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Miss Mayfield sat on one of the beds, humming softly to a sleeping girl clutching a doll. It took him a moment to realize Miss Mayfield’s hair covered her shoulders, and she wore a cloak over her nightdress. He could almost see her rushing to her charge’s side, taking only enough time to snatch a cloak for modesty’s sake.
Something unhitched in the region of his ribs.
This was a woman who truly cared for the children in her charge.
She bent and kissed the girl’s forehead.
No, she loved them.
Something Athena couldn’t even fake.
At his entrance, she glanced upward and put a forefinger to her mouth, indicating he shouldn’t speak. He swept his gaze around the long, rectangular room until he spotted Bernadine’s little bed. She lay with one small fist above her head, mouth parted, and red hair spilling onto the pillow.
On silent feet, he wound his way through the other slumbering children to her bedside.
“Goodnight, my little rabbit,” he whispered as he bent to kiss her warm, baby-sweet cheek. She didn’t stir as he tucked the blankets more tightly around her small form.
How he loved this cherub—all that remained of his Imogene.
Three and twenty was far too young to die.
That truth didn’t eviscerate him the way it had when his wife had first passed away. Now, rather than stabbing pain, it stirred a sense of melancholy—not only for himself but also for Bernadine. What she would never have.
No child should have to grow up without a parent—without her mama to guide her through the rites of becoming a woman.
Sensing someone behind him, Theran turned his head.
Miss Mayfield stood there, a cloud of hickory nut-brown hair about her shoulders and trailing down her back.
Didn’t she plait her hair at night?
Or had her evening toilette been interrupted?
There was nothing the least bit alluring about the drab gray cloak covering her from neck to toes, yet something masculine and dormant stirred in Theran. With a start, he realized he not only found Miss Mayfield appealing, but he also desired her.
For the first time since his wife’s sudden death, he felt attraction toward a woman.
Miss Purity Mayfield had rekindled his dormant passion.
The guilt he’d expected to follow such a revelation did not bludgeon him. Instead, he felt more alive than he had in years. Three years, to be exact.
“Bernadine slept through Amaris’s bad dream.” With a tilt of her head, Miss Mayfield indicated the child she’d been comforting. She whispered, “A mama goat became upset when the children became too loud around her kids the other day. Poor Amaris was nearest the goat and received a head butt. The experience seems to have caused a nightmare tonight.”
Ah, the incident with the goat Aunt Melvelia had mentioned.
“She’s fine now, but I worry how she’ll fare at boarding school next month when I am not there to soothe her. She’ll have her sister of course, but…”
Her words trailed off as she caught her lower lip between neat white teeth. Averting her face, she blinked rapidly.
Was she trying not to cry?
“Am I to understand your time with the Ceddes children is nearly at an end?” Theran asked.
A wonderfully horrific, splendidly awful idea poked its knobby head up.
What about her?
Miss Mayfield would make a perfect governess.
