Page 49 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Oh, I loathe you,’ he burst out, clenching both his hands round the sadly bedraggled hat as if he would quite like to throttle her instead.

‘Then jilt me,’ she said.

‘No.’

‘Then you will simply have to accept the consequences,’ she said, and with that she turned her back and walked away, heart pounding but affecting complete nonchalance.

‘This,’ he called after her, ‘is not over.’

13

‘Again, Miss Hanworth, again!’ Sir Waldo begged.

‘I really don’t think—’ Ashford started, but Lydia was already windmilling her arms, screwing up her eyes and dropping her mouth ajar in a most unladylike imitation of Ashford’s fall into the tarn.

‘Careful!’ Lady Phoebe said, as Lydia knocked a glass, though Reeves caught it neatly before it could fall.

Since the day was so fine, Lady Phoebe had requested the afternoon’s refreshment be served on the front lawn, though the outdoor location did not in any way diminish the extravagance of the table. There were crystal jugs filled with lemonade and plates of delicate slices of fruits and cake arranged before them, with a series of parasols protecting the table from the sun. A selection of lawn games had been brought out, for further entertainment, and Lords Dacre and Hesse were batting a feathered shuttlecock back and forth with some energy.

‘I had no idea you were so gifted an imitator!’ Sir Waldo declared to Lydia, clapping his hands together.

The others seemed less willing to laugh at Ashford’s expense, even with their host’s encouragement, exchanging only tense smiles.

‘Perhaps we ought to speak of something else,’ Lady Phoebe began.

‘Oh, it’s just jesting, Phoebe,’ Sir Waldo said. ‘You need not be so tense – Lady Morton found it amusing, didn’t you, my lady?’

But Lady Morton was not attending, her eyes having strayed over to Dacre and Hesse. In deference to the afternoon heat, they had shed their coats to play in their shirts and breeches, though were playing an energetic enough game to have a light sheen of perspiration.

‘A fine jest,’ Lady Morton agreed absently, ogling the gentlemen quite as much as if this were a performance organized for her benefit alone. It might well have been. Every time he struck the shuttlecock, Hesse shot her a glance over his shoulder.

‘Yes, bravo,’ Ashford said.

Having changed his dress upon returning to Hawkscroft, Ashford had valiantly regained some of his usual calm along with his superfine coat, but certainly not all of it. Sitting rigidly in his seat, hand clenched around his goblet of lemonade, he looked and sounded distinctly peevish.

‘I do not think it so amusing,’ Lady Hesse said. ‘Do you, Cynthia?’

‘No,’ Miss Hesse said obediently. ‘You must be very brave.’

‘Thank you, Miss Hesse,’ Ashford said, and was it Lydia’s imagination or was he regarding Miss Hesse rather wistfully? She could understand why. Sitting there in her simple white gown of French cambric, doing and saying everything that was right and proper, Miss Hesse could not contrast more to Lydia if she tried. On Lydia’s left side, Lady Hesse observed them smugly; to Lydia’s right, Mr Brandon’s face had tightened.

‘Mr Hanworth!’ Lady Morton called in greeting, looking over Lydia’s shoulders. ‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Entirely better,’ Pip said, taking a seat at the table and accepting a glass of lemonade. Lydia caught his eye, and he sent her a grimace – he could not have found anything useful then.

‘Though I fear I may have a relapse,’ Pip added hastily. ‘Tomorrow morning, perhaps, while the rest of you are riding.’

‘How specific,’ Ashford said, and he was regarding Pip through narrowed eyes. ‘What kind of illness did you say it was?’

‘The erratic kind,’ Pip said. ‘Have I missed anything of note?’

‘Your sister,’ Sir Waldo said to Pip, ‘was just entertaining us with a most amusing story. Miss Hanworth, you must do it again—’

‘The jest has run its course,’ Ashford interrupted. There was a decided snap in his voice that bordered on outright rudeness. Sir Waldo flushed a little and turned to look at Lady Phoebe rather accusingly, as if she were accountable for Ashford’s behaviour.

‘Oh, do learn to take a joke, Ashford,’ Lady Phoebe said, springing immediately to her husband’s defence. ‘Recollect you once pushed me into a pond.’

‘We were children,’ Ashford said irritably.