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Georgette closed the front door behind her, holding her breath for a moment in fear that she had somehow woken the sleeping household.

Yet there was nothing stirring in the frigid darkness.

There was another hour until dawn, and as she turned and looked around at the empty, moonlit street, which she had never walked down alone before, her heart trembled.

Was she truly courageous enough to go out into the world by herself, with no one to protect her?

There was no choice, was the only answer she could find. For she was certainly not brave enough to face marriage to such a vile man. If she must face an ignominious end, then she would seek it out herself, not be forced into it by shackling herself to a monster on her grandfather’s say so.

―Excerpt of His Grace and Disfavour, by an anonymous author.

Pip looked up as his butler, Kerridge, came into his study, bearing a tray of coffee and a plate of biscuits. He set down the ledger he had been studying and gave a sigh of relief.

“Sustenance, at last,” he said with a smile as Kerridge set the tray carefully down on the desk.

“Ah, a bit of rest is what you are needing, it is,” the fellow said with a satisfied nod. “Mrs Morgan said as much, what with you being shut up in here all morning. Lovely out, it is too. Not that you’d know it,” the butler said with a hint of reproach.

Pip hid a smile. He’d never known such a loquacious butler before, but rather appreciated Kerridge’s sunny outlook and his lilting Welsh accent.

That he and Mrs Morgan fussed over him just as much as they did Tilly was at once touching and a little frustrating.

They seemed to view him and his daughter as in some way belonging to them, which gave them certain rights over their wellbeing.

Like being allowed to comment upon the amount of time he spent in his study.

He could, of course, depress such encroaching behaviour with little more than a stern word, but when it produced coffee and biscuits at regular intervals, he was disinclined to do so.

Pip set the ledger aside as Kerridge poured his coffee and then reached for the stack of newspapers that had arrived that morning. He sifted through them, looking for the latest instalment of His Grace and Disfavour.

Setting the papers down with a sigh, he gave his butler a baleful stare. “Where is it?” he demanded.

Kerridge set the cup down in front of him and looked surprised. “Where’s what, my lord?”

“The pamphlet, you devil. Have you and Mrs Morgan been reading it before I could get my hands on it?” he asked, knowing full well the pamphlet did the rounds of the staff once he’d finished with it.

“Sir?” Kerridge said, looking affronted.

Pip rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t look so wounded. I don’t really care, I just want to read it myself.”

“Read what, my lord?” the butler said, clearly baffled.

“His Grace and Disfavour, of course!” Pip said, irritated now.

It looked as if Georgette was going to run away from home, and as much as he knew it was ridiculous—he knew it was a story and not real life—he felt unaccountably concerned for her.

“But I put it on your desk, my lord. I swear I did. The Times, The London Evening Bugle, The London Gazette, and the pamphlet.”

“Well, where the devil is it?” Pip demanded.

There ensued a thorough search of all the papers on Pip’s desk and Kerridge suffering the indignity of getting on his hands and knees and searching underneath in the vain hope it had fallen off.

“Tilly,” Pip said with a sigh. “I thought I had hidden this one from her, but she’s the very devil for finding things to read she ought not. Call her in, would you, Kerridge?”

“Very good, my lord,” Kerridge said, looking relieved as he hurried out. So long as the earl wasn’t blaming him, he was satisfied.

Pip sat back with his coffee and awaited the arrival of his daughter, hoping Mrs Harris would accompany her. He had seen little of her since their day out and felt certain she was avoiding him.

He was rewarded a few moments later when his daughter hurried in with Mrs Harris close behind her. He stood, smiling at Tilly warmly, for he had not seen her at breakfast that morning, having made an early start.

“Good morning, Papa,” Tilly said brightly, running up to him to give him a hug.

Pip bent and kissed her silken cheek, still finding it astonishing that the lovely, vibrant little girl was really his. It seemed like a wonderful blessing and quite underserved when poor Jenny had died to bring her into the world, with him blissfully ignorant of her travails.

“Good morning, little bird, Mrs Harris.” He looked at the governess, whose face was impassive, and gave nothing away as she dipped a polite curtsey.

“My lord,” she said quietly.

Pip frowned inwardly, finding he did not like the excessive formality, which was everything it ought to be. Still, he turned his attention to his daughter and studied her face.

“What have you been up to, my little minx?”

Tilly regarded him thoughtfully. “I’m not sure,” she said, the words slow and cautious. “What do you think I’ve been up to?”

“Tilly,” Mrs Harris scolded. “Answer your father’s question. I hope you have not been up to mischief?”

“Well, I don’t think I have,” Tilly said, frowning now. “But it depends on whether he’s discovered something I did ages ago and got away with and have now forgotten.”

Despite himself, Pip gave a bark of laughter at his daughter’s candour. “Tilly, you dreadful girl,” he said, shaking his head. “All I want to know is where my copy of His Grace and Disfavour has got to? Your other crimes are safe— for now,” he added, a warning note to the words.

“His Grace and Disfavour?” Tilly repeated, and then her face brightened. “Oh, is it a story? May I read it too, Papa?”

“Certainly not,” Pip replied, making sure he sounded stern enough that she knew he meant it. “But I wish to. Now where is it?”

“I don’t have it, Papa. I promise you. I didn’t even know there was such a story. I might have taken it if I had known, so I do not blame you for asking,” she added generously.

Pip stared at his daughter but felt certain she was telling him the truth. “How very strange,” he said with a sigh. “Kerridge swears blind he put it on my desk this morning, but it’s not there.”

“Is that all, my lord?” Mrs Harris asked politely. “Tilly ought to be in lessons by now.”

Pip nodded, a little dismayed that the easy conversations he had shared with the woman in recent weeks had not eased her stiff manners around him.

He had enjoyed talking to her, bickering with her too, and wished she would not become so buttoned up and stuffy the moment he turned his back.

Still, he let them both go about their business and got back to his work.

He’d have to order another copy of the pamphlet if it didn’t turn up.

Where it had gone was rather a mystery, but it was not as if it was a valuable item, so whoever had so desired to read it was welcome to it. This time.

Regina listened attentively whilst Tilly read aloud. The French poem, by Jean de La Fontaine, was a favourite, for his verses were funny as well as moralistic, and Tilly enjoyed them.

“Et Rodilard passait, chez la gent misérable, non pour un Chat, mais pour un Diable—”

Tilly read out loud, her pronunciation being excellent for a child of eight. She really was a clever little thing, Regina thought with a smile of pride as she carried on through the verse.

Tilly hesitated as the door opened and her father appeared, and then carried on with more confidence, as she always shone brighter when her Papa was there to watch her.

Regina gave a cool nod and turned her attention back to her charge, praying her guilt did not show on her face.

She ought to have known Tilly would have been questioned.

If she was to keep each week’s pamphlet from the earl, she must get to it before anyone else had seen it, or else Ashburton might launch a deeper investigation, and she could have none of the staff suspected of wrongdoing on her behalf.

She looked up, turning her attention back to Tilly as she stumbled over a word. “Keep going, dear. You’re doing splendidly,” she encouraged with a smile.

Tilly nodded and got through to the end of the poem, reciting the last lines with a good deal of drama. “Ne faut-il que délibérer, La Cour en Conseillers foisonne; est-il besoin d’exécuter, l’on ne rencontre plus personne!”

“Bravo!” the earl exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. “My, my, Tilly, you put me to shame. I think your French is better than mine now.”

She beamed at him, flushed with happiness at knowing her father found such pride in her achievements.

Regina smiled too, finding her chest aching for reasons she did not understand.

Perhaps because she had never known what it was to be loved and approved of so thoroughly by a parent or guardian.

Perhaps because it proved to her once again that the earl was a good man who loved his daughter with all his heart and would protect her from the world, no matter what.

“How would the two of you like to come for a ride with me?”

For a moment Regina was so lost in her own thoughts she did not register his words.

She glanced up sharply. The earl returned a challenging look, smiling at her.

“Yes, you too, Mrs Harris. I have selected a suitable mount for you. She’s a sweet creature with perfect manners, in case you are feeling a little rusty after so long. ”

“Oh, but—” “But me no buts,” the earl replied, looking pleased with himself.

“But I have no riding habit!” Regina exclaimed, a little triumphant at having got the better of him, even though it meant she could not go with them as she longed to do.