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Demand for the next instalment is higher than we could have foreseen, and that being the case, we must insist that the next chapter is sent to us without delay.

It was always Lady Knight’s intention to publish the entire story with brief intervals between chapters.

Whilst I am happy to admit the slower release you insisted upon has by no means hurt sales, we cannot leave the public hanging without a resolution to the story for too long.

We are receiving hundreds of letters daily, demanding what has become of Georgette and—

―Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Nielson, Editor of Knight-Brown Books, to an anonymous author.

Regina sighed as she sealed the brown paper parcel containing the final chapters of her story with wax.

She did not know if she was being a fool or not, but she had signed a contract and must honour it.

Perhaps she could hide the next copies of the paper when they arrived from London.

They were already out of date when they got here, so perhaps the earl would lose interest in the story if he could not get his hands on it.

Of course, that did not mean no one else would work it out, but there was nothing to be done about that.

When she had signed the contract, it had all been done via her Aunt Delia, who had sent it to Cat but refused to tell her the identity of the author.

In this same manner, the contract had been sent back and forth so Regina had never known the women involved in the deal.

The discovery that Lady Belinda Knight was the woman responsible for publishing her manuscript had been a shock when it had come, though with hindsight it made a deal of sense.

But Regina owed the woman a good deal for taking a chance on her, and if the worst came to the worst, it appeared she could earn her living from writing if the earl threw her out on her ear.

The thought made her feel unaccountably melancholy.

She had not been overly flattering the earl when she had spoken of Goshen Court; it did feel like home to her, and she loved Tilly as dearly as she could her own child, having had the raising of her since she was little more than a baby.

It would break her heart to leave everything that had become so familiar and beloved.

Despite his assurances on the strange evening when she had returned to Goshen Court some days earlier, she did not entirely trust Ashburton.

She doubted very much she would need to go as far as committing murder to force him into dismissing her.

Besides, she could hardly blame him if he wanted her gone when he discovered she had been lying to him and Tilly about her identity from the moment they met.

Whether by accident or design, Regina had done her best to stay out of his way since that night, judging it safer to keep her distance. This morning, however, it seemed the earl had decided to thwart her game of least in sight and had sent Tilly fetch her.

“Well, if your father wishes you to breakfast with him, then you must go,” Regina told Tilly with a smile, setting the parcel to one side, though she knew that was not what the child wanted.

“I always have breakfast with him,” Tilly said, looking as though she would roll her eyes. “He wants you to come too, and so do I, so do hurry. What is that, anyway? Are you sending someone a present?” she asked, trying to get a better look at the parcel.

“What have I told you about poking your nose into other people’s business?” Regina told the girl, tweaking that appendage as Tilly peered at the address on the parcel. Regina hurriedly put it away as Tilly stepped back, rubbing her nose.

“Sorry,” the girl said sheepishly. “Only do come. Mrs Morgan has made laverbread and cockle pancakes and whilst they are delicious when they’re hot, when they’re cold—”

Tilly pulled a face and Regina laughed.

“Very well, let us go at once! What a travesty to allow such a feast to go uneaten.”

When she had first arrived in Wales, Regina had baulked at the traditional Welsh delicacy, for the idea of bread made from seaweed and cockle pancakes was appalling, but in truth she had come to appreciate the unusual and salty start to the day.

Especially when cooked by such a talented woman as Mrs Morgan, who could turn the simplest of ingredients into a feast.

Still, despite her words, Regina found herself dragging her feet as Tilly hurried her down to the breakfast parlour.

She did not wish to see the earl again, not yet at least. They had not spoken since that night, not past a murmured ‘good day,’ or ‘good afternoon,’ as they passed each other going about their day.

That he had requested she share breakfast with him and Tilly had her nerves jangling, and her heart quickened as she grew closer to the parlour.

She told herself there was no need to be afraid, but even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t fear she was experiencing.

No, it was far worse than that. It was anticipation.

Before she was ready, Tilly flung open the door and dragged Regina by the hand into the room.

“Here she is, Papa. You were right, she was hiding in the nursery.”

“Ah,” the earl said, setting down the newspaper he had been perusing and looking at Regina with the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. “Well done, Tilly.”

“I was not hiding,” Regina protested sharply, though that had been exactly what she’d been doing. Ashburton obviously knew it as well as she did, a fact he illustrated by quirking a pale blond eyebrow at her. Drat the man. “I had things to attend to,” she replied with dignity.

“She has a parcel to send, Papa, but she won’t tell me what it is,” Tilly added as the footman loaded her plate with a sausage, an egg, and two cockle pancakes.

She then took two pieces of fried laverbread and reached for her knife and fork, blithely unaware of having dropped Regina into difficulty.

“I should think not. Curiosity killed the cat, my girl, and don’t you forget it,” Ashburton said mildly, but his gaze shifted to Regina. “I am going into town this afternoon. I would be happy to post the parcel for you.”

“Oh, no, my lord, but thank you all the same,” Regina said politely, hoping he would leave it at that.

“It’s no trouble,” he added.

“All the same. I would rather post it myself,” she replied, her voice firm.

“Why?” Tilly piped up around a mouthful of sausage.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Regina said automatically, allowing the footman to serve her the same selection as Tilly.

Obediently, Tilly chewed, swallowed, and then asked once more, “Why won’t you let Papa post your parcel?”

Regina cursed inwardly, but only smiled at Tilly. “Sometimes, there are things you wish to do by yourself.”

“Leave it, Tilly. Mrs Harris clearly has her reasons,” the earl warned his daughter, for which Regina was grateful, but he was not yet finished.

“If you are set on posting it yourself, why don’t you and Tilly accompany me?

You are most welcome to do so. I have some business to attend to, but we could meet for lunch and do some shopping in Monmouth before we return home. ”

“Oh, what a splendid idea,” Tilly exclaimed, immediately delighted by the prospect. “We need to buy Christmas presents, don’t we, Papa?”

“I do not,” he remarked dryly, “having spent a small fortune whilst we were in London.”

“On me?” Tilly said, eyes wide.

“Who else?” the earl replied with a shake of his head.

“And did you get Mrs Harris a present too?” she asked innocently.

“Tilly!” Regina scolded, shaking her head. “Your father does not go around buying presents for his staff.”

“But he bought Mrs Morgan a present last Christmas, and he gave Kerridge a box of cigars for his birthday last month,” she added, naming the jovial little man who had joined the staff earlier in that year as butler. “Didn’t you, Papa?”

“I did, and you are quite correct, Tilly. I have been remiss, but do you know what Mrs Harris would like for Christmas?” he asked, with apparent sincerity.

“She loves books,” Tilly said, considering this. “But you let her read whatever she wants in the library, don’t you? But maybe she would like her own copy.”

“An excellent notion,” Ashburton agreed, but Tilly had now had a better idea.

“Oh, I know!” she exclaimed. “A pretty dress. One in a bright colour, for I know she loves bright colours, but all her dresses are dark blue or grey. Perhaps a red dress, or a very bright blue, or—”

“Indeed, your Papa will do no such thing!” Regina cut in, horrified by the prospect. “It would be quite improper.”

“Why would it?” Tilly demanded, not ready to give up on the splendid notion. “I don’t see why it is improper, and you ought to have a pretty dress. I have dozens and dozens, and you only have three and—”

“And that will be quite enough, thank you. It is very kind of you to suggest it, Tilly, but it is quite out of the question,” Regina said, her voice firm this time.

“But why?” Tilly demanded, looking from her to her father.

“I shall explain it to you when you are older,” Regina said, casting the earl an indignant glare for not halting her flights of fancy before they’d begun.

Ashburton returned a placid expression as he raised his coffee cup to his lips, but there was a glint in his eyes that Regina could not like. What was the wretched man thinking now?

“What time shall we leave, Papa?” Tilly asked, apparently having decided the shopping trip was a foregone conclusion.

Regina thought it might be best to go along with it. The sooner she posted her revised chapters, the better, and the prospect of a day in Monmouth was a pleasant one.

Ashburton set down his empty cup and drew out his pocket watch. “There’s no rush. Finish your breakfasts and get yourselves ready. I shall be in my study, so you may come and find me then. If you ladies would excuse me,” he said, smiling at them as he got to his feet and left them to their meal.