by Laura Beers
Amelia lifted her brow in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Hello, Lady Sybil,” she greeted as she approached the bed. “My name is Amelia.”
“Hello,” the girl replied, brushing the hair off her face.
“I’m sorry for the secrecy, but my son does not allow Sybil to be on the first or second levels,” Ellen explained. “But I just had to see my granddaughter. It has been far too long.”
“Why doesn’t he allow Lady Sybil to be on the first or second levels?”
Sybil answered in a soft voice, “My father doesn’t like it when I make noise, so he makes me stay in the nursery.”
“But every child makes noise,” Amelia contended.
With a sad expression, the duchess said, “My son prefers his solitude.”
Sybil reached over and picked up a book laying on the table. “Will you finish reading the story to me?”
“I will in due time,” Ellen replied as she accepted the book. “First, I would like to speak to Miss Amelia.”
“About what?” Sybil asked.
The duchess laughed. “I am curious as to why she is wearing her riding habit.”
“I think she intends to go riding, Grandmother.”
Amelia smiled. “You are a clever girl,” she said. “That is precisely what I intend to do.”
Ellen gave her a worried expression. “Are you sure you are up to that?”
“It has been four days, and my hip hardly hurts,” Amelia replied. “I have no doubt I can ride a horse, assuming I am careful.”
“When do you think I can learn to ride a horse?” Sybil asked, turning her gaze towards her grandmother.
The duchess shrugged. “I couldn’t say. That is up to your father.”
“How old are you?” Amelia asked as she stopped next to the bed.
The girl held up five fingers. “I am five.”
Amelia bobbed her head. “That is a good age, but you are still too young to ride a horse. I had to wait until I was six.”
“I can wait until I’m six,” Sybil said eagerly, moving to sit up on her knees.
“I have no doubt that you will take to riding spectacularly,” Amelia remarked.
Sybil smiled up at her. “You are nice.”
“I try to be.”
“Will you be my nurse?” the girl asked hopefully.
With a shake of her head, Amelia replied, “Unfortunately, I cannot be, because I am already your grandmother’s companion.”
Sybil scrunched her nose. “What does a companion do?”
“Whatever your grandmother wants me to do,” Amelia explained.
The duchess interjected, “Amelia is my friend. She reads to me, goes on walks with me, and sits with me.”
“Will you be my friend too, Amelia?” Sybil asked.
“I would be happy to,” Amelia said, tipping her head.
Sybil clapped her hands. “That makes me happy.”
A knock came at the door and everyone froze. A moment later, a voice said, “I’m here to pick up Lady Sybil.”
Jane walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide enough for someone to step through. A young blonde-haired maid walked into the room, wearing a uniform.
“It is time for me to return Lady Sybil to the nursery,” the maid said. “She needs to start on her lessons before her walk.”
Sybil looked over at Amelia and announced proudly, “Sophia is teaching me how to read.”
“Is she now?”
The girl bobbed her head. “I can’t read yet, but I will soon enough.”
“That is an impressive feat.”
The duchess reached for her granddaughter and pulled her close. “Take care, Sybil. I will be up to the nursery as soon as my ankle heals.”
Sybil returned her grandmother’s embrace. “I hope that is soon. I have missed you.”
“It will be,” Ellen replied as she released her.
The little girl climbed off the bed and hurried over to the maid. “Can we go get a biscuit from the kitchen first?”
The maid smiled as she reached for her hand. “It is a little early for a biscuit, don’t you think?”
Sybil shook her head. “I don’t believe it is.”
“Thank you for letting Lady Sybil come visit me, Sophia,” the duchess said. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our time together.”
“You are welcome, Your Grace,” the maid replied with a slight curtsy.
Jane opened the door and peered out into the hallway. “It is all clear,” she announced, waving them closer.
After Sophia and Sybil departed from the room, Jane approached the duchess and asked, “Can I get you anything, Your Grace?”
“I would like my breakfast, please.”
Jane tipped her head. “As you wish,” she replied, walking over to the door. “I will be back up shortly with your tray.”
Once the door was closed, Ellen met her gaze and said, “You probably have some questions for me.”
“I do.”
“I assumed as much.”
Amelia sat on the edge of the duchess’s bed. “Why the secrecy?”
Ellen frowned. “My son may be good at many things but being a father does not come naturally to him.”
“What does that mean?”
The duchess sighed. “He leaves the rearing of Sybil to the nurse.”
“Does he spend any time with his daughter?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ellen replied with a sad shake of her head.
“That is disconcerting.”
Ellen placed a pillow behind her back. “That is why Edmund needs to marry, and quickly,” she explained. “Sybil needs a mother most desperately.”
“She is a sweet little girl.”
“That she is.”
Amelia rose from the bed. “I shall see what I can do,” she said. “Your son can be rather tight-lipped around me.”
“I daresay that is not true,” Ellen contended. “He has begun opening up to you. In time, I have no doubt you will start to discover my real son.”
“I hope so, because I can’t stay at Harrowden Hall forever.”
The duchess grinned. “I would be happy to hire you on as my companion and end this charade. I have found that I quite enjoy having you around.”
“As fun as that would be, I need to return to Town to be with my sisters,” Amelia said. “My job was to befriend your son in hopes of finding him an ideal bride, but it has been much more difficult than I had anticipated.”
“I would imagine that men usually fall at your feet because of your beauty,” Ellen remarked with a knowing look.
Amelia laughed. “They don’t fall at my feet, but I usually find them to be quite agreeable. More so than your son.”
“My son can be rather difficult, but I plead with you not to give up on him.”
“I won’t,” she said. “At least, not yet.”
“I appreciate that.”
Amelia started walking towards the door. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go riding and attempt to stay out of trouble.”
“Be careful, my dear,” the duchess urged, “and avoid the woodlands.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Amelia replied before she departed from the room.
Sitting at his desk, Edmund had just signed a stack of correspondences when Morton stepped into the room and announced, “Miss Olivia Long has arrived, Your Grace.”
“That is wonderful news,” he replied, placing the stack of papers to the side. “Has she spoken to Mrs. Harris yet?”
“She has.”
“Then send her in,” he ordered. “I would like to speak to her before she settles into the nursery.”
Morton tipped his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
A few moments later, a plain young woman walked in with dark brown hair pinned into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She was dressed in an ivory gown that did little for her figure or her complexion. Frankly, she was exactly what he was expecting in terms of a nurse.
Edmund r
ose and waved her further into the room. “Take a seat,” he ordered. “I would like to speak to you for a moment.”
Miss Long walked hesitantly over to the chair that faced his desk and sat down, keeping her back rigid.
He returned to his seat and asked, “Did Mrs. Harris have a chance to explain all the rules that you are expected to follow?”
“She did, Your Grace,” she replied, not meeting his gaze.
“And do you have any questions?”
Miss Long shook her head. “No, Your Grace.”
“Good.” Edmund leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the desk. “I do not have time for any incompetence. If you do not follow the rules, then you will be dismissed, without references. Do I make myself clear?”
“I understand.”
“That being said, I do appreciate you coming as soon as you did, and you will be compensated accordingly.”
Her gaze remained downcast. “I am grateful for this opportunity,” she responded.
“I understand you worked for your last employer for ten years.”
“That is correct.”
“Did you enjoy working for Mr. Washburn and his family?”
A smile came to her lips. “I did, very much,” she replied. “I am quite fond of children, Your Grace.”
“You should know that Mr. Washburn spoke quite highly of you.”
“That pleases me to hear. I will always look back to the time I spent with his family with much fondness.”
Edmund nodded approvingly. “Would you like to meet your charge?”
“I would.”
Rising, he said, “The nursery is on the third floor, and you will only access it by using the red staircase. I do not want my daughter using the main staircase, for any reason.”
“I understand.”
Edmund came around his desk and directed, “If you will follow me, I will show you where the red staircase is.”
As he stepped out of his study, he nearly collided with Miss Blackmore. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” Miss Blackmore said as she took a step back. “I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No harm done.” Edmund turned back to face the nurse, who had just stepped out into the hall. “Allow me to introduce you to the new nurse, Miss Long.”
Miss Blackmore tipped her head politely. “How wonderful,” she said. “My name is Miss Amelia Blackmore, and I am the dowager duchess’s companion.”
Miss Long dipped into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blackmore.”
“Likewise,” Miss Blackmore said.
Edmund perused Miss Blackmore’s grey riding habit and asked, “Do you truly intend to go riding?”
“I do.”
“I would be remiss if I did not point out that the doctor ordered you to avoid any strenuous activity for two weeks.”
Miss Blackmore looked at him with mirth in her eyes. “Surely, you do not expect me to follow his advice.”
“I do.”
“My hip was just bruised, Your Grace,” she explained. “I am confident that I can take a leisurely ride on a horse.”
Edmund frowned, displeased by Miss Blackmore’s stubborn attitude. “If you wait until the afternoon, I would be happy to escort you on your ride.”
“There is no need to escort me. I am content with riding on my own.”
“I contend that is rather a foolhardy thing to do,” he argued. “What if you require assistance?”
Miss Blackmore shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t believe that to be necessary. Except for a bruise on my hip, I am in good health, Your Grace.”
Realizing he was fighting a losing battle, Edmund tipped his head. “Then I hope you have an enjoyable ride, Miss Blackmore.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, and I do appreciate your concern.”
For some reason, he found himself not wanting to say goodbye to Miss Blackmore yet. So, he asked, “Have you had a chance to see my mother this morning?”
“I did,” she replied. “She is faring well.”
“That is good to hear.”
Miss Blackmore bobbed her head. “Perhaps we could take a stroll through the secret garden again this afternoon.”
“I would enjoy that, Miss Blackmore.”
“That is assuming your mother will use the Bath chair.”
His lips twitched. “She does seem to have an aversion to that chair.”
Miss Blackmore giggled. “That she does.”
Her laugh was so pleasant sounding that it almost caused him to smile. Almost.
Edmund turned his attention towards the nurse. “I am about to show Miss Long where the red staircase is.”
“Would you like me to do that for you, Your Grace?” Miss Blackmore asked. “I will be walking right past the door.”
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, but you are welcome to accompany us.”
“I would be happy to.”
Edmund started walking side by side next to Miss Blackmore, and Miss Long trailed behind them.
“Did you sleep well, Miss Blackmore?” he asked, glancing over at her.
She nodded. “I did.” She paused. “And did you sleep well?”
“I did.”
Miss Blackmore shifted her gaze towards the nurse. “Did you sleep well, Miss Long?”
“I did, miss,” Miss Long replied.
With a playful smile, Miss Blackmore remarked, “It would appear that we all slept well last night.”
“That is wonderful news,” he said, finding himself amused by his mother’s companion.
Edmund came to a stop outside of a door. “Behind this door are the red stairs, Miss Long.” He opened it, revealing a flight of stairs with red carpet running the length of it. “The stairs run from the first floor to the nursery on the third floor.”
Miss Long stepped closer and peered into the doorway. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“I trust that you will be able to see your way to the nursery,” Edmund said, taking a step back.
“Do you not care to introduce me to your daughter?” Miss Long asked.
Edmund shook his head. “I do not.”
The nurse eyed him curiously, but wisely did not comment. “I understand, Your Grace,” she murmured before she started ascending the stairs.
As he closed the door, Miss Blackmore asked, “May I ask why you didn’t escort the nurse up to the nursery?”
“I am a very busy man,” Edmund declared. “I don’t have time to do someone else’s job for them. That would only be a waste of time.”
Miss Blackmore arched an eyebrow. “Taking a moment to visit your daughter is hardly a waste of time, Your Grace.”
Edmund scoffed. “On my word, Miss Blackmore, do you ever not speak your mind?”
“I’m afraid not,” she replied. “That is one of my greatest flaws.”
“I would agree.”
Miss Blackmore’s eyes stared at him intently as she asked, “Why don’t you spend time with your daughter?”
He stiffened. “It is none of your business how I occupy my time.”
“That may be true, but—”
Edmund cut her off. “Leave it alone,” he growled.
Miss Blackmore continued to stare at him for a moment before she finally nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” She dropped into a curtsy before she started walking away from him.
Infuriating woman, he thought. Why did it even matter to her how he spent his time? She had no right to question him, or his motives. He was a duke, and she was just a lowly companion.
So why did she act more like a blasted guest in his home than a paid companion?
9
Amelia relaxed the grip on her reins as the horse cantered through the meadows surrounding Harrowden Hall. She was pleased to discover that her hip did not hurt at this controlled three-beat gait, but she did not dare try to go faster.
Her thoughts continuously returned to the duke
. Just when she started to believe he wasn’t as unbearable as she had previously thought, he surprised her again. What man doesn’t want to spend any time with his child? It was perplexing and, frankly, quite disturbing.
How could she in good conscience find him a match when he was such a horrid person? She was well aware that some members of Society may not devote as much time to their children as they should, but they still devoted some time to them. It was awful that the duchess had to hide her own grandchild because she feared her son’s reaction at being caught playing with her.
Slowly, the duke had started sharing more details about himself, but he never talked about his daughter. Why was that, she wondered. She had so many questions, but she had nowhere to go to get answers. The duke refused to talk about certain topics, and the duchess could be tight-lipped when it came to her son.
Amelia should have let His Grace escort her on her ride. Then she could have tried to get him to share more. She chided herself, realizing she had missed an opportunity.
She stopped in front of the woodlands. Perhaps there was one man that could answer some of her questions. Mr. Evan Rawlings.
Amelia turned her head one way and then the other, to ensure that no one was privy to what she was about to do. When she confirmed that no one else was around, she urged her horse onto the well-worn path. She had hardly gone fifty yards when Mr. Rawlings stepped out onto the path, dressed in a grey riding jacket, blue waistcoat and dark trousers. His blond hair was brushed forward, and he had a relieved smile on his lips.
“You are safe!” he exclaimed.
Amelia reined in her horse. “I am,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mr. Rawlings had a concerned look on his face. “It has been nearly five days since you last visited the woodlands, and I was worried that the duke might have forbade you from visiting.”
“He did, but that doesn’t persuade me.”
“Aren’t you worried about being dismissed?”
“Not particularly.”
Mr. Rawlings lifted his brow. “What a peculiar response from a paid companion.” His gaze left hers and scanned the woodlands. “I know I shouldn’t be on the duke’s land, but I wanted to see for myself that you were all right.”
