Page 113 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘I do hope Mr Hanworth feels better soon,’ Lady Phoebe called down the table to Lydia. ‘We do not wish him to miss the masquerade, do we Waldo?’

‘Hmm?’ Waldo said, without looking up from his billet, which he was frowning over.

‘Is there ought amiss, Waldo?’ Lady Phoebe asked, frowning in concern.

‘Of course not’ Sir Waldo said. ‘Just an invitation I should rather not deal with – bound directly for the fire.’

Ashford and Lydia tensed.

‘To what?’ Lady Phoebe said. ‘Am I invited, as well?’

She leant in, but Sir Waldo twitched the billet out of reach.

‘We cannot attend,’ he said. ‘I will decline.’

‘Without telling me what it is?’ Lady Phoebe said, voice teasing. ‘How mysterious.’

‘What difference does it make? We are going overseas. We shall have to decline everything.’

‘Oh, stop, I cannot bear to think of it,’ Lady Hesse said.

‘Neither can I, so I shan’t,’ Lady Phoebe said merrily. ‘Today, I am not spending a thought on the future.’

‘I commend you, my lady,’ Prett said. ‘If my life has taught me anything, it is that one should endeavour to live in the moment.’

He looked to Miss Hesse for a reaction, but she did not appear to be attending, sneaking Brutus slices of ham from her plate.

‘I myself have too many relying on me,’ Hesse said, ‘to take so cavalier an approach.’

‘“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,”’ Lady Morton quoted, looking up from her letters to send him a caressing smile.

‘We should discuss a plan of action,’ Ashford muttered in Lydia’s ear, so close that his breath tickled her neck.

Lydia twitched hastily away.

‘Sir Waldo!’ she said across the table. ‘Reeves told us, upon the tour, that you have a Ming vase in your study.’

‘I do,’ Sir Waldo confirmed, puffing out his chest proudly – good humour restored at this opportunity to boast. ‘A gift for Lady Phoebe. It cost the moon – Dacre has never forgiven me for outbidding him!’

‘It was I who told you about it in the first place,’ Dacre protested, good-humouredly. ‘It did seem a bit rich for you to then outbid me.’

‘You bottled it,’ Sir Waldo said. ‘You always do.’

Dacre’s smile faded.

‘I should dearly love to see it,’ Lydia persevered. ‘I am so interested in the study of – ah – that particular time period of …’

When was it?

‘Fifteen-century China,’ Ashford muttered in her ear.

‘Fifteenth-century China,’ she finished.

‘Commendable!’

‘Do you have a moment today to show it to me?’

Sir Waldo hesitated for a moment but then shook his head.