Page 27 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Chapter 9

Lyle,

That serves me right for asking your advice. I shall not do so again. Thanks for nothing.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Hon’ble Mr Hamilton Anderson to The Right Hon’ble Lyall Anderson, Viscount Buchanan.

4th June 1850, Montagu House, St James’s, London.

“There’s no point in looking at me like that,” Regina Harris said, trying not to laugh as Tilly glared daggers at her. “This is entirely your doing and now we are both missing a visit to the National Gallery. It’s me who ought to be glaring at you for making me miss out on such a splendid outing.”

Tilly’s beautiful face wobbled and then fell, and she ran to Regina, who hastily set her sewing aside before she stabbed the girl with her needle. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said contritely, hugging her tightly. “I know I was very bad, but that lady was such a—”

“Yes, well, we shan’t go into that,” Regina replied swiftly, who privately thought an ice in the lap was the very least the dim-witted creature had merited. Men were all the same, though. They just wanted a pretty nitwit on their arm, someone they could treat like a dress up doll and put away when they were tired with them. Not all men, she told herself severely, for she disliked injustice and she knew several men who were everything they ought to be. A slight cough in the doorway indicated the arrival of one such.

Harris leapt to her feet, dislodging Tilly as she saw the Marquess of Montagu, Tilly’s grandfather, standing in the doorway. It was like looking at a more mature version of her employer, except those cold silver eyes seemed to see through her, which made her exceedingly uneasy.

“My lord,” she said, dropping a curtsey as Tilly disengaged herself from her skirts.

“Pops!” the girl cried and ran to Montagu, throwing her arms about him so hard the man let out a soft huff of exclamation.

“Tilly, you little wretch. I do wish you would not try to incapacitate me every time you want a hug,” he said mildly. He took the girl by the chin, gazing down at her. “You’ve been wicked,” he observed.

“Only a little bit,” she replied stubbornly.

“Tilly,” Harris reproved, busying herself with tidying up her sewing so she could turn her back to Montagu. She did not like being near him, for the man was as sharp as a dagger blade and little got past him.

“Oh, well, yes, then. I was dreadful,” Tilly said with a sigh. “But I was provoked,” she added, folding her arms.

“What have I told you about how to behave when you are provoked, Ottilie Barrington?” Montagu asked gently.

“To imagine I am a block of ice and everyone around me feels the chill,” Tilly recited dutifully.

“You allow no one that is not a close friend or family member to see your feelings, child. They do not deserve such intimacy. It matters not what they think of you, that is not your business, anymore than what you think of them is theirs. You do not behave in a manner that is unworthy of the Barrington name. You are Montagu’s granddaughter. You will behave as such.”

Tilly’s bottom lip quivered as she looked up at Montagu. “Yes, Grandpapa,” she said, her voice tremulous.

Montagu sighed. “Don’t try those tricks on me, you little devil. They may work on your father, but—” He paused and shook his head. “Oh, very well, they work on me, too. Fetch your coat and bonnet. I shall take you out and endure your father’s scolding for spoiling you later.”

Tilly gave a shriek of delight and hugged Montagu again, harder than before, making him suck in a sharp breath. “Thank you, Pops!” she cried, and ran off to fetch her things.

Montagu watched her go before turning his attention to Regina. “Are you going to scold me, too?”

Regina smiled and shook her head. “She’s finding it very hard, knowing her father is looking for a wife.”

Montagu nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “Yes, I understand that very well. She fears she’ll be set aside or replaced by his choice, or that his wife will not like or accept her.”

“Those are valid concerns,” Regina said, for she felt them on Tilly’s behalf.

“The last is, the first are not. No one could ever replace her in her father’s affections.”

“No, my lord,” Regina said respectfully.

“Lord Ashburton is of the opinion you neither like nor approve of him,” Montagu said, startling her with such a direct statement.

Regina opened and closed her mouth before gathering her wits. “My opinion of Lord Ashburton is of no relevance. I do my job, and I do it well. So long as my work is of the highest standard, my private opinions are none of his business,” she added, throwing his own words back at him.

Montagu’s lips twitched. “Well done,” he said approvingly. “Now fetch your coat and hat. You may accompany us.”