Page 47 of What Lies Beneath

Wrexham nodded, considering this. “Genevieve has been absent from our lives for too long. I have sent a message to my sister in Scotland, informing her of what has happened. I expect she will come at once. My niece needs time, both to recover from the ordeal of the past days, and to reacquaint herself with her family. I have a son and two daughters, neither of whom have ever laid eyes on Genevieve. If you are serious about marrying her, I will allow you to pay your addresses. You may court her, as she ought to be, if she wishes to be courted, but not until the New Year.”

“What?” Pip said, outraged by this condition. “No! I won’t wait that long. I need to see her, to speak with her, to reassure myself she is well.”

“You have my word that she is well and unharmed,” Wrexham said stiffly. “That is enough.”

Pip opened his mouth to rail against the marquess but closed it again, swallowing the barrage of angry words. Insulting the man would get him nowhere. Instead, he considered his own Harry, and what she might say when such enforcements were put upon her. He smiled then, his anxiety relaxing a degree. Yet he needed her to understand that he wanted her back, that he wanted her to marry him, and if he could not see her, there was only one option.

“Very well, my lord. I will bide my time,” Pip replied, though the words nearly choked him. “But I would beg the indulgence of pen and paper, and time enough to write her a letter. I would also have your word of honour that you will give it to her tomorrow morning.”

Wrexham agreed to this, gesturing towards a handsome desk. “You will find paper in the top right drawer. Bunting will supply you with anything else you require. I imagine you must be hungry and thirsty, so I will have him bring you refreshments. You may leave the letter on my desk. You have my word I will give it to Genevieve, but not until I am assured that she is strong enough to receive it. If that is tomorrow, she shall have it. If I believe it is best to wait a day or two, then I shall. You must trust me when I tell you I will do nothing to cause either of you unhappiness on purpose, my niece’s wellbeing is my only concern. Now, the Buck’s Arms in Cawston village is a decent place, I’ll have a footman go at once and warn them of your arrival. Do not, however, consider lingering in the vicinity.”

Pip almost growled with irritation at the command, and Wrexham’s conditions, but restrained himself with dignity. “I need to return to my daughter. She’ll be worried sick.”

“Of course,” Wrexham said smoothly. “I’m sure Genevieve will write to the child to reassure her. What, may I ask, did you do with Lord Wendover? For I have plans for him.”

“There’s no need. My father has him well in hand,” Pip replied, terse now.

Wrexham’s eyebrows went up. “Ah. In that case, I shall not trouble myself about his fate. I feel perfectly assured Montagu will know what to do with such a vile piece of work.”

Pip looked back at the marquess as he went to the desk. “Never doubt it.”

“Oh, I shan’t,” Wrexham said. “Goodnight, Lord Ashburton. I do not expect to hear your voice again until the New Year.”

With that, the insufferable bastard let himself out of the room, leaving Pip alone.

Cursing furiously, Pip sat down at the desk, found the paper, and selected a pen. He dipped it into the inkwell, then stared at the blank piece sheet and wondered what the bloody hell he was going to say.

Chapter 13

Dearest Harry,

Forgive me for not addressing you as Miss Hamilton. I cannot yet think of you as this new person, whom I fear I may not know as well as I did Mrs Harris. I pray I am wrong. I must be, though doubts plague me at every moment of the day. Yet, I know you. No matter what name you call yourself, I know you as I know myself.

How angry I was with you for running away like you did, and I am not speaking about running away after you encountered Lord Wendover, though I shall get to that, but your cowardly behaviour in taking Tilly shopping rather than face me. You have always been the bravest person I have ever known, far braver than I, yet I came down the stairs that morning knowing that I had made the most momentous and most wonderful decision, only to discover you were gone.

You see, you troublesome creature, the truth finally hit me. I am sorry it took me so long, but you have never had a very high opinion of my intellect, I think, so you cannot hold my stupidity against me now. But I had told you myself, spoken the words out loud to you, and still I failed to see it. Do you remember?

If I could find a woman with whom I could converse easily on all manner of subjects, who shared my interests, my love of this place and my daughter, I would marry her in a heartbeat—that’s what I said. Except I ought to have added, if I could find a woman who held me to account, who expected more of me and believed I could be more, who challenged me and made fun of me, and rode like a hoyden and laughed like a lunatic, and is the dearest creature I have ever known, then I should marry her, if only she will allow me to.

I came to ask you that question, Harry, but you were gone. In your absence, the new copies of His Grace and Disfavour that had disappeared so mysteriously were put in my hands. As I read, I got the strangest sensation, like hearing an echo of a story I already knew. Not the same, but so strangely like. Then my father, omniscient as always, arrived out of the blue and explained the things that his idiot son had not comprehended. Then Tilly arrived, and shortly after Wendover—who will not trouble you again.

How could you believe I would have been angry with you for running from such a brute? Why did you not trust me to protect you? That you did not believe I would do so hurts more than I can say, for I would damn myself ten times over before I saw any harm come to you.

Your uncle, curse him, won’t let me see you. He says I may pay my addresses to you if you allow it, but not until the New Year. That feels like a life sentence. I have chased after you these past days and nights, out of my mind with worry, terrified that I might never get the chance to explain to you that I need you to come home to me. It is your home, my dearest, my most frustrating and aggravating darling, and Tilly and I need you there. We shall be bereft and lost and quite utterly miserable without you. And yes, I will shamelessly use my daughter’s tears against you, if I must. All is fair in love and war, you dreadful, wonderful creature. Come home, and make us the family we should have been a long time ago.

Your own, A x

―A letter from The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, the Earl of Ashburton, to Miss Genevieve Hamilton.

5th December 1850, Cawston Hall, Cawston, Norfolk.

Genevieve woke to the scent of freshly baked bread and a steaming cup of chocolate, blinking hazily into the eyes of a pretty little maid. The young woman smiled shyly at Genevieve as she set the tray down on a stand by the bed.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Lord Wrexham was worried and said I must bring you some food. It’s past one o’clock, and he feared you might be unwell.”

“One o’clock!” Genevieve exclaimed, aghast. She had never slept so late in her entire life. “Good heavens.”

“Reckon you needed the rest, Miss Hamilton,” the girl said, rearranging the pillows behind her as Genevieve sat up. “There, now. I’ve brought you a nice breakfast and Lady Wrexham has chosen some dresses of hers she thinks will fit you. So, when you’re ready, you ring the bell and I’ll come and help you right away, or ring before if there’s anything else you need.”