The Nanny Arrangement (14 page)

“Very well. I thank you for telling me.” If she continued arguing the point with Kate, then there would be no end to this interview. And as it was, this conversation was having a decidedly dampening effect upon her excitement. “Was there anything else?”

“I know you are working closely with Mr. Holmes to govern Miss Juliet. He visits and consults with you often. We all know there is nothing untoward in these meetings, but—” Kate stammered and fell silent for a moment.

“But what? You have said yourself they are perfectly innocent calls, and they are. Without his help, managing Miss Juliet would be much more difficult, at least until she learns better English.” A sense of nervous unease crept over Becky. What was Kate implying? And would she ever leave?

“Nothing. I seem to have spoken out of turn.” Kate rose from her seat on the carpet, her face set in a blank expression.

“I assure you that, while I am in London, I shall be there solely to care for Miss Juliet in my position as her nursemaid. Nothing unseemly shall befall us.” Becky swallowed hard. This entire conversation was ridiculous, and really, a bit beyond what Kate should be bringing up. “I thank you for your warnings. I know your intentions are good.”

Kate bobbed a curtsy. “They are. Will there be anything else?”

“No.” Becky fought the rising tide of agitation that welled within her. “Just see to it that Miss Juliet’s trunk is sent down here first thing in the morning, if you please.”

Kate nodded and, curtsying again, quit the room.

Alone at last, Becky stared at the roughened surface of her trunk. Her excitement about London was dashed all to pieces, and in its stead remained only uneasiness. Why had Kate sought to issue such a dire warning about life with Paul in town?

Based on her limited understanding, society dictated that all young gentlemen must carouse a bit while they were in company with each other. And the season offered many opportunities for this kind of play. There was surely nothing sinister in the way Paul acted while he was in town. For one thing, Susannah would know. Daniel and Paul were the best of friends, and Susannah knew all about Daniel’s past. If there were truly anything terrible about Paul’s character, Susannah would never have let her come to service here.

And it was highly unlikely Daniel would continue to be Paul’s friend, after all the changes wrought in his character by marriage, if Paul were a terrible blackguard.

None of this made any sense. And it was spoiling the one chance she had to enjoy herself thoroughly in the biggest and the best town in all of England.

Becky stood and opened her trunk. If she busied herself with folding and tucking her belongings away, perhaps that brief flash of anticipation would return. She hadn’t felt such hope or exhilaration since her fleeting, albeit imaginary, courtship with Lieutenant Walker.

A life without any kind of expectation was flat indeed. And while she’d given up on any silly notions of romance that horrid day on the moor, she could allow herself a moment or two of enjoyment in the course of her duties.

Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of life.

Chapter Fourteen

T
his was, by far, the most interesting trip he’d ever undertaken to London. Paul stared out the carriage window as Juliet bounced and wriggled in the seat beside him. Of course, it was also one of the few where he hadn’t imbibed any kind of liquor. He needed a clear head to help Becky as she tried to contain his charge, who hadn’t grown any more used to being cooped up in a carriage as the days progressed.

On the other hand, ’twas a sight pleasanter to travel with someone as stimulating in conversation as Becky. During his past journeys, he might give thought only to the pleasures of a baser nature awaiting his arrival. Or he might bring along a traveling companion as dissolute as he. This was, though, the first time since he was a lad that he had someone with which to engage in interesting and frank discussions. Or to show off the sights as they trundled into town. ’Twas rather refreshing, actually. For though Becky had been strangely reserved since they started the trip, with no more of the ecstatic glee she’d displayed when he invited her, she was still looking at the journey with fresh and appreciative eyes.

A length of iron railing flashed into view. They were nearly home. He pointed out the window. “See here, Becky—we’re passing Hyde Park. Of course, it isn’t the fashionable hour to be seen, so no one of consequence is there. Come this afternoon, the park will be mobbed with throngs of the wealthy and elite.”

Becky smiled and quirked her eyebrows. “Fashionable hour? Why would it matter what time of day it was, if all you were doing was walking in a park?”

He laughed. “Yes, indeed. It does sound rather odd, doesn’t it? You would be amazed at how strictly society governs these things. The proper time to stroll in Hyde Park is from half-past four to about half-past five, if one is a lady. Gentlemen may tarry longer.”

“Does the park have many fine views?” Becky craned her neck to get a glimpse outside the window.

“I am sure there are many lovely vistas, but when one strolls in Hyde Park, one does so to admire the splendid display of humanity rather than nature. Ah, here we are, turning on to Grosvenor Street.” He turned to face her. “Would you like to go for a stroll this afternoon? I should be happy to take you. It might be amusing for you to see how people parade themselves like peacocks in Rotten Row.”

“Rotten?” Becky gave him a weak smile. “Nay, it all sounds rather too much. Especially after such a long journey. I am certain my afternoon will be occupied with getting Juliet settled.”

“Juliet may come, too. Would you like that, little one?” He glanced down at his niece, who pushed past him to place her small hands on the windowpane. “Ah, she knows where she is already. I vow that by the time she reaches sixteen, she will be as much of a diamond as her mama was.” Funny, it didn’t hurt as much to think of Juliana and what a belle she had been during her season. Was being around her daughter helping to assuage his grief and his guilt?

“I think I would rather acquaint Juliet with her new surroundings,” Becky interjected, a pleading note in her voice.

Well, perhaps Becky was correct. After all, they had been traveling for some time. ’Twas probably best to put off sightseeing for tomorrow. He gave her a brief nod, and she cast a tight smile his way in return.

The coachman pulled up in front his townhome—and it remained an impressive sight to behold. The servants had given the exterior of the home a fresh whitewash and had recently, per his implicit instructions, painted the shutters a deep, dark shade of green. The ornate pillars stretched the length of all three stories, giving the building an air of detached formality. Had Papa prevailed, their townhome would have been in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, among wealthy tradespeople, the sort of people most like his family. Mama had insisted on a fine Mayfair residence.

To Paul’s dismay, there, on the front portico, was a familiar disheveled sight. John Reed, who, with Daniel, would carouse with Paul until the wee hours of every morning. His heart sank. John was a decent enough chap, but not necessarily one he wanted to introduce to Becky or Juliet. Ignoring propriety, he bounded out of the carriage ahead of its female occupants. He must quell John’s certain exuberance.

“Paul!” he called, clapping Paul on the shoulder as he mounted the steps. “Does me a power of good to see you. You look awful, my dear fellow. That carriage accident has rendered your formerly handsome face as much appeal as a jigsaw puzzle. I had quite despaired of you coming to town. Now that you are here, we must celebrate.”

“John, so good of you to form a welcoming committee of one.” Paul flicked an anxious glance over his shoulder to where Becky was just helping Juliet out of the carriage. “You remember my sister Juliana? She passed away a few months ago where she was living abroad, and her daughter is now my ward.”

“Oh, so sorry to hear she’s passed. My sympathies, and all that.” John removed his hat with a deferential air and peered over at Juliet. “She really is the spitting image of her mother, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is.” Paul stepped aside as Becky mounted the steps with Juliet. “Miss Siddons, the nursery will be on the second floor.” As he spoke, the front door opened and Edmunds, the butler for his townhome staff, stepped out. “Edmunds, please show Miss Siddons to the nursery suite. I shall be in presently.”

Edmunds bowed and motioned to Becky. Juliet followed her nursemaid, shadowing her so closely it was a wonder she didn’t become entangled in Becky’s skirts.

John watched their progress, his eyes narrowing in a predatory manner as he glanced over Becky. Paul’s throat tightened. John shouldn’t be looking at a lady in that fashion.

“Come, let’s take a stroll. It will do me good to walk about, accustomed as I am to riding in the carriage.” Paul caught John’s shoulder and spun him around, setting him toward the street. “Tell me, did you hang about awaiting my arrival for the past few weeks?”

“Nay, not I. I have better things to do. More amusing things, at least.” John stuck his hands inside his jacket pockets with a jaunty air. “I did hear from my valet that your valet said you would probably arrive today. And since the information you receive from a valet is as good as gold, I thought I might as well wait for you as not. Shall we head straight to Brook’s?”

“I’d rather walk a bit longer.” Already the narrow streets of London were pressing in on him. Funny, he’d never found it quite so oppressive before. At least the sun was shining. He’d had enough of rain for the time being.

John laughed. “You Holmes lot and your eccentricities. Walking rather than playing cards at Brook’s. I do hope that accident of yours hasn’t affected your brain.”

“Not at all,” Paul rejoined in a hearty manner. Better to sound convincing, perhaps, than to be convinced oneself.

“Well, as long as you are in your right mind, you might tell me about that delectable morsel I saw entering your home.” John jabbed him with his elbow. “I vow, I have hardly ever seen a female with such striking eyes. Purple, are they?”

“Miss Siddons does have violet eyes, yes.” Paul kept his reply curt as he ducked around a couple holding court on the pavement. Perhaps he could send a subtle message to John just with the tone and inflection of his voice. “She is my niece’s nursemaid.”

“What a decorative ornament to keep around one’s home,” John rejoined, directing them onto Mount Street. “And is she from the country, then? I daresay I should go back to Derbyshire and spend some time there among the locals, if such lovely prizes are to be found.”

Anger boiled within Paul. Becky was not the kind of girl his class of gentlemen usually remarked upon at length. And she was surely too fine a person for cheap and tawdry observation. He stopped walking, facing his friend squarely. “Now see here, Reed. Miss Siddons is a member of my household. And her sister is married to Daniel Hale. She’s a good girl from an excellent family, and she agreed to help me during a most difficult time. I won’t have you speak of her in such terms again.”

“My apologies, old chap. I had no idea.” John backed up a step, holding his hands out in a defensive gesture. “I shan’t say anything like it again. Shall we go to Brook’s now? Walking in no particular direction is wearing out the heels of my boots, and extraordinary boots they are, though I say it myself.”

Brook’s, redolent of tobacco smoke, crowded with dissolute men spending vast quantities of money—at one point, this had held great allure. Indeed, he’d dreamed of fleeing his responsibilities in the country for just such an adventure. Now that the opportunity finally presented itself, the thought of going inside set his stomach churning.

Whatever was coming over him? He must be hungry. He should go home and have a decent meal and a rest. Then he would be himself again.

“Some other time. Tomorrow, perhaps, after I finish a pressing matter of business.” He offered John his hand. “Thanks for meeting us. I am glad to be back.” Even though he wasn’t. Not really.

John returned the handshake. “Of course.” He tugged his hat back on. “You know where to find me. I’ll be at the club or the opera or recuperating at home.”

Paul watched as John strode off down the sidewalk, cutting a fashionable picture of the dissolute gentleman as he walked. At one point, carousing with John had been the best part of any trip to London. Why did it ring hollow now?

He turned back toward his townhome, making his way to Davies Street. Now ’twas almost like they were on completely different paths, heading in opposite directions.

Yes, he definitely needed to eat something. None of this made any sense.

* * *

Surely living in London should feel more impressive. This townhome, for instance. Becky stared around her at her vast bedroom, with its lovely sky-blue ceiling. No room she’d ever stayed in was this elegant or well-appointed. And yet... She sank onto the soft bed, steadying herself as she rolled backward slightly. She already longed for the cozy cheerfulness of Kellridge, with her tidy little sitting room, and Juliet’s bedroom just beyond. Here, Juliet slept in a room just down the hall. It was close enough to reach her, but still. This house lacked intimacy.

In fact, thus far London had failed to impress her, though in truth she’d seen very little of it. Was she so affected by Kate’s dire warnings? Or was it just that draining to try to keep Juliet to her prescribed bedtime as they traveled? Tonight it had taken no fewer than three attempts at putting her to sleep—nearly an hour. Becky’s bones ached from fatigue, and if she closed her eyes, the room whirled around her. This was not the exciting new world she’d expected it would be.

There was a gentle rapping on her door. Oh, no. Not Juliet again.

No, Juliet never knocked. Just cried outside her door since she was too small to reach the latch.

“Come in?” She couldn’t keep the weariness out of her voice.

The butler, Edmunds, popped his head round the door. “If you please, Miss Siddons. Mr. Holmes requests an interview with you in the library.”

“Yes, of course.” Becky stood. “He must want to know how Miss Juliet is doing.”

Edmunds gave a respectful bow. “Follow me.”

She followed the butler down the wide, curving staircase, bumping her hand against an ornamental cherub on the balustrade. “Ouch.”

“Are you all right, Miss Siddons?” Edmunds called over his shoulder as he turned down the hallway.

“Yes, thank you.” She rubbed her sore hand. There’d be a lovely little bruise there tomorrow.

Edmunds paused before a glossy white door and gave a discreet rap. “Miss Siddons to see you, sir,” he announced before opening the door wider and ushering her in. All this formality! It should be impressive, but instead, it was tiresome. Becky fought the urge to make a face as the butler closed the door behind her.

“Becky, do sit down.” Paul was lounging in a large leather chair by the hearth. “I’m sorry I had to ask you to come down here—there’s no sitting room on the second floor.”

“Oh, that’s all right.” She sat in the chair opposite Paul and rubbed the top of her aching hand.

“You look exhausted,” he pronounced.

“I am.” In days past, she might have struck back at Paul with a witty rejoinder, or at least a caustic comment about his lack of chivalry. This was not the right time for clever rebuttals, and there was no need to beat about the bush. “It took an hour to get Juliet to sleep tonight.”

“An hour? I thought we were down to fifteen minutes, sometimes not even that.” Paul ran his hand through his thick, sandy hair. “Was she simply excited about the new arrangements?”

“Yes.” She was so weary, even speaking was an effort.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Becky forced herself to meet Paul’s eyes. She’d avoided looking at him as much as possible since Kate had spoken to her. What if she had accidentally sent some kind of ridiculous signal to him? One that was interpreted in entirely the wrong manner? He gazed at her thoughtfully and rubbed the fading scar on his cheek.

“I am sure it will take just a few days to settle in.” She added a bright cheeriness to her tone. “We are just...overwhelmed.”

“That is understandable.” Paul’s voice comforted her weary spirit. He could be such good company when he chose to be. “Tell me, what do you think of my house here?”

What could one say? That the house was lovely and yet cold? “I do declare it is the most elegant place I’ve ever set foot in.” There. That was the truth, after all.

“This place is all my mother’s doing.” Paul lounged back in his chair. “My father wanted to live in a fashionable part of town, too, but more among our class of people. Mayfair always has been a bit beyond our reach. I’m the only surviving member of our family who cares for it.”

“Why don’t your other siblings enjoy it? Do they dislike it so much?” She’d never heard much about Paul’s family—only Juliana and George, and precious little at that. ’Twould be interesting to hear more about them. Perhaps they could provide another piece to the puzzle that was Paul Holmes.

Paul smiled. “My brother calls it a ‘horror of modern architecture.’”

“Oh, dear.” Becky couldn’t contain a laugh at that. “That sounds rather harsh.”