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Luckily Mr. Gyfford entered the room at that very moment, looking rather surprised to find Josie dripping water, and even more surprised when he saw Mr. Darby holding Anabel. “I’ve brought Bessie from the kitchen,” he announced. “She’s the eldest of six, and knows all about little ones.”

A moment later Gyfford and Bessie had hustled both children out of the room. Henrietta could hear Josie’s voice retreating down the corridor, recounting the fact that she, a poor, motherless child, was all wet because. . . . 26 Eloisa

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Henrietta shuddered. She had always had a temper, but she had never, ever addressed it to a child. Of course, she’d never been around children, despite the fact that she knew Bartholomew Batt’s books by heart.

Perhaps it was just as well that she couldn’t have children of her own.

< 4 =

Home Truths Are Seldom Pleasant

Darby closed the door behind Anabel and Josie with an acute sense of relief. From the moment he’d embarked on the trip from London, his life had been hell. Josie had been forced into his carriage by Anabel’s vomiting, a request he could not deny once the odor in the children’s carriage grew pestilent. But Josie’s company was not an unmixed delight. It was no delight at all. When she wasn’t whining, she was stretched on the carriage floor bellowing to the skies. Lady Henrietta was still looking distraught. Feeling guilty, he thought smugly. When he first saw her holding Anabel, he felt a pulse of alarm: a nursemaid that beautiful was bound to cause trouble amongst the footmen. His second thought was to discard that possibility. The woman had a beautiful face, but she carried herself gracelessly, with no awareness of her femininity. It wouldn’t matter what she was wearing. Plus, she was clearly a virago at heart. No wonder she was unmarried.

“Please accept my apologies on Josie’s behalf,” he said.

“Both children have been inexcusably rude.”

The virago bit her lip. It was a remarkably soft and pink 28 Eloisa

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lip, for one so sharp-tongued. “I fear that her bad behavior is tied to your inattention,” she said bluntly. “Children who are treated with love and affection are sweet and biddable at all times.” She didn’t need to point out that Josie hardly qualified for that description. Darby had never engaged in a discussion of child-rearing practices, nor had he the slightest inclination to engage in one. But stung, he answered. “Your conclusion is unlikely since Josie hardly knows me. I shall hire a nursemaid who can provide the necessary affection. Although I pity the woman.”

“A nursemaid cannot supplant a parent,” she said, sternly. Perhaps her lack of inches explained her ferocity, Darby thought. Petite or not, she had a glorious bosom, this termagant who had rescued the girls. Thanks to a thorough dampening, her dress clung to her breasts in a way that outlined every curve. Any other woman would be either flaunting or concealing that fact. Lady Henrietta didn’t appear to have noticed.

“The fact is that your daughter hardly knows you. And that is not something to boast of, sir!”

“Josie is my stepsister,” Darby said bluntly. “I believe I met her three or four times before unexpectedly becoming her guardian, after my father and stepmother died in a carriage accident. My stepmother probably summoned her from the nursery for a Christmas viewing when I was there, but I really have no recollection of the event.” Since achieving adulthood, he had spent the requisite Christmas season with his family counting the moments until he could leave the house.

Henrietta blinked. “Josie is your stepsister? And Anabel as well?”

“Yes.”

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me immediately?”

He shrugged. “If Josie is reminded of her parentless state, she invariably starts bellowing.”

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“Her behavior likely signals grief due to her mother’s untimely death.”

“Ah, but is she grieving? I believe Josie’s tantrums may be a flaw in her character. Her nursemaid certainly seemed to think so, and I’m sure the woman knew her far better than I.”

He could see uncertainty in Lady Henrietta’s eyes, which just confirmed his sense that Josie was a budding virago. In fact, a petite version of her dear mother.

“Has her mother been dead for a long time?”

“Just over eight months,” Darby replied. “Now if you would excuse me, Lady Henrietta, I assure you that I will take more care in choosing my next nursemaid. My aunt, Lady Rawlings, lives in Shantill House, quite close to Limpley Stoke, and she will undoubtedly be able to locate an appropriate nurse for the children.”

He walked toward the door of the parlor.

Henrietta followed and held out her hand in farewell.

“We shall likely meet again, Mr. Darby. Your aunt is holding an at-home this evening, and my family has accepted her invitation.”