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“It’s your conscience.” I winked at Josephine.
“I’ll say my prayer silently,” Josephine said. “Fiona, you should do the same.”
“Yes, Jojo.” Fiona kept hold of my hand as we contemplated what to choose for breakfast.
I added a blob of eggs to Fiona’s plate in addition to the two pieces of bacon she asked for. Once we were seated, Lord Barnes set aside his Denver Post.
“Any news from the world?” I asked.
“Not anything worth repeating,” Lord Barnes said. “Would you like it? The news is a week old by the time I get it, but at least I can keep somewhat abreast of the world’s events.”
I declined his offer, saying I might read it later if I had a quiet moment.
“And what do we plan to do with our day?” he asked the girls.
“We’re showing Miss Quinn our pigs,” Fiona said.
“And the rest of the barn,” Josephine said. “We have chickens and Buttercream.”
“What’s a Buttercream?” I asked.
“Our cow,” Fiona said.
“Because she makes us butter and cream,” Josephine said, sounding like a weary old woman.
“Cymbeline named her,” Lord Barnes said. “She’s rather fond of both.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said as I slathered butter on the sourdough bread Lizzie had made so expertly. “I’m not sure there’s anything better than butter.”
Fiona giggled.
“You’ll need to borrow a pair of my rubber boots,” Lord Barnes said, “if you’re going out to the barn. Yours won’t do. I’ll accompany you. I wouldn’t want you to slip and hit your head again.”
I laughed and let my eyes twinkle back at him. “Lord Barnes, I’m perfectly capable of walking out to the barn without supervision.”
“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” he asked.
Aware that we’d been lost in each other gazes, I looked away. Josephine and Fiona both beamed at me.
“This is going to be a great day,” Josephine said as she let out a happy sigh. “All of us together.”
“Like if you were our mama, Miss Quinn,” Fiona said.
I flushed from head to toe. Was my crush on Lord Barnes this obvious that even a three-year-old could see it? Or did they want a mother so badly they’d projected that role onto me?
I stole a glance at the object of my affection. He grinned at me, then winked.
I gulped and looked down at my plate, overcome with sudden emotion. Could it be possible that Lord Barnes saw a future between us that involved more than employer and nanny? If so, was that what I wanted?
Of course it is, you ninny. Pretending otherwise is ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want Alexander Barnes and his brood of sweet angels?
After breakfast Lord Barnes convinced me to pull on a pair of long, unattractive farmer boots as well as a manly jacket made of coarse canvas material. Lined with flannel and stuffed with down feathers, I was too warm standing in the foyer. They placed a gray knit cap on my head. I was about to pull on my gloves when Lizzie appeared with a pair made from a gray cashmere yarn.
“I made them for you,” Lizzie said. “These are your Colorado gloves. They’ll keep you warm on your rides to and from school and if you want to go out for a walk with Lord Barnes. For example.”
“Thank you, Lizzie.” I smiled, admiring the perfect stitches. “How did you find time for this?”
“I like to keep my hands busy,” she said.
