Page 66 of My Fair Lord

Florence clenched her hands at her side. “When I am accosted without an introduction, I might take the liberty of speaking however I choose.”

Until ten minutes previously, she had been furious at Ned. Now she would defend him with her last breath. She straightened her hat and lifted her chin.

“Mr Finch, of Thirsk, wherever that is, there is nothing you can tell me about Mr Blake that could alter my opinion of him. He did my personal maid a kind service for which I am eternally grateful, and which I suspect your valet has not explained. Will you excuse me.”

Mr Finch held his hat by the brim, rolling it between his hands. He looked marginally more respectful, but Florence’s temper was already at snapping point.

“I meant no offence and I shall certainly take up the matter with Agosti when we are alone. Mr Blake has a familiar face, though I cannot place him. I merely wondered if you could enlighten me. Thirsk is in North Yorkshire, by the by.”

Florence swallowed, her mouth unexpectedly dry. Ned was from Yorkshire. He’d mentioned it when they had been talking about archery. It was conceivable that Mr Finch had seen him before, but she was damned if she’d let him know that.

“I do not care whether his face is familiar to you or not, nor where Thirsk is. If you wish to learn more about him, I suggest you approach him yourself. Good day to you, sir.”

She walked off, heading to her cabin but was hailed by Lord Griggs as she entered the passageway. He was dressed in a light fawn-coloured suit with a striped waistcoat that made him look like a travelling fairground barker, and a straw boater with a matching band. Clearly Cordelia had not seen his outfit today or he would not be wearing it.

“My dear Florence, wonderful luck seeing you. I’m going up to the restaurant for a spot of lunch. Will you join me?”

When she hesitated, he took her hand and pressed it in entreaty.

“Your sister is still laid low and I’m in desperate need of some good conversation. She’s done little more than groan and pray for deliverance all day.”

“I’m not sure how good a conversationalist I’ll make, Lord Griggs,” Florence said quietly.

“You’ll be as diverting as you always are,” he replied gallantly. “Whatever is causing your gloom, there’s nothing that a spot of asparagus soup and a slice of cold roast beef won’t cure.”

Her stomach gave a little gurgle that she hoped wasn’t audible.

“A little food would be welcome,” she admitted.

Noon had long since passed and the restaurant was almost empty. She spotted Mr Finch enter, without Agosti. He gazed over at Florence then took a table at the furthest spot away.

Fortunately, Twemlow was happy talking about his own interests and Florence was required to supply little more than the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. It was just as well because she couldn’t stop thinking of the argument with Ned and the strange encounter with Mr Finch. So what if Ned looked familiar? She rather hoped Ned had previously proven to the odious man’s wife that he had a penchant for gambling and his wife had scolded him thoroughly.

The righteous indignation that soured her belly was almost enough to put her off her elderflower sorbet and she pushed it around the crystal dish half-heartedly.

“You wouldn’t let Mr Blake play with his food in such a manner,” Twemlow gently chided her.

She scraped up the last of it before it became too mushy then rested the spoon on the dish.

“When it comes to Mr Blake, I don’t know what I should or shouldn’t be doing anymore if I’m perfectly honest,” she said in a slightly wobbly voice. “I’ve made an absolutely awful mess of everything by arguing with him and now I don’t even know whether he’ll carry out the wager.”

Twemlow refilled her wineglass. “I’m sure he will. He’s a man of his word and I’m sure your little quarrel will soon be forgotten.”

Florence gave him a sad smile, unable to explain any of the circumstances leading up to the break between them. How could Ned think she didn’t care what would happen to him once they parted? She suspected she would most likely think of him every day for the rest of her life, whether or not she married.

The reason came to her with the force of a hammer striking an anvil. He assumed she had no feelings for him because he had no feelings for her. To him she was just another client, and a particularly taxing one at that. Ned spent his whole life meeting whatever demands his paymasters made. Humouring her was just one of the stranger things he would have had to do in order to earn his living. To him, she was no different from any other woman. The realisation made her knees grow weak.

Even if he had any feelings towards her, her words had been sharp and cutting, and she had said things that she knew she shouldn’t have. Now her temper had cooled, she couldn’t help but feel a deep regret for the hurt she had caused and the insults she had piled upon Ned.

She sniffed in a most unladylike manner.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I really must leave. I’m afraid … I’m not … I’m feeling rather indisposed.”

The tears which she had been holding in for so long fell at last. She looked around for something to wipe her eyes with and realised she did not have a handkerchief.

The irony struck her all the more cruelly. She fled from the table and did not stop until she reached the sanctuary of her cabin.

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