Page 11 of What Lies Beneath

Feeling dreadfully awkward, Regina set down her cup. “I should go after her,” she said, but before she could get to her feet, the earl shook his head.

“Finish your tea. The little hoyden can look after herself for a few minutes. I expect she’s gone to see her pony. He’s usually her first port of call after she’s been fed. Do you ride, Mrs Harris?”

The question so startled Regina that it took her a moment to answer. She did, naturally, as all well-bred young ladies did. Once upon a time, she had been a bruising rider, and she missed it dreadfully, but it was hardly a pastime for a governess to indulge in.

“I can ride,” she replied carefully. “But have not done so for many years.”

“Well, why have you not mentioned this before?” Ashburton said, looking a little put out.

Regina stared at him in astonishment. Good Lord, was the man an idiot? “You think a governess ought to demand her employer supply her with a horse so she might go for a ride on her day off?” she replied caustically.

“No,” the earl replied, holding her gaze, his tone cool. “And I take your point, but I hope I am not such a forbidding master that you could not mention the fact you enjoy riding. Tilly would love for you to ride out with us.”

“Oh, but that is your private time together, and Tilly does not wish to always have me trailing behind her,” Regina protested.

“You are out there,” the earl said, smiling now. “She’d have you go everywhere with us at all times if she had her way.”

“How fortunate for you that you can say no to some of her requests then,” Regina replied tartly, before she could think better of the comment. Drat it. She must learn to guard her tongue, for she was becoming increasingly pert with the man and that would not do.

The earl did not seem irritated by her familiarity, however. Rather, he seemed amused by her boldness. “Oh, no, Mrs Harris, I can deny her nothing. It is fear of being put in my place by a lady who is a stickler for propriety and proper behaviour that keeps me somewhat in check.”

“Ha!” Regina slapped her hand over her mouth, appalled by her sarcastic outburst, but the earl only looked increasingly delighted.

“You think it untrue?” he demanded.

“I do most certainly,” she replied, recovering her equanimity somewhat as he did not seem put out with her. “You do just as you like and always have done.”

His lips twitched but otherwise she could not read his expression. “Perhaps. Certainly it must appear so to you.”

“You deny it?” she asked, though she knew she had no right to do so.

Nothing about this conversation was the least bit proper, however, and she could not help but feel he wanted her to be at ease in his company, free to converse with him as an equal. Why, she did not know, except she supposed he must be starved of intelligent conversation at Goshen Court, despite his claims to have had enough of society. Perhaps he was regretting bringing them all back here for Christmas?

“I certainly do, though I will grant you I have a deal more freedom than you do.”

“A great deal more,” she corrected.

He inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of this, though he could hardly deny it.

“But we all have constraints put upon us. No one is wholly free.” He frowned as he said this, his attention suddenly seeming to turn inwards and Regina wondered if she ought to leave, but he shook the mood off and looked at her with sudden interest.

“May I ask what happened to Mr Harris?”

The question startled Regina to such a degree she almost dropped her cup. It clattered against the saucer, and she set it down before she could break it. Happily, she had drunk most of the tea or she might have tipped it everywhere. “M-Mr Harris?” she repeated, panic twisting inside her. She’d had a story ready for the question when she had arrived here so many years ago, but seeing as it had never been asked, she had stopped thinking about it. What had it been, something about a sea captain…

“Forgive me, Mrs Harris. That was unpardonably rude. It’s just I assumed he had died some years before, but you never mention him and, well, I’m a curious fellow, I’m afraid.”

He did not look especially regretful, she thought with irritation, and did not doubt he was unused not to having his questions answered at once, no matter if they were intrusive or not. Still, it was not such an unreasonable thing to ask, and it was a wonder he had not done so before now.

“Captain Harris was a merchant seaman, my lord. Drowned in bad weather,” she added, hoping that this would put paid to any further questions, but the man only seemed more interested.

“I am sorry,” he said, looking genuinely regretful this time. “That must have been difficult for you. Is that why you became a governess?”

“No. Mr Harris—” Drat it, the man ought to have a name. What was a good name for a sea captain? “George was away such a lot, and I am not one to sit twiddling my thumbs. I much prefer to be occupied, and once he had passed away, it was a necessity.”

The earl looked at her with interest. “He did not mind you working?”

Regina smiled inwardly. Whilst she had been raised a duke’s daughter with all the privileges that position implied, she had spent the past years one step up from a servant and her eyes had been opened to the life of those of the lower orders. That a man so much farther down the social scale might have the luxury of preferring his wife not work was something Ashburton took for granted. Admittedly, a sea captain ought to have been able to provide for her, but that was not a given.