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A little over half an hour later, Regina and Tilly knocked on the earl’s door.

He stood as they entered, smiling at them warmly.

It was an expression no one outside of the family would likely have ever seen, being quite relaxed and unselfconscious.

Regina, who thought herself quite inured to the earl’s handsome face after so many years, was startled therefore to feel a sudden pang of…

of something as that smile stirred some new emotion that she did not wish to put a name to .

Idiot, she told herself sternly. It was simply the love for his daughter that was so clear in the expression that made her heart feel so tender, and nothing else.

They made their way out to the carriage, hurrying to climb inside, for though the day was sunny, there was a chill breeze that made the temperature feel far colder than it was.

Once everyone was settled, the carriage rolled into motion and Regina sat back to watch the scenery roll past as Tilly prattled happily about the shopping she wished to do.

Any other governess would hush the child, Regina knew, and scold her for plaguing her father. Ashburton, however, enjoyed his little girl’s chatter and conversed with her for the next half an hour until even Tilly ran out of steam and settled herself to look out of the window.

“And you, Mrs Harris,” Ashburton asked, turning to Regina. “Do you have much shopping to accomplish?”

Regina shook her head. “Not really. I might look at buying a new pair of gloves, as mine are getting a little thin,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her.

The gloves were those she had been wearing the day she had run away from home and were indeed very thin in places and did little to keep her hands warm.

“No red dress, then?” he replied softly, one eyebrow lifting a little.

Regina glowered back. “Certainly not,” she said, the words tart with disapproval.

The earl’s lips twitched, but he said nothing more, only watched her, that same look she had noticed at the breakfast table glinting in his eyes.

Regina desperately wanted to ask him what the devil he was thinking, but good manners and good sense would not allow her to do so.

She held his gaze for as long as she could, but became increasingly flustered and backed down, turning to look out of the window.

Wretched man! What was he about, teasing her so?

It was too bad of him. Truly, he knew it was, but Ashburton had been forced to acknowledge he had a maggot in his brain where his daughter’s governess was concerned. There was something so delightful in teasing her and making her scold him and he increasingly found it hard to resist.

She was just such a funny little thing and the more he spoke to her, the more fascinated he became.

It was refreshing to have a woman who was not related to him speak so candidly, without batting their eyelashes and trying to flatter him with every word.

Mrs Harris did not flatter him, he thought wryly, though she had commended him the night they had taken tea together on the work he had accomplished.

Those words had meant a lot. More than he had reckoned on before she had uttered them.

For she had never, by word or deed, given any sign that she approved of him before.

She had also made him feel utterly wretched and as low as a worm, though.

How was it a few harsh words from her had hit him so hard, he did not know, but they had.

She was disappointed in him. In him! The knowledge still bothered him far more than it ought to.

It was perfectly reasonable to feel agitated when his parents were disappointed in him, especially his father, whose approval he wished for more than anyone’s.

Yet the idea that Mrs Harris found him wanting was intolerable.

Perhaps it was this that made him want to tease her and put her as much out of sorts as he was.

When she had finally looked away, a tinge of colour cresting her cheeks, he had wanted to grin, but he had restrained himself.

Just a minor skirmish, he thought with an inward chuckle.

Still, the determination to have her admit he had proven himself to her, that he was no longer a disappointment but a man she admired, was something he could no more explain that he could set aside.

Of course, she thought he ought to settle down and marry, and this was why she was disappointed in him.

But surely there were other ways to win her admiration?

Not that he would not get married. He would. He must.

If only the season hadn’t been such a dead bore. Or more to the point, if only the women he had tried to feign interest in hadn’t left him cold. They had all been perfectly lovely, intelligent and kind, and oh, so very willing to be agreeable. He had wanted to scream.

“What shall we do first, Papa?”

Pip looked across at Tilly and smiled. “Well, I must leave you and Mrs Harris to your shopping first, but I shall meet you in Agincourt Square, shall we say at twelve o’ clock?” he asked, looking to Mrs Harris for confirmation.

“Certainly, my lord,” she said.

“We’ll eat at the Crown and Thistle, if that suits you?” he added.

Mrs Harris looked surprised by the question, as well she might. It was hardly her place to choose where they ate, but he liked surprising her, just to see how she reacted.

“An excellent choice, my lord. A superior establishment,” she replied gravely.

Pip wanted to smile but restrained himself.

On arriving in town, he escorted the ladies to their first port of call, a small bookshop and stationer’s, and left them to their shopping to attend to his own business.

He had long wanted to buy a stretch of land that ran along the river close to his home.

It was not a large parcel, but it was a beautiful place in the summer and had wonderful fishing.

It had once belonged to the Davenport estate that edged the southern border of his land.

General Davenport was a spendthrift, however, and had sold it off years ago to cover a debt.

He would have run the entire place into the ground if not for his capable daughter, who had kept the place going.

Pip’s close friend, Jules, the Marquess of Blackstone, had married Selina Davenport a few years ago.

The most sensible thing the marquess had ever done in his life, Pip had to acknowledge.

That realisation brought him back to thinking about marriage, and then Mrs Harris and her disappointment in him, however, and he had to force himself to keep his mind on what he was about.

A prosperous shopkeeper who had once been the town’s butcher had bought the land.

He had retired now, and his son had taken over the business, but Pip was determined to speak to the fellow himself to secure the agreement.

In normal circumstances, his land agent would deal with such things, but Pip instinctively felt he would be better served speaking to Mr Powell himself, who was rumoured to be a stubborn fellow.

An hour later and Pip’s judgement was proven correct.

“Well, you’ll be well pleased with it,” Mr Powell said jovially, shaking Pip’s hand with vigour. “The best fishing anywhere around it is. I’ll miss it, I tell you that for free, but I’d be a fool to turn down such a generous offer.”

He was a broad, bluff man with huge hands and powerful shoulders from years of hefting carcasses about, but Pip liked him at once, for he did not bow and scrape as some did in his presence, but treated him as he might another businessman.

“You’ll take some tea with me, I hope. Livvy, come in, my dear,” he said, gesturing to a figure outside of the door to the parlour where they sat.

Pip looked around as a beautiful young woman walked in.

She was voluptuous, with shining dark hair and melting brown eyes, thickly lashed.

It was obvious to Pip she was also well aware of her charms as she looked coyly at him through those sooty lashes as she dipped a curtsey low enough for royalty.

“My lord, ‘tis an honour,” she said demurely.

Pip nodded as her father made the introductions.

“This beauty is my Elizabeth. Pretty as a summer’s day, is she not, my lord?” Mr Powell said, with obvious pride.

Uncomfortable with the situation, as the girl was gazing at him with a rapacious expression that set his nerves on edge, Pip avoided answering and merely said he was pleased to meet her.

“You’ll bring us tea then, pet,” Mr Powell said, giving his daughter a surreptitious nod that told her to get a move on before their guest could make a break for it. Pip, however, instincts honed from a lifetime of dealing with marriage hungry girls and their parents, was not so easily manoeuvred.

“A delightful prospect, but alas, I must decline, Mr Powell, Miss Powell, for I have another engagement and must not be late.”

Mr Powell’s face fell comically, but he came about again and told Pip he hoped to see him again round and about .

“You’re always welcome,” he added hopefully.

“Most welcome,” his daughter echoed, sounding shy and at the same time looking at him in a way her father ought to take her to task for.

Having made his escape, Pip headed towards Agincourt Square, well pleased with his morning’s work. He found Tilly and Mrs Harris looking in the window of a milliner’s shop.

“But you must buy it, for it’s ever so pretty,” Tilly said as Pip walked up to them.

His daughter turned and tugged at his sleeve.

“Papa, don’t you think Mrs Harris should buy that bonnet?

The one with dark blue ribbons and pale pink silk flowers.

If she won’t have a new dress, then at least she ought to have something that would look so charmingly on her. ”