Page 35 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Lawks!’ Lydia declared.

10

Lydia stood by her bedchamber door, her ear pressed to the crack, listening for footsteps. The ladies had all retired long ago, but it was only now that the gentlemen, who had elected for cards and cigars with Sir Waldo, were drifting towards their beds. Lydia’s mind was far too rattled for sleep, and so she waited, until …

‘Pip,’ she whispered, recognizing his profile passing her doorway, and opening her door a crack. ‘Pip!’

He wheeled around, losing a little of his balance in the process. She beckoned him toward her, and as he slid into the room, the telltale scent of port wafted over her.

‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘How did he seem?’

‘How did who seem?’ Pip said, wandering over to her dressing table and seating himself before the looking glass – seeming a trifle surprised to see his own reflection within it.

‘Ashford!’ Lydia said impatiently, then – when Pip seemed bent upon adjusting his necktie – snapped her fingers at him impatiently. ‘How did he seem?’

She was not foolish enough to think that Ashford would have broken down into public sobs over his Terrible Mistake, but there were other, subtler, signs of inner despair. Had she done enough? Had it worked? Was she free?

‘Difficult to say,’ Pip said vaguely. He appeared to be having a little trouble focusing his gaze on her. ‘Not the chattiest fellow, is he?’

‘Did he look at the end of his tether?’

Pip considered this. ‘Not at the beginning of it, certainly. Stands to reason.’

‘Pip,’ Lydia said, trying to master the frustration rising within her, ‘you are meant to be my eyes and ears. Is there nothing you can tell me?’

‘Nothing is at it seems,’ Pip said. ‘That’s for certain.’

Turning to face her fully, he extracted his notebook from his pocket and fumbled to open it. ‘Dacre, for example – the man’s too pleasant, it makes no sense – suspicious, I tell you, the way he does not heed any of Sir Waldo’s insults.’

Lydia held up her hands. ‘Please may you just concentrate, for a moment?’

Pip closed his notebook, a trifle crestfallen. Lydia felt as if she had just kicked a puppy.

‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to … it is just, this is my future. It is important.’

Pip nodded. ‘I know that.’

‘Do you?’ she said. ‘You have performed your role admirably, and I am grateful, but at times I feel as though you have forgotten our purpose entirely.’

Thrice today, she had tried to bend his ear on Ashford, but each time he could hardly bring himself to concentrate for a moment. Too busy daydreaming of mysteries to attend to her.

‘I have had a great deal to do,’ Pip defended himself. ‘The investigation …’

Lydia restrained her temper with an effort. ‘I need you to be serious now,’ she said with tolerable composure.

While she had certainly made an impact upon Ashford this evening, it had not eased her agitation. She felt as if she was a bird flapping desperately at a closed window and the proximity of her escape was only making her more frantic. She had to be free of him, she had to!

But Pip would not yield. ‘I am being serious. It is my work.’

Lydia’s frustration burst its banks. ‘There is no work, Pip! No crime, no mystery. Practising your investigation is one thing, but you are taking it all too far now.’

‘Something fishy is going on!’ Pip insisted. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’

Lydia pressed the heels of her palms to her chin. ‘Oh, dear lord!’

‘Do you not believe me?’

Lydia lowered her hands very slowly. Pip’s eyes were wide as he regarded her, expression stricken.