Page 79 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘Jesus Christ!’ Sir Waldo expostulated at the top of his voice.

‘My God!’

‘What in hell?’

The ladies of the party near jumped out of their skin, Miss Hesse in her shock playing a series of jarring, discordant notes.

‘I beg your pardon!’ Lady Hesse said, outraged. ‘There are ladies present!’

‘Dear lord …’ Ashford regarded them, horror-stricken.

None of the gentlemen saw fit to apologize as they all began, with every means available to them, to expel the ticklish powder from their noses.

‘Waldo!’ Lady Phoebe said, as they coughed, sneezed and hacked, all bent double, eyes streaming. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

‘Ashford’s new blend does not appear to be sitting well,’ Lady Morton said, a gleeful smile upon her face.

‘Is it a disease?’ Lady Hesse demanded, moving towards the door, as though poised for flight. ‘Does it feel contagious? Get back, get back I say.’

‘Some water, please?’ Lydia called to Reeves. ‘I am so sorry …’

The apology slipped out without conscious thought, but no one heard it – no, indeed, as the spluttering and coughing subsided, three glares that were no less accusatory for their wateriness, were directed instead toward Ashford.

‘What the devil do you mean by giving us such vile stuff?’ Sir Waldo demanded.

‘I don’t – I didn’t—’ Ashford said, looking down at his box as if it might step in to help him explain.

‘So damned peppery!’ Brandon agreed. ‘Near burnt my nose off.’

‘Mine too,’ Prett said through watering eyes. ‘And I have a high tolerance for spice, after my time in India.’

‘Is this some kind of prank?’ Sir Waldo said hotly.

‘Waldo, Ashford did not mean—’ Lady Phoebe said, but Sir Waldo ignored her.

‘Well, sir? How do you answer?’

‘Dear lord, Waldo, it is not my intention to embarrass you,’ Ashford said.

Reeves had arrived back with two other footmen, bearing goblets of water upon trays.

‘Are you well, my lord?’ he said, handing the first to Dacre, who accepted it gratefully.

‘I am not embarrassed!’ Sir Waldo said, his face now maroon with rage and, well, pepper. ‘But insulted! In my own home!’

Lady Phoebe attempted to lay a calming hand upon Sir Waldo’s shoulder, but he shook her off angrily.

‘Did you know of this?’ he demanded of her. ‘A little plot, to humiliate me?’

‘Of course not,’ Lady Phoebe exclaimed.

Lydia stared. Sir Waldo presented as somewhat of a buffoon but was otherwise jocular and friendly; who knew he had such a temper as this?

‘I’m sure Ashford is very sorry, aren’t you?’ Lady Phoebe said, a tight smile upon her face.

‘Of course,’ Ashford said, but he wore an incredulous look as if he, too, could not believe the extremity of Waldo’s reaction. ‘Perhaps you are not used to continental blends?’

‘That is not,’ Mr Brandon looked up, eyes watering, ‘a continental blend.’