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He carried on all the way back to his room, repeating the words under his breath like a mantra to ward off evil spirits. His own evil spirit, he thought in desperation as he closed his bedroom door and leaned heavily against it.

“Out of bounds, out of bounds, out of bounds,” he muttered under his breath.

“My lord?”

Pip jumped as he realised his valet was in the room.

Peterson, who had only been with him for a few months, had proven himself to be a calm and reliable man with a good sense of humour.

He might need one, as his master’s wits were unravelling at an alarming rate.

At this moment, Pip wished the poor fellow to the devil.

“Ah, er… Peterson. Yes, very good,” he said nonsensically, before adding, “Carry on,” and fleeing the room again before his perplexed valet could utter a word.

He needed to be alone for a moment, he decided, and took himself down to his study. There, he poured himself a large—very large—drink and sat down in his usual chair by the fire, the one he had sat in last night. Mrs Harris had sat opposite, he remembered, visualising her there now. Naked.

He squeezed his eyes shut with a curse, trying to rid himself of the image but it persisted even when his eyes were closed, becoming even more intriguing as his imagination got a hold of the idea.

“No, no, no, no,” he told himself before cursing long and viciously.

Of all the rotten luck. If he must have the misfortune of seeing his daughter’s governess taking a bath, could she not have been a little less desirable?

She could have been all skin and bone, couldn’t she, or possessed of a hairy back?

Or covered in scales, he added, feeling a little hysterical now.

“Pull yourself together, you bloody halfwit,” he said sternly. “You’ve seen plenty of naked ladies in your day, my lad, there’s no need to lose your wits over this one.”

This was patently true. Pip was no saint.

He’d had many mistresses, and much enjoyed his time with each one of them, but…

never in his life had he felt desire like this.

He wanted to… to… Hell, he just wanted , and he did not know what to do with that wanting or how to rid himself of it now it was there.

Yet that was too simplistic, and he knew it.

This feeling had been there for some time, nagging at the edges of his mind, and he had simply refused to acknowledge it.

Mrs Harris was clever and sharp and did not back down if he challenged her.

She made him laugh and surprised him, and he had begun to crave her company.

Yet this sudden glimpse of her as the embodiment of a sensual dream was new and only deepened his growing attraction to a woman he could not touch.

It was forbidden fruit, surely. He tried to reason that if she had been a woman of his own class, a widow or a lonely wife, this feeling would not be a fraction as strong as it was, for he would be able to scratch the interminable itch.

Yes, that must be the reason he was so agitated by the sight of her, because Mrs Harris was out of bounds, and he knew it and that only added to the desperate frisson of excitement that thrilled beneath his skin at the idea of touching her.

Not only was she a woman in his employ, and therefore untouchable, but she was Tilly’s beloved governess.

If he started an affair with her, it would be found out eventually, or one of them would come to their senses and finish it.

Either way, Mrs Harris would find the situation untenable and hand in her resignation.

Tilly would never forgive him, and he would certainly never forgive himself.

This sobering thought did much to settle his agitation, and he let out a breath of relief as some measure of sanity returned.

“There, see, you can act like a grownup,” he told himself in disgust.

He downed his drink, refused to give into the desire to have another, and went up to face his bewildered valet with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Good morning, Ottilie,” Regina said with a smile which widened as Tilly gave a little chirrup of delight upon seeing her and ran to give her an embrace.

It was truly something wonderful to have the love of such a child; her trust, too.

She must remember that and hold on to all the good fortune she had been granted, rather than dwell upon an uncertain future.

“Are you better now?” Tilly asked, wrapping her arms about Regina’s waist and gazing up at her.

“All better,” Regina agreed, knowing she ought not to allow Tilly so much intimacy, not if she were a proper governess.

From the start, however, the earl had made it clear he wished for her to be kind to his daughter and show her affection.

If that affection was closer to mother and daughter than governess and pupil, it was far too late to do anything about it now.

“Your headache is gone?” Tilly pressed, looking anxious.

“It is,” Regina agreed, feeling guilty for having avoided dining with the earl.

It had been cowardly, she knew, but her anxiety over having to face him again after the previous night had risen to such a pitch, she really had developed a headache.

So even though she hated asking, for she knew it was an inconvenience to the staff to lug hot water up four flights of stairs for someone who was little better than they were, she had begged for the indulgence of a bath.

Though it was only a small tub, the kind you could only crouch in, not sit in properly, it had still revived her, and she had slept better than she had expected to.

This morning she felt far braver than she had yesterday and resolved to speak to the earl like a sensible woman and not make a mountain out of a molehill. Nothing was going to change in the immediate future, and she would do well not to borrow trouble.

So it was that she and Tilly sailed into the breakfast room, chatting easily and she was able to bid Lord Ashburton a good morning with little more than a minor qualm.

His lordship, however, though hidden from view behind his newspaper, jumped at the sound of her voice and almost threw the newspaper to one side in his haste to get to his feet.

“Good morning to you,” he replied, sounding a little frantic.

Regina looked at him uncertainly. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his usual cool, calm demeanour seemed to be a little, well, frayed.

Yes, he looked a little frayed around the edges, she thought.

Perhaps his day with Mr Evans had not gone well; Tilly had explained where he had gone yesterday and for what purpose.

Of course it could be one of many things making him look so unsettled, none of which were at all her affair.

Yet he had implied that he wished her to be his friend, and friends worried about each other, did they not?

Tilly, apparently noticing nothing amiss, kissed her father on the cheek and settled herself down at her place. Regina smiled her thanks to the footman who drew out her chair, and sat down beside her, grateful Tilly was between her and the earl.

Having accepted a serving of eggs and toast and a cup of tea, Regina waited until the serving staff had left them alone before casting another surreptitious glance at the earl.

To her chagrin, he was looking straight at her, and with such an odd, intent look in his eyes that she blushed.

More peculiar still, Ashburton looked even more appalled than she felt at having been caught staring, and turned hastily away.

How strange.

“I hope your business with Mr Evans went well yesterday,” she ventured, hoping that if she began a conversation, the peculiarly charged atmosphere that seemed to fill the room would dissipate.

“Yes!” he said, his voice suddenly too loud in the quiet room. Looking uncomfortable, the earl cleared his throat. “I mean to say, yes, it went very well, thank you. I understand you and Tilly had a successful day, too. Certainly her art lesson seems to have been productive,” he added with a smile.

Regina studied his smile for a moment. Did it seem a little strained?

Was he ill? She noted his heightened colour.

His complexion was naturally fair, though he still had a golden tinge where the summer sun had tanned him, but surely that slight flush was unusual.

Perhaps he was running a fever and did not wish to alarm Tilly?

Foolish man, for if that were so, he ought to be in bed.

That must be it, she decided, noting that he had pushed his breakfast to one side and barely touched it when he usually ate like a starving horse.

“Tilly produced a marvellous portrait of you, my lord,” Regina said with a nod. “Did she show you?”

“Indeed, yes. I was most impressed. Most impressed,” he repeated vaguely, and Regina glanced back at him to discover his gaze was focused upon her mouth.

Instantly self-conscious, she picked up her napkin and wiped it carefully, afraid she had a scrap of egg or something stuck to her lip.

However, the napkin came away clean, and so she dared another look at the earl, who was studying the congealing eggs and sausages on his plate with an absent frown.

Definitely unwell, she decided. It had been freezing yesterday, and damp too, and he had been out the entire day, not returning to the house until just before dinnertime.

Not that she’d been looking out for him, of course, or worrying that he might not have dressed warmly enough for such a wintery day, for that would be sheer folly, and she was not a fool.

Still, he was obviously coming down with something and she must persuade him to take better care of himself, but not in front of Tilly.

Children often believed their parents were indestructible, and she did not wish to alarm the girl before she could reassure her it was nothing more than a nasty head cold.

As it happened, Tilly was more than obliging and saved Regina the trouble of thinking of a way to send her off.

Having finished her meal, Tilly asked politely, “May I get down, please, Papa, Mrs Harris? I would like to visit Marigold before I begin lessons. Mr Kerridge promised to bring me an apple for her breakfast.”

The earl nodded and then glanced at Regina, for usually she began their lessons directly after breakfast.

Regina smiled. “Of course you may, but mind you wrap up warm.”

“I will!” Tilly exclaimed, and ran from the room before anyone could change their mind.

“I think I’ll go with her and visit Marigold,” the earl said with sudden decision, but before he could push back his chair and stand, Regina reached out and covered his hand with her own.

He stilled utterly, his eyes widening and flying to hers, a startled, wild look there that made her more convinced than ever that he was sickening for something.

“I insist you go to bed at once,” she said firmly.

Ashburton opened his mouth and then closed it again, and she was certain now he had a fever, for his colour only deepened. “Bed?” he repeated, his voice husky.

“Yes, at once,” she said crossly. “I don’t know what you are thinking, coming down to breakfast with us, and you in such a state.”

Alarm was writ clearly across his face now and Regina let out a breath of impatience.

“Good heavens, my lord. I’m sure it’s nothing but a head cold, not the plague, there’s no need to look so appalled.”

He stared at her for a long moment before letting out an unsteady laugh. “A head cold,” he repeated. “Not the plague.”

“No, indeed, though I cannot think you deserve worse if you stayed out all day yesterday in such freezing weather and improperly dressed. Layers is what one needs when it is so dreadfully cold, especially across the chest,” she said, remembering some salient points from the harsh reprimands she had received from her own governess when she had caught a chill after such carelessness.

“Are you scolding me?” the earl asked, amusement lurking in his eyes.

Regina put up her chin. “Well, someone needs to if you have not the sense to look after yourself properly. I believe I have a recipe somewhere for a mustard plaster,” she added, considering the notebook she had compiled over the years, full of useful information about things a governess surely ought to know.

Some of this information had come from speaking to housekeepers and cooks at the various houses they stayed at, some from listening in on others' conversations, for whilst the earl and his family treated her with the utmost respect, some people acted as if she was not there at all.

“In the first place, I am in perfect health, and in the second, I could be at death’s door and I promise you no one is getting near me with a bloody mustard plaster,” he replied, sounding far more like himself.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she said scornfully. “You’ll do what is best for your health. There are many people who rely on you, my lord, and you will not endanger your health because you find such a treatment beneath your dignity.”

“I am not a baby,” he replied, his voice level, though his lips twitched, which was reassuring, for she had wondered if she had gone too far in comparing him to an infant. “But neither is my health in any danger. I am perfectly well.”

“Then why didn’t you eat your breakfast, and why do you look so flushed, and why are you behaving so oddly?” she added, skewering him with the kind of look she would give Tilly when she was certain the little minx was up to no good.

A series of emotions flitted behind his eyes, each of them gone too quickly for her to grasp them, but he pushed to his feet, throwing his napkin down on the table.

“Never mind that. I’m not hungry is all.”

Regina looked up at him, still concerned. “But you look tired. Didn’t you sleep well?”

“No!” he snapped irritably, and then took a breath and let it out again. “I beg your pardon, Mrs Harris. I did not sleep well. Indeed, I barely slept at all, but I have work to do. If you will forgive me. I believe I shall go and… and get on with it,” he said, and stalked from the room.

Regina watched him go, entirely unconvinced he wasn’t sickening for something, for she could not account for his strange behaviour in any other way.