Page 9 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

Lydia’s sense of victory in the drawing room had been precipitous.

Pip might have rocked Ashford’s indefatigable calm for a moment, but by the time they were seated in the West Dining Room, it had been entirely restored.

What’s more, Lydia’s nerves had made a reappearance, too.

For the grandeur of the dining room was such that she felt overwhelmed anew: panelled entirely in dark oak and hung in crimson damask, it boasted a glittering chandelier overhead and a gleaming mahogany table at its centre, laden with pies, pates, jellies, fondues and blancmanges past counting.

Lydia cast an evaluating eye to the fleet of footman lining the walls. Just how many hours of preparation had this opulent repast required?

‘A sinful amount of housework,’ her grandmother would have tutted, had she been there to witness such a display.

Having begun life as a maid, Mrs Hanworth had a strong aversion to excess, and as Lydia took a seat between a beef tremblant and pigeon à la Crapaudine , she had never felt more in agreement.

For even between ten of them, they should never finish all these delicacies.

Lydia had bigger concerns, however, as she, the lowest ranking woman, and Ashford, the highest-ranking gentleman, had been seated at opposite ends of the table, rendering most of her planned methods of revolting him impossible.

She berated herself, furiously, for not considering this earlier.

What on earth was there to do that he, so far away, would be certain of noticing?

There was one wild moment, as the rest of the table began to sup on the mountain of dishes ladening the table and Lydia’s hands hovered above the row of cutlery sitting either side of her plate.

Did she have the gall to use the wrong fork?

Before she could act on the impulse, Lord Dacre had tilted towards her.

‘I believe it’s outside in,’ he murmured in her ear, so quietly that not a single person other than she could hear him. It was such an unexpected piece of kindness that Lydia could not help but heed him, taking the correct cutlery in hand.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘It is all just a little …’

‘Daunting?’ he said, in the same low voice. ‘That is only natural. If you have any questions, you need only ask me – or Reeves, for that matter.’

He raised his voice minutely as Reeves drew between them, decanter in hand.

‘You flatter me, my lord,’ Reeves said, neutrally, though Lydia fancied the corner of his mouth rose just slightly, and Lydia’s opinion of Dacre rose with it.

He was certainly the least awful person here.

Indeed, she had met both Sir Waldo and Dacre only this evening, and though the only physical difference between the two brothers was in their choice of facial hair, she felt that, even if blindfolded, she would have no difficulty telling the two apart.

They held themselves so differently: Dacre’s quiet assurance so much calmer than his rowdier brother.

Abandoning her schemes for the time being, there being very little else to do that Ashford would notice, Lydia spent the rest of the meal in observation.

It was not often she broke bread with people she had hitherto only read about in gossip columns.

Lord Dacre, on her left, seemed by far the steadiest, taking all of his brother’s teasing with equanimity, while offering none of his own.

Mr Brandon, with the exuberance and mane of a golden retriever, was certainly the liveliest, and angelic Miss Hesse the most agreeable.

Lady Morton, bewitching and arch, had lived up to every inch of her reputation, flirting with an audacity only permissible when one was rich and titled and widowed.

Though whenever her attentions fell upon Lord Hesse, Lady Hesse’s lips pursed into a cat’s bottom of displeasure that suggested she did not agree.

Next to all these characters, Ashford was …

well, rather dull. He was not the loudest, nor the funniest – indeed, he barely laughed at all – and his only notable feature appeared to be an ability to maintain a civil expression even under the toothiest of smiles Lydia could send his way.

It was rather irksome. Clearly, all momentum had been lost – if anything, Ashford appeared to be enjoyed himself, which was certainly not the point of Stage One at all .

It was a relief, then, when Lady Phoebe rose to lead the ladies away to drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to the port. There were only so many hours of the evening left, and Lydia was determined to make use of them.

She quickly found, however, that she was not the only person with an agenda. No sooner had Lady Hesse seated herself in an armchair than she had Lydia in her sights.

‘It is so marvellous to make new acquaintances,’ she said, fixing Lydia with a false smile and a gimlet eye. ‘I rarely do so, these days. So tell me, Miss Hanworth, how did you and Ashford first meet?’

‘At the Alcot ball,’ Lydia said, after a beat of hesitation. She very much doubted Lady Hesse’s interest was motivated by curiosity alone.

‘Not long ago,’ Lady Hesse noted, with a smile. ‘And you are already invited to Hawkscroft!’

She was watching Lydia closely. Did she suspect the true reason behind Lydia’s invitation?

‘I have always believed in bringing new people together,’ Lady Phoebe said, with a calm belied by the haste with which she was now pouring the tea. ‘It makes everything so much livelier.’

‘It certainly suits me,’ Lady Morton said. ‘I am at sixes and sevens to know which gentlemen ought to be appointed my flirt. You have delivered such an embarrassment of riches.’

Lady Phoebe and Lydia both laughed – one could not help it, such outrageousness was irresistible – but Lady Hesse’s mouth puckered.

‘Goodness,’ she said acidly. ‘You speak as if they are all yours for the taking.’

‘Are they not?’ Lady Morton said with a toss of her fine head. ‘I count only one married man amongst them.’

‘And my son,’ Lady Hesse said frostily, ‘who is only three and twenty.’

‘Ah, a fine age,’ Lady Morton said in a reminiscing sort of way. ‘So much vim and vigour.’

Lady Hesse opened her mouth, as if to deliver a snapping retort no doubt, but was interrupted before it could pass her lips.

‘Knock knock!’ Sir Waldo boomed, peering his head around the door frame with a silly grin upon his face. ‘Is it safe to enter? Ought we to bar our ears?’

He bounded into the room without waiting for a reply, with the rest of the gentlemen following behind.

Mr Brandon made an immediate beeline for Miss Hesse, while Pip eschewed the sofas to begin a slow circuit of the room; Lady Phoebe took this in with a worried frown, before evidently deciding it was better to ignore him.

Ashford, bringing up the rear with Hesse and Dacre, caught Lydia’s eye as soon as he crossed the threshold, and sent her a smile.

Lydia pretended not to see it. By the end of the evening, she vowed, he would not be smiling at her so.

‘That was quick,’ Lady Phoebe commented, as Sir Waldo seated himself heavily next to her. ‘Was the port not to your liking?’

‘Oh, I could not be without you for another moment, darling,’ Sir Waldo said, taking her hand.

‘Oh, you two,’ Lady Morton said fondly. ‘And I here, having not been paid a single compliment all evening.’

She cast Lady Hesse a wicked glance under her eyelashes. ‘Surely you have noticed my new gown, Lord Hesse?’

‘Oh, Hesse’s notice is reserved for horses, cricket and cards,’ Lady Hesse said before her son could answer.

‘Mother,’ Hesse said, ‘I have long put away such frivolous pursuits, you know that.’

‘I know, darling. In fact, I worry you work too hard! He has completely thrown himself into running the estate this past year,’ Lady Hesse told them all proudly. ‘Darling boy!’

‘ Mother ,’ Hesse said again, folding his arms across his chest. ‘I am not a boy .’

‘I have always admired a dutiful man,’ Lady Morton said caressingly. Lord Hesse uncrossed his arms.

‘I hope you will still have time to join us for a ride on the morrow, Hesse?’ Ashford asked. ‘The terrain around these parts is some of the best in the country.’

‘I quite agree,’ Miss Hesse whispered.

‘Oh, what a pair you make,’ Lady Hesse said. ‘Both horse mad.’

Horse mad, was he? Lydia digested this piece of information consideringly. It made sense, now she thought of it, for Ashford could be seen riding in Hyde Park with a regularity that spoke more to passion than convention. Interesting. Yes, she could certainly work with this.

‘I as well!’ Mr Brandon said eagerly.

Lady Hesse appeared not to hear him. ‘Do you ride, Miss Hanworth?’

It was a strange feeling, to feel so obliged to a person one disliked, and yet Lydia felt a rush of gratitude to Lady Hesse, serving such easy hits to her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I only learnt recently.’

This was not true, but there was already a budding plan forming in Lydia’s mind.

‘You did not ride as a child?’ Sir Waldo asked.

‘My grandfather did not trust horses,’ Lydia said. ‘Or horse-shaped people.’

This part was true.

‘He sounds an original character,’ Dacre said, smiling encouragingly at her, and what better prompt could there be? She opened her mouth to elaborate on just how original her grandfather was when …

‘How wonderful it is to be here, altogether,’ Ashford said, not loudly, but drawing all eyes to him, nonetheless. He raised his teacup to his cousin in toast. ‘I feel very fortunate to be hosted so well.’

Lady Phoebe preened.

‘I as well,’ Mr Brandon agreed. ‘I must say, I am intrigued as to what trickery you might have up your sleeve, Lady Phoebe.’

‘I cannot think what you mean,’ she demurred.

‘Trickery?’ Pip said, turning from his inspection of the mantelpiece. ‘ Deception ?’

Pip, at least, was having no trouble finding an opening.

‘Mama said last year there was a surprise guest,’ Miss Hesse said, turning enquiring eyes upon Lady Phoebe. ‘Is there to be one this year, too?’

Lady Phoebe’s smile widened. ‘My lips are sealed.’

From beside Lydia, Lady Morton let out another delighted laugh. ‘You are too cruel, my lady – I adore it!’

She turned to Lydia in dramatically confidential fashion. ‘If last year is anything to go by, then I would prepare for this week to eclipse any house party you have ever attended, Miss Hanworth.’

‘Oh goodness, you shall set me up for failure, Lady Morton,’ Lady Phoebe chided her. ‘I do not know with whose house parties I am to compete – for all you know, Mr and Miss Hanworth could have been hosted by the Prince Regent!’

‘I have never attended any house party before,’ Lydia announced.

There was a pause. The longest of the evening.

‘I perceive that the Hanworths are more used to acting the host,’ Ashford interpolated, reaching into his pocket for his snuffbox.

Could nothing she said shake him?

‘You must have quite the country seat!’ Sir Waldo said, accepting Ashford’s explanation at once. ‘Which county do you find it?’

‘We don’t,’ Lydia said. Then, feeling it was time to up the ante, she continued: ‘Grandpapa would never have countenanced spending so much time away from work.’

‘ Work ?’ Lady Hesse said, leaning a little backwards as if the concept was contagious.

Across from her, Ashford paused with his snuff halfway towards his nose, as if frozen in amber.

‘Duties, perhaps?’ Lady Phoebe suggested rather desperately.

‘In a sense,’ Lydia said. ‘There is so much to do … ’

She paused, for dramatic effect. For once, neither Ashford nor Lady Phoebe rushed to intervene. They were all staring at her, very much as one might find oneself helpless to look away from a carriage accident.

‘… at the factory,’ she finished.

The word ‘factory’ acted very much as a hot poker inserted suddenly somewhere uncomfortable. Everyone flinched backwards from her, eight faces arrested in shock and horror.

Lydia, her eyes upon Ashford, had the satisfaction of seeing him lower his snuff away from his nose, very slowly. For the first time that evening, he looked unnerved.

Yes, indeed. Ashford was well prepared for the next stage, upon the morrow.