Page 107 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘If only there was a way I might reveal his true colours …’ Reeves broke off, taking in a calming breath. ‘He was correct on one count, however,’ he said, more slowly, ‘war did alter me, Dacre. Having survived it, I vowed not to live according to fear any longer – a vow I am in danger of forgetting.’

There was a pause – a pause so long that Lydia could not prevent herself stealing a quick glance through the shelves, watching as Dacre reached out to clasp Reeves’ hands.

‘We are free men,’ Reeves said. ‘How should Waldo stop us? Would he truly expose his own brother?’

‘In one of his rages, anything is possible,’ Dacre said heavily. ‘You saw him today.’

‘I do not understand what has made him so. He does not usually lose control in front of company.’

Dacre shook his head rather than answer.

‘Does it have anything to do with Mr Villars?’ Reeves said.

‘He has told you of that?’ Dacre asked.

‘No,’ Reeves said. ‘But he receives letters from them by the handful. What is going on?’

‘I do not know the whole, myself; Waldo is too proud to unburden himself. I have helped him as much as I can afford to, but—’

‘What?’ The word burst from Reeves as if he could not hold it back. ‘Why would you help him – when he treats you so abominably?’

‘You know why,’ Dacre said quietly.

‘The way he speaks to you—’

‘I weather his teasing, and he keeps my secrets,’ Dacre interrupted. ‘These are the rules by which he and I have always lived.’

‘It is not teasing,’ Reeves said staunchly, ‘and it does not have to be that way. We can work toward a different future – we can.’

Lydia’s breath caught as she waited Dacre’s response.

‘I want that, too,’ he said quietly. ‘I do.’

There was another pause, but this time for a kiss.

‘I have swept the house, and no one wakes,’ Reeves said, after, voice lower and gentler, now. ‘Let us to bed.’

They left the library hand in hand.

Even after the door shut, Lydia, Ashford and Pip did not move, straining their ears for any signs they might be returning. Then, a full minute later, they let out three identical gusts of air.

Lydia turned to look at Ashford. She could not make his expression out, in the darkness, but she could feel the tension in his frame – and she had a sudden sense of horror at whatever he might be about to say, or do. For what would Ashford – dutiful, proper, traditional Ashford – think of what they had just witnessed?

‘Suspicious,’ Pip said, breaking the silence. ‘Very.’

‘We did not see that,’ Ashford said abruptly. ‘Do you understand?’

Pip was not attending.

‘Waldo is in trouble,’ he was saying to himself. ‘Dacre knows – letters from Villars—’

‘Mr Hanworth,’ Ashford said, and his voice was hard and firm, ‘I understand you believe yourself to be upholding the law, but we say nothing of this, do you understand?’

‘Pip understands,’ Lydia said. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Pip said, flapping a dismissive hand at Ashford. ‘Why would I say anything?’

‘You are not listening,’ Ashford said. ‘This is serious.’