Page 46 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

He set his jaw, as if the words had escaped without his permission.

A decade of secrecy was not easily forgotten, it seemed.

Lady Phoebe had told Lydia earlier that – even in privacy – the family did not speak of the scandal.

Lydia imagined a younger Ashford having to suffer such tangled circumstances in silence – a loss, but not in the way everyone thought – and felt her chest tighten.

‘It must be hard, to keep up such a pretence all these years,’ she said, with a gentleness she did not know she possessed. ‘For you, and His Grace.’

Ashford leant away, as if in bodily rejection of such sympathy.

‘You need not feel sorry for him,’ he muttered.

‘He prefers the lie, I think. It suits him better. The way he speaks about her,’ he continued, as if, now he had begun, it was difficult to cease.

‘Even now, as if she is some angel who could do no wrong, recommending I seek out such torture?’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Sentimentality blinds him. She ruined him – he loved her, and she left him, and she left me … ’

She had never heard him speak in such a way, with such rawness in his voice.

‘And now Phoebe is leaving too,’ he said, looking away and down.

‘I am sorry,’ Lydia said. ‘I am so sorry.’

She stepped closer to him, tilting her head to try and catch his eye.

‘I do not know everything that happened with your mother,’ she said quietly. ‘I cannot pretend to, but with Phoebe … I do not think she has a choice.’

‘There is always a choice.’ Ashford’s mouth was set and resolute. ‘We all choose and I am here, choosing duty again and again while they consider themselves exempt , somehow, while they take the easier, pleasant route of choosing oneself!’

‘I hardly think,’ Lydia tried to be gentle in her reproof, ‘that Lady Phoebe’s route can be considered easy.’

Ashford deflated.

‘No, I know.’ His voice was suddenly tired. ‘Waldo has pushed her to it – but it is complicated.’

‘It isn’t.’ Lydia shook her head emphatically. ‘Truly, it is simple. She is your family. You must help her.’

‘This cannot be the only way to do so,’ he said hoarsely, almost pleading. ‘I do not know what the correct action is, but it cannot be this. Leaving us – leaving me – it’s wrong!’

Lydia wished, suddenly, that they were not wearing masks, for she wanted more than anything in that moment to be able to see his face. For him to see hers.

‘Sometimes the wrong thing,’ Lydia said, hoping he could read the sincerity in her eyes, ‘is the right thing.’

He stared at her through the slits of his mask.

‘On occasion,’ he said, ‘you can be very profound.’

She smiled more in relief than in amusement. ‘I astound even myself.’

He chuffed out a laugh.

‘I cannot believe I am having such conversations with you, of all people,’ he said, shaking his head a little. ‘You must be very shocked at all this – you are not exactly seeing me at my best.’

‘I have already seen the worst of you,’ she said. ‘And it does not scare me.’

He looked away and down.

‘I will speak to Phoebe tomorrow,’ he said to his shoes. ‘I am not … proud of how I reacted.’

‘Perhaps you might speak to her tonight,’ Lydia said.

‘I hardly think she would thank me for that,’ Ashford said. ‘Tomorrow would be more proper.’

‘Or tonight,’ Lydia suggested again.

Ashford paused.

‘What are you …’ he began. ‘Why? She is not leaving this evening?’

Lydia bit her lip. She and Lady Phoebe had agreed not to say anything, to anyone – but she could not bear the idea of the cousins leaving each other on such terms as they had today.

‘Please … do not try to stop her,’ she said, placing a hand on his sleeve. This time, he did not try to shake her off. ‘It is her only real chance.’

‘In front of all these witnesses?’ he said. ‘It is the height of foolishness.’

‘It is perfect,’ she corrected. ‘Sir Waldo is already half drunk, can be easily distracted. By the time anyone notices her absence, she will be halfway to Dover.’

‘He has not let go of her all night,’ Ashford said. ‘You would be lucky if she gets halfway to the stable before he is calling for her.’

‘You forget – this is a masquerade,’ Lydia said. ‘She and I are to swap dominoes so he will not notice her absence. To his mind, she will never have left.’

Ashford was silent for a moment, dumbfounded, she assumed, by her brilliance.

‘This is your plan?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘It is … good,’ he said, begrudgingly.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Now I have only to wait for the correct moment – as you say, he has not left her side.’

Ashford lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray.

‘If I have learnt anything from our battles this week, Miss Hanworth,’ he said, ‘it is that one should never wait for the right moment.’

He offered her his arm and bore her off towards Lady Phoebe.

‘Cousin!’ he declared loudly, bowing before her.

Lady Phoebe turned in surprise.

‘Ashford!’ she exclaimed. ‘Good evening – I hope you are enjoying yourself?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I was blue-devilled this afternoon, but I have realized I was wrong to feel so.’

Lady Phoebe paused. ‘I am – so glad,’ she said.

‘Such a magnificent event,’ Ashford said. ‘But that is no surprise: you have such good instincts and always know … exactly the right thing to do. About parties,’ he added, after a beat.

Lady Phoebe’s eyes, through the slits of her mask, were wide and shining. ‘Thank you – it means a great deal to me.’

He took her hand in his, laying a kiss upon it.

‘I am at your service, tonight and always,’ he said. ‘If ever you should need me – I hope you know that.’

‘Such gallantry!’ Sir Waldo boomed. ‘Ought I to be jealous, Ashford!’

He let out a great heehaw of laughter, and somehow, without it being quite clear how it had come about, the edge of Lady Phoebe’s lace under-dress got caught under Ashford’s foot. There was the sound of rending fabric.

‘My dress!’

‘Clumsy, Ashford!’ Sir Waldo said, scowling.

‘Oh no!’ Ashford said. ‘Miss Hanworth, you had best take Lady Phoebe to pin it up.’

‘I will indeed!’ Lydia said at once, putting her own arm about Lady Phoebe’s waist and leading her away. As soon as they were out of the ballroom, they hurried off in search of the nearest empty parlour. As they passed down the corridor, they ran into Lady Hesse.

‘Ah, Lady Phoebe,’ Lady Hesse said. ‘Have you seen my son? I have been looking for him.’

‘No!’ Lady Phoebe said, without the tiniest shred of politeness. ‘Quick, here!’

She pulled open a door and she and Lydia took a step inside – only to see the room already occupied by a couple locked in a close embrace.

‘I say!’ Lady Phoebe said in surprise. Then, again: ‘I say .’

‘Lady Morton?’ Lydia said, as the couple sprang apart – for who else could have such red hair?’

‘Humphrey! ’ shrieked Lady Hesse, appearing over Phoebe’s shoulder. ‘What is going on here?’

‘Now,’ Lady Morton said, hastily rearranging her magnificent bosom in the confines of her bodice, ‘let us all try to be calm and sensible.’

‘Sensible!’ Lady Hesse shrieked, taking a step into the room and jabbing an accusing finger at her. ‘You are twice his age!’

‘We are in love!’ Lord Hesse declared passionately.

‘Oh, dear lord,’ Lady Morton muttered.

‘The scandal this could cause!’

‘Well, this really does seem a family matter,’ Lady Phoebe said, edging backwards.

‘Lady Phoebe!’ Lady Hesse reached out a hand to forestall her. ‘I must insist you remain!’

But Lady Phoebe and Lydia had already escaped, half running down the hallway now.

‘For such a thing to happen at my house party,’ Lady Phoebe gasped. ‘Lady Hesse will never forgive me.’

‘Fortunately,’ Lydia panted, ‘that is soon not going to matter anymore.’

They pulled open another door and, this time making certain no one was inside, began tearing at the clasps to their dominoes, pulling off their masks, and then handing them to the other.

‘Elspeth has my things packed,’ Lady Phoebe said. ‘I shall go directly to the stable yard.’

‘We will give you as much time as we can,’ Lydia promised. ‘All being well, you should be clear until morning.’

She pulled Lady Phoebe’s vivid red domino around her, and Lady Pheobe helped her tie the loo mask.

‘There!’

‘Now go,’ Lydia ordered. ‘Now!’

Lady Pheobe hesitated.

‘I wish to say thank you,’ she said. ‘I have been so cross with you this week – I thought you difficult and vulgar and rude and—’

‘Is this your first time trying to thank someone?’

‘But I am glad,’ Lady Phoebe continued as if Lydia had not spoken, ‘that Ashford chose you.’

Lydia swallowed, smiled as best as she could, and bade her farewell.