“You know I’m right,” Walter said. “But to spare you the indignation of having to admit that—something I’m convinced wouldn’t sit well with you, given your attitude—allow me to present an employment opportunity I wish to offer.”
Her toe tapping came to an abrupt end. “What do you mean ... my attitude?”
He smiled. “Considering I’m hoping you’ll agree to come work for me, I don’t think it’s in my best interest to delve into that topic.”
“Why would you want to hire a woman you believe possesses an attitude?”
“Because your type of attitude could very well provide me a way to avoid searching for a wife this Season.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed. “On my word, now I understand what you’re getting at. You want me to become your children’s governess.”
“Indeed, and to entice you into accepting that position, I’m willing to extend you a very lucrative offer.” Walter took a step closer to her. “It’s the perfect solution for both of us. You, Miss Brinley, are clearly a competent woman, because you managed to win a stare down with the most contrary pony I’ve ever met. I have a feeling, what with how you’re the eldest of six, you’re very good at managing children.”
“Iamvery good at managing children, but I have no interest in becoming a governess.”
“Did you miss the part where I said it will be a lucrative offer?”
“That would have been difficult to miss. But even with such a tempting proposition, I won’t be taking you up on it.”
“Why not?”
“I already have a position. I’m an assistant matchmaker.”
“But again, you’re not very good at it.”
“That’s simply your opinion.”
Walter frowned. “It’s not opinion—it’s fact. You broke asignificant matchmaking rule last night by allowing everyone at the Astor ball to learn I’m looking for a mother for my three motherless children.”
“I’m not going to argue that I broke a matchmaking rule, or several, but that doesn’t mean I’m not competent in my position... or that I won’t get competent in the future. I’m still in the infant stages of matchmaking, and you mark my words, by the end of this Season I’ll be one of the best matchmakers in Newport.”
He cocked his head, but before he could voice the argument he clearly wanted to voice, an ear-splitting howl of rage rang out from across the beach, drawing Gwendolyn’s attention. To her amazement, the wailing came from a pint-sized little girl garbed in an ivory bathing dress, her golden locks tied back from her rapidly reddening face with a pink bow. Glancing to the right of the little girl, Gwendolyn discovered a little boy with the same golden hair stomping up and down on a sandcastle that had clearly been painstakingly engineered by a diminutive architect who was now in a massive state of hysterics.
“Priscilla still seems to be in fine form,” Walter muttered as he watched the little girl begin tossing fistfuls of sand at the little boy, who didn’t stop his destruction but seemed to increase the momentum of his stomps, eliciting louder howls of rage from Priscilla.
Gwendolyn shaded her eyes with her hand, wincing when Priscilla hurled a sand pail at the little boy. “Those areyourchildren?”
“Those are my twins—Priscilla and Samuel.” Walter jerked his head toward two women dressed in white blouses and dark skirts, both of whom were watching the drama unfold in front of them without moving so much as a finger to intervene. “It appears Miss Wendell and Miss Putman are hesitant to act because...” He gestured to two well-dressed ladies standinga few feet away from the ruckus, both seemingly attempting to cajole the children to no effect.
“My mother, Ethel, along with my mother-in-law, Matilda, have once again attempted to intervene on their grandchildren’s behalf, a circumstance that often leaves the governesses I employ reluctant to take control of any unpleasant situation.”
“If you employ two governesses, why do you need me?”
He winced as Priscilla abandoned her sand throwing and launched herself at her brother. “Is that really a question that needs answering as we watch my children and their unbecoming antics, which again, the governesses are ignoring?”
“Probably not. But to reiterate, I have no interest in becoming a governess and...” Gwendolyn stopped talking when Priscilla took her brother to the ground and began pushing his face into the sand. “This is ridiculous.” She stepped closer to Walter and gave him a nudge. “They’re your children. Do something.”
“Given the large chunk of my arm Priscilla took off earlier when she bit me, I’m convinced I’m not qualified to handle these types of parental situations. If I were to interfere with sibling rivalry, there’s a good chance I’d make the situation worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s a child, Mr. Townsend, although one who seems to enjoy the role of pint-sized dictator. However, since you apparently have no intention of interceding, and your mother, mother-in-law, and two governesses are seemingly oblivious to a sibling maelstrom... if you’ll excuse me?” She readjusted her hat, stepped around the pony, and set her sights on the two children now screaming in such a manner that one would have thought they were in imminent danger of killing each other.
“I’ll assist you just as soon as I get the pony on its feet,” Walter called after her.
“Which means I’ll have the situation well in hand before you arrive,” she called back, increasing her pace when she realized Samuel had turned the tables on his sister and was now sittingon her and trying to bury her face with sand he was pouring from a pail.
Reaching the children a second later, and ignoring the incredulous looks from Walter’s mother and mother-in-law, although the two governesses were now looking rather relieved, she leaned over and grabbed the pail from Samuel’s hand—unsurprised when both children ceased their theatrics.
“That will be quite enough,” she said, earning a gulp from Samuel, still sitting on his sister, but a narrowing of the eyes from Priscilla, who was swiping sand from her face.
