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Rosie continued silently playing with her toys, offering no sign that she had heard her.
Honoria rounded the child and crouched before her. Rosie immediately raised her head and smiled. “Nory!” She was unable to pronounce Honoria’s name properly, and Honoria quite liked her new nickname.
“Would you like to continue playing, or do you want to go see Mrs. Clarke?”
“Clarke!” Rosie jumped to her feet and ran toward the door without waiting for either Honoria or Mrs. Winters to join her.
“Does she have hearing problems?” Mrs. Winters inquired as they exited the room.
Honoria glanced at her in surprise. It took a few days for Honoria to realize that, and as for Rosie’s previous nanny, she had always interpreted her failure to answer when asked as defiance, rather than physical limitation.
“Yes. I believe it’s a complication from the scarlet fever, which took her parents’ lives.”
“Oh, poor child. But it’s a blessing she managed to recover. She will grow up to be a strong lady. I am looking forward to seeing her do just that.”
Holding onto the banister, Rosie slowly made her way up the stairs. Honoria grinned. Me too.
After depositing Rosie into Mrs. Clarke’s capable hands, then escorting Mrs. Winters to her new room, Honoria set off to inform Lord Caldwell of the new hire.
She had hoped to have more news on varying hires in a week, but it was difficult to find competent help so far from London. She was still unable to find a proper nanny for Rosie, and in the meantime, she and Mrs. Clarke took turns looking after her during the day. Honoria even slept in a room adjoining Rosie’s nursery so she could respond to her needs at night. The nanny, of course, would take that room once hired.
Honoria knocked on the door to the earl’s study but received no answer. She knocked again and pressed an ear to the door. Sometimes the earl became so preoccupied with his work that he didn’t hear anything going on around him.
That didn’t seem to be the case right now. Everything was quiet. Perhaps the earl was not in the study.
With a shrug, Honoria made her way down the stairs. “Mr. Clarke,” she addressed the butler. “Have you seen the earl leave the house?”
The elderly butler smiled. “He is down by the stream, Miss Hartwell.”
“The stream? At this hour?” Honoria glanced out the window at the setting sun.
“Yes, Miss. He often goes there in the evenings.”
Huh. Perhaps he was hunting for a new specimen for his collection. She’d noted not only plants in his glasshouse, but also insects. Either way, Honoria decided to catch the earl on his walk or on the way back to the house. If she didn’t talk to him now, she might not see him until tomorrow morning, and she wanted to notify him of the new hire before bed.
In order to reach the stream, she had to make her way through the estate’s rich gardens. She followed the worn path, mentally rehearsing her report on Mrs. Winters.
The weather was beautiful. It was no surprise that the earl was outdoors at this time of day. Although, if she were him, she would not go as far as the stream and rather sit on the bench right here, she thought as she walked past a stone bench surrounded by daffodils.
She loved this garden. It was the most beautiful she’d ever seen with a variety of flowers occupying the dense flowerbeds. And it smelled divine.
Curiously, aside from a few specimens that the earl had worked on in his study, the rest of the house was bare of any plants. Or rather had been bare of any flowers until Honoria made it her mission to liven up the place.
She’d made a concentrated effort in the past few days to fill every vase in the house with flowers.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful scent, before leaving the garden and skipping down the winded path toward the stream.
So far, the earl had been as transparent as a rock—that is to say, not at all. She could never tell what he was thinking even when they were in the middle of a conversation. He had barely looked her in the eye much less said anything indicating his feelings toward her work. Did he approve of her? Did he dislike her for some reason?
It’s only been a week, but she made it her mission to provide daily reports to him about everything she’d done, so that he’d know she wasn’t just slacking around this entire time.
She followed the faint track into a copse of trees, the sound of the running stream growing louder and louder with her every step.
A few more steps, and there was the stream. She walked along it, wondering where exactly the earl might be. Perhaps she’d made a mistake seeking him out. He could be anywhere along the stretch of the stream. It wasn’t like he would just stand there—
She paused, a few feet away from the small waterfall, where the stream spilled gently into a shallow pool. In that still pool, Lord Caldwell stood waist-deep in the water, his powerful body gleaming wet in the setting sun. He moved toward the bank, water cascading down his broad shoulders and muscled chest, tracing the contours of his abdomen. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, droplets clinging to his beard.
Honoria froze, transfixed. She had never seen a man so magnificently made. His arms and shoulders were corded with muscle, his chest broad and tapering to a narrow waist. Dark hair dusted his skin just under his belly button, and lower until—