Page 51 of What Lies Beneath

Harry, for he could still not quite think of her as Genevieve or Miss Hamilton, pushed herself off him. “Oh, good heavens. I didn’t think,” she said, looking so appalled he laughed.

“How dreadfully you behave, love, now you are no longer a governess,” he observed, knowing he must look like a besotted fool and not giving a damn.

She stuck out her tongue, making him laugh as he got to his feet and helped her up, just as Tilly flung herself at Harry, making her fall back down in the snow with a flurry of skirts and petticoats. Tilly didn’t care, she clung to her dearest Harry, arms coiled tight about her neck.

“You came! You came home!” she said, laughing and crying all at once.

Harry hugged her back. “I did! I did, for I could never leave you my adorable girl, and I am really quite fond of your papa too,” she said through her own tears, sending Pip a look that made him think that quite fond might not be an adequate description, thank heavens.

“Come, my darlings. You cannot sit in the snow all day,” he said, reaching for them.

“Is Mrs Harris, I mean, is Miss Hamilton your darling too?” Tilly asked at once, never slow on the uptake.

“She is,” Pip replied, looking at Harry as she spoke. “She is that and much, much more.”

“Oh!” Tilly said, her eyes wide, suddenly breathless as she jittered on the spot. “Are you going to marry her?”

“If she’ll have me,” he said, looking between the two of them as Tilly squealed and clutched at Harry, almost shaking her in her excitement.

“You will, won’t you? Oh, say you will! You can be my mama, and we can be a proper family, and I’ll be good, I promise, and—”

“Ottilie Barrington, you cannot be good for more than an hour at a time,” Harry said, laughing now. “But yes, I will marry your papa, and I would be so very happy to be your mama, even if you are very naughty indeed.”

Tilly, shrieking with delight, hugged her tightly, then did the same to her father, and then ran off, slipping and sliding in satin slippers that were quite wet through.

“Pops! Pops! Grandmama!”

“Good heavens, but she’s a hoyden,” Harry said with a sigh.

“I blame her governess,” Pip replied, smirking at her as he gathered the reins to lead her horse back to the house.

“You would, when it is entirely your fault,” she replied, sliding her arm through his. “And she will need a hot bath after running about in this snow with no coat or boots. What were you thinking?” she scolded.

“I wasn’t thinking, and neither was she. We just wanted to get to the person we both love most in the world with no delay, and coats and boots were too much of a bother.”

She smiled then, gazing up at him in a way that made his heart expand and excitement for the future fill his entire being. “Do you mean it?”

Pip nodded. “I do. I didn’t realise how much until I began writing that letter because your pigheaded uncle wouldn’t let me see you. But as I wrote the words, it seemed to make everything clear, and I knew I had been a fool not to have seen it before.”

“No more than I was,” she said, shaking her head. “But I do, you see. I love you, and Tilly, like she was my own daughter.”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yes.”

Pip felt a sudden thrill of tension sing through her as her hand tightened on his arm, and he looked up to see his parents waiting for them. He smiled, knowing she had no reason for anxiety. “Mother, Father, might I introduce you to my fiancée, Miss Genevieve Hamilton.”

Harry dipped a curtsey. “My Lady, Lord Montagu. I am honoured, and I just wish to apologise—”

“No,” Montagu said firmly, shaking his head. “No apologies. I admire you, child. We both do, and we think you are the best thing that could have happened to our son. He has long needed someone to stand up to him and tell him when he’s being a pompous arse.”

“Sir!” Pip said, shocked by the remark.

“Oh, don’t look so affronted,” Montagu said, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “It’s no more than your mother does for me. Now, come along inside before we all freeze to death.”

Having no quarrel with this, everyone piled inside, aware of the staff scurrying away from the windows and pretending they had not been watching in astonishment.

“I hope you heard that,” Harry said in an undertone. “I have permission from Montagu himself to tell you when you are being a pompous—”

“Yes, thank you,” Pip interrupted, his expression wry. “As if you ever needed permission before,” he added, gazing at her fondly as he led his intended bride back indoors.