Chapter 4 #3
“I agree,” said the duke. “And while I have considered employing a governess for her, part of me thinks she very much needs someone who is both caring and capable of nurturing her interests. Someone with a keen intellect and a kind heart. I fear that I’m not particularly good with children, so wouldn’t even know where to begin in that regard.
As for seeking my attention…” His wide shoulders lifted and fell against the back of the wingback chair.
“I’m afraid I have precious little of that to give to anyone at present. ”
Was that a note of regret threaded through the duke’s voice?
Before Emmeline could ask if he was referring to the demands of his horological project, the duke asked her if she could replenish his coffee.
After she’d done so, he pinned his intense blue gaze on her and posed another question. “Mrs. Chase. How do you feel about corporal punishment for children?”
Even though Horatio had mentioned Nanny Snodgrass had been given her marching orders because she’d threatened to use a birch switch on the duke’s wards, Emmeline almost dropped her brimming teacup.
She eyed the duke, but as usual, his expression was largely indecipherable.
“Of course, I’m vehemently opposed to it,” she said firmly.
This was definitely an in for a penny, in for a pound moment.
“It’s a barbaric practice that is proscribed by the Parasol Academy.
If a nanny or governess used such punishment on their charges, it would be in clear violation of Rule 10 of Chapter 3 of the Academy’s handbook.
It would mean immediate revocation of a nanny’s or governess’s license to practice in the Parasol Academy’s name. ”
The duke nodded his approval. “Just so. This handbook of yours sounds very comprehensive.”
“It is,” responded Emmeline proudly. “It covers all manner of things. From the best practices in caring for young children to modern pedagogy, curriculum considerations, and lesson planning for older charges. There are all sorts of regulations and safe practice recommendations around essential ‘tools of the trade,’ or our ‘kit’ too.”
Emmeline was not going to mention leygrams and leyport keys, or that her uniform had magical pockets.
And that her Academy-issued umbrella (and parasol, if the weather was fine) could be used to temporarily befuddle an assailant.
Or that she could converse with certain animals, including the duke’s very own pet raven.
Doing so would contravene one of the Academy’s main rules and break the oath a nanny or governess took when graduating: protect the Parasol Academy’s secrets at all costs.
The general public must never know that they practiced Fae magic in discharging their duties.
Indeed, every graduate knew that Good Queen Maeve’s Fae Charter might be repealed—and thus all their magical abilities would be removed—if that ever occurred.
Although Emmeline could mention that she always had a small, sheathed knife strapped to her ankle, inside her half boot…
but perhaps not right now. “We take our duties as carers and educators very seriously,” she added after a moment.
“Some might even say it’s a calling. My dearly departed mother was once a Parasol Academy–trained nanny until she—” Oh no, Emmeline could not mention her father.
“Until she resigned her commission, so to speak.”
“It’s in your blood,” stated the duke.
“I suppose it is, in a way.” Emmeline had never thought about it before, but there was some truth to it.
“All Academy graduates are passionate about their roles and responsibilities. In fact, we are trained to guard our charges with our very lives if necessary. Parasol nannies and governesses receive extensive selfdefense training. Anyone who attempts to harm those in our care had best be careful. Very careful.”
Rather than looking entirely skeptical of her claim, the duke appeared thoughtful. “Your Mrs. Temple informed me that she protected the young Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred, and Princess Alice when Her Majesty was attacked last year.”
“Yes. That’s true.”
The duke placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his gloved hands clasped.
“I’m going to take you into my confidence, Mrs. Chase.
I’m working on a grand and unique clock design for St Stephens Tower at the Palace of Westminster.
There’s a fierce contest going on between horologists to win the commission.
And lately, I fear that a person or persons unknown have been attempting to sabotage the smooth running of my household.
Things keep going wrong on a regular basis—events that have had nothing to do with trebuchet experiments or frogs.
Unfortunately, domestic disasters seem to have become a regular occurrence at St Lawrence House and a generalized state of bedlam is more common than not.
But it’s not only that.” The duke’s expression grew troubled.
“A few nights ago, when I was walking home from a Royal Horological Society meeting in Piccadilly, I had the distinct feeling that someone was following me.”
“Oh, dick—I mean, good heavens,” said Emmeline, alarm spiking through her. “Do you think it was a footpad?”
“I…” The duke’s frown deepened. “I don’t think so.
Unfortunately, the night was terribly foggy and the fellow kept a discreet distance.
At first. When he eventually drew close and my suspicions were aroused—he was practically on my heels at that point—I whirled around to confront him, but then he took off.
So I only caught a fleeting glimpse of him.
But I gained the impression that he was relatively well-dressed.
He was cloaked and booted, and upon his head he wore a top hat. ”
“I’m glad you weren’t robbed, or worse, physically assaulted,” offered Emmeline, and the duke acknowledged her concern with a tilt of his head.
“I’ll freely admit that the incident was both perplexing and to a degree, unsettling,” he said.
“Although, I always carry a cane with me when I’m out and about, so I’m easily able to defend myself.
” One of his shoulders hitched with a shrug.
“At any rate, while I’m certain that no one would dare harm my wards, it’s reassuring to know that the nanny who will be caring for them has extra skills up her sleeve. ”
“Should you employ me, Your Grace, I would do my best to protect your wards as though they were my own children.” Emmeline meant every word that she said.
The duke nodded as though satisfied with her assertion, then straightened.
“Of course, my suspicions that there’s some insidious plot afoot to undermine me, or worse, do me some sort of mischief, might be completely unfounded.
In any event, in order for me to complete my horological design and meet the deadline for submissions at the start of June, I need someone to entertain and educate these three rapscallions.
Someone who also understands the importance of what I’m doing.
” The duke’s direct gaze connected with Emmeline’s.
“Mrs. Temple mentioned that you once worked in an antique store that specialized in rare clocks and watches.”
Emmeline swallowed. She would need to navigate this part of the interview carefully.
She’d mention her father briefly, but then steer the topic in a slightly different direction if she could manage it.
“Yes, my father once owned an antique clock store,” she said.
“But prior to that, he was a watchmaker by trade. So, I suppose my fascination with timepieces—especially those that are rare and old—is in my blood too. In fact, I attended a deceased estates auction at Pembridge’s this morning where a late seventeenth-century Markwick pocket watch went for a song.
I made a few bids, but an antique dealer by the name of Howell beat me to it. ”
The duke nodded, his expression solemn. “That’s a pity. I collect pocket watches and I should like a Markwick for myself. Howell , you said?”
“Yes, his shop is in Chancery Lane, not far from the Inns of Court.”
“Ah, I know it,” said the duke. Then he cast her a halfquizzical, half-amused look from beneath his to-die-for lashes. It was almost a teasing look. “You make a habit of attending auctions, Mrs. Chase?”
“I… er…” Blast and bother. Emmeline hesitated, wondering how much information she should offer.
She didn’t want to appear secretive. But she also couldn’t afford to say too much about her situation.
Or rather, her father’s. “It’s a hobby of mine.
I’ve always had a good eye for identifying valuable watches and clocks.
If I can pick up a bargain here or there and then sell that item to another antique dealer for a little more…
” She shrugged. “It’s helped me to get by until I can secure a permanent position. ”
“Very clever,” said the duke with an approving nod. Then he frowned. “Forgive me if I’m touching on a difficult subject, but Mrs. Temple led me to believe that you are a widow?”
Emmeline dropped her gaze and fiddled with the handle of her teacup. “Yes. My husband passed away almost three years ago. But now I’m very keen to secure work as a nanny. Or governess. I can certainly do both. The Academy prepares us for anything and everything.”
The duke smiled. “It certainly sounds like it. Although, I am still bemused by the fact that you’re trained in the art of selfdefense.
While you were quite nimble on your feet when I helped you down from my roof yesterday, you were less nimble when descending the attic ladder.
And it takes more than a degree of agility to best an opponent in a fight. ”
Heat flooded Emmeline’s cheeks as she recalled the moment she found herself on top of the duke, staring down into his shocked face. How her thighs had straddled his and how his hips had brushed—
Somehow, she wrested her thoughts away from the incendiary memory. To mask how flustered she was, she arched a brow in challenge. “You doubt my skill?”
“I…” The duke’s gaze swept over her, assessing her appearance, and Emmeline’s face grew even hotter. “A little,” he said at last.
The wicked imp inside Emmeline that she could never quite keep in check made her say, “I’d be happy to offer you a complete demonstration to prove my assertions are true. That I would be able to fend off an intruder or an attacker—a kidnapper perhaps—and protect your wards.”
The duke snorted. “You’re claiming that you—a slip of a woman who can’t be any taller than five foot four inches—could best me—a six-foot-two man—in a physical altercation?”
Emmeline raised her chin a notch. “I am, Your Grace.” She nodded toward the fine Boulle clock on the marble mantelpiece. Then she frowned. She’d only been conversing with the duke a short while, yet the hands on the clock indicated it was almost half-past three. “Unless you don’t have the time…”
The duke made a small scoffing sound in his throat. “I wouldn’t refer to that clock. Most of the timepieces in my house seem to be running inaccurately at the moment. It’s most frustrating, not knowing what the actual time is half the time.”
Emmeline’s heart pinched with sympathy. “I could well imagine. My Academy-issued pocket watch is as accurate as any chronometer, and it’s always synchronized to Greenwich Mean Time.”
The duke’s gaze grew keen. “It is? I should add ‘clock-setter’ to your list of duties if I hire you, Mrs. Chase. But, I suppose if I am going to hire you, I should probably test your claim that you could defend my wards from the clutches of would-be kidnappers.” The duke pushed to his feet, all six foot two inches of his intimidating-yet-glorious frame towering over Emmeline.
He shrugged off his frock coat and draped it over the back of the wingchair.
“Very well, Mrs. Chase,” he said with a sardonic cock of his brow. His gloved fingers beckoned her closer. “Do your best. Or worst. Whatever the case may be.”