by Geneva Lee
I piled up my hair and stepped into the shower, hoping it would wash away my anxieties before going to meet with the potential nannies—another concession I’d made to my protective husband. We both had businesses to run. I’d debated selling my half of Bless, my couture clothing rental service, to my business partner, but I couldn’t quite let it go. As much as I wanted to be a mummy, I didn’t want to completely give up my identity. A sharp kick inside me stole my breath as though my darling girl already had opinions of her own on these matters.
“You could just come to work with me,” I cooed, rubbing a circle over my ever-larger belly and earning another kick. “Us girls have to stick together.”
I just didn’t see why I couldn’t do both: be a mum and a business woman. My best friend managed to be a mother and the Queen of England.
“With a household staff,” I reminded myself with a sigh, shutting off the water. Even Clara had a nanny in the beginning. I’d been helping her since William was born. Women needed women. It didn’t make me a bad future mum to have a hand and it didn’t make me a bad entrepreneur to have a baby. Balance was an illusion, anyway. I’d learned that much my first year running my own company.
My wandering thoughts had resulted in too much water spraying on my hair to put it back down, and I had no time to dry it. Rearranging it into a top-knot, I popped into my closet, grabbed a blue silk scarf and tied it artfully around my head. I’d kept most of my maternity dresses in London, where I needed them for business meetings and going to the palace. In the country, I generally opted for a more comfortable wardrobe that allowed me to easily climb around construction materials, wade through the tall grass behind the estate, or lounge around after the crews left for the day. But today, I wanted to make an impression and coveralls and jumpers wouldn’t do the trick. Grabbing a stretchy pair of cropped black leggings, I tugged them on, barely maintaining my balance as I pulled their high waist up and over my swollen stomach. The more pregnant I got, the harder it became to do the simplest tasks. Abandoning my side of the closet, I walked to Smith’s and found a simple white Oxford. I tugged it on, buttoned the first few buttons and then tied the rest just over the waistband of the leggings. I slid on a pair of velvet Birdies, the greatest thing to happen to my feet in the last three months, and decided that was enough. It was better than showing up in sweatpants anyway.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and started toward the stairs, pausing when I saw a text notification.
Clara: When are you coming home? Maybe we can all have lunch?
I took a deep breath, uncertain how to respond. By all, she meant me and Edward. Lunch with Clara meant going to Buckingham. She had a newborn and there was no way around it. I happened to know that Edward missed her and would love to have lunch and see his new nephew. But Buckingham also meant Alexander, and no matter how much Edward loved his sister-in-law and friend, nothing would convince him to step foot inside that place. Nothing had for weeks. I couldn’t blame him for that. I’d stopped asking him when he was going to talk with his brother out of fear that he would cut me out of his life as well. Someone had to keep an eye on him.
I responded that I’d have to check, knowing full-well that I was simply putting off a harder conversation for an easier answer now. I scrolled through my messages to see if Edward had responded to my last friendly hello, asking if he wanted to talk. I’d got back a two word response.
I’m fine.
Fine. It’s all I ever got from him now. Fine? Bollocks. He was not fine. Not by a long shot. Who would be after the death of his husband? Especially given what had happened. He’d begun taking off on last minute trips as though he could run away from his problems. I never knew when he was in London let alone England, and Clara expected to get updates through me about his whereabouts. I hated feeling caught in the middle between my best friends. I hated being stuck out here and unable to force the two of them to finally face one another. I suspected that I just hated feeling like my real life was an hour away in the middle of London.
I turned the volume down on my ringer as I descended the last stair and braced myself. The door to the sitting room was open and I stepped inside, closing it behind me to drown out some of the construction noise.
Smith paused mid-sentence and turned to look at me, his eyes raking across me in a way that always sent a shiver racing down my spine. Even now, in the middle of one of the most mundane tasks ever—a job interview—hunger reflected in his green irises. He looked as he always did: like he was about to pounce and pin me to the wall.
Under that gaze, I felt like I always did: like I wanted him to do just that.
My husband was more than most men dreamed of being. There was handsome, and then there was Smith. Dark hair, just a shade past auburn and sharp, chiseled features formed him into more god than man. Broad shoulders that crowned a muscular upper body, he oozed with a natural arrogance that I couldn't resist. I’d tried once, after he’d hired me to be his assistant. In all fairness, I’d stayed out of his bed much longer than anyone expected. Knowing him now, I wish I hadn’t waited so long. There were few vices in life more delicious than being completely owned and possessed by a man as powerful and certain as Smith Price. I hated the idea that I’d lose even a moment of them to my own stubborn willfulness. Even now, I had half a mind to drag him away to bed—or the nearest flat surface.
But we had a guest and judging from the way her incredibly thin lips had formed a straight, flat line, she disapproved of...from the looks of it, everything. The rest of her was equally sharp from the beak-like nose to her tightly pulled back hair. I forced a warm smile on my lips and strode over, hand extended.
“This is my wife, Belle,” Smith introduced me, and the potential nanny gripped my hand so firmly I thought it might snap off. “Belle, meet Martha.”
“It’s a pleasure,” I said smoothly, earning me nothing more than a grunt before she returned her attention to Smith. I took the seat next to my husband on the sofa.
“And the hours?” she asked, ignoring me entirely.
“We haven’t quite decided on that.” He glanced at me for confirmation.
“We only need someone part-time,” I told her. “After she’s born and we’ve been home for a while and settled in.”
“You don’t want part-time,” she said—not to me, but Smith.
Oh hell no. A hand fell on my knee and squeezed. A warning from Smith not to get too riled up. Could he sense that I felt left out of the equation?
“We don’t?” he asked politely. I’d heard him use this voice before. He reserved it for small talk.
“Consistency is key. It will be several years before the child can go off to school, but structure is essential. You’re both business owners. Neither of you can commit to being the primary caregiver,” she said, nailing the situation a bit too precisely for comfort. “Someone must be around to make certain discipline and structure are strictly enforced.”
“I don’t think babies require discipline,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Did she think she was being asked to run a nursery or a boot camp?
Martha’s withering glare suggested she felt differently.
“It’s certainly something to keep in mind,” Smith mused, squeezing my knee twice, our secret code for let me handle this. “As you can see, we’re still figuring out the best fit, and we will have a while before we need someone here.”
“There are always preparations to be made,” Martha said.
“Naturally, but we’ll want to wait for construction to finish, regardless.” Smith seamlessly transitioned the excuse from reason to another. “We’ll be in touch.”
We all rose and Smith showed her out of the room. When he returned, my eyebrow was etched into a question mark.
“Where did you find that battleaxe? I thought their type had gone extinct.”
“I think they were all simply banished to the countryside,” he said wearily. “Ready for round two?”
“Do you think they�
��ll all be like her?” I asked, wondering if our day would be full of disapproving Marthas.
“Let’s hope not.”
Our wish was granted, but not in the way we’d hoped. There were a few more stern, conservative governess types amongst the candidates, one former school-teacher, and an American college student clearly looking for a quick visa fix. None of them quite fit the bill. They all wanted live-in situations and full-time. I could hardly blame them for that.
“Doesn’t anyone just want something on the side?” I grumbled.
Smith reached down and grabbed my ankle, pulling it into his lap, he popped off my slipper and began to rub my foot. A moan spilled out of me and he chuckled under his breath.
“Never stop,” I ordered him, my eyes rolling back as I relaxed into the massage.
“Not stopping is what got you into this trouble in the first place, beautiful,” he reminded me in a gruff voice that sent my thoughts to darker places only he could take me.
“Shut up and rub my feet.”
He obliged, his strong hands working away the stress that had plagued me the whole week. “Maybe, we need to consider hiring someone full-time.”
My eyes flew open, the spell broken. “What? No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want someone else to raise our baby.”
“I don’t want that either,” he said in a soothing voice. “But honestly, I don’t want a stranger around her either. How do you know you can trust someone with your child if you don’t know them?”
“We can have them to dinner,” I said. “We don’t have to live with them.”
“It was just a thought.” The concession was anything but. I could hear as much in his voice. He’d come back to the topic later with better ammunition for his side of the argument.
“Maybe we don’t need a nanny at all.”
“Beautiful,” he used my nickname like a warning. “We’ve been over this.”
“You don’t want to give up Bless, and I don’t want you to either. With my new office, I’m going to have my hands full.”
“What’s the point of moving to the country if we don’t slow down? It would be easy to find a sitter in London. Jane. Edward. Clara. They’d all do it for free—and we know them. Plus, Buckingham comes with its own army. She’d be very safe.”
I waited for him to contradict me. Instead, he continued to the next foot. He was buying time. The truth was that I’d made this point a number of times. Each time he’d managed to avoid answering me. But we both knew the reason he didn’t want to be in London. He didn’t want any of them watching the baby. He didn’t want them around. In a way, I couldn’t blame him. After everything that had happened there—to us and those we loved—staying in the city seemed like a dangerous move. But the city was full of allies not strangers. I didn’t know how to make them see that.
The door opened and an unfamiliar dark head poked through the crack. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was knocking, but…”
“Come in, Miss…”
“Ms. Welter,” she said, stepping inside.
I pulled away from Smith pushing my foot back into my shoe as he stood. When I looked up, I did a double take. The woman walking into the room couldn’t be more than twenty-two years-old but she was stunning. Not in your typical girl from the village way, though. She radiated confidence, managing to look posh in an ensemble I might find in my own closet down to a pair of leopard-print flats. Her dark hair, the color of bottled ink, swung around her shoulders. She smiled at me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but Humphrey told me I could find you in here.”
“It’s so loud out there,” I said as she bent to take a seat opposite us, smoothing her black pencil skirt down. “We should be the ones apologizing. I’m Belle. This is my husband, Smith.”
“Nora,” she offered, glancing around the room. “Your house is beautiful. At least, the bits that are done anyway.”
“Thank you,” Smith said with a laugh.
“Will it be done before the baby comes?” she asked, eying my stomach.
“I hope so,” I admitted, even though I’d pretty much given up that dream. She could arrive any day and there was still the wine cellar to complete, painting to be done, and a dozen other small projects. “I’m not certain construction and infants go hand in hand.”
“Babies can sleep through anything,” she said with a wave of her hand, showcasing neatly trimmed and polished nails. “Of course, I’m sure you two are ready to be done with it. I imagine it’s not terribly peaceful to feel as though you’re on the verge of invasion all the time.”
“No, it’s not,” Smith said. “So, why are you interested in the job?”
“It’s going to sound cliché.” She rolled her eyes. “But I love kids. I was studying to be a primary school teacher, but, money is tight and I thought maybe I’d take a little time off, save up, and go back part-time in the spring.”
“So, you’re in school?” I asked.
“Yes. Well, no. Not at the moment, I mean,” she said, looking flustered for the first time since arriving. “I do want to finish, and I will. It is a part-time position, right?”
“Is that okay?” I asked, waiting for the disappointment I’d come to expect.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “I’ll be available a lot for those early months, when you might need me more, but I’ll be able to go back in the spring, too. The timing is perfect.”
Even I had to admit it was.
“Tell us more about yourself,” Smith said. “Your application doesn’t have a lot of history.”
“I grew up in the North. I watched kids a lot when I was younger, but it seems strange to tell prospective employers to ring up your neighbor down the street. I could get some names and numbers, though, if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I jumped in, knowing my husband would say yes. I knew he’d run a background check on her, if he hadn’t already.
“Also, I have to confess, I googled you,” she said.
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“And I just love the idea of Bless! It’s such a good idea. I know I can’t afford to buy half the outfits I fall in love with at the shops. You’re a genius.”
“No, not really.” I shook my head, feeling put on the spot, but Smith didn’t let it slide.
“She’s modest. She is a genius.” Smith’s eyes met mine and for a moment, we were the only ones in the room. When I finally broke the spell, I discovered her watching us with a dreamy smile.
“You two are just…” She pressed a hand to her chest. Then she shook her head a little before reaching into her bag. “Oh, I guess I should give you these. I’ve been certified in CPR as well as—”
A sharp knock on the door interrupted her.
“Sorry,” Smith said, swiveling around. “Yes?”
The door opened to reveal Benjamin, our foreman, wearing a yellow hard hat and a grim face. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation.”
“A situation?” Smith repeated, already on his feet.
“You might want to come down to the wine cellar.”
Smith followed him out the door, and I found myself rising, torn between going after them and propriety. I glanced at Nora, who was still holding her paperwork.
“I had no idea remodeling was so exciting,” I admitted to her. “Shall we go see what new headache they’ve encountered?”
“I’m game.” Nora dropped the papers on the table with a grin.
As soon as we stepped foot out of the reception room, I realized the house was eerily silent. All construction had stopped. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“How long have you lived here?” Nora asked as we wound our way down the circular staircase to the lower ground floor where the pool, wine cellar, and storage was located.
“We’re only here off and on. We still spend most of our time in the city.”
“London?” she asked, sounding excited. “I’d love to live there.”
“We have a house there. I gue
ss we can’t quite let go of the city life.”
“I love London. Sussex has its own charms, but, honestly, I’m not sure I’d give up the city, either,” she said, adding quickly, “Of course, you have a good reason.”
“We’ll see.” I wasn’t ready to commit to either Thornham or London on a permanent basis. But I couldn’t help wishing whatever they’d found in the cellar would sway me one way or another.
“You should come with us, the next time we go,” I found myself telling her. I liked Nora, and maybe meeting my new nanny was the excuse I needed to get Clara and Edward into the same room. Although, I’d have to come up with an Alexander-approved neutral location. If the idea of living in London excited Nora, I’m not certain she could handle being marched into Buckingham.
“Oh, I’d love that. There’s a darling little children’s clothing store right—”
“Ladies,” Smith cut her off, slipping out of the wine cellar and blocking our path, “I think we should wrap this up upstairs.”
I knew my husband well-enough to see he was ruffled. His shoulders were squared, his muscles tensed, as though he was on alert.
“What is it?” I asked in a soft voice.
Smith nudged us back toward the stairs, shaking his head. “Nothing. I’m sure it will all be fine.”
Fine. There was that word again. Why did people insist on saying fine when what they meant was fucked up?
“What’s going on?” I peered over his shoulder just as the cellar door swung open, giving me a glimpse of a pile of pale ivory rocks. My head turned instinctively as if it knew what I was trying to see before I’d found the right word for it: skulls.
3
