“Nanny requires ten minutes of total silence and total stillness to lie down in a dark, cool place,” recited the first girl.
Killian Crewes made a growling noise and narrowed his eyes on the bouncing girls. “Marie—take Noelle, will you? You’re big enough to hold her, surely.”
“Oh yes, Papa!” said the girl called Marie, reaching skinny arms and tiny hands for the baby.
“Brilliant.” Killian deposited the baby with her sister. The child was too heavy—more than half the weight of the girl herself—and Marie staggered under the burden. The baby sensed the instability and let out a protesting screech.
“Quiet, Noelle,” lectured Marie. “We must choose a book and learn to read for one hour.”
These are my nieces, Gabriel thought.I am in possession of nieces.
He’d known he was an uncle from Elise’s letters; but seeing the girls in life affected him in a different way than reading about them. They were beautiful. Their names were French. They were not afraid of him or of dogs or of their tall, imposing father. They appeared fearless. Beautiful and tireless and fearless.
Elise paid them no mind; she’d not taken her eyesfrom his face. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Gabriel tried to hold her gaze, but he found himself unable. The force of her attention seemed to rip open something inside him, something bound, and creased, and sealed with wax. He didn’t like it—not the openness, nor the bareness of it. He felt unprotected, exposed, vulnerable.
“Hallo!”
And now a shout rose above the chatter of the children. Gabriel tensed. He wasn’t accustomed to shouted greetings. He wasn’t accustomed to newcomers spilling from doors or around corners.
The shout came from a youth—aged anywhere from sixteen to twenty. The boy came around the side of the house with a fishing pole and pail. The dogs sprang from the stoop and raced to him, leaping and barking. He was a tall boy, broad shouldered, with black hair and a broad grin.
“Bartholomew, thank God,” snapped Killian. “Call off your mongrels, we’ve guests and they’ve been terrorized by your unruly wolfpack.”
“Sorry, Killian!” called the boy. He whistled to the dogs and made a gesture with his hands. The animals bolted around the side of the house. He dropped his pole and pail.
“What’s happened?” the boy asked, bounding up the steps. “Why is everyone on the stoop?”
“Can you take Noelle?” asked Killian.
“Hello, you...” the boy sang to the baby, taking her from Marie and swinging her into his arms. He turned to Gabriel and Lady Ryan. “Are you the terrorized guests? My apologies about the dogs. Truly. I snuck away to...” and now he pantomimed casting aline with his free hand. “The dogs love the water but frighten the fish. I’ve better luck if I leave them.”
Gabriel stared at him, trying to place a young man among the cast of family members in his sister’s letters. The boy had positioned the baby facedown over an arm, like a footman might drape a napkin. She gnawed blithely on his wrist. The two girls leaned against him and strained arms upward, as if he might carry all three of them. They spoke over each other, imploring him to take them fishing.
“The dogs must be restricted to the stables, honestly,” Killian was telling him. “We’ve enough chaos. For now, take the girls inside, will you? Seek out Nanny and tell her to contain them in the nursey until I come for them. Tell her also that I wish to speak to her at her earliest convenience.”
“No, Killian, you mustn’t threaten Nanny,” Elise said distractedly, casting a glance over her shoulder.
“Sorry again about the dogs,” the boy volunteered. “I’m Bartholomew by the way. If you’re thinking of how long to stay, please do not consider the threat of my dogs. Truly—banish all thoughts of them from your mind. You’ll not see them again.”
Gabriel stared at him. He’d not thought of how long he might stay; he’d no intention of staying any time at all. He’d only come to protect Lady Ryan. This wasn’t a visit, it was a... a chance meeting.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lady Ryan called from behind him. “The dogs were no bother. Please don’t think of it again.”
“Come on then, girls,” Bartholomew said, “you’re to be ‘contained,’ did you hear your Papa?” He limped inside, holding the baby on his arm, dangling Mariefrom the opposite wrist, and dragging the third girl on his boot. When he passed the frowning butler cowering against the wall, he called, “Hello, Wallace!”
“My nephew is to blame for the dogs,” Killian Crewes said with a sigh, “but the children are not so easily explained. Elise, we must find a replacement nanny. Also, we cannot remain on the stoop all day. What is your vision for entertaining the guests?”
“I’ve no vision for it,” said Elise, not taking her eyes from Gabriel’s. She was shaking her head back and forth.
Ryan felt Gabriel’s body go rigid. He did not, she was certain, wish togoinside. He would not chatter away with the sister he’d not seen in fifteen years—not with her dazed and fainting and weeping over him.
“Would it be possible,” Ryan cut in, “for us to become more acquainted in your garden?”
Mr. and Mrs. Crewes turned to consider her.
“Anywhere outside would be lovely, actually. If it wouldn’t be too much bother.”
Their stare endured. Finally, Mr. Crewes said, “Forgive me, but you are—?”
