The Nanny Arrangement

by Lily George

  “Yes, of course. Right this way.” Blackburn beckoned him to a room just beyond the top of the stairs. “Mr. Smith only just arrived.”

  Yes, he certainly had just arrived. Only a few moments before Paul himself, as a matter of fact. As his solicitor opened the door, Paul saw the same portly fellow he’d been following since seeing him alight from Gail’s carriage.

  So the sly dog was using a proxy. Smart business move, that. Gail probably thought Paul would send his man of affairs and never know the difference. Then he would purchase all of the Holmes shipping shares and leverage his influence to continue the illegal slave trade.

  Never. The vague uneasy feeling that had plagued him through this entire journey dissipated like mist evaporating before the sun.

  “May I present Mr. John Smith? Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Paul Holmes.” Blackburn made the introductions briskly.

  Paul nodded to Mr. Smith and extended his hand. “My pleasure.”

  “Well, gentlemen, if you will wait just a moment, I have all the papers here,” Blackburn began, spreading the documents out on the surface of the table.

  “That won’t be necessary, Blackburn. I’ve only come to inform Mr. Smith I changed my mind.” Paul quirked his mouth in a rueful grin. “I didn’t want to be rude and tell him by proxy.”

  Smith blinked rapidly. “What if I doubled my price?”

  Paul fought the inclination to chuckle. Gail had likely told the fellow to pay any amount of coin, as long as he brought home those controlling shares. One could almost pity him, once Gail found he failed in his mission. Almost.

  “I appreciate the offer, but my decision isn’t based on money.” Paul gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized my father entrusted me with those shares. Selling them would be dishonoring his memory.” Paul glanced over at his solicitor. “I am sure no one here would wish me to go against my father’s legacy.”

  “Of course.” Blackburn shot an apologetic look at Smith. “So, if I am to understand it, you are no longer willing to sell—not at any price?”

  “Not at any price,” Paul echoed, his heart beating strangely against his chest. “I shan’t entertain any more offers, but I do appreciate Mr. Smith coming by today. And Smith—I do wish you the best.” He held out his hand.

  Smith rose, his face drained of all color. “Of course.” His handshake was cold and limp.

  “Blackburn, I apologize for putting you through the trouble of drawing up the papers,” Paul added. “Do send the bill round for your time. I appreciate, as always, your kind attention to these matters.”

  “Naturally, Mr. Holmes.” The solicitor gathered the papers up, stacking them to one side. “We’ll throw these on the fire, then.”

  A jolly good blaze that would be. “Thank you.” With a last nod at both gentlemen, Paul quit the room and pounded down the staircase to the street. Once outside, he took a gulp of fresh air—or, as fresh as London air could be at that time of year.

  Exhilaration sang through his very being, and with it, a strange, abashed feeling. Double the money on an already ridiculously large sum, and he had turned it down. He’d turned the offer away because selling those shares would have, most certainly, meant that the ships would be used to traffic in slaves. No human misery was worth any amount of coin.

  He had to tell someone. The desire to laugh, yell and throw his hat up in the air was overpowering. Why, he hadn’t experienced emotions this strong since he was a lad. He didn’t want to shut the door on them—nay, the joy was too strong. If he wrote to George, his stolid younger brother would simply say, “Hadn’t I warned you?” No celebration to be had there.

  He took off down the pavement, weaving through the teeming crowds toward Grosvenor Square.

  Becky. He must tell Becky.

  As he made his way through the throngs, he picked out Gail’s gaudy carriage, still waiting, its occupant likely rubbing his greedy hands together in anticipation of those shipping shares. Paul suppressed the urge to make a cheeky face as he passed. Better to keep one’s head down and never let on that he knew what had transpired. That instinct of his—

  Was it really instinct? Or was it divine intervention?

  I am the vine, ye are the branches. If he could really do nothing without God, was it God who had warned him—who had allowed him that glimpse of Gail’s carriage in the street—who had provided him with that guarded intuition from the moment Parker mentioned the deal?

  His joy turned a shade more thoughtful. If it was so, then how could he profess himself an unbeliever any longer?

  He rounded the corner, and a familiar pair greeted him—Becky and Juliet, out for a morning stroll. Becky didn’t spy him at first; her attention was turned toward her charge. She was smiling down at Juliet and offering her some words of encouragement or praise. The dimple in her left cheek made its appearance, and his heart warmed at the sight of it. If he were to believe more in the workings of Providence, he’d understand that God had sent Becky his way, and Juliet his way, and together they made his life all the richer.

  Juliet saw him first; she broke free of Becky’s hold and ran toward him, her bonnet nearly taking flight. She threw her little body at him with all her might, and he caught her in his arms, spinning her round and round. “Did you miss me, little one?” He squeezed her tightly, then set her down as Becky bustled up, a confused and hesitant expression on her pretty face.

  “Is everything all right, Paul? I’m so sorry. I should have kept better hold of Juliet.” She straightened Juliet’s bonnet.

  “All right? Everything is extraordinary, Becky-girl. Congratulate me. I just turned down an exorbitant amount of money to do God’s will.”

  * * *

  Was Paul teasing her again? If so, it wasn’t the least bit funny, making light of her feelings about the Lord and her purpose in the world.

  She searched his face. His brown eyes flashed, but not with mockery. No, they were lit from within by a deeper, warmer light.

  “I don’t understand,” she replied slowly. Exorbitant amount of money? What’s more, he’d embraced Juliet when the little imp broke free and ran up to him. He called her Becky-girl. Paul must be in a thoroughly good mood—but why?

  “Come, walk with me.” He scooped Juliet into his arms, shifting her over to his right side, and offered Becky his left elbow with a courtly air. “You’re the only person in London who will fully appreciate this. I couldn’t wait to share the tale with you. I fairly ran from the solicitor’s office.”

  He steered them down the path toward Hyde Park. This was the closest she’d been to Paul in their entire acquaintance, not just because her hand was tucked securely into the crook of his arm, but because of his delightful, confidential manner and the genuine smile he offered her. As they made their way into the park, they surely presented an odd trio to the handful of gentlemen strolling past: Paul, impeccably dressed as always, except for the hat knocked slightly askew by Juliet, who was cooing one of her nameless, wordless songs, her bonnet now hanging by its strings and the bodice of her dress smeared with—oh dear—smeared with raspberry jam.

  While she, strolling along on Paul’s arm in her simple nursemaid’s gown, tried to conceal the glow of her cheeks by tugging her bonnet forward. What a strange world she had entered the moment he’d approached them on the pavement. Everything had turned upside down, and this heady mixture of wonder and bewilderment would not abate.

  “The entire purpose of my journey to London was to sell my father’s shipping shares. These formed the basis of his fortune, but a time-consuming one, for Father was always very intent on knowing each passenger of each ship, what every cargo hold contained. Over the years, we’ve used our shares to ensure that none of our ships trade in slavery.” Paul nodded to a nearby fellow but maintained the same swift pace.

  “The sla
ve trade? Wasn’t that outlawed over a decade ago?” Becky looked up at Paul. “How could it possibly be allowed to continue?”

  “Slavery was quite lawful when Father had his shares, but even so, he would never allow it on his ships. That is why he kept such a close eye on every passage, and why he amassed so many shares. He felt, most strongly, that slavery was a heinous enterprise. When I inherited his shares, I shared his belief and his close attention to each ship. Unfortunately, Becky, the slave trade continues, even to this day. Many captains smuggle slaves aboard each ship.”

  Becky gasped. “That is dreadful. I had no idea.” She had no idea about so many things. Paul was opening her eyes, bit by bit, to the reality of the world. She’d taken it so for granted that she was an isolated individual, untouched by any other person’s suffering. Indeed, because of Paul, she’d grown to care for a child who was not hers, and felt loyalty to a family to which she didn’t even belong. She knew more of suffering, of pain and of the bonds of family now than she ever had that horrid day out on the moor.

  “Most young, gently bred women would not. I don’t fault you for that, Becky-girl. Over time, though, the demands of Kellridge, of my sister—and well, of my own frivolous pastimes—began to take their toll. I didn’t think I could give the shares as much attention as they deserved, so I decided to sell.”

  Frivolous pastimes? An unreasonable spark of jealousy kindled within her breast. Was Paul referring to a lady? Or many ladies, as Kate had hinted at? She couldn’t trust her voice, so she merely nodded.

  “I set the price ridiculously high, for I didn’t want to sell them to just anyone, nor did I particularly want to sell them quickly. You see, even then I was having qualms about it. A fellow by the name of Gail wanted to buy them—offered to pay handsomely for them—but George warned me that he had a reputation for being a smuggler. So I refused to sell.”

  “Oh, that was good,” she breathed. “What happened today that makes you so joyful?”

  As they neared a clearing, he set Juliet down. “Run and play, little one.”

  Juliet obliged by dancing a few feet down the path, but staying close enough that she could observe them both. How far she had come, too. No more clinging to Becky’s skirts, or throwing a kicking and screaming fit. ’Twas good indeed to see her progress, and to feel a part of it.

  “Gail sent a proxy, a fellow named Smith, to buy them. I discovered the ruse, quite by chance, this morning on my way to sign the papers. Do you know what I did? I told Smith I wouldn’t sell, not even after he doubled his price. I knew from the beginning something was off about the deal.” He gave a sudden turn and grasped both her elbows, holding her close. “At that moment, I knew why I’d felt so uneasy—that lesson from the chapel flashed to mind and I suddenly knew that I could do nothing without God. That keeping these shares was my way of doing His will. And that by doing so, I would be assisting in ending a trade that is an abomination before God.”

  “Oh, Paul. I am so proud of you.” What a good man he was, he had always been! Now he could become the best man he could be. “I am so thankful you have finally discovered His plans for you.”

  “I wouldn’t have done so without your help. As soon as I felt it for myself, I could hardly contain myself for joy. I wanted to fly home just so I could tell you.” With one sudden, swift movement, he whirled her around in the air, laughing. “Becky-girl, I feel like a new man. I cannot thank Him enough for bringing you into my life.”

  Becky couldn’t suppress a smile, but as he set her down, she caught a giddy glance of the passersby openly gawking at them. It wasn’t the fashionable hour, and the park wasn’t teeming with fine couples, but that hardly mattered. Even to the few people gathered here, they must be making quite a display, one that might be completely misunderstood and which could quickly cause scandal. She took a step back, glancing over her shoulder. “Juliet?” she called, keeping her face hidden. She must gain control of her blush.

  “She’s right here.” Paul swung Juliet up into his arms again. “Now, where would you like to go? I shall take my ladies wherever they like this afternoon. To the museum? Or shopping? Name the activity, Becky-girl, and we shall celebrate.”

  “Well...” Paul could be such jolly company, and his mood now was so exhilarating, that it would be lovely to spend the afternoon with him and with Juliet. She cast a nervous glance around as they made their way down the path. More than one gentleman turned and frankly stared in their direction. They had caused a sensation, and surely accounts of their embrace would be bandied about town.

  If she were going to make a career of being a nursemaid, she must develop and maintain a sterling reputation. In the country, free from the prying eyes of others, she could afford to be more free and even, in some respects, consider herself on the same level as Paul. Here, in London, the differences in their stations were manifest. She must place some distance between herself and Paul if she were truly going to follow her calling in life.

  “I have a better idea.” She cast about for something intelligent to say, something that wouldn’t sound obviously made up. “Why don’t you take your niece out, just the two of you? I shall work on her wardrobe some more while you are gone. I have the prettiest little mauve play dress cut out. If I had an afternoon to work, I could have it stitched together in no time at all.”

  Paul nodded. “That would be nice. Juliet, would you like to see the boats on the Thames?”

  Juliet cooed in appreciation. Becky took a deep breath. That crisis was averted.

  “Then that’s what we shall do.” Paul leaned closer to Becky and lowered his voice. “I promise you shall have a reward too, Becky-girl. It’s the height of the season, after all. Balls, musicals, operas, plays—something to see or do every night. Would you like to accompany me to a ball this evening? There’s a stack of invitations on my mantel that I’ve never even paid heed to.”

  Her heart leaped at his congenial tone and at the thought of dancing with Paul. He was likely a very good dancer and it had been ages since she’d had the opportunity to attend any kind of function. Surely there could be no harm. And after all, he wanted to celebrate.

  No.

  Those glances in the park—they were merely a portent of the scandal that could break if she started being seen with Paul at any kind of affair. She was here as his niece’s nursemaid, and though they got on well, she was nothing more to Paul than that. She must stop spinning daydreams and keep both feet firmly on the ground if she didn’t want to invite gossip.

  “I thank you for the invitation, but who would watch over Juliet?” She kept her tone light and teasing. No need to let on how confused and conflicted she felt.

  “Balls don’t start until long past Juliet’s bedtime, and I could have one of the other maids check in on her now and again until we return.” Paul steered them down Grosvenor Street. “What say you, Becky-girl? Don’t tell me you aren’t interested. You look as though you were born to be belle of a ball.”

  She must remember that Paul was a teasing rogue. A good man, but full of wit and banter—and his compliments meant nothing. Otherwise, her head might be completely turned by his flattery and his intimate manner. “Nay, sir. I would take no pleasure in a ball if I were supposed to be caring for my darling Juliet.” She reached over and straightened Juliet’s skirt. Though she kept her tone light, what she said was true. She was here to care for Juliet, and it would feel odd indeed to relegate her greatest task to someone else.

  Paul heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. I suppose I shall have to think of some other way to show my appreciation.” He opened the garden gate to let them pass through.

  “You need not show me any regard, Paul. I am so happy for you. So happy that you’ve found your purpose in life and opened your heart to God.” She must leave it at that.

  If she said more, well, she might make herself a spectacle.

  Cha
pter Sixteen

  “Where on earth have you been, old chap?” John Reed made an elaborate show of rubbing his eyes, as though amazed by Paul’s sudden appearance at Brook’s. “You’ve been in town all this time and haven’t stopped in once? You might as well be still buried out in the country.”

  Paul accepted the good-natured ribbing with patience. After all, he would have said the same sort of thing to John, had their situations been reversed. He was no longer the same man he was a day or so ago, much less a few weeks. “Ah, well. Business has kept me busy. You know that taking care of my interests always takes precedence over any kind of pleasure.”

  “So the business is now done, and Paul is ready to play. I say, there are ample delights awaiting you here. Where shall we begin? Do you fancy a game?” John rubbed his thin hands together with glee.

  “No, thank you.” Paul glanced around the club. Nothing seemed fun or even remotely interesting. Just the same men doing the same reckless things they did season after season. None of it had any deeper purpose or meaning. How empty these pursuits had become.

  “Perhaps a drink, then, to start the evening off proper?” John grabbed the bottle sitting before him. “A toast to being done with duty and commencing play?”

  Drink? What was the purpose in that? He drank to forget, to ease the pain of losing Ruth and Juliana. That pain had ebbed. He’d accepted their deaths as tragic, but now that he was gaining in faith, his comfort grew. Neither one of them felt pain any longer. They did not suffer. Now their memories would be with him forever. Juliet was Juliana all over again, and his delight in his niece increased—not in the least because of Becky’s expert care in making her into a little lady.

  Becky. What a treasure she was.

  “No drink.” He tossed the phrase off with a casual air. He didn’t need to drink any longer because he didn’t need to forget. He must now focus on the present.

  “No drink!” John goggled at him. “Are you in your right mind? Are you ill?” His brows drew together with concern. “You must be, for I have never heard you turn aside an opportunity to imbibe.”