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Six weeks. Six weeks in which she’d normally be planning for the next school year, sorting out her classroom, preparing supplies and resources... Except she’d been on a maternity leave cover contract for a year and, despite the promise of another position when the teacher she was covering for returned, last-minute budget cuts meant she didn’t actually have a new job for September yet. No class to prepare for. And, given all the upheaval in her life, she’d figured some supply work might be best for the next term or so anyway. Until she figured out what she was doing.
All of which meant she really didn’t have anything to do this summer.
She thought back to Cal’s rambled job description when he’d thought she was Miss Thomas.
‘If you stick out six weeks here at Castle Lengroth, and get the children prepared physically, mentally and emotionally for boarding school, I’ll pay you for a full year’s work at your agency base rate. But if you quit before the six weeks are up you get nothing.’
Did that offer still stand? A year’s wages, even at nanny agency rates, would go an awful long way towards providing her with the cushion she needed to take care of this baby—and herself—until she got a new job. She could break the news of her pregnancy to her father in her own time and, while she’d have to tell him about the whole sleeping with a married earl thing, maybe no one else would need to know. It didn’t seem that Cal was desperate to shout it from the rafters.
There’d be talk at home, of course. But an unmarried mother was a totally different thing to an aristocratic homewrecker. And very different again from last time, with her mother. Maybe it would be okay...
Besides, if things got bad she’d have money, and if she had money she had options. She could go and stay somewhere else for a while, until everything blew over. Take Dad with her, even. Maybe Wales, where they’d used to go on family holidays before.
Heather ran her tongue across her suddenly dry lips. ‘What are the terms?’
She didn’t want to spend the summer in Scotland. Not that she had anything against the country particularly, but it wasn’t where she belonged. Especially not in this dark and foreboding castle with duck-wielding children.
But if she didn’t want to be in this scary, imposing place, how must the kids feel about it? They’d grown up here, of course. But given what she knew of their father, and what she could therefore guess about their parents’ marriage and family relationships, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
‘Same as if you really were the nanny from the agency,’ Cal said. ‘In fact, no one but us two need to know that you aren’t. I think that would be better for now, don’t you?’
Heather gave a slow nod. But would it be better? She wasn’t good at secrets. She knew the harm they could do. But under the circumstances...what option did she have?
‘So, you’d stay a full six weeks and get the children ready for boarding school—I have a folder with the details somewhere...’ He looked around his immaculate desk, empty except for the rubber duck, then back at Heather. ‘Or perhaps Mrs Peterson does. Anyway. You do that and I’ll pay you a year’s wages—not as a bribe, or because my brother got you into trouble, but because you’ll have earned it.’
He’d anticipated her issues with the arrangement, Heather realised. As much as she could use the money, it did feel like a bribe—and that wasn’t what she’d come here for. But he’d offered the money before he’d even known who she was, so it was a genuine payment for services rendered.
God, how bad were these kids?
At least there’s only two of them. That can’t be harder to handle than a class of thirty-four, right? And I manage them well enough.
Besides, teaching was one thing. Living with and supporting kids through important life changes was something else entirely. Something she needed to learn to do now she was going to become a mother.
‘I don’t suppose I can take some time to think about it?’ she asked.
Cal shrugged. ‘Honestly...? You might as well say yes now. Even if you leave in the next day or two nobody will be surprised. In fact, forty-eight hours will be more than the last nanny managed.’
