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Dearest Vivi,

Well, you wicked girl, you had your way in all things.

Emmeline read me the announcement of your marriage in this morning’s papers.

I hope you know I am keeping you to your promise to bring that blasted husband of yours and the enchanting Tilly to Cawston Hall the moment the weather improves enough to travel.

I have missed so much, I cannot bear to have you taken from me again so soon.

Just a little visit, for I am not really the unreasonable fellow you might think I am, but I have missed you .

You are as much a sister to me as Delia, and I pray that with our line, we can bring honour to a name so very tarnished by wickedness and vice.

With that, I must now give you my news. I have no compunction about not breaking this to you gently, for I know you will not feel anymore remorse than I do, and if you do, you are a fool, and so I tell you.

Your grandfather is dead. He died of an apoplexy.

The papers will no doubt report the angry mob gathered outside his house and shouting insults were to blame for his demise.

Do not be fooled, Vivi. A lifetime of mean-spirited greed and malevolence did for him.

He died the way he deserved to die, alone and unlamented.

Now, however, I must do what I can to cleanse the dirt from a title so shamefully tarnished, but I shall do it.

With Emmeline and my children, with Delia and Muir and theirs, and with you, and Ashburton, with your darling Tilly and all those children yet to appear, I shall do it, with all your help and support, and our name will be something to be proud of, as I am proud of you, dearest niece.

―Excerpt of a letter from His Grace, Leander Steyning, The Duke of Sefton, to his niece, The Right Hon’ble Genevieve Barrington, The Countess of Ashburton.

One year later…

25 th December 1851, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire.

“Oh, Pops! You cheated!” Tilly exclaimed.

Pip smothered a grin as his father quirked one elegant eyebrow. “That is a very serious accusation, young lady,” he remarked.

Genevieve sat curled beside Pip on the loveseat, her head on his shoulder, snoring softly. The poor darling was worn out after the excitement of the day, and a vast lunch, though they had all managed mince pies with their tea.

“I know it is,” Tilly said, putting up her chin defiantly. “But you said the last mince pie was for the person who tidied up all the wrapping papers, and that’s me! You knew I was tidying, and you ate it anyway.”

“Yes, but you made all the mess in the first place,” he said reasonably, his lips twitching. “And I wanted a mince pie.”

“Oh, Pops,” Tilly said, hands on hips, looking at him so reproachfully, Montagu sighed.

“I feel quite certain there are more in the kitchens. Come, we shan’t bother the staff, for they will be enjoying their own celebration now. Let us steal them without anyone noticing,” he suggested, his silver eyes twinkling.

“Shall we tiptoe?” she asked, whispering in anticipation of their upcoming crime.

“The Marquess of Montagu does not tiptoe,” he replied with conviction. “But I promise you, I shall make less noise than you do, Mademoiselle Eléphant.”

“I am not an elephant!” Tilly objected as she left the room, hand-in-hand with her grandfather.

“Don’t get caught!” Matilda called after them, chuckling to herself before closing the book she was reading.

She looked across at Pip and then smiled.

“I think I had better supervise before they get themselves into trouble,” she said, getting to her feet and walking over to him.

She reached out and stroked his hair, as she had done a thousand times when he’d been a boy.

Gazing down at him fondly, she bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Merry Christmas, my darling. I cannot tell you how happy your father and I are to see you so settled. And we cannot wait for our new arrival in the spring,” she added gleefully, before blowing him a kiss and hurrying off in pursuit of her two miscreants.

Pip smiled and turned back to gaze at the fire, his arms tightening around Genevieve.

She sighed and wriggled closer and Pip laid a protective hand over the full swell of her stomach.

A moment later, a little foot pushed at his palm, and he chuckled, delighted.

He could not wait for the new arrival either, and he did not care if it was a boy or a girl, so long as mother and child were healthy.

However, his father would be delighted if he had finally produced the heir he had so desperately hoped for.

If it wasn’t, however, they would have a good deal of fun trying again.

The future was a thing of wonder to him now, full of expectation and excitement where before he had viewed it with such despondency.

This coming Easter, his sister Cat, her husband and children, and his younger brother Thorn, with his wife and growing brood, were all to descend upon them.

Pip could not wait to show off his beautiful wife, as well as their new arrival, and the place they had made into such a wonderful sanctuary for themselves and Tilly.

The house had been a home for a long time but, with his wife’s help, it had become more than that: a refuge, a picture-perfect idyll where life seemed quite utterly flawless.

“Harry,” he whispered, nuzzling at her hair and laughing as he remembered how awful it had looked when they had first met. A mixture of raw eggs and soot, as Genevieve had explained with a grimace.

“Hmmm?” she murmured sleepily.

“Have you had a nice day?” he asked.

She smiled and her eyes opened, a cat that got the cream smile curving over her lips. “I have had a splendid day,” she said, looking very pleased with herself.

Pip lifted her hand so the large ruby-and-diamond ring he had given her sparkled in the lamplight. “I’m glad,” he said, wanting to make up for the years when she had not been loved and cosseted as she ought to be.

“Though….” she added with a sigh, a considering glint in her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked her, familiar with the playful smile that flickered at the edges of her mouth.

He leaned in and nipped at her ear, trailing his tongue along the edge of the delicate shell.

He lowered his voice to a seductive murmur, pleased with the little shiver that ran over her skin.

“What is it you would like from me? I’ll give you anything you desire. ”

She bit her lip for a moment, gazing up at him before saying sheepishly, “A turkey sandwich, some pickles, and perhaps a mince pie…or two.”

Pip snorted and shook his head, not entirely surprised. “I see the honeymoon is over,” he grumbled. “Well, it just so happens you are in luck. Pops and Tilly are breaking into the kitchens as we speak, intending to raid the larder. I’ll be lucky if Mrs Morgan doesn’t hand in her notice.”

He got to his feet and helped his ungainly darling to heft her overburdened frame to hers.

“Oh, I shall be glad when this little one makes his appearance. He’s so very heavy,” she said with a sigh as she stroked her stomach.

“He?” Pip said, amused by her certainty.

“Of course it’s a he,” she said with a huff. “He sleeps all day and keeps me awake all night, he’s always hungry, and—”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture. No girl would cause you so much trouble,” Pip replied, shaking his head as he escorted her to the door.

“It is a boy,” she insisted, as he led her into the hallway.

Pip paused, smiling down at her. “Of course it is, because you are always correct.”

“Well, I’m glad we finally got that sorted,” she said, with such a look of smug satisfaction that Pip had to kiss her, and then he had to kiss her again.

Then his darling Harry decided the turkey sandwiches could wait for a little while, and they took the kissing upstairs, where it carried on for a good deal longer.

When they finally joined his parents and Tilly, who had returned victorious to the parlour with their spoils and laid out a picnic before the fire, Pip could only look around him and think how lucky he was.

How strange fate was, and how different things might have been, if he had not taken the time to discover what lay beneath Mrs Harris’ prim and well-behaved facade.