To cover his disappointment, he continued with his tour. “I had this clock installed yesterday.” He pointed to it, proud that he had still had the wherewithal to think about purchasing a special clock for the classroom at all when she had forgotten to request one. Further proof, if proof were needed, that he was always at his best duringa crisis. Even when he was positively drowning in crises right, left, and center.
Instead of thanking him profusely for correcting her oversight, she gave another curt nod of acknowledgment. “A clock will be useful.” And just like that, she dismissed it to take in the blackboard. Her eyes widened slightly at his neatly chalked timetable written down the side of it before she turned to him, emotionless, her finger flicking to his two watch chains. “I see that you are a stickler for time, Captain.”
“Tempus fugit, Miss Rowe.” Out of habit, or perhaps because he had just used one of the admiral’s favorite sayings, he touched the pocket that held the watch his grandfather had always worn. “Time flies—unless you keep a firm hold upon it and, like Wellington, I much prefer to do the business of the day in the day.”
“I see you are also a fan of misquoting the military men of yore.” Her emotive nose wrinkled again in a way that showed she disapproved more of him misquoting Wellington than she did of the duke himself. “Nelson last week. Wellington today.”
“It would be foolish not to stand on the shoulders of giants, Miss Rowe.” As he had no clue who to attribute that quote to, he shrugged. “And I like to read… when I have the time.” Her gaze followed his fingers going unconsciously to one of his pocket watches before it wandered back to his precise timetable for the day, making him feel as though he was out of step, pedantic, crusty, and old.
So very old.
“I assume I can tweak this classroom tomysatisfaction, Captain?”
Was it his imagination, or did even the wordcaptainsound begrudging? As if his sixteen years serving king and country were a mark against him. “But of course.” Although why she would want tochange anything when absolutely everything she needed was no further away than three paces, he didn’t understand. “This is your bridge, Miss Rowe, and the helm is yours.” Heaven help them all, for this voyage had more of the stench of doom about it than his frustrating stint on theBaltimore.
But Harry would look on the bright side.
At least her presence here in the short term would give him and his staff some respite from the relentless chore of keeping the children and their outsized dog entertained. It would also give him some limited peace of mind that they were all safe while he did his wretched duty at the Admiralty even if he still had to keep a close eye on her, so he would be thankful for small mercies, no matter how brief. Or small. And talking of small… Of their own accord, his eyes wandered to the petite Miss Rowe again only to find hers staring at him. “Please feel free to chart the course as you see fit.”
“Marvelous. Seeing as everything is shipshape, Captain, I think I should like to meet my crew now.” The sudden twinkle in her fine eyes suggested she was mocking him and his constant naval references, and might actually possess a sense of humor, albeit one buried under a thick layer of disdain. “Where are the children?”
“Awaiting you in the drawing room, Miss Rowe.” He led her to the open doorway, then paused to allow her to walk through it first. “They are excited to meet you.”
“Are you sure?” She sailed past, cupping her ear to listen for them with a wry smile that hinted again that humor lurked beneath her no-nonsense exterior. “Only it is so quiet, I was beginning to wonder if you had locked them in the brig.”
ChapterFIVE
As he, too, found the children’s uncharacteristic silence unsettling, Harry hurriedly led the way to the drawing room and was relieved to see the three of them sat as still as statues on the sofa. Exactly as they had solemnly pledged to be when he had left them there ten minutes ago.
It had taken a shilling apiece and a solemn pledge of his own to take them to Gunther’s on Saturday afternoon for ice cream, with the assurance that they could order whatever they wanted unhindered, to get them to behave like civilized human beings this morning. He wasn’t proud of that. Nor was he particularly proud that this wasn’t the first time he had been so browbeaten by the three of them that he had succumbed to bribery. The navy would be horrified at such a show of weakness as that was certainly not how they had trained him, and his military idol Sun Tzu would be spinning in his grave, too, despite his claim that victory was only ever reserved for those willing to pay the price of it. But frankly, after the battles he’d waged since blasted Flora’s departure, a couple of paltry shillings, all theice cream in Gunther’s, and Harry’s pride still felt like a small price to pay for a few hours of blessed respite.
“Children—allow me to introduce Miss Rowe.” As one, they stood the moment she entered the room, and thanks to the promise of unlimited ice cream, even managed to pretend to possess some manners. “She will be your governess until your parents return.” Or until the half-pint savages blew her entrails out in bubbles.
In turn, he beckoned them forward in age order. “This handsome young sportsman is my nephew, Master Felix Pendleton.”
Instead of merely looking him up and down as she had Harry, she proffered her hand to the boy and shook it. “I am delighted to meet you, Master Felix, and to trounce you at cricket in the near future.” Then she did the unexpected again and beamed at his nephew. A smile so devastating that Harry’s breath caught in his throat and refused to budge—and that wasn’t good.
Especially when the last woman who had taken his breath away had knocked all the wind out of his sails before she scuttled his ship entirely.
“I should probably warn you in advance that I am a mean bowler, young man.” Miss Rowe folded her arms, an action which did wonders for her figure, as she offered Felix a saucy, smug grin. “In both execution and spirit.”
“I shall believe that when I see it,” said Felix with a smug grin of his own. He raised his eyebrows toward his sisters. “In my experience, girls cannot bowl.”
“Well, this one can.” Miss Rowe tapped her chest with gusto, drawing Harry’s eyes once more to her pert bosom encased in tight-fitting gray serge and giving them ideas they had no right having. Especially when she was his employee and a decent employer—an officer and a gentleman—had no right to ogle the help.
What on earth was the matter with him?
“I’m a fairly decent batter too but lack the dedication required to be a good fielder.” Her features were so animated when she spoke. Her green eyes were so friendly but mischievous as they locked with his nephew’s in convivial challenge. To his utter horror, Harry was envious of that. Envious that she obviously much preferred the boy to him. “Fielding, I will confess, is not my forte, so I am little better than mediocre. You?”
“I’m an all-rounder.” Thoroughly charmed and eager to impress, Felix thumped his own chest. “The best in the family. Better even than Uncle Harry here.”
“Says who?” Harry folded his own arms and summoned a feigned arrogant expression for effect. Or to impress her and win one of those devasting smiles too. He could not decide which it was and concluded it was likely best not to ponder it any further. “For if it is your mother who gave you that accolade, it was given only because my sister is still bitter at my catching her out last summer in the first innings, and not because of your superior talents, young whippersnapper.” He flicked his finger with a grin to dismiss Felix before he turned to the oldest of the girls. “Marianne, come and say ‘how do you do’ to Miss Rowe.” As he turned toward the newcomer, Harry caught her staring at him, quizzical, until she quickly masked it with a smile for his niece.
“What a pretty name!” Miss Rowe bestowed her breathtaking beam again. “Your uncle has informed me that you are a dancer, Miss Marianne.”
That was all it took to make the middle sibling forget her solemn pledge to behave like a restrained and sedate young lady. Because nothing suppressed his eldest niece’s penchant for showing off—not even ice cream—Marianne decided to not to walk forward like anydecent, well-brought-up child would, but to pirouette toward Miss Rowe for all she was worth.
Harry gave her a look. One that said he would make her pay for this insubordination by being stingy at Gunther’s if she continued, but typically, it was ignored. Being a diva to her core, Marianne then finished her impromptu performance with a theatrical flourish before she dipped into an exaggerated curtsy.
