Alex winced. He knew the child was inordinately sensitive to the fact that her mother had left her on his doorstep. He could sympathize, still incensed himself that a woman could do such a thing.
He looked at Mrs. Callahan to gauge her reaction, but she merely lifted a brow. “Are you now?”
“I am.”
“Is that the excuse you use for having such poor manners?”
Gabby sucked in a breath. “Did you hear that, Father? She said I have poor manners.”
“Well, you do,” Mrs. Callahan said.
“Do not.”
The nurse snorted, the inelegant sound somehow seeming to fit the redoubtable nurse perfectly. “You don’t even know how to curtsy properly.”
“Do too.”
“Not by the looks of the one you just gave me.”
To Alex’s absolute and utter shock, his obstinate daughter took a step back, straightened, and then gave the nurse a curtsy that would have done her mother proud … if she’d had one.
“There,” she said upon straightening.
Mrs. Callahan wrinkled her tilted nose. “Hmm. I suppose that was a wee bit better, but no proper little girl disobeys her elders.”
Gabby glared. So did the nurse.
Alex decided he’d had enough.
“Gabby, go to your room.”
His daughter opened her mouth to give her standard protest. But an odd thing happened. He saw her stiffen again. Saw her clench her fists. Saw her straighten. “As you wish, Papa.”
Alex just about fell off his chair.
She turned, gave him a quick, perfect curtsy, nodded to Mrs. Callahan—who, of all things, stuck her tongue out again—then left.
Silence dawned. Alex could only stare.
“If that’s the way she behaves, ’tis a wonder someone hasn’t given your daughter a basting.” Her full lips pressed together. “Fair wanted to do it meself.”
He blinked, found himself clearing his throat. “Mrs. Callahan, how long, exactly, have you been a nurse?”
“Long enough, m’lord,” she answered with a tilt to her pert little chin and a sparkle in her eyes.
“How long?” he asked again.
“Long enough to know you must be desperate indeed for someone to fill this post if I’m still sitting here.”
He drew back, once again startled by her frankness.
But the way she’d challenged Gabby into behaving …
It was a remarkable technique. “Where did you learn to handle children that way?”
“Handle ’em like what?”
“So expertly.”
She snorted, her pretty eyes lighting up once again. And, yes, there was no sense in denying it. She was very pretty. Far better-looking than the old crones he and his steward had been interviewing the past week.
“It’s the way I raised me younger brothers. Four of them I have. I assume what works for the poorer classes works for the nobility, too.”
Rather a pert answer, but there might be some truth to her words. He stared at her for a second longer, a bit disbelieving that he was actually contemplating the idea of hiring her. She disliked children. Well, he knew a blacksmith that didn’t like horses, but he was still a fine farrier.
“Let me explain Gabby’s unusual circumstances.”
And was it his imagination, or did she actually look impatient? No. That couldn’t be. “She is my daughter, that I do not deny, left on my doorstep for me to raise when she was only days old. I’ve done my best, but my duties as a revenue commander ofttimes take me away, smuggling being rampant this time of year. When I am gone my two cousins look after Gabby. I’m afraid my cousins haven’t been a very good influence on her making me lament my lack of female family. One of them taught her to shoot a pistol during her last visit.” He frowned. “As such she has grown up rather independent and strong-willed. No nurse has stayed beyond a week. No governess, either. Since my last mission, my house steward has hired a total of twelve good ladies, all of whom have left in a huff.” He eyed her critically. “Knowing what I’ve just told you, are you still interested in the job?”
“No,” she said.
“It pays a pound a week.”
Her eyes widened.
He nodded. “If you take the job, and I am in no way convinced you are right for it yet, you will receive one pound a week for your troubles, and believe me, Mrs. Callahan, my daughter is trouble.”
“A pound a week,” she whispered, her whole expression undergoing a change. “And all I need do is nurse the bantling?”
“Indeed. However, your response to my earlier question puzzles me. If you do not like children, why do you nurse them?”
She stared at him hard and he had the oddest feeling she was mulling over something. “I was lying,” she said at last.
“I beg your pardon?”
She nodded, her eyes having lost some of their earlier impatience. “I’d decided on my way here that I didn’t want the job. I ain’t never worked for no nobleman before, and I didn’t want to start.”
He felt his brow wrinkle in surprise. “Then why did you apply for the job?”
She stared at him for a moment. “My father made me do it.”
His brows lifted. Well, he could certainly understand one’s father’s influence on one’s life. “I see. So you decided to botch the interview.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, me lord.”
He studied her for a few seconds before asking, “Have you ever struck a child before?”
“No.” She stiffened. “No, wait. Tommy Blackford. He’d plucked all the feathers off a chicken. Made the thing look like a poodle with mange, he did. Have you ever seen a poodle with mange, me lord?”
“No, I have not.”
“Ugly, it is. And to my way of thinking, Tommy’s lucky I did no more than clout him on the backside. I’d half a mind to pluck all his own hair out just to see how he liked being bald.”
An unexpected urge to laugh tickled Alex’s lips. “I see,” he said, batting the urge back. How common. “And have you worked with difficult children before?”
“Only me father.”
That did shock a bark of laughter. Gracious, what the devil was wrong with him? “That is not the kind of child I had in mind.”
“No? Well then, the answer is no.”
“How about difficult people?” He held up his hand quickly. “Aside from your father.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “Old man Mathison were a real handful. Used to hit me in the backside with a slingshot whenever he’d catch me crossing his field. Hurt like the dickens, it did. A regular scaly old cove. So one day I built myself some armor. Used ash bin covers. Strung them together with twine. Worked like a charm. Old man Mathison didn’t know what to do when his rocks bounced off my body. Eventually, he gave up, though I never did understand why he didn’t just ask me to stop trespassing. I would have if he’d asked.”
He stared across at her unblinkingly, a part of him wanting to laugh again, another part of him rather intrigued by her tales.
Still …
He looked back down at her résumé, reviewing her qualifications. There could be no doubt that she had the experience necessary for the job. And the way she’d handled Gabby …
He looked back up at her. The redoubtable Mrs. Callahan was once again tapping her foot as she shot covert glances at his furnishings.
“I shall give you a trial,” he said at last. “Two weeks, at the end of which we shall evaluate your performance. Of course, that is assuming you are still interested in the position?”
The foot stopped tapping. “A pound a week?” she reiterated, eyes narrowed.
“Over fifty pounds per annum.”
“And all I have to do is keep an eye on the hellion? Feed her? Dress her?”
“That is, I believe, rather the point of being a nurse,” he said dryly.
She scrunched her face. Perversely enough, it did nothing to detract from her beauty. When she straightened, Alex felt a surp
rising stab of hope.
“I’ll take it,” she finally said.
“Very good. When can you start?”
“When do you want me to start?”
“Today.”
“Today?”
“If your affairs are so in order.”
“But I—”
“If not, next week will be just as well.”
She blinked, stared at him for a long moment, then said, “I’ll start today.”
“Good,” he said, rising. “I’ll have Miss Grimes show you to the nursery.”
The Editor's Diary
Dear Reader,
Discover romance at its sexiest and history at its grandest with our two Warner Forever titles this month. Find a cozy spot, put your feet up, and escape—to Regency England and seventeenth-century Scotland.
When Amanda Quick says that SEDUCED by Pamela Britton is “everything a historical romance reader could ever want,” it’s time to pay attention. When she adds that Pamela Britton “writes the kind of wonderfully romantic, sexy, witty historical romance that readers dream of discovering,” it’s time to read the book already! Here’s what you’ll find in this Regency-set tale: Lucien St. Aubyn and Elizabeth Monclair loathe each other. Elizabeth sees Lucien for the scoundrel that he is. Lucien finds Elizabeth too straitlaced, if only because she’s the one woman who has ever resisted his charms. When he devises a plan to seduce her and the two are caught alone, their worst fears come true—they must marry each other!
If a spectacular drama set in seventeenth-century Scotland is your fantasy, then get ready to be swept away by Kathleen Givens’ THE DESTINY. This story involving an ancient prophecy about twin brothers began with THE LEGEND and continues with the tale of Neil MacCurrie, Highland chieftain and enemy of the Crown. When Neil is captured in the home of a foe, the owner’s royal-blooded daughter, Eileen Rowley, has her passion awakened by the handsome stranger and helps him escape. Fate brings them together again in London’s gilded court, where their star-crossed destiny is tested by Neil’s duties to his clan, the lure of the crown and the desires of Eileen’s heart.
To find out more about Warner Forever, these April titles, and the authors, visit us at www.warnerforever.com.
With warmest wishes,
Karen Kosztolnyik
Senior Editor
P.S. Mother’s Day is coming up, so be on the lookout for these perfect gifts: Leanne Banks offers some not-so-traditional mother’s advice in the hilarious romantic comedy SOME GIRLS DO; and in LAST BREATH romantic suspense writer Rachel Lee offers a chilly reminder of things our mothers warned us about.
Seduced
© 2003 Pamela Britton
ISBN: 0446611298
WARNER FOREVER
Ed♥n
Seduced Page 29