Page 38 of What Lies Beneath

Pip blanched at the idea. She was right. He knew she was right, but the more sensible she was, the angrier he felt.

“Well, I’m glad to see you can dismiss me, this, with such ease. I was afraid I might have hurt your feelings,” he said bitterly, the words out before he could think better of them.

She started as though he’d slapped her, and Pip let out a curse. He reached for her and pulled her back before she could move away. “No. No, don’t go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I know you are right, it’s just I don’t want to hear you talking sense. I’m a bloody fool, but I want you to want this as much as I do.”

She stared up at him, something that looked horribly like pity shining in her eyes. “I do,” she said softly, reaching out and pressing her hand to his cheek. Pip closed his eyes and turned into her touch, but she wasn’t done. “I want this dream never to end, but real life is not a dream, my lord. We do not get a happy ever after just because we want one. I cannot afford to lose this job, and you know Tilly would be devastated if I had to leave her. I will not hurt her, or myself, by prolonging the agony when I know it will end anyway. I am not for you, and you are not for me. It’s impossible. Better to finish it now, to remain on good terms, and to walk away with a memory that I, at least, will always cherish.”

“You think I won’t?” he demanded, frustration bringing all the emotions he usually hid so carefully to the surface. “You think I could forget?”

She stared at him, startled by his reaction, and to realise that was exactly what she thought hurt more than he could articulate. Instead, riled up and confused by things he did not wish to feel, he grasped the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her with such ferocity she gasped. She did not back down though, or shrink away. No, she met him with a furious passion that revealed she was not so calm and self-possessed as she appeared. He wanted that, he wanted her to rage and protest the unfairness of life, of this appalling situation, but she would not. She was too pragmatic for that, too strong to weep over things that could not be changed, but she would give him this. This bold, intriguing woman whom he wished he could know better, gave herself to him and took everything he had with such fervour, such greedy delight, that he knew she felt it too.

Their joining was frantic, desperate, and he knew he would relish the marks her nails made down his back, the only evidence she would allow him that this had even happened. He was no fool, and knew that tomorrow morning she would return to the no-nonsense, sensible governess he had known for so many years. Once again, she would be the woman who had irked him and bothered him and nagged at the edges of his mind for so long, until finally he had seen her, discovered what had been right beneath his nose. But how was he to unsee her? That was what he did not know and did not wish to discover. For now, he could do nothing but imprint the feel of her body upon his mind so he could never forget. He would remember every sensation, every kiss, the lush heat of her enveloping him, the sounds she made as he loved her, and the scent of her skin. These details he would gather and keep like a miser hoarding gold, and never let them go. Unlike her.

He would let her go, because there was no other choice.

Regina woke later than usual but still could not force her unwilling body out of the warmth of her bed. Sleep clung to her, as did the dream. It was only a dream, she told herself sternly, though the evidence of the earl’s passion was impossible to ignore. Her body ached from his attentions, making it difficult to pretend her dream lover was anything other than flesh and blood and muscle. Recalling the events of last night made her skin flush both with remembered pleasure and the knowledge she must face him again. She must look him in the eye and converse with him and pretend nothing had happened. This day, this week, and every day and week and month that followed, must come and go without her ever giving herself away, without him ever suspecting that she had given him far more than her body last night.

She had not meant to do it. Oh, she had meant to have him, for the opportunity to know what it was to be loved by him was irresistible, but she had not intended to allow herself to fall in love. But he had been so very earnest, and so very sincere and honest, and he had wanted her when no one had ever wanted her before. That this man, this exquisite, extraordinary man, had seen her and found her not only worthy of his regard, but desired her too, it had been more than her poor foolish heart was capable of withstanding.

For the first time since she had arrived at Goshen Court, she finally understood how Tilly’s mother had felt. She had loved him, Regina was certain of that, and because she had loved him, she had sought to protect him by keeping the knowledge of his child from him. Poor, ill-fated Jenny had known he would marry her, because he was good and decent, but she knew too that if he did, he would make himself a laughingstock. He would have brought far more shame upon his family by being honourable than by having an illegitimate daughter. And so she had hidden the truth from him, only sending their daughter to him when she knew he was the child’s only hope.

With a bitter sense of irony, Regina had to admit she might have done the same thing, and prayed the earl had been as careful as he had appeared to be. A child in such circumstances would destroy them both. Whilst she was no opera dancer, and quite as well bred as the earl himself, there would still be a scandal, and when he discovered how thoroughly she had misled him, he would never trust her again. She could not let that happen.

With a sigh, Regina forced herself to get up, shivering as she washed at the basin in the frigid bedroom. She dressed as quickly as she always did, refusing to allow herself to spend a moment longer on her appearance. Vanity would do her no good at all. With a muttered curse, she realised she had left her spectacles in his study. Well, it was of no matter. She would retrieve them when she was certain he was not there. It wasn’t as if she actually needed them.

Though it was cowardly of her, she prayed he would not appear at breakfast that morning. If she had a little more time, she might be better prepared for the ordeal. Maybe if he gave her a day or two, or a week, or perhaps a decade, perhaps then seeing him and knowing she could never call him her own would not hurt quite so desperately.

Pip muttered as his valet crept into the room. He did not want to wake up, but to linger in thoughts of last night. Though it had been wonderful, the most extraordinary night of passion he had ever experienced in his entire life, he did not feel sated. Not in the least. Instead, his body seethed with frustration, the need to have her again so intense he felt he’d go mad with wanting. It was not just to slake his lust, either. He desperately wished to speak with her, to discuss the day ahead, to have her scold him for something and show that she cared about him by hearing her impatient tone as she nagged him into eating a proper breakfast.

Hell, he was doomed.

“Peterson, stop tiptoeing about the room, damn you. You’re about as light-footed as a blasted elephant,” he muttered, sitting up in bed.

“Yes, my lord, I beg your pardon,” Peterson said apologetically. “Shall I draw the curtains?”

“You may as well. This day is beginning, whether or not I want it to,” Pip grumbled, knowing he ought not to take his bad mood out on his valet.

It wasn’t Peterson’s fault the only woman who had stirred his interest and his passion to such heights was his daughter’s bloody governess. Contrary, that was what he was. Tell him he couldn’t have it, and damn it, didn’t he just want it all the more? There he was, assuming he was a sophisticated man of the world, only to discover he was no better than a spoilt boy. Yet he knew that wasn’t true, though the idea that she was off limits was undoubtedly making the situation worse. He just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to figure out what it was he really wanted. Then perhaps he could make sense of the situation.

“Shall I bring you coffee?” Peterson asked, correctly interpreting his master’s mood as less than sunny.

Pip returned a terse nod as Peterson stooped to pick up his clothes from where he had tossed them last night. He had sent his valet to bed, not wanting him to see any signs of what he’d been up to that might cause the fellow to speculate.

“Oh, did you cut yourself, my lord?”

“Huh?” Pip, far from at his best, turned to look at his valet in confusion.

The man was holding up yesterday’s shirt, to show a small smear of blood at the cuff. Pip frowned, his gaze falling to another, slightly darker stain along the bottom edge. Bewildered, he tried to figure out if he had done anything to cause himself to bleed. Suddenly, his stomach dropped as if he’d been pitched off a cliff, and a sensation akin to being doused in iced water swiftly followed.

No.

No, no, no. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

“My lord? Are you all right? You look unwell.”

“What?” Pip glanced up, torn from his thoughts to see his valet watching him curiously. Damn, he could not have the fellow wondering and figuring out what had really happened. His mind in a whirl, he struggled for a viable explanation. “Oh, no. I beg your pardon. Just a bit of a headache, and yes, it was a paper cut. Stung like the devil and bled like a stuck pig, but nothing to speak of.”

“Oh, very good, sir,” Peterson said in relief, his face clearing. “I’ll fetch your coffee.”