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“Here’s the nursery, Miss Perkins,” said Adele, leading Mari into a spacious, high-ceilinged room with luxurious silk carpets and an expansive view of the park.
The duke had spared no expense in outfitting the children’s nursery.
Framed maps and prints dotted the walls, along with a large blackboard. In a sunny alcove stood an enormous wooden chest filled to the brim with wooden soldiers, balls, hoops, dolls, and a heap of other toys. Handsome oak bookshelves occupied one of the walls, bulging with shiny new leather spines.
Only the best for a duke.
Mari wasn’t the best. Not even close. She hadn’t been educated in one of the elite private academies, her Latin and French were merely adequate, and her charcoals more enthusiastic than skillful. Her accomplishments may be few, but if there was one thing she knew, it was children.
Though these two would be a challenge, no doubt about it.
They had identical black hair and delicately pointed chins, and the same wariness and mistrust in their dark brown eyes.
What had happened to them during their upbringing in France? Mari had expected the cosseted children of a duke to be plump and petted. These two children were as lean as orphans bred on watery gruel and proverbs.
“Is that a new set of encyclopedias?” Mari asked, pointing at the bookshelves.
“Who needs encyclopedias?” Michel made a face. “Boring.”
“We want to play in the park,” said Adele. “We want to hunt snakes. Trix will need a friend. May we see him now?”
Mari laid a hand over her reticule. “Not until we have an appropriate receptacle for him.” She bent toward Michel. “If you must collect snakes from the Serpentine, I’ll be more than happy to assist with the endeavor. But there’ll be no more running away. And no more shooting constables, is that understood?”
“You’re not like our other governesses,” said Adele. “They couldn’t abide snakes. Or spiders.”
“Or toads in their beds,” added Michel.
Mari sniffed. “I should think not.”
“Miss Perkins, allow me to introduce Mrs. Brill, the children’s nurse.” Mrs. Fairfield entered the room followed by a fair-haired woman with round cheeks who wore a white apron over her blue gown.
“Did you run off again, you naughty things? Why, you’re covered in mud.” Mrs. Brill gave Mari a sideways glance, as if including her in her disapproval. “You’ll never catch a husband crusted in mud.” She pinched Adele’s cheek.
“Bah! I don’t want a husband.” Adele gave her a haughty stare.“Et ne jamais pincer mes joues!”
“What’s that you say?” Mrs. Brill tilted her head.
“She doesn’t want you to pinch her cheeks,” Mari translated.
“Well,” said the nurse. “Might I be allowed to give Her Majesty a bath?”
Michel glanced at Mari’s reticule. “Trix will have a bath with me.”
“Certainly not!” said Mrs. Fairfield.
“Mr. Trix would prefer a nice safe place to curl up,” Mari said. “Have you a spare water jug, Mrs. Fairfield? We can tie a piece of butter muslin over the top so he can breathe.”
Mrs. Fairfield blanched. “You can’t mean to keep that disgusting reptile in the nursery.”
Adele crossed her thin arms across her ribs. “Trix stays here with us tonight.”
“You can’t keep a snake in the house,” sputtered Mrs. Fairfield. “What will Mr. Robertson think? He’s the butler, dear,” she explained to Mari.
“You may tell Mr. Robertson that the snake is an educational specimen.”
“If he were a specimen he’d be dead and pinned to velvet, now wouldn’t he?” replied Mrs. Fairfield.
Mari’s reticule chose that moment to quiver violently.
