Page 26 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘There is always the little Season, in the autumn,’ she encouraged. ‘Or house parties are, I see now, a very fine way to meet eligible persons.’

‘They are almost finished,’ Ashford interrupted brusquely, nodding over her shoulder to the shop window, where Miss Hesse and Mr Brandon had reached the counter. They both turned to look, and then faced each other directly.

‘Why,’ Lydia went on, as if she had just been struck by a New and Interesting Thought, ‘had matters been even a little different, I imagine you would have been most pleased to be spending the week with so eligible a young lady as Miss Hesse.’

‘I suppose you think yourself very clever,’ Ashford said, deeply unimpressed. His eyes, as they looked down at her, were almost as dark as they had been last night, in the dining room.

‘You – you do not disagree with me though,’ she said, feeling oddly unsettled by his continued gaze. ‘We are ill-suited, are we not? Will you not consider some kind of—’

‘Swap?’ he said, stepping back again and rolling his eyes. ‘And I am the one who treats women as chattels? Do Miss Hesse’s wishes figure in this, at all?’

‘Of course they do!’ Lydia snapped. ‘I am merely asking you—’

‘The answer is no.’ He shook his head. ‘So you may cease trying.’

‘She is superior to me in every way,’ Lydia persisted.

‘Believe me,’ Ashford said, ‘I am quite aware of that.’

And even though Lydia had been the one to say it first, it still felt a blow, and her cheeks stung red.

‘My apologies, we did run on didn’t we?’ Mr Brandon said, appearing at their side and puncturing the tension. ‘It was just that Miss Hesse seems to suit so many colours! It is quite miraculous, really.’

‘You are too kind,’ Miss Hesse said, smiling.

‘Miss Hesse, would you accompany me inside now?’ Lydia said abruptly. ‘I would so value your opinion.’ She needed to be away from Ashford, now.

‘Very well,’ Miss Hesse said agreeably.

She showed no hint of boredom as they moved around the room, looking at the trinkets and sheets of material as if she were looking for the first time.

Perhaps she truly was quite as incomprehensibly good-natured as she seemed, which was a blessing, in many ways – but it did make Lydia’s task rather difficult.

As much as she did not wish to admit it, Ashford did have a point. What were Miss Hesse’s wishes?

‘Is there anything in particular you are looking for?’ Miss Hesse asked. ‘You like feathers, do you not?’

‘Yes,’ Lydia agreed, without truly paying attention. ‘Your mother wishes you to marry Lord Ashford, doesn’t she?’

If Miss Hesse was alarmed by such a bold conversational turn, she gave no sign of it. ‘Yes,’ she said, placidly.

Lydia waited, but no more information appeared forthcoming.

‘What do you think of him?’

‘He is very nice,’ Miss Hesse said.

‘Do you care for him? More than other gentlemen?’

Miss Hesse’s nose wrinkled in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘How do you feel for Mr Brandon?’

‘He is very nice.’

‘And Captain von Prett?’

‘He is very nice.’

Lydia’s heart sank. ‘Do you like any of them enough to marry them?’

‘I must marry well,’ Miss Hesse said. ‘It is my purpose.’

Lydia, a little queasy at the phrasing, persevered.

‘What does marrying well mean … for you?’ she asked. ‘Not your mama.’

Miss Hesse considered. ‘A pug,’ she said at last.

Lydia thought for a moment she must have misheard. ‘A … pug?’

‘Yes, a little pug all of my own,’ Miss Hesse said dreamily. ‘Mama sneezes around dogs, you see, so we have never had one – but once I am married, she says my husband might buy me one.’

Lydia stared at her. For days she had wondered what was going on in Miss Hesse’s beautiful, sweet head – she would never have guessed that what was going on was … pugs.

‘For clarity,’ she said. ‘The sum total of all your worldly desires, your greatest dream – is a pug?’

‘My greatest dream,’ Miss Hesse gave a charming little giggle, ‘would be to have hundreds of dogs – but no gentleman is likely to share in that. So, a pug.’

‘I see,’ Lydia said, digesting this. ‘And so, if Ashford promised to buy you a dog …’

‘A pug,’ Miss Hesse corrected.

‘A pug,’ Lydia agreed. ‘You would be happy to marry him?’

Perhaps this was a better-case scenario than Lydia could have hoped for – a marriage of convenience, with both parties happy with their end of the bargain. Ashford, the prettiest and richest girl of the Season; Miss Hesse, a pug.

‘Do you think he would?’ she said. ‘He barely looks at Brutus, you know.’

‘Brutus?’

‘Lady Morton’s Pekinese.’

‘I see,’ Lydia said. ‘Yes, a worry for us all, I am sure, but—’

‘And Mr Brandon called him a monster,’ Miss Hesse said. ‘In the stable yard.’

‘Unkind,’ Lydia agreed. ‘But—’

‘I simply could not countenance a dogless future.’ Miss Hesse paused. ‘Captain von Prett used to have a dog of his own, you know. While he was travelling through the Americas.’

‘Oh, yes – Cassie, or something,’ Lydia said, recollecting this from the talk.

‘Yes, who he tragically lost in darkest Peru,’ Miss Hesse’s eyes were shining now.

‘So when you said that you thought his talk moving,’ Lydia said slowly, ‘it was the dog that you meant?’ Not the loss of his wife?

‘Yes, of course,’ Miss Hesse said with a delicate sniff. ‘A man who speaks like that would certainly like a pug, wouldn’t he?’

‘I think I’m finished in here,’ Lydia said brightly, rather than answer.

They made their way back slowly, by way of several more shops, so that by the time they arrived at the carriages, Pip and Dacre were already waiting for them.

Lydia caught Pip’s eye and sent him a questioning look.

He shook his head. Nothing of use, then.

Lydia was not much surprised. Surely, any thief accomplished enough to steal such a prize as the diamond necklace, would not entrust its sale to a provincial jeweller?

‘Have you seen Lady Phoebe?’ Dacre asked. ‘I lost her in the print shop.’

‘And we lost von Prett to his adoring public,’ Mr Brandon commiserated. ‘A careless bunch, aren’t we?’

‘There they are!’ Miss Hesse said brightly, pointing to where Prett was sauntering up to the carriage, Lady Phoebe on his arm. Even now, heads still turned in his direction – his visage quite as recognizable, it seemed, as he had warned them it would be.

‘Oh good,’ Brandon said. ‘I was worried we might never see him again.’

‘Let us be off, shall we?’ Lady Phoebe said brightly, and they dutifully climbed back into the carriages.

‘Would you believe,’ Prett said, as their wheels moved off, ‘that I found a shop actually selling my miniatures?’

For the first time, Lydia noticed the brown paper bag he was holding in his hand. ‘Oh?’

He opened the bag and pulled out a whole stack of wooden engravings bearing his visage.

Both Lydia and Pip bent forward to take a closer look, while next to her, Ashford sat back with the faintest of harrumphs and extracted his snuffbox once more.

As ever, the act prompted a rush of antipathy from her.

There was something so incredibly arrogant in the way he took snuff, as if to suggest he was so infinitely above everyone and everything around him, and as she watched him take a delicate pinch to each nostril she wished, vehemently, that she could exchange the tobacco inside for pepper, to teach him a lesson and …

Well, it might not be her most elegant idea, but for now … The idea of causing Ashford any discomfort was certainly appealing.

‘Look!’ Lydia said, thrusting one of the tiny Pretts toward Ashford who, reluctantly, was forced to lay his snuffbox to the side in order to accept it.

Casually, Lydia placed her reticule gently on top and shortly after, when they exited the barouche at Hawkscroft, she swept both neatly into her hands.

Perfect. The day held hope, yet.