“It’s a lovely country house,” Annabel said, and then, reminding herself that a girl in need of charity would be awed by such opulence, she quickly added, “I mean, it’s beautiful, just like a palace.”
The front door opened before Annabel alighted from the carriage. Two children raced down the steps, shouting, ‘Mama!” The headmistress opened her arms to receive the children, who showered her with kisses. A little girl in a yellow dress toddled outside behind them and attempted to climb down the stairs on wobbly legs. Annabel raced forward to intercept her dismount.
“There you are, little rabbit! You were supposed to wait for Mama, remember?” A beautiful flaxen-haired woman with bright blue eyes and rosy, dimpled cheeks came toward them and looked questioningly at the stranger holding her child.
“Allow me to introduce my new protégée”—Headmistress Thomas stepped forward—“and, I hope, your new nanny.”
Annabel stood up so the headmistress could make the proper introductions, and the little girl pulled at her dress and shouted, “Up.”
She scooped the giggling child in her arms.
“This is Mrs. Anne Crawford, who just saved your daughter from tumbling down the stairs. I think that is reason enough to hire her.” She turned to Annabel. “Anne, meet my sister-in-law Mrs. Bastin.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Annabel said.
“And this little one is called Alice.” The headmistress reached over and tickled the child in Annabel’s arms.
The little girl shrieked with laughter.
Annabel studied her blond curls and chocolate-brown eyes. Then she turned to look at the child’s mother—the woman looked distinctly like Henry.
One of our school mistresses requires help, the headmistress had said.
Annabel froze. The child in her arms was Henry’s Alice.
Chapter Sixteen
Ay, truly, for the power of beauty will sooner transformhonesty
from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into hislikeness.
This was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives itproof.
I did love youonce.
—Shakespeare,Hamlet
Henry was soeager to escape Stokeford Manor that he departed for Kent without sending word to Ottilie or Jack, and he smiled at the idea of surprising his cousin with his arrival. She was always delighted to see him, and he missed her home’s warmth and lively atmosphere. Stokeford Manor was like a mausoleum in comparison and returning to his cousin felt very much like returning home—or at least, what he’d always wanted home to feel like.
A footman greeted him at the front door, and Jamison promptly ordered him to “see to Lord Hudsyn’s luggage.”
“Hang on.” Henry stopped the man. “Is my cousin home?”
“Yes, my lord. I believe she’s in her chambers, and Mr. Bastin is in his study. Shall I inform them of your arrival?”
“No, leave them to their business. Where’s the little one?”
“In the drawing room with her nanny.”
“Excellent.” Henry turned to Jamison and asked him to retrieve the present he’d purchased for Alice from his luggage. When his valet returned with the parcel, Henry took it and went to the drawing room.
“Does a little girl live here?” He stepped into the room, placing his hand over his brows as if searching a vast landscape and deliberately avoiding “seeing” the child who sat on the floor with her building blocks. “I have an important package for a brown-eyed girl named Alice.”
The child clapped her hands and giggled. Then she pushed herself up and ran to tug on the hem of his coat.
“Where can she be?” he muttered, looking everywhere but the spot where the little girl stood.
“Up!” Alice shrieked, tugging harder.
