Page 13 of What Lies Beneath

He looked irritated once more. “Stop retreating. Why have I never won your regard, even after all these years?”

A startled bark of laughter escaped her before Regina could think better of it. “Why on earth would you want it?” she exclaimed, bewildered. He was the Earl of Ashburton, for heaven’s sake. What the devil did he care if his daughter’s governess disapproved of him? Was he so desperate to be universally loved? Were there not enough women in the world who thought him the epitome of everything that was perfect?

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, looking genuinely confounded. “But it has always rankled.”

Regina shook her head. “This is a nonsensical conversation,” she remarked, impatient now. “But if it will ease your mind, I do not precisely disapprove of you, I….”

“What?” he demanded, and the look in his eyes made her wonder if her job was really as safe as he had implied. Still, she did not feel like backing down now. He’d wanted the truth and badgered her for it, he could hardly complain when he got it.

“You disappoint me,” she said bluntly.

She almost laughed. He looked so dumbfounded, Regina wondered if any woman had ever said such a damning thing to him in all his life and felt very certain they had not.

“How so?” he asked, his tone stiff now.

Regina steeled her nerve, reminding herself he had insisted upon her honesty. Perhaps if she insulted him enough, he would leave her be. It would be for the best, for the intimacy of this little tea party was too appealing, their sometimes barbed conversation stimulating to a mind that spent most of its time teaching a child of eight and had little opportunity for adult interactions.

“It’s difficult to explain, for I do not mean to offer you an insult,” she said carefully, to which the earl quirked an eyebrow.

“You don’t? You astonish me,” he drawled.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed. “For you have done so much here at Goshen Court. I have seen you dirty your own hands and work hard to bring about the transformation you have wrought. Not only have you have made a home from a ruin, but you have brought the land back to productivity. That is a fine achievement. But this big old house ought to be filled with children and laughter. Your parents have the kind of relationship most people can only dream of. You must know the secret of such a union, and yet you have run from forming a serious relationship, shying away from marriage with single-minded determination. Why, even your brother and sister have proven to you that such things are possible. Yet you will not take the chance. Instead, you continue to dally with widows and Cyprians, and then come home to your daughter. What kind of example do you set her of what to expect in a man, perhaps in what to expect of someone she might one day take as a husband?”

Outwardly, the earl looked calm and unruffled, but there was a nerve twitching in his jaw that boded ill.

Idiot! Regina chastised herself. Stupid, stupid fool. What on earth had she been thinking in speaking so harshly?

Silence filled the room, though Regina could hear her heart thudding in her ears. Still, she waited. She would not run away and hide, for that would solve nothing and she was no coward. Regina had proven her own courage when she had left her grandfather’s house and gone out into the world alone, to survive on her own merits. She would not back down now.

Finally, the earl let out a long breath. He was gazing at the flames leaping in the fireplace; the light flickered in his eyes. Regina thought he looked tired and felt suddenly wretched for the words she had flung at him. Ashburton was a good man. Imperfect, yes, but wasn’t everyone? He was so much better than most and was certainly not the wicked seducer of innocents she had once believed. Moreover, he seemed to truly care, not only about his family, but about the wellbeing of all those in his employ too.

“You have said nothing I did not know, or have not thought myself,” he replied, his voice low. He was not looking at her, his gaze still trained on the fire as he spoke, but then he turned and met her eyes. “Still, it stings rather harder when the accusation comes from you, Mrs Harris. Yet you do me a disservice. For you may be correct that I have been given many examples of what a happy marriage looks like, but still, I do not know the secret. Do you?” he asked her, his gaze suddenly intent.

Regina’s breath caught at the look in his eyes, at the strength of his desire to have an answer to the question, but she could not give it. She shook her head, her heart aching as he frowned and looked away.

“I shall do better, Mrs Harris,” he said quietly. “Upon that, I give you my word.”

He did not speak again, and assured he no longer wished for her company, Regina excused herself and left him alone. She was uncertain he heard her words, or even realised she had gone, but once she closed the door, she let out an unsteady breath. That must not happen again, she told herself sternly. Allowing such intimacy between them could lead to nothing good. Nothing good at all.

Chapter 3

Demand for the next instalment is higher than we could have foreseen, and that being the case, we must insist that the next chapter is sent to us without delay. It was always Lady Knight’s intention to publish the entire story with brief intervals between chapters. Whilst I am happy to admit the slower release you insisted upon has by no means hurt sales, we cannot leave the public hanging without a resolution to the story for too long. We are receiving hundreds of letters daily, demanding what has become of Georgette and—

―Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Nielson, Editor of Knight-Brown Books, to an anonymous author.

20th November 1850, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire.

Regina sighed as she sealed the brown paper parcel containing the final chapters of her story with wax. She did not know if she was being a fool or not, but she had signed a contract and must honour it. Perhaps she could hide the next copies of the paper when they arrived from London. They were already out of date when they got here, so perhaps the earl would lose interest in the story if he could not get his hands on it. Of course, that did not mean no one else would work it out, but there was nothing to be done about that. When she had signed the contract, it had all been done via her Aunt Delia, who had sent it to Cat but refused to tell her the identity of the author. In this same manner, the contract had been sent back and forth so Regina had never known the women involved in the deal. The discovery that Lady Belinda Knight was the woman responsible for publishing her manuscript had been a shock when it had come, though with hindsight it made a deal of sense. But Regina owed the woman a good deal for taking a chance on her, and if the worst came to the worst, it appeared she could earn her living from writing if the earl threw her out on her ear. The thought made her feel unaccountably melancholy.

She had not been overly flattering the earl when she had spoken of Goshen Court; it did feel like home to her, and she loved Tilly as dearly as she could her own child, having had the raising of her since she was little more than a baby. It would break her heart to leave everything that had become so familiar and beloved.

Despite his assurances on the strange evening when she had returned to Goshen Court some days earlier, she did not entirely trust Ashburton. She doubted very much she would need to go as far as committing murder to force him into dismissing her. Besides, she could hardly blame him if he wanted her gone when he discovered she had been lying to him and Tilly about her identity from the moment they met.

Whether by accident or design, Regina had done her best to stay out of his way since that night, judging it safer to keep her distance. This morning, however, it seemed the earl had decided to thwart her game of least in sight and had sent Tilly fetch her.

“Well, if your father wishes you to breakfast with him, then you must go,” Regina told Tilly with a smile, setting the parcel to one side, though she knew that was not what the child wanted.

“I always have breakfast with him,” Tilly said, looking as though she would roll her eyes. “He wants you to come too, and so do I, so do hurry. What is that, anyway? Are you sending someone a present?” she asked, trying to get a better look at the parcel.