by Meara Platt
“What do you think we’ll do?” Anne asked, dancing a bit on the end of his hand. She reminded him of a kite on a string. “Do you think we’ll go to see her cousins?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, watching for the carriage. Was it wrong that he couldn’t wait to have another look at her?
Anne gave another wiggle. “I’d like to see the ships at the docks.”
He crinkled his brow, looking down at his daughter. “Miss Chase is here to teach you to be a lady, not a hooligan.”
Ann immediately stilled. “Yes, Papa.”
He winced. He hadn’t meant to spoil her good mood. “That doesn’t mean you won’t have fun. In fact, Mary seems to think a bit of adventure would be good for you.”
Anne’s eyes lit again. “I can’t wait.”
He tightened his jaw, grinding his teeth together. How had Mary come in and instantly known what his daughter needed when he didn’t have a clue. Perhaps he’d been preoccupied—at first, to keep his business afloat. Then, saving Anne from the countess, and at last, dealing with her after the traumatic kidnapping. Hopefully, he’d given Mary enough time to find out.
The carriage rumbled through the gates and started up the drive, making its way toward them. Anne gripped his hand tightly, holding her breath, and he had the urge to do the same. As the carriage ground to a halt, the driver climbed down and snapped open the door. Then Mary, lifting her skirts, climbed down from the vehicle. His breath caught as he glimpsed her slender ankle.
The skirts fell into place and Anne bolted forward, throwing her arms wide. “Miss Chase, Miss Chase you’re here! What shall we do today?”
Mary caught his daughter up in a hug. “The possibilities are endless,” she replied, running her hand down Anne’s braid. As requested, she’d been dressed in an old gown, the child’s hair simply styled. “But why don’t you start by showing me to my room?”
Anne let go and clapped. “Wonderful. You’re going to stay right next to me.”
Mary’s snapped her gaze up to his. “Not with the servants?”
He winced, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I suppose I consider your position to be more like a nanny.”
Her gaze narrowed. “But she has a nanny already.”
“Anne,” he should have explained more yesterday. He’d gotten distracted by his attraction to her along with her decidedly strong personality. So different from Clara. “Take Miss Chase’s bag upstairs.”
“Yes, Papa,” Anne said, taking the bag from the driver. “Reeves can help me.”
Reeves came down the steps. “I’d be happy to, Miss Anne.” He gave the girl a soft grin. “Shall we?” And the two of them headed off, each holding a handle of her bag.
“I didn’t expect to see a soft side to that man,” Mary said as she watched them go.
Sin shook his head. “He’s always been like that with her. He was like that with me too as a child.”
Mary stepped up to his side. “That makes a great deal more sense.”
“As to why I don’t sack him?” Sin smiled, drinking in the details of her face.
She smiled back, so sweet and lovely. “Yes.” She stepped next to him. “I assume you wanted to speak with me about the room assignment?”
He nodded as he held out his arm to help her up the steps. She looked down, hesitating. “I’m not a lady that you need to escort.”
She was right of course, but he didn’t drop his elbow. “We may as well accept the fact that this is not a normal arrangement.”
She looked up at him with her lips parted in surprise. She swallowed then asked. “How so?”
Looking down at her like that made him ache with want, and belatedly he realized what his words might have implied. “What I mean is that you are family to my family. And the role I need from you is hardly of a normal teacher.”
Mary gave a tentative nod, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “That makes sense.”
He started up the stairs. “You should know that Anne has been having nightmares. The nanny has tried everything to get her to sleep through the night but nothing’s worked.”
“Poor thing,” Mary murmured, drawing in a shuddering breath. “So I am next to her to help her at night as well as during the day?”
“If you are willing,” he answered. “But even if you’re not, we both know you are not a normal servant in this house. A fact I’ll share with Reeves as well. I gather from your comment that he was less than friendly yesterday?”
Shaking her head, she looked up to him again. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure he was only being protective of Anne.”
Sin stopped in the foyer, turning partially toward her. “He likely was, but it will be my job to protect you as well while you are under my roof. If I don’t, my guess is I’ll be answering to Vice.”
Mary gave him a sidelong glance. “Did he come here yesterday? Was he meddling?” Her fingers tightened about his elbow, her grip rather firm. “Cordelia put him up to it. I’m sure of it. What did he say? Tell me he didn’t embarrass you or me or both of us?”
Sin opened his mouth, not sure what to say. What did she mean by embarrass? But he didn’t get a chance to ask as Anne returned back down the stairs. “Mary,” she bounced in front of her new tutor. “Would you like to come see your room.”
Mary’s hand slipped from his arm. He should be happy that Anne was so elated but some part of him missed Mary’s touch on his arm.
As she glided gracefully up the stairs, he reminded himself that he didn’t need another woman like her complicating his life. But somehow, he couldn’t make his body agree.
Chapter Five
Mary watched the child bounce about the bedroom. Her plan was already working. At least she hoped it was. Her goal was to build Anne’s confidence during the day to help her cope with fear at night.
“What shall we do Miss Chase?” the child sang. “Take a great adventure?”
Mary laughed. “Yes. A fantastic one full of adventure, mystery, and activity.”
“Where?” Anne bounced on her heels. “Where shall we go?”
Lord Sinclair had implied the child was struggling with fear but thus far, Mary had seen no evidence of that fact. “To the garden,” she replied, suppressing a grin when Anne let out a loud groan.
“The garden?”
“Yes. The garden.” She crossed the room reaching for one of her bags. “But I think we’ll take this with us.”
“What is it?” Anne asked her eyes growing larger as she stepped toward Mary.
“Take a look,” Mary answered, unclasping the bag.
Anne set the bag on the bed and then opened it slowly, letting out a loud gasp as she looked inside. “They’re so beautiful.”
Mary gave one of the girl’s braids a tug. “I thought you’d like them.”
Grace, an accomplished artist, had allowed Mary to raid her art supplies. Sketch books, charcoals, paints, and brushes graced the inside of the bag. “Today I think we’ll start with the charcoal and work our way to painting. Next week, Grace will come over to give you some lessons.”
Anne let go of the bag to clap wildly as she spun about. “Papa, did you hear? We’re going to draw in the garden.”
“I heard,” Lord Sinclair rumbled from the doorway.
Her entire body tensed at the sound. She hadn’t heard him come down the hall, thanks to the carpeting, and she heated as she wondered how long he’d been watching. She turned to face him, straightening in a show of strength that she didn’t feel. “Can we picnic for the noon meal as well?”
Anne gasped with delight. “A picnic. Oh, yes, please!” Then she danced over to her father. “Papa. You should picnic with us too. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Inwardly Mary groaned. She came here for Anne and despite her earlier pondering about fulfilling a few fantasies with Lord Sinclair, she’d realized the foolishness of that idea the moment she’d arrived. He was her employer. And she had a future to build.
“It does
sound fun, sweetheart.” He pushed off the doorframe and entered the room. “If that’s all right with Miss Chase?”
“Of course.” She nodded, looking at Anne. She was going to have to overcome this attraction or her post would be short-lived. “Will the cook permit us to pack it ourselves before we go out?”
“I’m sure she would but she could pack it for you and I could take it out.”
His voice rumbled through her as she continued to watch the girl dance about the room. She was determined not to look at Lord Sinclair while she brought herself back under control.
Swallowing, she drew in a deep breath. “That’s quite all right. We’ll pack it ourselves.” Then she reached for Anne’s hand as the girl slipped her fingers into Mary’s. “Anne, since your Papa will be our distinguished guest, do you know what he might like to eat or should we ask him?”
Anne crinkled her brow. “He likes chicken. And lamb…” The child looked up to the ceiling. “And meat pies.”
Mary gave her an appreciative smile. “Excellent. I bet you can pack him all his favorite things.”
Anne nodded eagerly. “Wouldn’t that be grand. I’ll go tell Cook.” And with that the girl darted off.
“Well,” Lord Sinclair rumbled as the girl disappeared. “You’ve certainly got her excited.”
Mary nodded. “Indeed.”
“Is there a method to all this enthusiasm?” He moved closer. She felt his heat through her clothes. Her fingers clenched into her skirts.
“There is,” she answered. “Being useful. Doing for others builds confidence in ourselves.” She drew in a deep breath. “And she seems interested in drawing. I want her to be good at things. But…” This made her smile. “For our first days, I thought we would stay on the property. Test out her fears and what drives them.”
His hand came up to her shoulder. She hadn’t expected it and a shiver raced down her spine at his touch. “Thank you for taking on the position. I’m very hopeful to see what the next few weeks bring.”
Heat radiated from her face. “I haven’t done anything yet. Reserve your thanks until I’ve been successful.”
He brushed his fingers down her arm. “I see a difference in her already and for my part…” He hesitated. “You were right yesterday. I thought by guiding her on proper presentation for a lady I was doing the job of a mother—”
Her insides twisted. How difficult it must be for him to raise a daughter on his own. “I spoke out of turn and truly, you are a caring and concerned father. She couldn’t ask for more.”
Silence fell between them, but he didn’t move away. In fact, if anything, he drifted closer. Her own breath stalled in her chest. “Thank you,” he finally whispered.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, a lump of nerves clogging her throat. “I should go help Anne.” Then, breaking from his side, she lifted her skirts to walk more quickly to the door. She needed a bit of space because wild fantasies of kissing him and Cordelia’s words had begun echoing through her head.
Mary was going to be the death of him. Sin stood in her room and did a slow circle as he assessed her bags and trunk. Nothing had been unpacked, most were neatly stacked under the window where the valet had likely left them.
One sat open on the bed, the very one that had sent Anne into cries of elation. Why hadn’t art lessons occurred to him? And picnics?
He’d watched Mary stroke his daughter’s braid with gentle fingers and something inside him had shifted. Anne hadn’t been this excited in months. Perhaps Mary was just the change that Anne had needed after all.
He found himself leaving the room and heading down the back stairs toward the kitchen. She was breathing life into him too. His insides were a twisting mess, he’d barely slept last night in anticipation of her arrival, and the thought of picnicking with her sounded…delightful.
He stopped on the steps, halfway between the first and second floor. He’d felt this way once before. Clara had been a small woman of fragile beauty. Later he’d learned that she’d spent much of her childhood ill, but as an adult, she’d outgrown the illness.
He’d loved the way she’d fit under his arm, and Mary was right about people finding joy in caring for others. He’d taken great delight in shielding her from the world. Of course, he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about planting his seed in her womb. And he’d been completely helpless when birthing had been too much for her.
His head dropped in his hands. Yes, he felt a pull toward Mary. But she wasn’t the type of woman he should marry. The next time, he’d take a wife of strong stock. Though Mary was strong-willed, that still didn’t mean she could survive pregnancy and childbirth given her small stature.
Dropping his hands, he continued down to the kitchen. He stopped, watching Mary help Anne cut bread, her hands gently guiding his daughter’s.
He closed his eyes. She’d been here for mere minutes and he’d already resorted to lurking in doorways and spying. Mary’s voice washed over him. “That’s perfect. Just like that. Slow, even strokes.”
His hands clenched into fists. Bloody hell, he wanted her to speak to him with those same words and soft tone. Just on an entirely different subject.
“Like this?” Anne asked, eager for approval. “Am I doing a good job?”
“Wonderful,” Mary answered. “Your father is going to love this picnic.”
He was going to love it. Every damned second.
“And then after the picnic, we can draw?”
“I’m sure we can. But first we’ll have to pick the perfect thing to draw. Something that is relatively easy for our first time and something that sparks our imagination and strikes our fancy.”
Sin knew what he’d draw if given the chance. He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He wouldn’t survive a week with Mary in the house, let alone two. He was certain of it. Stepping into the kitchen, he dropped his hands. “Anne, come get me when you’re ready for the picnic.”
And then, without waiting for an answer, he stomped back up the stairs to his office where he tossed himself into his chair. He had to last a week with Mary. Honestly, he had to last far longer. She was good for his daughter and he’d endured worse for the sake of Anne’s happiness.
But as he tried to start working, again and again, his thoughts returned to the rich brown silk of Mary’s hair and the soft shape of her eyes. The pale pink that infused her cheeks and lovely curves of her figure danced in front of his closed eyes.
He dropped his head into his hands, propping his elbows on the desk. Mary was haunting him.
Chapter Six
Mary sat on the blanket, enjoying the summer sun as she waited for Anne to return with Lord Sinclair. Here in the shade of a flowering pear tree, nothing could bother her, not even her worries over her new, temporary-for-now position.
She pulled out a sketch pad and started to draw. First, she drew a nearby daisy, dancing on the end of its stalk in the summer breeze. But her thoughts drifted to little Anne and her charcoal followed. Soon, she was adding a girl bent over and sniffing the flower.
Mary wasn’t nearly as accomplished as Grace but she pictured the girl in her mind and tried to capture the child’s essence. There was so much life in the girl waiting to come out. Then she thought of Lord Sinclair. Slowly, she began to sketch his outline too, behind the child, smiling in support. His hands were held out waiting to help the girl, his shoulders slightly bent in case she fell as she danced toward the flower.
It was a rough sketch, no detail added, but the subjects were clear and the picture made her smile, despite herself.
When she looked up, the real-life Anne was bounding toward her, Lord Sinclair following in her wake, just as in her drawing. Her smile broadened as she set the sketch aside and waved. Sin waved back and her grin slipped, her tongue darting out to lick her now parched lips. How could the man affect her so with the tiniest of gestures?
“Do you see, Papa? Isn’t it lovely? This is so much nicer than lessons.” Anne stopped just on
the edge of the blanket.
Mary answered before Lord Sinclair could. “Lessons are very important too. You must be ready for life as an adult, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.”
“Agreed,” Sin said as he chose a spot across from her on the blanket. “And this picnic looks delicious. I must confess that I too wish we’d done this before now.”
“Me too,” Anne answered, sitting next to her father.
She reached for a bit of meat pie, but Mary held up her hand. “Remember, we serve his lordship first.”
“Oh yes,” Anne nodded and turned to her father. “What would you like to eat, my lord?”
Sin’s eyebrows rose. “A meat pie and some chicken, please.”
Mary tapped a bowl of fruit, giving Anne a wink. Anne nodded, folding her hands and turning to her father to practice her manners. “You must try the dates. They are in season and delightful.”
“I will take your recommendation, my lady.” And he gave Mary a long look that made her shift on the ground, her eyes dropping to her lap.
“Very good,” Anne replied sitting up straighter and nodding along. “Would you also care for some tea?”
“Tea would be lovely.” And then he dipped his chin in a nod of acknowledgement. Mary’s breath stuck in her throat. She knew what his gesture meant. He understood what Mary had been attempting to accomplish with this picnic lunch. Anne was still engaged in lessons. The entire affair had been a big lesson on first preparing food, then learning the proper way to serve. Of course, Anne had barely noticed, which was the best way to teach someone. But Sin clearly understood what Mary was doing with the day and he appreciated her efforts.
And that was more pleasing to Mary than if he’d winked at her during a ball or asked her to dance.
They ate their meal, Anne doing her best to make the small talk as Mary had instructed her. “Isn’t the day lovely?” she asked at one point.