Chapter 2 #3
He knew he should be in there. It occurred to him that Sophie’s voice was not only beginning to sound frantic, it was coming from well above the floor. Even above the table. Oh, lord. The shelves.
He resumed limping at a faster pace. Then he heard the quiet voice again and slowed just outside the door.
“Well, I am not quite sure what you shall do,” the calm female voice answered.
“It might be something you consider before you climb shelves the next time. There might not be anyone around to get you down. Which means you could easily fall trying it yourself. Or you might simply be stuck up there all day long. And then you would miss out on this cinnamon bun. Would you like another piece, Amelia?”
“Yes, please,” came the shy response.
“And your...puppy?” the female asked.
That earned the kind of delighted giggle he had only rarely heard since the girls had joined him.
If this strange woman was looking for a position, he might well give her one.
Especially if she was truly as complacent around that dog as she sounded.
Along with the girls, Grey had inherited a wolfhound the size of his charger who disliked everyone but the girls.
“He doesn’t eat cin’mon buns,” Amelia confided. “He eats roast.”
In fact, he’d eaten the roast from last night’s dinner.
“I want a cinnamon bun!” Sophie insisted, her voice sounding thin and fractious.
Grey knew he should get in there before she began to throw one of the ugly bric-a-bracs on the shelves at whoever was in the room.
“I’m certain you do,” the woman answered. “What do you think we should do about it?”
“You should get me down!”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because you’re a grown-up. That’s what grown-ups do!”
Grey caught himself just shy of laughing. There was nothing like the logic of a child.
“Is that what you were taught?” the female asked.
“Oh, my. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way in my house.
Children who disobey and put others in danger because of it must decide for themselves how to go on.
Don’t you think? I might add that if you need help from someone, you might think of how best to acquire it. ”
“In your house?” Amelia asked. “Are you a mama?”
Her chuckle set off odd shivers in his chest. “Oh my, no. But there are quite a few children in my house. At last count, I think it was about ten.”
Good God, Grey thought. Was an orphanage mistress here to beg money? It would certainly explain her patience.
There was another long pause. Grey looked up to see that his nursery maid was standing stock still just on the other side of the open door, her eyes wide and her hands full of small sweaters.
He put his finger to his lips. He had to see how this was settled.
Not one person in the house had had any luck getting Sophie to behave since he’d arrived.
“Miss Georgie?” Sophie’s voice suddenly sounded small and uncertain.
“Yes, Sophie?”
“C-could you...help me?”
Silence.
Even smaller. “Please?”
A chair scraped across the floor. “Of course I will, sweetheart. Come here.”
Grey would have moved, but suddenly there was the sound of a little girl crying. “I...I was scared.”
“Of course you were, baby. It is awfully high up there. Did the room look any different?”
“Scary. I thought it would be fun.”
“I know. Exploring is fun. I love to explore. But I try very hard to prepare first so that I don’t put myself or anyone else in danger.
What if there had been no grown-up to get you down?
If you’d fallen, you might have squashed your puppy.
” She waited for a watery giggle. “Or worse, Amelia. She would be a little blonde splat on the floor.”
Now there were two childish giggles. Grey waited no longer.
Straightening his coat, he continued into the room.
And stopped. There, standing with Sophie curled into her arms as if she’d always belonged there, was a perfect stranger.
A perfect…Grey felt the oddest lurch in his chest. She was not beautiful.
Not in the way Iberian women were, flashy and sultry.
Not in the way of aristocratic Englishwomen, sleek and prim and superior.
Although he could see that she was one by her boarding-school posture and perfect grooming.
But her eyes were just a bit tilted, her hair a lush mahogany, her figure much too curvy for fashion.
She was a square jaw and broad forehead away from traditional prettiness, but there was a life in those strange green eyes that was compelling.
He suspected she would be like the night sky.
Familiar feeling until you looked at it long enough and discovered untold treasures.
There was something else familiar as well. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Even with Sophie in her arms as if she’d held her forever, she dipped a perfect curtsy. “Good morning, my lord. I apologize for bothering you.”
“By saving this little monster from breaking my floor?” he asked, with a grin for Sophie.
“I climbed to the top,” Sophie announced proudly. Then suddenly, her face crumpled a bit. “But I forgot to prepare for ‘sploring.”
“I suspect you won’t again, poppet,” he said, stepping all the way into the breakfast room. “Did I hear there were cinnamon rolls?”
“Here, Uncle Grey!” Amelia piped up. She tried to lift the plate with her chubby little four-year-old fingers but only ended up sliding the remaining rolls off onto the table. One hurtled over the side to be devoured in one gulp by the mass of grey fur and sharp teeth crouched below the table.
“Oh, no,” Amelia groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching down in her seat so that her fine blonde hair covered her face, an instinctive move of protection Grey had seen too often from both girls.
For a moment he froze. He didn’t know what to do with little girls, especially little girls who betrayed a past he didn’t even want to consider. He was the only one here who should instinctively anticipate violence.
There was nothing for it. With a quick look up at the stranger whose expression betrayed her own cautious dismay, he stepped up to crouch beside Amelia’s chair.
“I believe,” he said, knowing his voice was too gruff, “that your...puppy,” he said with another quick look at their guest, “is happier than I have seen him. I also believe I can spare a roll for him. As long as he has the manners not to deposit it back upon my carpet.”
She was still curled in a defensive position. “I should have ‘pared,” she whispered, sounding anguished.
“Oh, dear,” the strange woman murmured, sitting Sophie back in her seat. “I didn’t mean to...”
Grey smiled quickly up at her. “Amelia was trying to help. Helping is a wonderful thing.”
“It is indeed,” the woman said. “Both girls offered to help me finish a cinnamon bun. They were gracious enough to take two pieces, so I didn’t have to eat the whole thing by myself.”
Finally, she got giggles from both little girls, even though a bit weak.
Grey regained his feet. “Can I assume you are the lady who wishes to see me?”
Her smile was less assured. “I am. If I could have a few minutes of your time?”
“Did you ‘pare for the consequences?” he asked.
Her smile grew a bit. “I certainly hope so.”
“Then, ladies,” he said, with a bow to the girls. “If you will excuse us for a minute.”
“Talk here,” Sophie commanded. “We like her.”
“Sophie,” the woman said. That was all. Sophie.
And Sophie ducked her head. “Please.”
“We cannot,” she said. “But I will stop back in to say goodbye. Would that suffice?”
Amelia scrunched up her face. “Suff….”
The lady smiled. “My apologies. I got ahead of myself. Would that be all right? Please?”
Both little girls grinned and nodded before returning their attention to breakfast.
“There had better be at least one of those left when I get back,” Grey warned. “You know I have a great appetite.”
“Pro-dijus.” Sophie nodded, proud of the word she’d picked up from him.
“Pro-digious,” he agreed.
Quickly bending, he dropped a kiss on one white-blonde little head and another caramel-colored. The dog momentarily looked up as if expecting his own tribute, sighed, and dropped his chin back to the floor.
The nursery maid finally made it into the room as Grey escorted his guest out.
“I don’t suppose you’ve come to apply for a position as governess.”
Her smile was breathtaking. Madonnas bore smiles like that. He’d seen them in churches all over Spain.
“I fear not. I have quite enough challenges at home.” She gave him a quick look from those pale green eyes that he felt straight down to his groin. “I must beg your attention on another matter.”
“So I hear. It must be urgent if you came so early in the day.”
“I do apologize for the time,” she said. “But I needed to see you before you did something foolish.”
And that was when Grey’s day got even worse.