Page 44 of What Lies Beneath

“That’s no more than you deserved, and you’ll not lay a finger on her,” Pip replied coldly, wishing the bastard were not so old and out of shape. If he were a younger man, Pip could have had the satisfaction of beating him senseless for what he had done, but honour would not allow he take advantage of a much older man. “Miss Hamilton is an esteemed guest in this house. She has spent enough of her life fearing you will find her, but now I know the truth about her, I will protect her, from you or from anyone else who thinks to bully her into doing something she does not wish to do.”

The desire to tell the vile excuse of a man that Miss Hamilton was his betrothed was tantalising, but he could not do so. She had endured enough men telling her what her fate was to be. He would not be one of them. For once, she would be given the courtesy of a choice, and he would pray to God that she would accept him.

“Get out of my way, you impertinent whelp,” the earl said derisively. “I’ll see her, by God and you won’t stop me.”

Before Pip could restrain him, his father stepped forward and delivered a blow so quick and precise in its execution that Pip could only gape. Wendover went down like a felled tree, crashing to the floor and clutching at his nose, making odd choking noises as he tried to stem the flow of blood.

Pip turned, staring at his father in shock.

Montagu frowned at his knuckles, rubbing them tentatively with his other hand. “That hurt more than I remember,” he said curiously, before glancing at his son. “You couldn’t hit him, but there was nothing stopping me.”

“Pops! Pops! Oh, well done! A facer!” Tilly cried with admiration, running to her grandfather and throwing her arms about his waist, holding on fiercely. “I was frightened for a m-moment when he came in sh-shouting so, but I knew you would not let him hurt anyone.”

“I will thank you not to speak such appalling cant in my hearing,” Montagu said sternly, looking appalled that his granddaughter had witnessed such a violent scene and put herself in danger. “And did I not tell you to stay put? What were you thinking? You might have been hurt. If I tell you to stay, you will stay.”

“Y-Yes, but I wanted to see you and Papa deal with the villain. I knew you would,” she added, the tremor in her voice exposing the fact she had been frightened. Still, she gazed at them both now with a worshipful expression.

“You can stop turning me up sweet, you little devil. When I think of what—” Montagu took a breath, realising he did not wish to put such thoughts in the girl’s head, but his agitation apparent. “You’ll give me a heart attack one of these days, Tilly. Go up to your room at once and do not come down until I fetch you,” Montagu said, his expression formidable.

Tilly glanced at Pip who was quite in sympathy with his father and still felt a little sick, and then back at Montagu. “But Harry—”

Montagu’s expression softened and his voice became gentler as he sought to reassure her. “Don’t be afraid. Your papa will bring her home safely, child. Do you doubt it?”

Tilly let out a breath and shook her head. “No,” she said, looking as though she believed her father and grandfather could bring her the moon if she needed it, and ran up the stairs like a good girl.

“Thank you,” Pip said, turning to meet his father’s gaze, meaning it with all his heart.

Montagu nodded. “It was my pleasure, I assure you. Now get after that wretched governess of yours and don’t let her get away. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.”

“Yes, sir,” Pip said at once, grinning, and then looked down at the groaning heap of Lord Wendover in disgust.

“You may leave him to my tender care,” Montagu said darkly. “I’ll see he does not cause you or anyone else anymore unpleasantness.”

Pip nodded and almost felt sorry for Lord Wendover. He had never troubled himself too much over the stories that floated around the ton about his father, about his ability to make objectionable people disappear, and he was not about to investigate now. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving fellow, whatever it was. For if it came to a trial, the earl would not be punished for his wickedness. As a titled man with wealth and centuries of breeding behind him, no one would stand up and see him condemned. His father might have taken the law into his own hands, but Pip did not consider him unjust. He suspected the women who had been unfortunate enough to have been the man’s wife would approve too.

So, he would not waste a moment’s concern over the man’s fate and instead bellowed for his valet, commanded a note be sent to the stables to ready his horse, and, a bare fifteen minutes later, was on the road in pursuit of his troublesome governess.

Chapter 12

Georgette walked out of the door; her entire focus centred on the knife point pressed against the small of her back. She knew if she got into the carriage she was doomed. Yet she knew too that Lord Amberson would save her if he could, but he would not risk Hanover using the knife. The look in the villain’s eyes had left them in no doubt that he was quite mad and would not hesitate. No, she must give Amberson an opportunity, but how? As her footsteps slowed and she moved down the front steps as deliberately as she dared, she saw the carriage only feet away, and knew this was her last chance.

Moving so suddenly Hanover had not the time to grab her, Georgette fell to the floor as though she had tripped. The hard stone of the steps jolted against her bones and pain lanced through her elbow and knees, but she rolled down the steps and under the carriage.

With a yell of fury, Hanover lurched forward, but Amberson was there at once, and the two men fell, struggling desperately as Hanover fought to gain control of the knife.

―Excerpt of His Grace and Disfavour, by an anonymous author.

2nd December 1850, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire.

Though he rode like the devil was at his heels, it was almost twenty past three before Pip made it to Monmouth. He went directly to the inn where Tilly had said they had seen Lord Wendover.

“Lord Ashburton,” said the innkeeper, Mr Turnbull, turning pale at the sight of him. “I didn’t tell him where you were, I swear it, but I—”

“Calm yourself.” Pip shook his head. “I owe you a debt of thanks for what you did, but you cannot be held responsible for the rest of the world. He was bound to find us. More importantly, where is Mrs Harris?” he added, lowering his voice.

Turnbull led Pip behind the bar and into a private room where there was no risk of being overheard. “Poor lady was in a terrible tizzy,” he said, his round face creased with anxiety. “Wanted to get to Norfolk. Was asking about what carriage and getting trains and the like, but a pretty young woman like that, travelling all alone? Well, it didn’t sit right with me, so I took her to Ewan Davies. He’s a trustworthy fellow, an excellent coachman, and his prices are fair. She said her uncle would pay the shot, whatever it was, so he’ll come out of it right, I reckon. But he’s taking her where she needs to go, don’t you fret.”

“Thank God,” Pip said with relief, some of the tension draining out of him. “I shall never be able to repay you, Mr Turnbull, but I shall endeavour to do so. You have put my mind at ease. I think I do not need to explain to you the need for discretion?”