by Jen Turano
Besides looking less than her best, she was also fairly certain she smelled strongly of fish.
Giving the captain her warmest thanks once the vessel was securely docked, she dragged her heavy bag past numerous sailors, pretending to be hard of hearing when they sent whistles her way. By the time she put some space between herself and the sailors, her face was burning, but her embarrassment disappeared the moment she counted out the few coins she had left in her possession and found herself woefully short on funds. That meant even a trip on an omnibus was not in her future. Accepting a ride with a man delivering the very fish she’d escorted to the wharf, she consoled herself with the idea that although his wagon was less than comfortable, at least her unpleasant scent wasn’t offending anyone.
When the delivery man dropped her off in front of the employment agency, nerves almost had her running after the delivery man and begging him to take her anywhere else. Mrs. Patterson, the woman who owned the agency, had warned Millie about losing another position, and Millie knew she was going to be in for a rough time of it once Mrs. Patterson learned she’d been dismissed yet again.
Reminding herself that she needed to secure new employment sooner rather than later, Millie squared her shoulders and headed for the steps. But before she had an opportunity to reach them, something hard and unyielding slammed into her. Dropping like a stone to the ground, Millie felt the oddest desire to simply stay there and let the world move on without her.
She was tired, smelly, discouraged, and didn’t believe her life could get any worse than it was at that particular moment.
A second later, as she squinted up at what turned out to be a very large, very manly form, she realized she’d been wrong.
Her life could, indeed, become worse.
Peering down at her was none other than Mr. Everett Mulberry, a gentleman she knew through her acquaintance with Mr. Oliver Addleshaw. With his sculpted face, green eyes, and brown hair that was normally stylishly arranged—not that it was at that particular moment—he was an exceedingly handsome gentleman.
The first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d actually become completely tongue-tied. Because Mr. Mulberry had recently inherited three young children to raise, Millie had found him slightly irresistible, until he’d had the audacity to immediately dismiss her offer of becoming a nanny to his slightly troublesome wards.
The moment he’d learned about her unfortunate propensity for getting let go from her positions, well . . . he turned adamant in his refusal to offer her employment.
The gentleman had not even given her a moment to properly explain all the past misunderstandings she’d suffered in those ill-fated employment situations, but had, instead, kept a careful distance between them whenever they happened to be in each other’s immediate vicinity.
“ . . . and I cannot apologize enough for knocking you to the ground,” Mr. Mulberry was saying, pulling Millie abruptly from her jaunt down memory lane. “Do know that my preoccupied state of mind is in no way an excuse for my less-than-careful regard for your person.”
Pushing aside numerous curls that were obstructing her view, Millie was just about to take the hand Mr. Mulberry was offering her when his eyes suddenly widened and his offered hand was taken away.
“Miss Longfellow? What in the world are you doing here?”
Not appreciating the clear trace of horror in the gentleman’s voice, Millie began struggling to her feet, reluctantly accepting the hand Mr. Mulberry finally thrust back at her. She soon found herself standing on her feet, even as she caught Mr. Mulberry’s eye. “How lovely it is to see you, Mr. Mulberry. I do hope you and the children are well.”
“You haven’t been dismissed from another position, have you?” he asked, completely neglecting to exchange the expected pleasantries with her.
Millie lifted her chin. “I’ve been excellent of late—thank you for asking. And—to answer your oh-so-charming inquiry—why else would I be here instead of looking after some little ones?”
“This is certain to complicate matters.”
“How can my dismissal possibly complicate matters for you? Unless . . . Your wards haven’t run off another nanny, have they?”
Mr. Mulberry frowned. “Mrs. Smithey preferred to be referred to as a nurse, but . . . yes, my wards somehow managed to run her off.”
“And they did this . . . how?”
Raking a hand through his untidy hair, Mr. Mulberry shrugged. “From what I’ve been able to surmise, it all had to do with an unfortunate game of walking the plank, a plank that was, strangely enough, set over a fountain.”
“Fountains do seem to be responsible for quite a bit of mischief today.” She ignored his immediate look of confusion. “How is it possible—if I’m summarizing correctly—that three children were able to run off a woman by playing a simple game of walking the plank? Did this nurse not come with stellar references?”
“She came with the very best of references, but I don’t believe she was expecting a frog to materialize on the scene—a creature, it unfortunately turns out, Mrs. Smithey is deathly afraid of.”
“It’s an unspoken requirement that women who choose to look after children for a living have a strong liking for all manner of creatures.”
“I’m sure that’s a valid point, Miss Longfellow. However, in Mrs. Smithey’s defense, I don’t believe she was expecting the little monster—and those are Mrs. Smithey’s words about Thaddeus, not mine—to prod a frog in her direction as she was halfway across the plank. That nasty business resulted in the woman falling off the plank and into the fountain.” Mr. Mulberry gave a sad shake of his head. “She was packed and out of the house before I could offer her a substantial raise to keep her in my employ.”
“How much of a ‘substantial raise’?”
Mr. Mulberry immediately began inching away from her. “I don’t believe I care for that particular glint in your eyes, Miss Longfellow. Although, glinting eyes aside, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask just the tiniest favor from you.”
“You want me to look after your wards?”
“Ah, no. That’s not what I want at all.” He ignored her sputters even as he continued to inch backward. “What I need you to do is wait out here until I’ve secured a new nanny from the agency.”
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because the last time I came here and managed to obtain the services of Mrs. Smithey, I was warned that there would be dire consequences if the children managed to drive that woman away. Since they have managed to do that—and somewhat quickly, I must add—I’m afraid the dire consequences I might face will involve you, once the agency learns you’re out of work again.”
He let out what sounded exactly like a sigh. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Mrs. Patterson say something like we deserve each other, and I’d really like to avoid that, if it’s all the same to you.”
Millie summoned up what she hoped would be taken as a pleasant smile, nodded to Mr. Mulberry, and—right after he smiled back and began to look relieved—bolted for the agency door.
2
As a distinct whiff of ocean, mixed with a large dollop of fish, wafted back to him when Miss Longfellow rushed past, Everett took one step to go after her but then stopped and simply watched as she disappeared through the agency door.
In the past, he would have found her less-than-cooperative attitude rather confusing, given that she was a nanny and he was a well-regarded member of society. However, since he’d come into possession of his three wards—whom he occasionally thought of as the brats, and not always fondly—members of the working class were behaving, at least toward him, very oddly indeed. Governesses, nannies, maids, footmen, and even a few of his best drivers, had abandoned his household in droves, leaving his normally pleasant and structured life in a bit of an upheaval.
Taking a moment to consider his options, Everett pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began removing the dirt Miss Longfellow had deposited when she’d taken his hand
.
It wasn’t that he disliked Miss Longfellow—quite the contrary. With her decidedly quirky personality and habit of uttering words that didn’t always suit what she wanted to say, Miss Longfellow was somewhat charming, if slightly deranged.
She seemed to possess an unusual exuberance for life, although at the moment, she also seemed to possess rather short brown curls—something he’d noticed as he’d been conversing with her.
He had a sneaking suspicion the reason behind the shortness was an unfortunate incident with a hot curling tong Miss Longfellow had experimented with a few weeks before. From what he’d heard, Miss Longfellow had perfected the art of scorching instead of curling, which had resulted with her being discouraged from trying out the tongs on the hair of Miss Harriet Peabody, a lady who was now engaged to one of Everett’s best friends, Mr. Oliver Addleshaw.
Everett smiled as an image of Oliver, with Harriet by his side, immediately sprang to mind. They’d been standing on the deck of Oliver’s yacht, waving madly to everyone who’d turned out to see them off to England. That their love for each other had been unexpected, there could be no denying. Even though Everett had been a little hesitant at first to support the idea of Oliver actually marrying Harriet—a woman who’d been earning a living as a hat maker, of all things—he’d eventually come to realize that Harriet was exactly what Oliver needed.
Shoving the handkerchief back into his pocket, he glanced back toward the agency door and found his thoughts immediately returning to one Miss Millie Longfellow.
It truly was a shame he couldn’t consider hiring her on, especially since she did seem to be a rather pleasant sort, even if she certainly didn’t look like a typical nanny. Her form was waif-like, her features delicate, and she had somewhat intriguing lips—intriguing because they were slightly plumper than a person would expect to find on a face that was so . . .
Realizing that his thoughts were beginning to travel in a direction that they really didn’t need to travel, Everett reminded himself exactly why he truly couldn’t contemplate bringing Miss Longfellow on as a nanny to his wards—and it had absolutely nothing to do with her lips.
It all had to do with the lady’s eyes.
That they were a perfectly ordinary shade of green was not in dispute. But that ordinary green, framed by dark lashes, always held a distinct trace of . . . mischief.
That mischief exactly explained why he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, consider hiring Miss Longfellow on to watch after his wards, because everyone knew that where there was mischief, trouble was certain to follow.
Ever since he’d become the unlikely guardian to three unruly children over five months before, Everett had witnessed more trouble than he’d ever thought possible. His life had been turned upside down—orderliness replaced with chaos, that chaos drawing censure from his friends and disappointment from his very own Miss Dixon.
Caroline Dixon was his perfect match in every way, her standing in society as lofty as his, and her desire to increase that standing rivaling his own. That she was not a girl fresh out of the schoolroom, being twenty-four years of age, was a definite mark in her favor. She didn’t expect tender words whispered into her ears, and appreciated the fact that theirs was a relationship based on mutual advantages rather than any of the romantic fantasies so many younger ladies seemed to want to embrace these days.
Gentlemen of his social position had, for years, chosen their future wives exactly as Everett was choosing his now. If the thought occasionally struck him that it seemed somewhat cold selecting a wife in such a manner, he quickly pushed the thought aside, consoling himself with the notion that he and Caroline stood to gain much from their practical alliance.
He would secure a wife who was self-assured, competent at holding her own in a conversation, and perfectly capable of securing them the coveted invitations to all the proper dinners and balls.
Caroline would secure herself a husband possessed of an extensive fortune, one he didn’t mind sharing with her in the least. She’d also obtain a husband who wouldn’t hover around her, since he spent a great deal of time managing his many businesses. As an added benefit, when he wasn’t consumed with business matters, having an entire brigade of associates in his employ who were perfectly capable of running his affairs, he enjoyed sailing his yacht on the high seas—something Caroline didn’t particularly care to do all that often, which would allow her further time to spend pursuing her own interests.
All in all, they were a perfect match for each other, which was why he had no hesitation in humoring her, or rather, indulging her, when she turned a little . . . difficult—something she’d done just that afternoon.
When Mrs. Smithey had resigned, or rather, fled, from her position only a few hours before, Caroline had stated she’d had quite enough, and he couldn’t actually blame her. Ever since he’d inherited the children, the life he and Caroline had grown accustomed to had disappeared. Plans, including those for their engagement, had been put on hold, and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d been unable to escort her to a scheduled society event because of difficulties with the children.
Even though she’d been disappointed time and time again over the past five months, she’d handled herself with poise . . . until Mrs. Smithey had up and fled. That unfortunate business had resulted in Caroline losing her composure, apparently unable, or unwilling, to delay their trip to Newport since she’d delayed so many other events in her life because of his wards.
Tears had begun dribbling down Caroline’s pale cheeks seconds after Mrs. Smithey flew out the door, and Everett had not been immune to the power of Caroline’s tears. Not wishing to disappoint her yet again, he’d immediately headed out for the employment agency, praying a miracle could be found there.
That miracle, however, could not be found in the form of Miss Millie Longfellow. Bringing her, along with her mischievous nature, into his household was inviting further instances of disastrous situations. His wards needed a woman with a stern disposition and little tolerance for nonsense, and that woman certainly was not Miss Longfellow because . . .
The sound of the agency door opening pulled Everett from his thoughts, but he did not discover Miss Longfellow exiting the building, as he’d expected. Standing on the stoop was none other than Mrs. Smithey, the woman who’d just left his employ. She was sniffling into a large handkerchief as she moved down the steps, but she stumbled to a stop when she caught sight of him.
“I won’t go back,” she said in a voice that held a telling note of hysteria in it. “Not even if you offered me a thousand dollars.”
“What if I offered you two thousand for simply watching the children for the rest of the summer?”
A lift of a chin, followed by a very loud sniff, was Mrs. Smithey’s only response before she turned on her sensible heel and marched off, leaving Everett staring after her.
“I would be more than happy to relieve you of two thousand dollars—especially if all that is required of me to earn that small fortune is to look after your little angels.”
Turning back to the agency, he narrowed his eyes on Miss Longfellow, who was peering at him from the doorway.
“Has anyone ever told you that eavesdropping is unbecoming for a lady?”
She waved a slightly dirty hand in the air. “I’ve heard that numerous times, Mr. Mulberry—usually from disintegrated ex-employers.”
“Disintegrated?”
Miss Longfellow bit her lip. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried out a D word, especially since I haven’t studied them for a few months now.” She whipped out what appeared to be a dictionary from her pocket, riffled through it for a second and then looked up. “I might have meant disenchanted, although disgruntled would probably be a better description.”
“Yes, well, disintegrated, disenchanted, and disgruntled aside, you still shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on me.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. You practically shouted your offer at that unpleasant-looking woman, and it was ha
rdly my fault she didn’t shut the door firmly behind her after she spoke her mind to Mrs. Patterson.” Miss Longfellow smiled. “You’ll be pleased to learn I told Mrs. Patterson you’re here, and . . . she’s anxiously waiting to speak to you.”
“Why did you tell her I was here?”
“To distract her from her annoyance with me, of course.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incorrigible?”
“If that means delightful, then certainly.” Miss Longfellow grinned, but her grin disappeared in a flash when Mrs. Patterson joined her in the doorway.
“Mr. Mulberry,” Mrs. Patterson began as she sent him a look that seemed to suggest she found him rather distasteful. “I thought I was fairly clear the last time we saw each other—as in yesterday—that you were to strive diligently to get control of your wards so you wouldn’t lose another employee.”
“Was it only yesterday I was here?” he asked weakly.
“You know it was.” Mrs. Patterson gestured to the door. “You might as well come in.”
Knowing he had no other choice, he moved forward, although he did so rather slowly, stopping on the first step to nod at Miss Longfellow. “I suppose this is where we part ways, Miss Longfellow. Do know that I’m incredibly sorry I knocked you to the ground before.”
“Miss Longfellow isn’t leaving quite yet,” Mrs. Patterson said. “She and I have yet to have a proper chat since up until a few minutes ago I was forced to deal with a distraught Mrs. Smithey.” She wagged a finger in Everett’s direction. “I hope you have a reasonable explanation as to why you allowed that poor woman to be set upon by a vicious pet.”