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Henrietta couldn’t help smiling. “Children needn’t be such hard work. Most fathers rarely see their offspring and have no qualms about their upbringing.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I am quite happy to say that I have no interest in reproducing myself.”

If he didn’t have such a clearly defined chin, Henrietta would have thought he was nothing but a fribble. As it was, she felt a prickly awareness of the leashed strength of his legs. Trousers didn’t look that handsome on Wiltshire gentlemen!

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Esme started to rise, and Darby immediately moved to her side and helped her up. “Are you feeling quite well?” he asked. Esme looked a little embarrassed. “I’m afraid I’ve been pouring my tedious tale into Henrietta’s ear. And I did the same to you last night. I did warn you.” She gave Darby a lopsided smile. “I’m a terrible wet blanket these days.”

He had a sweet smile, to Henrietta’s mind. Esme was fussing about with her shawl. “I believe I shall visit my chambers for a moment. No, please do not bother to accompany me. I shall return directly because we are expecting the nursemaids within minutes, are we not? Not only that, but the employment agency promised to send along at least one candidate for gardener as well. Please excuse me, Henrietta. I shall leave you unchaperoned for only a minute or two.” Then she bent down and whispered in her ear. “You see? No children!” And she left.

“May I offer you some tea, sir? I’m afraid this might have cooled.”

Darby sat down opposite Henrietta and eyed her clothing.

“No, thank you. Was that gown made up in the village?”

“Yes, it was,” she said. “Was your clothing made up in London?”

“By exiled Parisians,” he said.

“In that case I won’t bother to give you Mrs. Pinnock’s direction. I expect you would find her French inadequate.”

He grinned. “Either that or her needle. I am truly grateful to you, Lady Henrietta, for assisting me with this project. I feel woefully unsuited to choosing a nursemaid.”

Lady Rawlings’s butler, Slope, entered and announced,

“The nursemaids are here, Mr. Darby. Shall I show them in one at a time?”

Darby looked at Henrietta. “Better than seeing them all at once, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

Slope bowed and returned with a stocky woman with a Fool for Love

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prominent nose and a chest like a ledge. She was dressed severely in unrelieved black. Darby’s charming greeting seemed to make her nervous; she took a good hard appraisal of his lace cuffs, sniffed loudly, and thereafter directed her remarks to Henrietta.

Henrietta knew on first glance that Mrs. Bramble was absolutely not the right person, and so she only listened with half an ear until she realized that the nurse was saying, “So you see, madam, I believe that a child’s life must be organized and run by the best Christian principles. In fact, as a member of one of Upper Glimpton’s best Methodist families, I can assure you, madam . . .”

Henrietta turned pink as she realized that Mrs. Bramble had fallen into the misperception that she was married to Mr. Darby. She must have assumed that “Lady Henrietta” signified “Mrs. Darby” had retained a family title after her marriage. Of course she assumed that. No young unmarried woman would be with Mr. Darby unchaperoned. Darby shot her a quick look. His eyes were full of laughter.

“Ah,” he said, “you sound precisely the kind of woman I have been seeking for my children, Mrs. Bramble. You see our recent nurse had popish tendencies.”

Mrs. Bramble drew in her breath.

“Yes, indeed,” he said with gloomy emphasis. “I truly feared for the souls of my children.”

Henrietta hastily intervened. “Mrs. Bramble, one of the children, Josie, is having a difficult time overcoming her grief at the death of her mother. Have you encountered this sort of situation before?”

“Indeed I have. Indeed I have. In fact, I am mourning the death of my own dear mama, as you can tell by my attire.”

Her face softened, and for the first time Henrietta thought that perhaps Mrs. Bramble wasn’t as rigid as she appeared.

“I know full well how distressing the loss of a parent can be.” She smiled in a melancholy sort of way. “I think I can 100 Eloisa