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“Where you are starved of intelligent conversation,” she pointed out wryly.

“Nothing is perfect,” he told her as he lifted his glass to his lips.

“You need to find yourself a wife.” Regina hid a smile at the mutinous set of his jaw. He looked just like Tilly did when she was in a sulk.

“If I wished to be nagged on that subject, I could have stayed with my parents,” he told her gruffly.

“I am sorry, my lord,” she said, finding herself entertained by his obvious discomfort.

“But I cannot believe a man of your capabilities and intellect has not yet realised the obvious. It is not merely intelligent conversation you are missing; it is the companionship of a like-minded person with whom you can share your life and your hopes and dreams. Ergo, you desire a wife, whether or not you think you do.”

She sat back, feeling a little smug at her deduction, which seemed very obvious to her. No doubt it was obvious to his parents too, who she suspected despaired of him ever realising the truth himself.

“If I could find a woman with whom I could converse easily on all manner of subjects, who shared my interests, my love of this place and my daughter, I would marry her in a heartbeat,” he retorted, glowering at her. “I promise you, that is far easier to say than do.”

“I do not doubt it, if you go around wooing silly chits barely out of the schoolroom,” she replied coolly, and then wanted to bite off her tongue. For it was one thing for him to beg her for intelligent conversation, quite another for her to disapprove of his conduct.

“What choice do I have?” he demanded, and she could not tell if he was merely indignant or truly annoyed with her.

“The only girls available are between eighteen and three and twenty years old. Anyone over that great age is considered long in the tooth. Whilst I might not agree, it means that the best prospects are snapped up quickly. But if you think I have not also looked among those girls considered past their prime, you are wrong. I have no desire to marry some giggling chit who knows nothing of the world and thinks only of parties, I assure you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Regina said, chastened. “I did not mean to criticise.”

“Yes, you did, and don’t pretend otherwise,” he said with a snort of amusement.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted, flashing him a rueful grin.

“Wretch,” he replied, shaking his head. “But what of you, Mrs Harris, you are young yet. Have you never considered remarrying?”

Regina started at the question, which she ought to have been prepared for, as she had been shocking enough to pry into his personal life. It was only fair that he repay the compliment.

“Certainly not,” she replied, hoping her tone was sharp enough to ward off further questions.

“Oh, you don’t like it when I return the favour, I see,” he said, watching her with interest. “Come, come, Mrs Harris. At the risk of muddling a metaphor, what is sauce for the goose and all that…?”

Regina huffed, a little exasperated. “I have no desire or intention of marrying.”

“Not ever?” he asked, his curiosity growing, it seemed, much to her annoyance.

“Not ever,” she agreed crisply.

“Did your first marriage put you off the idea so badly?” he asked, and his voice was low now, his concern audible, and Regina felt a sudden lump in her throat.

How she wished she could tell him about Lord Wendover, about how frightened she had been that she might end up married to the scoundrel.

How she wished she could tell him she had never been married, and likely never would be, so there was little point in wishing for something she could not have.

A chill crept into her heart, stealing her breath and encasing her lungs in ice until her chest was tight with the desire to draw a breath that would not come.

That she really might spent the rest of her days alone had never troubled her overmuch before, but suddenly the years ahead of her, particularly the years after Tilly came of age and no longer needed her, seemed vast and bleak.

“Hell. I must beg you to forgive me.”

Regina jumped, discovering to her alarm that the earl had moved and was crouching before her.

He took her hand, holding it within his.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, staring at her with honest regret.

“The last thing I wished to do was to upset you. Damn me for my thoughtlessness, you’re as white as a sheet. ”

“I’m n-not upset,” Regina said crossly, but despite her own annoyance with herself for getting in such a silly state, her voice trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She blinked hard, hoping to chase them off, but one spilled over her lashes and fell down her cheek.

“Of course you are not,” he said softly. “You are the indomitable Mrs Harris, and nothing and no one can perturb you.”

She knew he said it with kind intentions, trying to help her regain her equilibrium, but the warmth and care in his tone only made matters worse when set against the picture of the stern, cold governess he had always thought her to be.

“Quite so,” she replied, reaching desperately for the acerbic tone she usually used and finding it absent.

His compassion was too much, overwhelming her with the desire to take the friendship he was clearly offering her and accept it, to lean on it and depend on it, and that she could not, dare not do.

Deciding it would be far safer for her to put an end to an evening which she ought never have agreed to in the first place, she downed her remaining brandy, which caught the back of her throat and made her cough.

“Good lord!” Ashburton exclaimed, getting to his feet so he could pat her back. “You’re not supposed to down it like that. Not until you’re used to it, at least,” he amended.

“S-Sorry,” she spluttered, struggling for breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I ought to retire now. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course,” he said politely as she stood. “But can you forgive me for my tactlessness?”

She smiled at that, touched that he cared what she thought of him. “There is nothing to forgive. Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, Mrs Harris.”

She nodded and hurried away, wondering if the regret she saw in his eyes was merely because he had unwittingly caused her to cry, or because she had ended their evening so early.

Telling herself she was the biggest fool in Christendom if she had the least bit of doubt about that, she took herself up to bed.