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Well shit.
Does she… actually care? About watching a kid's movie? It's one thing to be dedicated to Maddie's needs, but watching a movie with her isn't one of them, right? I don't screw up my face in confusion, but I want to. And then just like that, she's a dandelion puff leaving my side like a wish, going to trail after Maddie, who's gotten herself into trouble in what looks like a ball-pit that's sunken into the ground.
That petticoat is going to get tangled in everything this indoor playground has to offer. And the shrieking of children is beginning to get to me.
I retreat to the adult salon, and look for whiskey.
"Hollywood!" Someone calls my name, and a grin rises to stretch my lips wide. This is where the fun begins... I'll stay a few minutes and then go out to get Miss Bell.
I did not go outto get Miss Bell. Well, I did, but Madeline was stuck to her side like a burr, and I didn't have the heart to pry them away from each other.
Now Mads is bouncing in the limo after the movie, talking a mile a minute and even though we have our own dedicated lane, that doesn't take into accountallthe nobility that are choking it up as they leave the Even of the Season.
I'm regretting the whiskey. And regretting not sitting next to Miss Bell, on a fucking bean bag chair, for an hour and a half, because that would have been better than the idiots who tried to bend my ear the entire time.
Sometimes I forget that my brother isn't the only one with so-called responsibilities. That it's me too, with people who think that I care about what new building is being built somewhere it shouldn't be, and what are we going to do about all the noise pollution, and don't we need to have more shade in downtown Hollywood that isn't just palm trees?
Palm trees are fine. I tune it out most of the time, when I have to listen to one of my agents speak to me about it, and the reports I get sent collect dust on my desk.
If something's really important, they'll talk to me.
And I'll probably ignore that too, but there's other things that I need to pay attention to.
Like the sweet wisp of hair that's curling down the side of Eva— Miss Bell's neck as she bends to read to Maddie, who's finally sitting still.
I want to trace that lock of hair until it meets her collar, then wrap my fingers in the fabric of her shirt and pull her toward me.
But I don't. I can't. Not now. My gaze slides outside, and I see the Hollywood sign, mocking me as we go.
I feel deflated. My niece has had an amazing time today, a change of pace from the dreary life of school-room learning and piano recital prep, I've been out and seen some of my set, back-slapped for another great production I've paid for, and yet—
What I really wanted to have happen didn't. She's sitting three feet from me, within arm's length distance, and yet I can't have her. And that fucking infuriates me.
There's a tremor inside me that's threatening to crack me open if I don'ttouch,taste, something. Anything.
Maybe because I know that it would infuriate my brother, because he's got a hard-on for the nannies remaining pure and untouched, even though I've had half the chamber maids and he's never cared.
But this is one thing that he demands stay his, even if he doesn'thavethem in that way. Maybe it's something to do with them being care-givers to Madeline.
I chew on my lip for a moment before letting it go.
Maybe it's because of what happened between me and the duchess before she up and abandoned her family and duty.
Bad memories for Mason, and all that.
Well, not my problem. And as I watch Miss Bell, Evangeline, spelling out some concept in a children's book to Maddie, I make up my mind.
I will have her. Tonight. My brother be fucking damned.
13
Eva
Benedict is quiet on the trip home and barely notices when Madeline hugs him goodbye, thanking him for the day. I take her upstairs to wash up for dinner and don't think anything of it.
I didn't see him in the theater itself, which, true to his word, had bean-bag chairs, and I understand why.
It's one thing for me as a nanny to sit down on the ground and watch a movie surrounded by kids; it's another thing for a marquis. Most of the other adults in the room had been nannies, exchanging understanding looks. We're the ones that stand by the children as they grow, their only close-by source of love and affection in between brief encounters with their high-born parents. So I wasn't exactly surprised that the marquis didn't join us.
