A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  At that moment Godfrey ushered in another applicant who looked more promising than the last several. He introduced her as Mrs. Hill.

  Jack rose and bowed to the woman, who was tall, thin and pale. “A pleasure, ma’am. I assume you are here about the position of wet nurse.”

  Settling onto the empty chair opposite him and Annabelle the woman nodded. “I raised six young ones, all living. Just weaned my last but I still have milk. Our place ain’t much of a size, but it’s clean and our Annie is big enough to watch the babies between feedings.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Jack. “We shall expect you to live here while your services are needed. You will be provided with a comfortable room and all your meals in addition to your pay.”

  He expected Mrs. Hill to look pleased with the generous terms, but instead her brow furrowed. “Live here? What for? I have my own young ones to tend.”

  She shot Annabelle a questioning glance. “Is this your idea, ma’am? You and your husband can come and visit your baby as often as you like.”

  “I am not her husband!” Jack protested.

  The notion filled him with powerful, conflicting feelings. His beloved late cousin had been Annabelle’s husband, which was right and proper. Frederick had deserved a woman like her. If he’d lived, he could have given her wealth and a title as well as his adoration. And yet, when Jack recalled sleeping in her bed with the baby tucked between them, it brought him a sense of contentment beyond any he had previously experienced.

  “Not her...?” The woman surged to her feet, her pale face red with outrage. “I’ll be having none of that now. Mr. Hill and me mayn’t have much but we’re good, god-fearing Methodists.”

  “Oh no!” Annabelle sounded horrified by the woman’s insinuation. “It is not what you think!”

  Her words did little to reassure Mrs. Hill. She pointed to the sleeping baby. “Tell me one thing and tell me true. Was that child born in or out of wedlock?”

  Jack wished he could tell the wet nurse whatever was necessary to make her stay. But what was the use? Even if she agreed to take the job, she would learn the truth sooner or later.

  “I should have known.” Mrs. Hill glared at them, her nose turned up as if they reeked worse than any of the previous applicants. “More money than morals. You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

  She marched away, brushing off her skirts as if she feared she might have picked up vermin. Jack wondered whether she would accept the money his valet tried to give her.

  Hard as Jack tried to dismiss the woman’s condemnation, he could not.

  “Damn you, Jack Warwick!” Annabelle scooped up the baby, who’d been wakened by the commotion. “Could you not have tried to explain? Now that woman will assume I must be Sarah’s mother and your mistress!”

  There could be no mistaking how much that notion dismayed her. And him? It confounded Jack to find himself aroused by the idea of having Annabelle as his mistress.

  Mrs. Hill had been right. He should be ashamed of himself.

  Chapter Five

  “I WONDER IF we will find a wet nurse for you today?” Annabelle asked little Sarah the next morning after Rory Fitzwalter bore the child’s soiled linen away, his nose wrinkled in a comical expression of disgust. “Or perhaps your mama. I must say, you are managing better on a diet of pap than I expected, but I will not tell the gentlemen that.”

  The baby lay on the bed, enjoying the feel of dry linen and the opportunity to exercise her small limbs. Waving her arms and kicking her plump legs, the child smiled up at Annabelle with radiant warmth that could have melted ice.

  “I should not wonder if your mother comes back to claim you of her own accord.” Annabelle swooped down to nuzzle the baby’s downy cheek. “She must be missing you desperately by now.”

  Even after such a short time caring for this little one, Annabelle had no doubt she would miss the child more than she had missed her husband when he went off to war. Was that why Jack had sounded so appalled at the suggestion that she might be his wife? Had Frederick confided in his cousin what an unsatisfactory marital bargain he’d made?

  Her husband had not told her in so many words but Annabelle sensed it in his manner and felt it in her own heart. She had not been able to return his affection in equal measure. Nor could she respond to his amorous advances as she believed a loving wife should. When his personal resources were exhausted and his father refused to relent, Frederick had been obliged to return to active duty with his regiment. Instead of missing him or fearing for his safety, she’d been overcome by a wicked sense of relief.

  A sudden knock on the bedroom door provoked a guilty start from her, as if she had been shouting her disgraceful thoughts for all to hear.

  Scooping up little Sarah from the bed, she called, “Come in Mr. Fitzwalter. Under the circumstances I see no reason to stand on ceremony.”

  The door flew open, but it was Jack rather than Rory who strode in, followed by his valet and two footmen. “Good morning, fair ladies. I hope you slept well.”

  “Quite well thank you.” Annabelle stared in amazement as the servants carried in numerous packages followed by a cradle of exquisite workmanship. “What is all this? Is that cradle meant for Sarah? It looks fit for a princess.”

  Jack beamed as he directed the servants where to set the thing. “Handsome, isn’t it? I purchased it from Lord Dominic Hart, the best maker of fine furniture in London. The Duke of Elston commissioned it for his heir then refused to take delivery when the duchess bore him a daughter—the young fool. Those bundles are linen and flannel for diapering and these are a few small gowns and caps. I ordered several more from a reputable seamstress along with any other garments the baby might need.”

  “You have been busy this morning.” Annabelle shook her head over the quantity of flannel and linen that would have diapered the bottoms of a dozen babies. “I suppose there has been no more news about Sarah’s mother.”

  Jack shook his head as he offered the child his finger to grasp. “Gabriel has not yet returned from Surrey, so perhaps that means he has discovered something useful. Rory has been too busy assisting you to make more inquiries and you see how I have been occupied.”

  He did not sound especially happy that Lord Gabriel’s lady love might be Sarah’s mother.

  Before Annabelle could comment, Jack continued. “I mean to pay some more calls after we have interviewed nurses. There is already a queue forming outside. I have asked Rory to go out and cull the herd of any who are obviously unsuitable.”

  “Leaving only those like Mrs. Hill,” Annabelle muttered under her breath. She did not relish more scenes like the one yesterday. It had provoked thoughts she did not wish to entertain.

  “What’s that you say?” asked Jack.

  “Nothing of any importance.” She fixed her attention on the baby to avoid his gaze.

  She was encouraged to see all the comforts Jack had purchased for little Sarah. He must care more for the baby than his usual instinct to protect a helpless creature.

  The child appeared pleased by the appearance of Jack and his servants. She smiled and cooed to get the men’s attention, then gave a chortle of delight when one smiled back. She had all the makings of a skilled coquette and a promise of beauty... just like her mother, no doubt. Annabelle hoped the child would not repeat her mother’s foolish choices.

  The baby’s future was none of her business, she reminded herself firmly. Nor was Jack’s once she left this house, which would be today if all went well.

  “If there are women waiting we might as well get busy meeting with them,” she said, “as soon as I change Sarah into clean garments.”

  “Very well,” replied Jack, who regarded the baby with a besotted grin. “The sooner we begin the sooner we may find our needle in the haystack.”

  How often would they get their fingers pricked in the process? Annabelle wondered as they headed below stairs to renew their search for a suitable wet nurse.

  Three h
ours later the baby was growing restless and Annabelle began to doubt whether there was a suitable wet nurse to be found in all of England let alone the city. Even with Rory dismissing those who obviously would not do, Annabelle and Jack found difficulties with most of those they questioned.

  One seemed more interested in looking around than answering their questions. Annabelle suspected she would run off the first night with as many valuables as she could carry. Another had a hollow cough that troubled Jack. Those who seemed healthy and respectable were not willing to take up residence in a house with three bachelors.

  Then a pretty, fair-haired young woman presented herself. Her bright blue eyes sparkled when she smiled at Jack.

  She curtsied to him. “I’m Daisy Jessop and I’ve come about the wet nurse job. I hope it hasn’t been taken yet.”

  “No indeed.” Jack smiled back at Mrs. Jessop in a different way than he had at any of the others. A way that made Annabelle grit her teeth. “I believe we have been trying to find someone like you to no avail until now.”

  “Why thank you, sir.” The young woman simpered.

  “We still need to know something about you first,” Annabelle spoke sharply. “You have milk, I assume, to feed this baby.”

  Mrs. Jessop flicked a dismissive glance in her direction then addressed her answer to Jack with an impudent grin. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Shall I feed it now so you can see?”

  “We will take your word for it,” Annabelle announced before Jack had an opportunity to agree. “You have a child of your own, then, just weaned? How will it be cared for while you are here nursing this little one?”

  “I have some friends who will look after him for me.” The pretty creature did not sound sorry to be parted from her baby. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  Again she spoke to Jack as if he was the only one in the room.

  Once again Annabelle answered. She was afraid to let Jack speak in case he hired this little vixen on the spot. “How does your husband feel about you farming out your own child to take up residence with three bachelors?”

  “There’s another one?” Mrs. Jessop’s flirtatious smile widened. “I do hope he is as fine looking as the two I’ve met so far.”

  That was not the reply Annabelle had been expecting. She tried again. “Your husband...?”

  “Haven’t got one, have I?” The girl’s bright countenance darkened for an instant and a hardness crept into her lilting voice. “My wee lad’s father gave me some money to keep us both but it won’t last forever. If I get room and board here, I can put a bit by.”

  Much as Annabelle sympathized with the other woman’s situation, she could not abide the alluring way Mrs. Jessop smiled at Jack. How soon would this creature begin exercising her wiles on Jack and his friends, hoping to secure a settlement from them as she had from the father of her son? And how might little Sarah be neglected while her wet nurse frolicked with the gentlemen of the house?

  “So you could start immediately, could you?” Jack positively beamed as he spoke.

  Was it only relief at the prospect of securing a nurse for the child that made him look so pleased? Or was it something else?

  Annabelle was tempted to hit him over the head with a nearby chafing dish in the hope that it might bring him to his senses.

  “I could be here this very night, sir.” Mrs. Jessop cast him a provocative gaze through her thick fringe of dark lashes. “If I’ll suit you, that is.”

  Before Jack could reply, Annabelle shot to her feet. “We have a few more women to interview before we make a decision. Let Mr. Godfrey know where you can be reached if your services are required.”

  Mrs. Jessop rose from her chair and appealed to Jack as he scrambled to his feet. “Are you quite certain you don’t want to engage me now and save yourself the trouble?”

  “We are quite certain.” Annabelle spoke in a firm sharp tone that would have done justice to her aunt. “Aren’t we, Mr. Warwick? Nothing is too much trouble when it comes to finding the best care for this dear child.”

  Her arms tightened around the baby. How far was she willing to go to protect the child, and Jack, from this adventuress?

  “That is true,” Jack replied, though he did not sound entirely certain. “Thank you for coming, my dear. Mr. Godfrey will give you something for your trouble.”

  “Thank you, sir. I do hope I shall hear good news from you.” Mrs. Jessop simpered, even as she shot a black glare toward Annabelle.

  When she had gone, Jack threw up his hands. “She was our needle in the haystack and you tossed her aside! What were you thinking?”

  The baby seemed to sense the tension in the air for she began to wriggle and fuss.

  Annabelle rocked the child in her arms and rubbed her back. Over the baby’s head she met Jack’s bewildered look. “I was thinking Sarah may not need a wet nurse after all. I was thinking I should stay on until you find her mother.”

  “What made you change your mind about staying? You seemed so set against it.” Jack asked Annabelle a few days later as he dribbled warm pap into the baby’s mouth at just the right speed.

  He found himself excessively proud of having mastered this simple skill in a matter of days.

  He’d inquired more than once already about her change of mind but had never received a satisfactory answer. Though he feared his persistent questioning might vex her, he could not stifle his curiosity.

  “Why does it matter?” She tensed at his question and kept her gaze fixed on the baby reclined in her arms. “Would you rather I’d left Sarah to the care of one of those other women? Most of them have no business looking after a dog, let alone a helpless infant!”

  “Of course not,” Jack insisted, resisting the impulse to mention that the last applicant they’d interviewed had seemed ideal. “I am delighted you agreed to stay. We all are. Especially since Sarah’s mother has been so deucedly difficult to locate.”

  Quite a number of people still had not come to town for the Season, though he and Rory were keeping their ears open for new arrivals. Gabriel had gone to Surrey in search of Miss Brennan, only to learn that the lady had accompanied her father to the Channel Islands for a rest cure and was not expected to return for at least two months. Jack confidently expected he would find Sarah’s mother long before that.

  “All three of you have frequently expressed your gratitude.” Annabelle’s tone softened. “I hope you realize it is not for your sakes that I decided to stay.”

  “Of course not. We know you were thinking of Sarah’s welfare.” Jack eased the angle of the pap boat so the baby would not get more liquid than she could comfortably swallow.

  After Annabelle agreed to stay, he had purchased a spouted silver cup called a pap boat, specially designed for hand-feeding infants.

  Now she glanced up at him. “You and your friends have begun to get rather a knack for handling an infant—even Rory, much as he complains about it.”

  Jack savored a sense of satisfaction as he basked in the warmth of her approval. It no longer terrified him to hold the baby. In fact, he quite enjoyed the warm, tiny weight of her in his arms. But he doubted he would ever master the intricacies of swathing her bottom in linen so it stayed snugly in place without chafing or binding her. Though her cries no longer threw him into a panic, he dreaded the thought of what they would ever do if she became ill.

  Seeing the pap boat was empty, he withdrew it to let Annabelle hold the baby to her shoulder. He’d been informed that aided digestion.

  She rose from the chair and walked to the window, rubbing the baby’s back as she went. As she stood gazing out on Bruton Street with the March sunlight catching strands of amber in her chestnut hair, Jack could not help admiring the tranquil domestic beauty of the scene. It made him wish he had a talent for painting so he could capture it.

  “I am sorry the search for Sarah’s mother is going so slowly.” He stood up and stretched. “I hope we can find her soon, for your sake. You have devoted you
rself so completely to tending Sarah that I fear you are neglecting your own needs. Have you been getting enough sleep and food?”

  Even with Annabelle doing most of the work and him only taking turns with others helping out, Jack had acquired a deep appreciation for the effort involved in rearing such a small, helpless creature.

  Annabelle glanced back at him with a soft glow in her brown eyes. Her full, ripe lips arched in a teasing grin. “Why, Jack Warwick, are you worried about me?”

  Somehow her question perturbed him. What had become of his earlier resolve to get her out of his house as soon as possible?

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” He tried to make light of feelings he did not understand. “I have been ever since we lost Frederick and especially since Uncle Knightlow refused to continue supporting you. I never heard of such infamous behavior!”

  Though the earl had not approved of his son’s marriage and cut the young couple off without a penny, he had provided Annabelle with an allowance during the early months of her bereavement. Jack had hoped the loss of his son might bring the earl closer to his daughter-in-law. It had not worked out that way.

  His words seemed to dash the smile from Annabelle’s lips. “Your uncle only looked after me in case I might be carrying his heir. I shudder to think if I had been. I fear Lord Knightlow would have found some means to take my son from me.”

  Apart from that, was she sorry not to have a child by her late husband? Jack wondered. Could that be why she had grown so quickly attached to this baby?

  “Uncle is accustomed to getting his own way. He could not believe it when Frederick insisted on marrying you in spite of his objections. If only you’d had more time, he might have grown reconciled and welcomed you into the family.” Jack doubted it, yet felt compelled to persuade Annabelle she was not to blame for the breach.

  “It is his fault we did not have that time!” Annabelle blinked her eyes rapidly. After a brief pause to rally her composure, she added, “If he had not behaved so abominably, Frederick would have been able to resign his commission and not risk his life on the Portuguese frontier.”