Page 42 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘She’s … eccentric! I think it charming.’

‘That,’ Ashford said, jabbing a finger towards the drawing room. ‘Was not mere eccentricity – it was …’

Words failed him.

‘I cannot believe I thought she would be a suitable bride,’ he said.

‘Perhaps it would be exciting,’ Mr Brandon said quickly. ‘One never knows quite what she will or will not say, after all – keeps one on one’s toes! And lots of gentlemen enjoy having a wife not quite in the usual way.’

‘Which gentlemen?’ Ashford demanded.

Mr Brandon pondered this for a moment.

‘Marlborough!’ he said after a moment. ‘That wife of his has a collection of ferrets unlike anything I’ve ever known – very eccentric – and Marlborough always looks happy enough, doesn’t he?’

‘He’s always covered in bites,’ Ashford pointed out. ‘It’s not a state to which I aspire!’

‘I am trying to be positive.’ Mr Brandon sighed. ‘I do wish you might join me.’

‘Oh, please!’ Ashford snapped. ‘You don’t believe any of this – you’re just worried I’ll turn my attentions to Miss Hesse!’

‘I must say that stings,’ Mr Brandon protested, though he flushed a guilty red. ‘If I am worried, it is just on the ladies’ behalf! Who’s to say you might not change your mind about Miss Hesse, too, the moment she sings a song a little flat?’

‘A little flat? I have heard death knells with more musicality,’ Ashford said. He shuddered. ‘To think I am engaged to such a creature.’

The words slipped out before he realized what had happened.

‘You are engaged?’ Brandon said sharply.

Oh lord! Ashford pressed a shaking hand to his forehead.

‘When did this occur?’

‘Before we arrived,’ he said. There was no point lying about it now. ‘We had to keep it a secret, the duke wishes to announce it himself at the ball.’

Brandon went to pour brandy for each of them.

‘I begin to appreciate the gravity of the situation. Christ.’

‘She has not the smallest idea of how to behave,’ Ashford said. ‘She cannot sit through a single meal without committing the most horrendous faux pas, she calls everyone by the wrong title, no matter how often she is corrected, she hates all literature, she knows so little about so much, her laugh—’

He broke off, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth.

‘The laugh is bad,’ Mr Brandon acknowledged. ‘But … just think how large your houses are! You would not hear it.’

As if that shrill cackle could not make its way through miles of stone and mortar.

‘Oh, I’ll hear it.’ He jabbed a finger quite violently to his forehead. ‘I can still hear it now.’

‘Are you sure it’s not you that’s gone mad?’ Mr Brandon asked.

‘If I have, it is her that has driven me so,’ Ashford said. ‘Each day she gives new and different reasons for me to despise her company. I cannot bear it a moment longer.’

‘But you must,’ Mr Brandon said, voice suddenly serious. ‘You made a promise, Ashford. You gave your word.’

Ashford heaved a great sigh, all the agitation seeping out of him in a great rush.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know. I just … I do not know what to do.’