Page 54 of What Lies Beneath

“It seems to take a very long time to get married,” she whispered, sounding quite as cross about it as he was. “And I’m all out of patience.”

“Why, Mrs Harris, I do not believe this is at all the correct behaviour for a strict governess,” he teased, sliding his hands beneath her nightgown and encountering nothing but silken skin and the lush form of the woman he loved beyond reason.

“I should think not,” she murmured against his mouth, pressing herself closer and making him gasp as desire jolted through him. “But I think it is entirely correct for a soon-to-be countess, don’t you?”

Pip, who would rather have died than contradict her, decided there had been quite enough talking, and lowered her to the bed. It might not be their wedding night, but it was their wedding day, and he was going to ensure he took all the time and trouble he ought to have taken on their first night together.

Though he had resolved there was no need for any more conversation, the words he owed her were long overdue, and he whispered them against her skin. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling her shiver as she wrapped her arms about him.

“Whatever for?” she asked as he pressed tender kisses to her neck.

“For that night, for being such a brute. But I did not know! You must understand, I thought you had been married. I thought—”

“I’m not sorry,” she told him, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. “I shall never be sorry for that, so don’t spoil it with pointless regrets. I loved you that night, and I love you now. Show me, my darling, how much you love me, for I am going to do so again, and again, and again, so there will be no more apologies, only a reminder of what I feel for you.”

“Again and again and again?” he repeated, finding this an excellent plan.

She laughed at that, and the sound, so full of life and joy, reverberated through his chest.

“Unless you have any objections?” she asked, her voice entirely earnest now.

“Oh, no,” Pip said, with an equally solemn tone. “None at all. It sounds an excellent plan. Please do proceed.”

And so she did, capturing his mouth with as much ease as she had captured every corner of his heart, and Pip did just as she had asked him to do. He showed her just what he felt for his troublesome governess, and the truth of the woman who existed beneath the façade. With whispers and sighs, and with lips and tongue and the tenderest of caresses, he showed her what it would mean to be his wife, to be the woman he loved for the rest of his days, his countess, the love he had been searching for all this time.

Epilogue

Dearest Vivi,

Well, you wicked girl, you had your way in all things. Emmeline read me the announcement of your marriage in this morning’s papers. I hope you know I am keeping you to your promise to bring that blasted husband of yours and the enchanting Tilly to Cawston Hall the moment the weather improves enough to travel. I have missed so much, I cannot bear to have you taken from me again so soon. Just a little visit, for I am not really the unreasonable fellow you might think I am, but I have missed you. You are as much a sister to me as Delia, and I pray that with our line, we can bring honour to a name so very tarnished by wickedness and vice.

With that, I must now give you my news. I have no compunction about not breaking this to you gently, for I know you will not feel anymore remorse than I do, and if you do, you are a fool, and so I tell you.

Your grandfather is dead. He died of an apoplexy. The papers will no doubt report the angry mob gathered outside his house and shouting insults were to blame for his demise. Do not be fooled, Vivi. A lifetime of mean-spirited greed and malevolence did for him. He died the way he deserved to die, alone and unlamented.

Now, however, I must do what I can to cleanse the dirt from a title so shamefully tarnished, but I shall do it. With Emmeline and my children, with Delia and Muir and theirs, and with you, and Ashburton, with your darling Tilly and all those children yet to appear, I shall do it, with all your help and support, and our name will be something to be proud of, as I am proud of you, dearest niece.

―Excerpt of a letter from His Grace, Leander Steyning, The Duke of Sefton, to his niece, The Right Hon’ble Genevieve Barrington, The Countess of Ashburton.

One year later…

25th December 1851, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire.

“Oh, Pops! You cheated!” Tilly exclaimed.

Pip smothered a grin as his father quirked one elegant eyebrow. “That is a very serious accusation, young lady,” he remarked.

Genevieve sat curled beside Pip on the loveseat, her head on his shoulder, snoring softly. The poor darling was worn out after the excitement of the day, and a vast lunch, though they had all managed mince pies with their tea.

“I know it is,” Tilly said, putting up her chin defiantly. “But you said the last mince pie was for the person who tidied up all the wrapping papers, and that’s me! You knew I was tidying, and you ate it anyway.”

“Yes, but you made all the mess in the first place,” he said reasonably, his lips twitching. “And I wanted a mince pie.”

“Oh, Pops,” Tilly said, hands on hips, looking at him so reproachfully, Montagu sighed.

“I feel quite certain there are more in the kitchens. Come, we shan’t bother the staff, for they will be enjoying their own celebration now. Let us steal them without anyone noticing,” he suggested, his silver eyes twinkling.

“Shall we tiptoe?” she asked, whispering in anticipation of their upcoming crime.