Since showing Jasper those drawings, Tilde was relieved that Mrs. Crabtree had been blessedly absent from the nursery. And if Tilde was not mistaken, Eloise seemed slightly less guarded. Althea spoke often to Peaches, but still hadn’t addressed Tilde directly.
Peaches perked up, ears alert, and then a knock sounded on the door. It would not be Lord Willoughby, she rebuked her racing heart. He’d departed for the Palace of Westminster early this morning and would likely not return until after sundown. And, but of course, he would not come to her bed chamber. That would be the height of impropriety. He would send a servant if he needed to speak with her.
When she opened the door, Lady Willoughby awaited her with an unexpected friendly expression. “May I come in?”
Holding the door wide, Tilde gestured for the woman to enter. She was as suspicious of this unlikely visit as Peaches appeared to be. “What can I do for you, my lady.” Tilde hoped this visit did not portend another performance by the twins. She would most definitely speak with Jasper about them this evening. Even if it required that she wait up until midnight.
The woman strolled around the room inquisitively, examining one of the ornately carved bedposts, and then glancing in the mirror above the elegant vanity. “My son has excellent taste, would you not agree?”
Tilde merely nodded, both oddly pleased and uncomfortable at the notion that it had been he who’d instigated the more lavish furnishings.
“I must admit,” Lady Willoughby began, “I had misgivings when you first arrived.”
Tilde’s back stiffened instinctively. “I cannot imagine why. My references are impeccable.”
Lady Willoughby chuckled and slid a knowing glance in Tilde’s direction. “I am not unaware of your past acquaintance with my son.”
Good Heavens!
“My son keeps nothing from me, and the decision to hire you was one we discussed at great length. In the end, Lady Althea’s well-being was what mattered most.”
The woman’s words failed to ring true. But how else would Lady Willoughby have known what occurred all those years ago? “In that case, my lady,” Tilde would make the most of this sudden altruism for Lady Althea. “Parading the girls before your guests at a moment’s notice has had a most detrimental effect on both of them. Not only does it interrupt their schedule, taking them away from their lessons, but the stress from these… visits… robs them of their ability to pay attention afterward.”
Lady Willoughby pursed her lips, and appeared as though she was going to argue. Then she pivoted and strode across the room to stare out the window.
Tilde met Peaches’ curious gaze. Her pup tilted her head questioningly and Tilde shrugged with a frown.
“Be that as it may,” the older woman turned back to face Tilde. Although a smile stretched her lips, a cold angry look lurked in the back of her eyes. “Your ability to provide adequate supervision for the twins has provided a sense of relief for Lord Willoughby. With such concerns resolved, you and the children will likely be travelling to Warwick Place within the next fortnight. It’s important that my son be able to direct all of his attentions on Lady Elaine before they make their announcement.”
Tilde caught her breath. Of course, Lady Althea and Eloise spoke fondly of their father’s country estate and the servants there, but they had a close relationship with their father and might suffer for having to endure his sudden absence. He’d told her himself that he thought their greatest fear was separation from him.
Tilde wondered that he’d not be more concerned for their well-being.
Most children of aristocratic families spent inordinate amounts of time separated from their parents, but Tilde had believed Lord Willoughby to view his relationship with his daughters differently.
And that was the only reason Tilde felt an unreasonable urge to cry. Not because the thought of him marrying the duke’s beautiful daughter crushed her heart.
Because it didn’t.
It. Did. Not.
Tilde nodded. She’d travelled often enough with her other charges and never given it a second thought. Why, then, did the thought of taking these girls far away from their father leave her feeling unsettled?
It had nothing to do with the fact that Tilde, too, would be leaving him.
Nothing. At. All.
She nodded. “I’m sure Lord Willoughby will wish to do whatever is best for his daughters.”
“Which first and foremost is to ensure his succession.” Lady Willoughby’s voice could have cut through ice. “You’ll be informed as soon as the arrangements have been finalized.”
And then, as quickly as she’d arrived, the disconcerting woman departed. Tilde paced across to the bed, lifted Peaches into her arms and cradled her beneath her chin.
Lord Willoughby—Jasper—had hired Tilde, and yet he’d been noticeably absent these past few days. Was he feeling the pressure of his position in the House of Lords? Or was he merely keeping himself away from her so that neither of them was forced to ignore their previous inclinations?
Inclinations which had been quite successful at keeping Tilde awake at night.
She might have had an easier time of it, if she’d not come to see that his character was proving to be more handsome than even his exterior. On more than one occasion, she’d caught him watching her from those dark and smoky eyes of his. And she’d done her best not to gaze back at him hungrily.
