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say without reservation that I will be the best of all helps for the poor mite. We can share our sorrow.”

“I am so sorry to hear of your loss,” Henrietta said. “When did your mother die?”

“It will be five years and a fortnight, next Tuesday.” Mrs. Bramble smoothed out the stiff black bombazine of her skirt and said, as if it were all settled, “I could move in Saturday, madam, and very pleased I will be, to take care of a poor, grieving child. We shall take our comfort in the Lord.”

“Mrs. Bramble,” Darby said, rising and helping her to her feet, “this has been a rare pleasure.”

Slope returned two minutes later with a sharp-featured young woman who seemed just out of the schoolroom. She was wearing a dress of printed muslin, with five or six layers of flounces around the bottom and a few flounces around the shoulder for good measure.

This time Darby was much more explicit in outlining his relation to the children, and the fact that Henrietta was merely aiding him in selecting a nursemaid. But Miss Penelope Eckersall wasn’t terribly concerned about their relationship. She explained in a determined, rather shrill voice, that although she found the house terribly nice, she hadn’t been prepared for how long it took to drive from Bath, where the employment agency was located, to the house. “I simply couldn’t live so far from town,” she said earnestly.

“Limpley Stoke is only a matter of a mile from here,” Henrietta said.

“Well, as to that,” Miss Eckersall said, “we did drive through the village on the way. It’s very small, isn’t it? Just a High Street and an inn, that’s all. If there were a military encampment, or something that brought, well, some liveliness to the region, but all we saw on the way here in the coach were cows, and that’s a fact!”

“It is a farming community,” Henrietta agreed, “but—”

She was about to point out that Darby lived in London, but Fool for Love

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he intervened. “I agree you would find it tedious. After all, a young woman likes a spot of excitement now and then.”

“That’s it exactly,” said Miss Eckersall. When she nodded, the three rows of flounces at her shoulders all trembled in agreement. “I told my mum that I’d like to find employment in London. That’s what I’d truly wish. But my mum won’t allow that, not on any account. So she won’t allow me to answer advertisements for the city.”

“What a shame,” Darby said sympathetically. Like Mrs. Bramble, Miss Eckersall didn’t seem overly impressed by his attire. She kept sneaking glances at his cuffs and looking away as if she’d seen something embarrassing. Without responding to Darby she turned to Henrietta, and said, “Because a young lady does need to make friends now and then, as I’m sure you’ll understand.” She bounced out of her seat. “I’m very sorry to have wasted your time, I truly am. But I am quite certain that this post is not the right one for me.”

As Darby pulled the bell for the butler, Miss Eckersall turned toward Henrietta and said, “May I speak to you for a moment, my lady?”

Darby bowed and strolled to the far end of the sitting room as Henrietta stood up, nodding encouragingly to the nursemaid.

Miss Eckersall whispered loudly, “Don’t let him hire the other lady that traveled with me, my lady. That Mrs. Bramble, or so she calls herself.”

“Oh,” said Henrietta, rather discomforted by this advice.

“You know I don’t want the position, so I’m not saying it for my benefit. That Mrs. Bramble told me that she has her mother’s hand preserved and sitting on her mantelpiece! On her mantelpiece!” the girl repeated in a thrilled whisper. “I didn’t believe her, and she said it’s the hand with her mother’s wedding ring—isn’t that the oddest thing you ever heard?” And she turned and ruffled her way to the door. Darby showed her gravely from the room and then came 102 Eloisa

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back to Henrietta. “I would guess that neither of those candidates passes muster with you, Lady Henrietta.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and those crinkles made her feel simmering in her belly, even though she knew full well that he was naught but a fribble.

“Confession is good for the soul,” he went on. “Was Miss Eckersall warning you about me?”

Henrietta blinked. “About you?”

He grinned. “From her censorious looks at my attire, I thought she might have decided to warn you away from gentlemen of my type.”

Henrietta deliberately glanced from his head to his foot.

“Are you wearing lace?” she asked sweetly. “I didn’t notice. And no, I must disappoint you by confessing that she had nothing to say of you. Are you quite, quite certain that she even noticed your attire? I am afraid to tell you, sir, that outside London people do not take sartorial matters as seriously as you seem to.”

He burst out laughing, and that made the simmering in Henrietta’s stomach spread down her legs.

“Hoist by my own petard, am I? I think you are good for my vanity, Lady Henrietta.” He picked up her hand and brushed her palm against his lips. “You consider me nothing more than a peacock.”

She couldn’t resist smiling at him. “Perhaps not a pea-cock, but—