“Yes, please,” came the shy response.
“And your...puppy?” the female asked.
That earned the kind of delighted giggle he had only rarely heard since the girls had joined him. If this strange woman was looking for a position, he might well give her one. Especially if she was truly as complacent around that dog as she sounded. Along with the girls, Grey had inherited a wolfhound the size of his charger who disliked everyone but the girls.
“He doesn’t eat cin’mon buns,” Amelia confided. “He eats roast.”
In fact, he’d eaten the roast from last night’s dinner.
“Iwant a cinnamon bun!” Sophie insisted, her voice sounding thin and fractious.
Grey knew he should get in there before she began to throw one of the ugly bric-a-bracs on the shelves at whoever was in the room.
“I’m certain you do,” the woman answered. “What do you think we should do about it?”
“You should get medown!”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because you’re a grown-up. That’s what grown-upsdo!”
Grey caught himself just shy of laughing. There was nothing like the logic of a child.
“Is that what you were taught?” the female asked. “Oh, my. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way in my house. Children who disobey and put others in danger because of it must decide for themselves how to go on. Don’t you think? I might add that if you need help from someone, you might think of how best to acquire it.”
“In your house?” Amelia asked. “Are you a mama?”
Her chuckle set off odd shivers in his chest. “Oh my, no. But there are quite a few children in my house. At last count, I think it was about ten.”
Good God, Grey thought. Was an orphanage mistress here to beg money? It would certainly explain her patience.
There was another long pause. Grey looked up to see that his nursery maid was standing stock still just on the other side of the open door, her eyes wide and her hands full of small sweaters. He put his finger to his lips. He had to see how this was settled. Not one person in the house had had any luck getting Sophie to behave since he’d arrived.
“Miss Georgie?” Sophie’s voice suddenly sounded small and uncertain.
“Yes, Sophie?”
“C-could you...help me?”
Silence.
Even smaller. “Please?”
A chair scraped across the floor. “Of course I will, sweetheart. Come here.”
Grey would have moved, but suddenly there was the sound of a little girl crying. “I...I was scared.”
“Of course you were, baby. It is awfully high up there. Did the room look any different?”
“Scary. I thought it would be fun.”
“I know. Exploringisfun. I love to explore. But I try very hard to prepare first so that I don’t put myself or anyone else in danger. What if there had been no grown-up to get you down? If you’d fallen, you might have squashed your puppy.” She waited for a watery giggle. “Or worse, Amelia. She would be a little blonde splat on the floor.”
Now there were two childish giggles. Grey waited no longer. Straightening his coat, he continued into the room. And stopped. There, standing with Sophie curled into her arms as if she’d always belonged there, was a perfect stranger. A perfect…Grey felt the oddest lurch in his chest. She was not beautiful. Not in the way Iberian women were, flashy and sultry. Not in the way of aristocratic Englishwomen, sleek and prim and superior. Although he could see that she was one by her boarding-school posture and perfect grooming. But her eyes were just a bit tilted, her hair a lush mahogany, her figure much too curvy for fashion. She was a square jaw and broad forehead away from traditional prettiness, but there was a life in those strange green eyes that was compelling. He suspected she would be like the night sky. Familiar feeling until you looked at it long enough and discovered untold treasures.
There was something else familiar as well. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Even with Sophie in her arms as if she’d held her forever, she dipped a perfect curtsy. “Good morning, my lord. I apologize for bothering you.”
