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“Did his father keep a large stable, then?” he asked, too curious not to pry a little.

She shuttered up at once and he cursed himself at having stepped carelessly when he knew the danger. “No,” she said stiffly. “But many people came and went.”

Pip opened his mouth, knowing he ought not but now desirous to know if he had been a horse breeder or had perhaps run an inn, but before he could do so she cut in.

“May we gallop?”

“Oh, yes, please, Papa!” Tilly cried at once. “Marigold is dying to gallop,” she said eagerly, patting her pony’s neck.

Pip nodded, wanting to dispel the sudden restraint he felt around Mrs Harris and bring back the laughing, joyful creature who had accompanied him until he had misstepped. “Up to the fir tree there, then. No farther,” he warned his daughter, who took off with a yip of delight.

He watched her go, approving the way she moved so easily and at one with her pony, and waiting until she arrived safely at the fir tree.

She turned and waved at him, so Pip looked around at Mrs Harris to ask if she was ready, but only caught the look of pure devilry in her eyes as she urged Lady Grey on, and the two of them took off.

Pip let out a breath of laughter before springing his own mount and charging after her.

Over the thudding of hooves on the damp earth, the wind whistling in his ears and the jingle of tack, he heard a whoop of sheer delight on the breeze and could not help but grin at the idea of the prim and proper governess hiding a neck or nothing hoyden under those severe grey gowns. Lord, but she was delicious.

They were neck-and-neck as they reached the fir tree, and Pip stared at Mrs Harris.

She was laughing with unrestrained delight, her eyes aglow, her skin pink with excitement and exertion, and Pip realised with a jolt of surprise that she was beautiful.

Her hair, usually restrained so severely, was looser today and already coming undone, fluttering around her face as she rode.

He stared at her, unable to look away from the vivacious creature who had suddenly emerged from hiding, a startling glimpse of butterfly wings revealing themselves from the safety of a dull cocoon.

How had she hidden herself from him for all these years?

More to the point, why? Except that was easy.

She had been protecting herself. A young woman coming to work for a man she believed to be a libertine, and one who had sired an illegitimate daughter, was not to be trusted.

He felt revulsion coil in his belly at the idea she had been afraid of him, that she had perhaps locked her bedroom door to keep herself safe, and listened for footsteps on the stairs.

With sudden clarity, he realised she had not suddenly discovered a better method to make her hair shiny as he had once thought, nor had she finally earned enough money to buy gowns that actually fit her lovely figure.

It was that she had not felt safe to do so before.

Finally, she trusted him to be a decent human being.

It was not as if he did not know how precarious life was for a woman who must work for her living, but having the evidence of it suddenly presented to him made him feel as if he had been complicit in making her life uncomfortable.

He had seen only what she had wished him to see and not troubled to look beyond the facade.

She had merely been the ferocious and disapproving governess his daughter adored.

The woman who despised him. Though he had always been scrupulously polite to her and treated her with respect, could he have done more to put her at ease and reassure her she would always be safe beneath his roof?

Could he not have explained that he would protect her as if she were a member of his own family and never see her shamed or put at risk?

As he considered the question, he realised there had been other glimpses of the vivacious woman he had just discovered, but he had not allowed himself to dwell upon them, aware of the dangers of such interest. He remembered watching her indulge in a snowball fight with Tilly when she did not know he was observing them, and realised that had been the same girl, the same vivacious creature who had just laughed with joy as she raced him across the field.

She had been there all the time, had he troubled himself to look more closely.

“My lord?”

Pip jumped a little, so intent on unravelling the mystery that was Mrs Harris, he had completely forgotten what he was about.

“Yes?” he replied, dragging his thoughts back to the here and now to find that lady watching him uneasily.

“The horses are getting restive. Shall we continue our ride?” she asked, and he cursed himself as he realised she had retreated into her usual demeanour of polite indifference.

Had she realised he had glimpsed the real woman beneath that disguise? For that had to be what it was, a disguise she wore to keep herself safe from the world—from him.

“Yes,” he agreed, having nothing more to say, his thoughts too tangled to beguile her into a better mood.

Instead, he merely nodded, and led his companions through the woods that took them to the piece of land he had recently bought, hoping the bucolic scene would help him think, and bring order to his confused thoughts.