Page 115 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Sir Waldo! Beware – a bee!’

It was the first thing which sprang to mind.

‘Eh?’ Sir Waldo said.

‘It has flown inside your coat!’

‘Yes, I saw it too!’ Ashford said, catching on. ‘You must take off your coat at once lest it—’ He broke off and made a violent, jabbing gesture with his right hand.

‘I really don’t think …’ Sir Waldo began.

‘Men can die of such things, you know,’ Lydia said.

‘Come, Waldo, this is no moment to play the martyr,’ Ashford said briskly. ‘Lady Phoebe will not forgive me if I allow you to be stung – come, off with your coat.

Sir Waldo let out a frustrated sigh but began unbuttoning himself.

‘Yes, there it is,’ Ashford said.

‘Allow me to take your coat,’ Lydia said, pulling on Waldo’s sleeves.

‘Hang on, hang on … ’ Sir Waldo said.

Ashford began slapping his hands over Waldo’s torso.

‘I say, you will anger it!’ Sir Waldo said indignantly.

Quick as a flash, Lydia had her hands in his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys and – for want of her own pockets – thrust it quickly down her bodice. Over Sir Waldo’s shoulder, she gave Ashford a surreptitious nod.

‘There, its flown away,’ Ashford said.

‘Well, thank goodness,’ Sir Waldo said. ‘You were beginning to get rather handsy, my lord!’

He let out a great guffaw at his own joke, adjusted his coat, and made off. As soon as he had turned round the corner, Ashford and Lydia turned to each other, giddy with victory.

‘You have it?’

‘I cannot believe that worked!’

‘The bee – how did you think of it so quickly?’

‘How did you understand what I intended?’

They were speaking over one another as excitable as puppies, hardly able to contain their glee, until …

‘We make a good team,’ Ashford said.

Their smiles suddenly faded, excitement elapsing into awkwardness as the memory of their conversation the night before resounded in both their minds.

Ashford cleared his throat.

‘To the study, then?’

By now, Hawkscroft was abustle with activity: the front drive noisy with the wheels of tradesmen’s carts, four footmen laying a red carpet down the front steps under Reeves’ exacting eye, while four more were arranging a series of gigantic potted palms around the entrance hall, and innumerable maids and errand boys were flocking up and down the staircase and to and from the ballroom. One could not have asked for a more distracting atmosphere, though Lydia still waylaid Elspeth and Jane to find something to do at each end of the corridor and act as lookouts. If they were caught, in Sir Waldo’s study, there would be no talking oneself out of it.

‘How long do you think we have?’ Lydia asked Ashford as they approached the door.

‘Perhaps ten minutes?’ he said.