Page 28 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

She turned and gave him a winning smile.

He heaved a sigh, raising his eyes to the heavens.

‘It does have a certain sort of inevitability about it, doesn’t it?’

‘I truly believe there is no other choice,’ she said. ‘We will be late to dinner – and if they find us in here, alone …’

Ashford heaved another sigh and began to take off his coat.

‘I am spending too much time with you. You are beginning to sound sensible and that does not bode well for my mental state.’ He held out his coat towards her.

‘Why, pray, am I to act as your coat rack?’ she asked.

‘Because I am the one risking my life,’ he said. ‘And because this cost ten guineas.’

‘And people say women are vain,’ she muttered, accepting the coat with a show of reluctance.

Ashford hoisted one leg out of the window, eyeing the trellis with a great deal of misgiving.

‘If I die, doing this,’ he said, ‘I shall never forgive you.’

‘If you die, doing this,’ she said, ‘all my problems will be entirely resolved, and I shan’t think of you again for a moment.’

‘Not if I come back to haunt you,’ he said, swinging the other leg out. ‘I have not done anything such as this since I was a boy – this is entirely undignified.’

‘You are doing wonderfully,’ she assured him, going across to the other window, so that she might lean out of it and observe.

‘It looks easy, if anything. All you have to do is put your foot there and there – make your way a little across and down to the window below, and then even if you fall, it is only a little hop, skip and a jump to the ground.’

He placed a foot on the trellis, testing it for a moment and then, with an inhale, lifted himself entirely off the windowsill onto the trellis.

Lydia tensed, watching. For a moment, her courage fled entirely, and she was about to shout that he should come back in, n ow, and hang the consequences but there was not even a tremble on the vines and Ashford began to climb, hand over foot, down towards the ground.

He was surprisingly strong, for one so lean.

‘Not too quickly,’ she advised. ‘Don’t get over-confident.’

Ashford muttered something under his breath that Lydia assumed was not flattering.

He was eight feet from the ground when there was the unmistakeable sound of the French doors below creaking open.

‘Stop!’ she hissed. ‘Someone is coming.’

Ashford froze, pressing himself into the canopy of leaves, just as Sir Waldo and Lord Dacre sauntered out onto the gardens.

Lydia crouched hastily down, so that only her eyes were peeping over the windowsill.

‘Can you truly not tell me the whole?’ Dacre was asked. ‘I might be able to help.’

Lydia’s heart was in her throat. If they looked up, even for a moment, they would see Ashford there – and what could they do then? This was, of all the options, the most damaging way possible to be caught. It would appear as if Ashford were fleeing the scene.

‘You can help,’ Sir Waldo said impatiently. ‘I am telling you how.’

‘It is a lot to ask, without explanation,’ Dacre noted.

Lydia frowned. What were they speaking about?

‘I expect you to help me. Stand by me, as I have stood by you , all these years.’

Dacre made no reply.

‘Come,’ Waldo said impatiently. ‘I do you the favour of keeping your secrets. Surely you can do me this favour in return?’

What on earth – what secrets?

But suddenly Lydia could see the wisteria trembling and her attention was entirely distracted as a few tiny tremors begin to rock the trellis. Ashford was not going to be able to hold on for much longer. He pressed himself closer to the house, face lost amidst the leaves.

‘We’ll be late for dinner,’ croaked Dacre. Lydia had missed the last exchange, but finally, finally, they moved back inside.

‘They’re gone,’ she whispered.

The ivy began to shake in earnest.

‘Ashford?’ she said, alarmed. ‘Ashford, it’s shaking dreadfully.’

But when Ashford extracted himself from where he had pressed himself within the blooms, she could see he was laughing as he began to descend again.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘ We are ridiculous.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ she said, laughing herself now – she had not heard Ashford laugh before, she realized, and it was surprisingly infectious. ‘You’re the one with wisteria in your hair.’

He was almost to the ground when a branch finally snapped under his foot, and he went crashing down. Fortunately, he was only two feet aloft by this stage – and even more fortunately, he landed on the grass, flat upon his back.

‘Are you all right?’ she called down, half whispering even now.

He began patting himself down.

‘Arms, yes,’ he said. ‘Legs, yes. Dignity – no.’

She snorted and turned back to seize his coat, remembering, only at the very last moment, to tuck the snuffbox back within it – she had almost forgotten about her initial purpose entirely. Folding the coat into a more throwable size, she leant back out the window.

‘Catch!’

He did not catch. The coat landed in a tangle upon his head.

‘Ten guineas!’ came the muffled protest, before he rose with a groan. Shaking the coat out, he raised his head to look up at her consideringly.

‘This seems the right moment to ask you to let down your hair, or some such,’ he said.

‘Did you knock your head?’ she asked. ‘You must go before anyone sees you, you dolt.’

‘Gosh,’ he said. ‘I should think you might be a little more polite, given you are still trapped.’

‘I’ll climb down, too!’ she threatened. ‘Probably ten times faster as well.’

He grinned. ‘We’ll come to fetch you,’ he promised, before disappearing back inside.

True to his word, it was not above five minutes before there was a great deal of commotion outside the door. She could hear many voices – Ashford and Lady Phoebe, but also Reeves, Dacre and Prett.

‘Miss Hanworth?’ Lady Phoebe called. ‘Can you hear us, Miss Hanworth?’

‘She is locked in, not turned deaf,’ Ashford said, his voice irritated. ‘Miss Hanworth, a great many people – not all of them necessary – have come to your aid, never fear.’

There was the rattling of the doorknob.

‘Would you believe, Captain, I did try the door,’ Ashford muttered.

‘I believe, gentlemen,’ came the calm voice of Reeves, ‘that we might benefit from some assistance – I shall return presently.’

‘By that time,’ Prett said. ‘She might well have fainted.’

‘There is no need for dramatics,’ came Ashford’s voice. ‘She is quite well.’

‘You cannot be certain of that,’ Prett said. ‘Fortunately, a similar event occurred to a lady when I was on a boat, sailing for Sardinia, and—’

‘An essential detail, is it?’ Ashford said.

‘Dacre, will you assist me?’

‘What would you have me—’ Dacre began. ‘Oh, is that not a little dramatic, sir?’

‘Very dramatic,’ Ashford said. ‘And highly foolish – I do not think—’

But Lydia did think – nothing this exciting had ever happened to her before and she rather thought she wished to see the end of it.

‘The air feels very thin,’ Lydia called through the door. If one was to be cast in the role of damsel in distress, then one might as well do it properly.

‘Say no more!’ Prett said. ‘Come Dacre, with me – stand away, Miss Hanworth!’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Ashford began, but then there was the sound of running footsteps, and cracking wood, as the combined force of Prett and Dacre hit the door and it burst open with a resounding crash.