Page 43 of What Lies Beneath

“Good Lord, Pip!” Montagu exclaimed in frustration. “You would not believe the trouble that chit has caused with her story. There’s an angry mob outside the Duke of Sefton’s house demanding he produce his granddaughter. Your mother and I were forced to leave under cover of darkness as reporters for every scandal sheet in town are demanding to know if my son and heir is hiding Miss Hamilton, and Wendover has been hounded out of London. I’m very much afraid the devil will come here looking for her. He’s been humiliated, and he’s a nasty piece of work at the best of times. If she ran to avoid marriage to him—and, having read that story, I do not doubt that was the case—then I cannot blame her in the least.”

Pip digested this, his head whirling at the enormity of it all. Mrs Harris, his daughter’s prickly governess of the past five years, was Miss Genevieve Hamilton, the vile Duke of Sefton’s granddaughter. The woman he’d made love to, the woman he intended to marry, had kept this enormous secret all this time, and he’d never suspected a thing. No, he realised. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had known something, had known there was more to her than she showed him. That was why she had bothered him so, her presence at once so beguiling and yet aggravating, worrying at his mind like a wasp at a picnic.

“Where is she, Pip?”

Pip turned back to his father, seeing the concern in his eyes. “She took the carriage before I came down for breakfast to travel into Monmouth. Christmas shopping, apparently. Tilly is with her.”

Montagu’s jaw tightened. “Then there is no time to lose. How long ago did they leave?”

Pip glanced at the mantel clock. It was almost half-past two. “They ought to be back any time now.” He moved to the window as he heard wheels on gravel approaching the house. “They’re here,” he exclaimed with relief.

“Thank God,” Montagu said with a sigh, and followed Pip as he hurried to the door.

Heart pounding, Pip ran down the front steps to the carriage and yanked open the door before the footman could reach it. Inside, he found Tilly looking wan and miserable, her pretty face tear-streaked and blotchy.

“Papa!” she cried, and launched herself at him, throwing her arms about his neck and sobbing. “Papa, Papa!”

“It’s all right, darling,” he said, so breathless he could hardly speak. “I’ve got you. You’re quite safe, but where is Mrs Harris?”

“S-She left,” Tilly said through her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “She’s n-not Mrs Harris, she’s Miss Hamilton.”

“I know, darling. It’s all right,” he soothed, and carried her inside as quickly as he could, suddenly aware the footmen were listening in with interest.

“It’s not all right,” Tilly said urgently, grasping at his coat, her eyes wide. “There’s a horrid man coming here. Lord Wendover. We overheard him when we were at the Crown and Thistle. He was trying to find out where we lived but the innkeeper wouldn’t tell him because he was so rude. She was scared of him because he means to hurt her, and said she must leave at once. She said if she left, he would follow her and leave us alone.”

“Damn the foolish woman!” Pip exclaimed angrily, making Tilly jump.

“Calm yourself, son,” Montagu said, reaching for Tilly, who slid into her grandfather's arms and held on tightly. “We’ll find her. Darling girl, did she say where she was going?”

“To the Marquess of Wrexham, her uncle,” she said, snivelling as Montagu fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into her hands. “I told her to come home, I told her you would protect her from anyone, Papa, but she wouldn’t. She was afraid you would be cross, and she said she must limit the scandal.”

“Cross?” Pip said in outrage, as fear and frustration seethed beneath his skin.

“But you’re not cross, really, a-are you?” Tilly asked doubtfully. “She must have been hiding from the horrid man all this time, Papa, and she felt safe with us. That’s not her fault, is it?”

Pip ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “No, little bird. I’m not cross about that, only that she did not trust me. But you must not worry. I will find her and bring her home. I promise you.”

“You will?” Tilly said, brightening at once, for if her Papa said something, it must be true. She glanced at her grandfather, knowing for certain he would never, ever lie to her.

“We will,” Montagu agreed.

Pip sent his father an impatient glance, for there was no way he was allowing his sire to chase about the countryside for another day and night, or however long it took. Before he could make this observation, however, the sound of shouting came from the front door.

“I believe our uninvited guest is here,” Montagu said darkly, setting Tilly down and looking at her sternly. “You will stay here,” he told her, using his most formidable tone.

Tilly nodded and Pip left the room with his father at his heels.

They arrived in the entrance hall to witness the astonishing scene of Pip’s stocky little butler trying to physically remove Lord Wendover from the premises. Kerridge, despite being a good head shorter and several stones lighter than his lordship, was battling gamely.

“Thank you, Kerridge, I will see to our guest,” Pip said, his voice dripping irony.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Kerridge said stiffly, releasing his hold on Wendover, who staggered backwards. “But this fellow turns up bellowing and swearing, and saying the wickedest things about Mrs Harris, and I don’t care if he’s the King of the Universe, I don’t. No one comes into this house with Miss Ottilie at home, using such foul language.”

“Quite right, Kerridge and I must apologise that you were subjected to such an unpleasant scene. I shall take care of it now, however,” Pip replied, his icy gaze settling on Lord Wendover.

He was an unpleasant prospect, red-faced and perspiring and smelling strongly of sweat and brandy. A contemporary of Montagu, time had not treated him half as kindly, and he appeared far older than his sixty something years. By the looks of things, he too had endured an unpleasant journey and had not slept for some time. Eyes wild and frenzied with anger, he glared at Pip.

“Where is she? Where is that unholy bitch? God, I shall murder her for what she’s done. She’s made a laughingstock of me!”