Chapter 5
In Which a Battalion of Hairpins and a Hem Cause Consternation; Cheapside Chivalry (or Lack Thereof) Is Discussed; The Tea Is Spilled… Again; The Duke Meets His Match; And an Explosion…
Xavier propped his gloved hands on his hips as he watched Mrs. Emmeline Chase rise to her feet then smooth her pinafore and skirts. A small smile played about her pretty pink mouth, and it took a herculean effort for him not to stare.
Which was not like him at all. The mere notion that his interest had been snagged by the nanny’s physical appearance—a potential employee—was novel indeed. And also rather disquieting. Because he was not a lascivious sort of nobleman who ogled the servants. He certainly never dallied with them.
But just like yesterday, as soon as Mrs. Chase had entered his orbit, Xavier’s whole world felt rather off-kilter.
For one thing, he couldn’t account for the fact that he was so transfixed by the young woman’s glorious hair.
Yesterday, at least a bonnet had covered most of her head.
Today, she only wore some sort of flimsy lace and linen cap and her bright coppery locks had been pulled into a severe, matronly bun.
No doubt a battalion of hairpins had been recruited to the cause.
During his entire conversation with Mrs. Chase—he should say interview, but it had felt rather more like a chat because he’d enjoyed the exchange thus far, immensely—he’d been forcing himself to look at her face, not her hair, lest he come across as peculiar.
Devil take him, even now as Mrs. Chase quite sensibly suggested that they move away from the afternoon tea things toward a less cluttered part of his study, Xavier’s fingers twitched and flexed inside his silk-lined leather gloves with… with what?
Longing? Yearning? Desire?
The uncharacteristic impulse to throw off the nanny’s silly cap—a pointless frippery that seemed as insubstantial as a spun-sugar cloud—and then pull out each and every one of those restraining hairpins so he could watch her burnished curls tumble down around her shoulders, persisted like an urgent itch he needed to scratch.
And he was about to get up close and personal with the beguiling nanny…
Get a grip, man. You’re being goddamned ridiculous.
As Xavier inwardly chastised himself, Mrs. Chase took up a position in the middle of the Turkish rug and rolled her shoulders as though she were loosening up her muscles before a bout of boxing or wrestling.
She threaded her finely boned, elegant fingers together in front of her and cracked her knuckles.
It seemed she was entirely serious about demonstrating her self-defense skills.
Xavier frowned as he attempted to unravel the tangled skein of his emotions.
He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or amused or confounded.
He certainly didn’t feel as dark and bitter and brooding as he’d claimed to be a short time ago.
Even though the afternoon was dismal and rainy, it felt as though Mrs. Emmeline Chase had brought a small measure of sunshine into St Lawrence House and had brightened Xavier’s day.
Pleasantly baffled. That might be the right phrase , he decided as he loosened his starched cuffs and rolled up his sleeves in two precise folds. Perhaps even a trifle mad. Because why on earth am I—
“Your Grace,” said Mrs. Chase, interrupting his convoluted musings. “I can see by your fearsome frown that you might be having second thoughts about this exercise. But I assure you, you won’t hurt me.”
“I…” Xavier met the nanny’s blue-as-a-summer-sky gaze and saw no apprehension there.
Only self-assurance and perhaps even a tiny spark of challenge.
“Even though you’ve received self-defense instruction, it would be unchivalrous of me not to mention that like most gentlemen of my class, I’ve had years of training in boxing, fencing, and shooting.
And I regularly engage in such activities to maintain my skills. ”
The nanny smiled and her gaze drifted to his chest and then to his linen-clad arms. Was she admiring his physique?
Before Xavier could wrap his mind around such a strange thing, she said, “I can see that, Your Grace. And I’m not worried.
Aside from receiving expert tuition at the Academy, I grew up in the vicinity of Cheapside.
There are not many chivalrous gentlemen to be found in the streets around there.
I can look after myself.” Her pretty mouth curved into a smile.
“But if it makes you feel any better, we can start with a simple, noncombative maneuver.”
This lovely young woman used to live in Cheapside? The district wasn’t far from Newgate Prison and Saffron Hill, one of the roughest, poorest areas of London. The insalubrious Fleet Ditch and its squalid slums weren’t far away either.
It was becoming increasingly clear to Xavier that Mrs. Emmeline Chase was not easily daunted. He inclined his head. “Very well. I’m happy to follow your lead.”
“Good.” This time she beckoned him a bit closer.
“I’ll approach, but then at the last moment, I’m going to turn around and walk away from you.
But I’d like you to grab my wrist to try and stop me.
And I want your grip to be quite firm, like you mean business.
Don’t be all wishy-washy about it. I won’t break. ”
“Wishy-washy?” Xavier couldn’t suppress a smirk. “I’ve been called all sorts of epithets—both complimentary and unflattering—in my time, Mrs. Chase, but never that.”
A bright red blush bloomed in Mrs. Chase’s cheeks. “Oh, Your Grace. My apologies if I’ve offended you—
He waved a dismissive hand. “No, of course you haven’t.
Here, don’t you go all wishy-washy on me.
I want to see the woman who used to stride down Cheapside and its environs, not the submissive servant.
The nanny who takes on my wards—and my mercurial moods for that matter—will need a steely backbone. ”
Mrs. Chase nodded. “Understood. Let us proceed as I instructed.” She took a few, quick steps closer to Xavier, then abruptly swung away from him.
As she swiftly backtracked, Xavier caught her about the lower arm—tightly, but not too tight.
He didn’t want to hurt her or leave a mark.
But no sooner had his gloved fingers wrapped around her woolen sleeve, she twisted her arm, gave a hard and precise yank, and then she was free and out of his reach.
She’d deftly broken his hold at the weakest link—the point between his thumb and index finger.
Even though it was a common maneuver, and he hadn’t been particularly surprised, he was impressed by her speed and skill all the same.
Mrs. Chase grinned at him from the other side of the Turkish rug. “I know, I know. That wasn’t anything particularly special. But I’m just warming you up.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Xavier. “Indeed, I’m keen to see what other tricks you might have up your sleeve.”
“You should be more worried about what I’ve got concealed beneath my skirts,” rejoined Mrs. Chase.
Before Xavier’s mouth could even drop open, she’d flipped up the hem of her gown and the pristine white petticoats beneath to reveal one of her neat half boots in black kid leather, her slender ankle encased in white hose, and the lacy edge of her drawers…
the very things that had tormented him yesterday.
But then he also noticed the pearl handle of a small, sheathed knife, held in place by a black ribbon garter.
“One must be prepared for anything, Your Grace,” Mrs. Chase said matter-of-factly as she dropped her skirts back into place.
“Ahem… I…” Good God, the woman was going to put him to the blush. “Quite,” he managed at last. “Just so.”
He forced his gaze upward to meet Mrs. Chase’s. “Are there any other hidden weapons I should know about on your person?” he asked, hoping the sudden rough edge to his voice wouldn’t betray how rattled he was. “No pistols or swords or garottes or knuckle-dusters?”
Her blue eyes danced with mischief. “I have been known to deliver a tongue lashing on the odd occasion. But only when it’s deserved.”
Of course, Xavier’s attention immediately fell to that pretty pink mouth again, and this time, he could feel heat flaring in his cheeks.
Damn it. He didn’t want to think about Mrs. Chase’s tongue or her lusciously plump lips.
Or her shapely ankles for that matter. How could he engage her services as a nanny if he kept having inappropriate thoughts about her?
“Now…” Mrs. Chase continued on as though nothing were amiss. As though she hadn’t completely disarmed him already. “Let me demonstrate another evasive maneuver. I’ll ask you to grab my arm in the same way… and then I’ll restrain you.”
“ Restrain me?”
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” asserted Mrs. Chase.
No, she would simply floor him with those bright blue eyes and her words. And that hair. A coppery lock had managed to escape its pin prison and was caressing her ear.
Xavier swallowed and dragged his gaze back to her face. The nanny had spoken again, and he’d completely missed what she’d said. “I’m sorry. You’ll need to repeat that.”
She cast him an enigmatic smile. “I asked if you’re ready, Your Grace.”
He ran a hand through his hair then nodded… even though he wasn’t sure at all. “Yes.”
That smile again. It was maddening that Xavier couldn’t interpret it. “Good. Remember to grab my arm as I turn away.”
Like before, Mrs. Chase crossed the rug toward him, and as she drew close, some sort of strange electric frisson sparked down Xavier’s spine. Curiosity? Anticipation?
Excitement?
He didn’t have time to dwell on his feelings because Mrs. Chase was right in front of him… and then in the space of a heartbeat, she changed course. As she whirled away, he snagged her arm, halting her retreat.
Ha! He’d bested—