Page 21 of What Lies Beneath

Tilly nodded and got through to the end of the poem, reciting the last lines with a good deal of drama. “Ne faut-il que délibérer, La Cour en Conseillers foisonne; est-il besoin d’exécuter, l’on ne rencontre plus personne!”

“Bravo!” the earl exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. “My, my, Tilly, you put me to shame. I think your French is better than mine now.”

She beamed at him, flushed with happiness at knowing her father found such pride in her achievements.

Regina smiled too, finding her chest aching for reasons she did not understand. Perhaps because she had never known what it was to be loved and approved of so thoroughly by a parent or guardian. Perhaps because it proved to her once again that the earl was a good man who loved his daughter with all his heart and would protect her from the world, no matter what.

“How would the two of you like to come for a ride with me?”

For a moment Regina was so lost in her own thoughts she did not register his words. She glanced up sharply. The earl returned a challenging look, smiling at her. “Yes, you too, Mrs Harris. I have selected a suitable mount for you. She’s a sweet creature with perfect manners, in case you are feeling a little rusty after so long.”

“Oh, but—” “But me no buts,” the earl replied, looking pleased with himself.

“But I have no riding habit!” Regina exclaimed, a little triumphant at having got the better of him, even though it meant she could not go with them as she longed to do.

“Oh, but you do,” Ashburton replied, his smug expression growing by the moment. “My sister left one here the last time she visited, and I know for a fact she won’t wear it again as it will be last year’s style by now, which will never do for Cat. You’re about the same size, if I know anything.”

Regina bit back the remark brewing on her tongue, which would have implied he ought to know after having performed so much research into the subject of the female form. His eyes glinted, a rather wicked light gleaming there that made her wonder if he had known just what she was thinking.

Drat him.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Tilly cried, overjoyed by the prospect. “You can come riding with us, Harry! And Auntie Cat is so very stylish you are bound to look splendid in her habit.”

Regina let out a breath of laughter, defeated in the light of such happy exuberance. “Your papa is most thoughtful to have gone to so much trouble, so I do not see how I can refuse,” she replied, shooting a reproachful look at the earl, who appeared entirely unrepentant.

But, oh, how she wanted to ride out with them, and wearing something that was, as Tilly said, going to be far closer to the height of style than she was ever likely to get. It was too tempting to cavil further when she wanted so very much to give in.

“Very well, Tilly. Let us away and get ourselves ready,” she said, finding Tilly more than willing to do as she said.

The girl clasped her hand and dragged her from the room, chattering all the while.

Pip spoke to Mr Masters, the head groom, once he arrived in the stables, taking the time to inspect the work that had been completed recently to modernise some of the old stalls. Finding everything to his satisfaction, he told Masters he’d see to his own mount and was just leading out a powerful bay gelding when he heard his daughter’s voice.

Taking a moment to secure his mount, he turned with a smile on his lips, which froze on his face as his gaze flitted from Tilly to the extraordinary woman standing beside her.

It was Mrs Harris. Except it wasn’t Mrs Harris at all. Though they wore the same face, and the same maddeningly fingerprinted glasses, this woman was someone very different. She was stylish in a riding habit of plum velvet that fit her better than even he had expected. The severe military cut was not so dissimilar from her usual garb, but the dark frogging that trimmed the garment emphasised the tiny span of her waist and the lush curves of hip and breast. Buttons marched down the front of the bodice, which for some reason Pip found enticingly provocative, his fingers itching with the desire to undo them one at a time. A black silk cravat tied in a loose knot highlighted the white lace collar at her throat, and upon her head, a ladies black top hat with a plum-coloured silk scarf tied about it, completed the dashing ensemble.

“Look, Papa! Doesn’t Harry look wonderful?” Tilly asked, running up to him and gesturing to her governess with such excitement it was clear the transformation had struck her, too.

It was not simply that the gown was more fashionable and stylish from the outfits Mrs Harris usually wore. It was something else, something less easy to pinpoint, except Pip had the strangest sensation that he was seeing something that had been long hidden from view.

“Indeed, Tilly, I felt certain Cat’s habit would do the job, but I never expected to see it worn with such flair,” he replied, meeting Mrs Harris’ eye for the sheer joy of seeing her blush.

She looked flustered and yet pleased, which in turn pleased him.

“Is Marigold ready?” Tilly asked, practically jumping up and down on the spot.

“You need to tack her up, love. See Mr Masters and he’ll help you,” Pip said, for he insisted that his daughter have the skills not only to groom her own horse and see to minor difficulties like a stone in its hoof, but tack up by herself too.

Having watched her run off to speak to the head groom, Pip turned his attention back to Mrs Harris. “When was the last time you rode?”

She pulled a face at the question. “Over five years ago.”

Pip nodded, having expected as much. “You never forget it,” he said with a smile. “Though you may be rather stiff tomorrow.”

“Yes, I rather think I may,” she replied wryly.

“Come,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him across the yard where a beautiful grey horse stood patiently, ears pricked, soft eyes watching the activity in the yard. She nickered and nodded her head as she saw Pip approaching and nuzzled his hand as he reached out to touch her.