Page 16 of What Lies Beneath

On arriving in town, he escorted the ladies to their first port of call, a small bookshop and stationer’s, and left them to their shopping to attend to his own business. He had long wanted to buy a stretch of land that ran along the river close to his home. It was not a large parcel, but it was a beautiful place in the summer and had wonderful fishing. It had once belonged to the Davenport estate that edged the southern border of his land. General Davenport was a spendthrift, however, and had sold it off years ago to cover a debt. He would have run the entire place into the ground if not for his capable daughter, who had kept the place going. Pip’s close friend, Jules, the Marquess of Blackstone, had married Selina Davenport a few years ago. The most sensible thing the marquess had ever done in his life, Pip had to acknowledge. That realisation brought him back to thinking about marriage, and then Mrs Harris and her disappointment in him, however, and he had to force himself to keep his mind on what he was about.

A prosperous shopkeeper who had once been the town’s butcher had bought the land. He had retired now, and his son had taken over the business, but Pip was determined to speak to the fellow himself to secure the agreement. In normal circumstances, his land agent would deal with such things, but Pip instinctively felt he would be better served speaking to Mr Powell himself, who was rumoured to be a stubborn fellow.

An hour later and Pip’s judgement was proven correct.

“Well, you’ll be well pleased with it,” Mr Powell said jovially, shaking Pip’s hand with vigour. “The best fishing anywhere around it is. I’ll miss it, I tell you that for free, but I’d be a fool to turn down such a generous offer.”

He was a broad, bluff man with huge hands and powerful shoulders from years of hefting carcasses about, but Pip liked him at once, for he did not bow and scrape as some did in his presence, but treated him as he might another businessman.

“You’ll take some tea with me, I hope. Livvy, come in, my dear,” he said, gesturing to a figure outside of the door to the parlour where they sat.

Pip looked around as a beautiful young woman walked in. She was voluptuous, with shining dark hair and melting brown eyes, thickly lashed. It was obvious to Pip she was also well aware of her charms as she looked coyly at him through those sooty lashes as she dipped a curtsey low enough for royalty.

“My lord, ‘tis an honour,” she said demurely.

Pip nodded as her father made the introductions.

“This beauty is my Elizabeth. Pretty as a summer’s day, is she not, my lord?” Mr Powell said, with obvious pride.

Uncomfortable with the situation, as the girl was gazing at him with a rapacious expression that set his nerves on edge, Pip avoided answering and merely said he was pleased to meet her.

“You’ll bring us tea then, pet,” Mr Powell said, giving his daughter a surreptitious nod that told her to get a move on before their guest could make a break for it. Pip, however, instincts honed from a lifetime of dealing with marriage hungry girls and their parents, was not so easily manoeuvred.

“A delightful prospect, but alas, I must decline, Mr Powell, Miss Powell, for I have another engagement and must not be late.”

Mr Powell’s face fell comically, but he came about again and told Pip he hoped to see him again round and about.

“You’re always welcome,” he added hopefully.

“Most welcome,” his daughter echoed, sounding shy and at the same time looking at him in a way her father ought to take her to task for.

Having made his escape, Pip headed towards Agincourt Square, well pleased with his morning’s work. He found Tilly and Mrs Harris looking in the window of a milliner’s shop.

“But you must buy it, for it’s ever so pretty,” Tilly said as Pip walked up to them. His daughter turned and tugged at his sleeve. “Papa, don’t you think Mrs Harris should buy that bonnet? The one with dark blue ribbons and pale pink silk flowers. If she won’t have a new dress, then at least she ought to have something that would look so charmingly on her.”

Pip had to agree that the bonnet was a fetching confection and rather wished he could persuade the indomitable Mrs Harris to wear it. To see her serious features framed by such a bit of frilly nonsense would be charming indeed, but he was not about to tell her that.

“Tilly, you must resist the habit of spending other people’s money for them,” he said reprovingly. “Mrs Harris has a mind of her own, as I’m certain you are aware. It is one thing to suggest the bonnet would suit her, quite another to bully her into buying it.”

“Oh, but I wasn’t,” Tilly began, only to catch Mrs Harris looking at her. She sighed. “I was,” she admitted. “I beg your pardon, Harry.”

Mrs Harris smiled. “That’s quite all right. It is a lovely bonnet, but wherever should I wear such a thing? It’s quite inappropriate for a governess.”

“Well, that’s silly,” her charge said, looking mutinous. “I don’t see why a governess has any less right to look nice than any other lady. It isn’t fair!”

“No, it isn’t, but it is true,” Mrs Harris said ruefully. “Are you ready for lunch, my lord? We must confess to having worked up a considerable appetite.”

Pip nodded. “I am. I’ve reserved the private parlour too, so let us go and warm up.”

He almost offered Mrs Harris his arm, but stopped himself at the last moment, knowing she would refuse and not wanting to look foolish. He noticed the regretful glance she cast the bonnet in the window display, though, and knew that Tilly was quite correct. It was unfair that she was relegated to such dull colours and simple designs when she must long to wear beautiful things like any other woman. Yet as she hung up her cloak and went to stand before the fire in the private parlour of the Crown and Thistle, he could not help but admire how the severe cut of her simple gown suited her. She had a splendid figure, and whilst the dress was as modest as one could possibly hope for a woman in her position, it was beautifully cut and showed off her curves to advantage.

He found his gaze lingering as she studied her reflection critically in the mirror over the fireplace and lifted her hands to re-pin an errant lock of hair. The movement was deft, her elegant fingers sure, and the position lifted her breasts, giving him a lovely image of her in profile that he could not help but regard with admiration.

Pip cursed himself and tore his gaze away before she could catch him gawking. This really had to stop. He considered the prospect of visiting Mrs Howell, the lovely widow he usually spent time with when he was back home, and then remembered how Mrs Harris was disappointed in him. No. No, that would not do, he thought irritably. Really, this was an intolerable situation. It was ridiculous to allow his daughter’s governess, of all people, to dictate how he behaved. The devil of it was, he agreed with her. He was not setting his daughter the best example, not like his parents had done for him. Tilly needed a mother, and brothers and sisters, and he would not get those by dallying with the likes of Mrs Howell.

“My lord?”

Pip jumped, belatedly realising Mrs Harris was speaking to him.