smiled vaguely, idly spinning her parasol in her hand.

‘That is half the party gone,’ Lady Phoebe bemoaned.

‘Would you not rather rest, too, my dear?’ Sir Waldo asked. ‘You are looking run ragged.’

Lady Phoebe wavered.

‘I should like to see Eagleton,’ Ashford put in.

‘As would I,’ Captain von Prett said valiantly. ‘One cannot allow adversity to alter one’s path. Are you certain you will not join us, Miss Hesse? I think you would look very fine in a new ribbon hat.’

And as much as Lydia could not like the attention he was bestowing upon her, she would prefer Miss Hesse within touching distance, too – how else could she throw her and Ashford together?

‘Yes, you would,’ Lydia agreed. ‘Were you not saying the same just this morning, Ashford?’

Lady Hesse turned to regard Ashford sharply. ‘Were you?’

‘Was I?’ Ashford asked Lydia.

‘Did you?’ Mr Brandon asked Ashford rather grimly.

‘Yes,’ Lydia told the entire group of them.

‘Oh, well,’ Lady Hesse said, smile spreading across her face. ‘Far be it for us to disappoint you, my lord – Phoebe, can I leave Cynthia to your charge for the day?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Lady Phoebe beckoned to Miss Hesse as the first barouche drew up. ‘Come along.’

They were handed into the barouche by a footman, who leapt up alongside the driver, followed quickly by Mr Brandon, and Lord Dacre was about to join them when Sir Waldo grasped his arm.

‘Do not let her ladyship out of your sight,’ he instructed.

‘Waldo lives in fear of my being stolen away,’ Lady Phoebe explained with a tinkling laugh, as she adjusted her skirts around her.

‘Do you fear bandits in Eagleton?’ Dacre quizzed him, though his smile dimmed a little under Sir Waldo’s severe frown.

‘We are ready to leave, Waldo,’ Lady Phoebe said impatiently. ‘The rest of you may take the carriage.’

‘I think you might sit beside with Miss Hesse, Lord Ashford!’ Lydia suggested. ‘There is a little space …’