“Lady Eloise has kept me well occupied.” Tilde sat up straight. He seemed at a loss, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. “If you’ll remember, it was I who requested this meeting. So, might I make a suggestion?”
He blinked his eyes at her and then nodded slowly, reminding her how Eloise had done the same a few minutes before. “Seeing as it was you, indeed, who suggested the meeting… By all means.”
Tilde rose. “If Lady Eloise and yourself would be so kind as to show me to the nursery, I will assist your daughters in their morning routine. When you have completed your ablutions, you may send for me for our interview.”
Lady Eloise stepped forward, holding Peaches’ leading string in one hand and her drawing book in the other. “You carry Thea, Papa, and I shall be the leader.”
“Excellent idea,” Tilde commended her for her efficient manner of thinking.
“Interview?” Lord Willoughby raised his brows. “Did we not dispense with such a need yesterday?”
“On your part, indeed, I believe we did.” She followed Lady Eloise to the large wooden door and then glanced over her shoulder to ascertain that he followed. “It is I who shall be interviewing you.”
Jasper eased himself into the hot bath Cummings had ordered and groaned. Not only did his head feel as though a horse stepped on it last night, but his stomach heaved at the notion of eating any breakfast. And apparently now he was to be interrogated by his daughters’ new governess.
The temptation to laugh warred with a temptation to send her packing.
He dismissed both and groaned again instead.
“Another nightmare, my lord?” Cummings asked before pouring some heated water over his head.
“Eloise was sitting up with her when I came up to check on them.”
Cummings tsked his tongue. “You know I never involve myself in your personal affairs, my lord, but I don’t like that woman the Countess has put in charge of them. She has a cruel look to her.”
Jasper had thought much the same and ignored the worry as being overprotective. Had he wrongly assumed his own mother would not have the girls’ best interest at heart? Thank Heavens Tilde was here now.
Miss Fortune.
“Their new governess begins today. I cannot say I am not happy for that.”
“Very good, my lord.” Cummings handed him the soap and busied himself across the room.
But Jasper wondered something. “Have you ever witnessed Mrs. Crabtree treat the girls inappropriately?”
Cummings brushed at the waistcoat hanging on the dressing room door and sighed. “That’s a difficult question. There are some folks who quite literally believe the biblical directive that by not sparing the rod, they risked spoiling the child. Some who use it as an excuse even… “
Jasper’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It would not happen under his own roof. He had made himself clear to Mrs. Crabtree that she was already on thin ice with him. It made no difference that the woman had been in his mother’s employ for nigh two decades.
Lord Willoughby slid down to submerge himself completely. He did not come up until he could hold his breath no longer.
Thank God Miss Fortune had arrived.
* * *
Forty minutes later, feeling more himself and less like something the butler had dragged in, Jasper sat at his desk awaiting his daughters’ new governess. His heart should not feel lighter as he anticipated her arrival, nor should he find it necessary to smother a rogue fantasy based on how she’d felt in his arms less than forty-eight hours before.
He cleared his throat. Theirs would be a professional relationship from this point forward.
Three short raps signaled her arrival. He had no need to ask who it might be. She was the only one who would knock so assertively, assuming that the inhabitant would bid her enter immediately.
“Who is it?” He smiled to himself.
Eyes that appeared more green than brown today peered around the door. Without permission, the rest of her followed. “Did you not send for me?” A frown puckered her forehead.
She wore the same gown she’d arrived in. A drab gray garment, which was now partially covered by a crisp white apron. With her hair pinned into a low knot at the back of her head, she appeared every inch the straightlaced governess.
A governess his baser instincts urged him to muss up.
