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All that manly exertion had bewattled her senses.
“I apologise if my early arrival has discommoded you,” she murmured, tentatively taking her reticule by the top ribbon.
Mr Hawkins’ lips parted to reveal a smile of pure white. Shouldn’t a pugilist be left with mere gums?
“I am rarely discommoded.” He peeled down a shirt sleeve, concealing the golden skin. “But first I must introduce you to my daughter.”
Matilda held her own smile in place because she knew precisely what was to be forthcoming.
With a graceful flick of a broad finger, Mr Hawkins reached down and freed the silky blond plait tucked down the back of the young man’s shirt.
A scowling face snatched it back – feminine lips thinned and fair eyelashes framed a narrowed gaze.
Mr Hawkins simply grinned. “Meet my daughter, Chloe.” And he swivelled. “Chloe dearest, your new governess.”
Through sheer willpower and a strict upbringing, Matilda’s smile did not waver.
But, oh dear heavens, Miss Appleton had not prepared her for this.
