Miss Claywell pulled back, the smile slipping from her lips.
Blast, his tone was sharper than intended. “I simply wished to point out that you do not need to assume the duties of a maid as well.”
“Oh, I do not mind, and with five girls and two maids, they could use the assistance.
“Why is everyone in here?” he asked instead of informing Miss Claywell that he’d see to hiring more servants so that her circumstances weren’t reduced further by becoming a maid in his household.
“Arranging our hair,” Delia announced and then did a turn. It was then that Preston noticed her curls, and the golden locks styled in a manner worn by misses attending their first Season. It caused a pang in his heart.
“Don’t you like it?” she worried.
“The style is suited for someone older.”
Any happiness he noted on her face immediately disappeared and now he felt wretched. His mood was foul, and he should have taken himself off to be alone. Except, he’d been alone all day and wished for the company of his nieces.
“I am not ready for you to grow up,” he added in a softer tone, hoping to soothe the pain he caused.
“It is never too soon to practice for the future,” Miss Claywell informed, then dropped her chin, as if she feared that she’d spoken out of turn “I will keep further lessons to literature, sciences, languages, and mathematics.”
They had been laughing when he first came in and Delia had been admiring her hair in the mirror, as all girls should do at that age and he’d taken all joy from the room, leaving the chamber heavy with the same sadness that had surrounded them these past months. “I’ll leave it in your hands, Miss Claywell, as to what you believe my nieces need to learn,” he surrendered, hoping that he hadn’t ruined the entire evening.
His response to this situation was uncharacteristic and uncalled for. He’d reacted as such because his schedule had been disrupted and frankly, he was eaten with jealousy that his nieces had Miss Claywell all to themselves.
He must do better, or she’d come to dislike him before he ever got the opportunity to court her.
“Shall we go down to supper?” Miss Claywell asked the girls.
They quickly agreed and left the chamber, Preston following.
Guilt ate at him, and he stopped on the last landing. “A moment, Delia,” he said to the oldest.
She stopped and turned to him, biting her bottom lip as if worried.
This was his fault.
The others halted and looked up at him with worry. They needed to hear the apology as well.
“I want to apologize for being short with you.”
“I understand.”
She didn’t, and he sensed that.
“Your hair does look lovely. I just wasn’t prepared to see a more mature style.”
“I won’t wear it again.”
He chuckled. “You don’t understand. I’m not ready for you to grow up. I hate that I’ll have to take you to London in a few years so that you can make your entrance into Society. I missed so much of my nieces growing up in the years that I was away, and I’m not eager for them to be looking to the future when they might leave.”
She frowned. “I thought you’d be glad when we are gone?”
“Of course not. It will already happen too soon, and I don’t wish to see it rushed.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. And I hope that now that Miss Claywell is here you and your sisters will have more time for enjoyment. I’ve been worried as you’ve all become so serious.” It’s nearly what he’d said to Miss Claywell the evening before. Perhaps he should have been speaking these words to his niece before now. “It was good to hear your laughter tonight. I’ve missed hearing such in the silence of you girls keeping yourselves above-stairs, and rarely coming down for reasons besides meals.”
Tears spiked her eyes and for the life of him, Preston couldn’t understand why.
