Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women. Kasey Michaels
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was entranced. From her lovely dark blond curls to the tips of her white satin slippers, the child could have modeled for one of Botticelli’s angels. Clearly she was her father’s child but redone in a delightfully soft and feminine form. “She’s precious and the very image of you, Mr. Becket,” Julia said quietly. “How your heart must swell each time you look at her. How old is she?”
Chance answered before he could think too much about the surprising comment or the question. “Alice is five. Her mother’s been gone for six months, and I’m afraid I’ve allowed her to run a little wild. She should be in the nursery.”
“She should be where she’s happy to be,” Julia said, smiling at the child. “And clearly she wishes to be with you.”
Chance ran a hand over his hair, then impatiently pushed at a lock that escaped the ribbon. “I should introduce you.”
“Yes, thank you, but I think Alice and I can get to know each other on our own,” Julia said, already walking toward the child. She went down on her knees a few feet away from Alice and said, “Hello. I’m Julia and I’m very pleased to meet you, Alice. Is that Buttercup? She’s very pretty.”
Alice looked at the yellow rabbit tucked under her arm. “He’s a boy.” She held out the toy. “See? Papa and I tied a blue ribbon around his neck. Isn’t he a boy, Papa?”
Chance walked across the room to stand beside his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. Mine, his gesture announced without words, although he didn’t consciously realize what he was doing. Treat her well or prepare to deal with me. “This week, yes, Buttercup is a boy. Where is your nurse, young lady?”
Alice shrugged. “She’s napping, Papa. She’s always napping.”
“When she isn’t nipping,” Chance growled quietly, and Julia looked up at him, seeing her opportunity and immediately seizing it.
“I could take up my duties today, Mr. Becket. At this very moment.”
“Really, Miss Carruthers?” Chance leaned down to kiss his daughter’s head. He should have thought to produce Alice earlier, for she seemed to be his trump card. “Run along upstairs, poppet. I’ll come join you very soon.”
But Alice was looking at Julia, who was still on her knees on the carpet. “You’re pretty. Mama was pretty. Would you like to come to tea?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll have to ask your papa.” Julia got to her feet and looked at Chance. Waited. Then he smiled, and her heart skipped a beat.
“So we’re quite settled then, Miss Carruthers?”
“Yes, Mr. Becket, I suppose we are. Quite settled.”
The woman was transformed when she smiled, Chance realized, going from pretty enough to very nearly beautiful. If only he didn’t think she might be smiling because she had bested him in some unspoken contest between them. “We’ll discuss your wages at another time. But I must warn you, Miss Carruthers, we are not remaining in London above another two days.”
“We’re not?” Julia asked, her heart doing another quiet flip as Alice slipped her small hand into hers. “You have a country residence, sir?”
“I do. But we travel to Romney Marsh, to my father’s estate, where you and Alice will remain while I return to London and my duties at the War Office. Are you still so anxious to be in my employ, knowing you’ll once more be stuck in the back of beyond?”
Julia squeezed Alice’s hand. “I can think of nothing I would enjoy more, Mr. Becket, than being Alice’s nanny, no matter where that takes me. But I will say that London, I find, holds very little appeal. I much prefer the countryside.”
“And I wish you joy of it, Miss Carruthers. I’m sure my family will welcome both you and Alice to Becket Hall with open arms.”
“And you, sir?” Julia dared to ask, because Alice had accepted her and she knew her battle was already won. “You don’t enjoy Kent?”
The woman was entirely too insightful for his comfort. It was time for him to be done with this. “Wind and marsh and sea and mist. And sheep. More sheep than people, except for the people who are mostly sheep themselves.” Suddenly he wished to be alone. “No, Miss Carruthers, I do not enjoy Kent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to while you and Alice have your tea.”
“Papa, you promised,” Alice said, letting go of Julia’s hand to scamper after him as he turned to leave the room.
Chance was instantly contrite, guilty. “I did, didn’t I, poppet. All right. You take Julia upstairs and show her the nursery, and I will be there…momentarily.”
Alice turned back to Julia once her father had disappeared down the hallway. “It’s all right, Julia. Papa forgets, that’s all. Mrs. Jenkins says he doesn’t care about me, but that’s not true. He’s sad with Mama gone.” Then the child smiled. “But soon we’ll visit all my aunts and uncles and my grandpapa and we’ll all be so happy.”
“You’re a very wise little girl.” Julia held out her hand and Alice took it. “Tell me, do we like Mrs. Jenkins?”
The little girl sniffed, gave a toss of her golden curls. “No, Julia, we do not like Mrs. Jenkins at all. She snores and she smells when she breathes. I’m so glad she’d rather poke a stick in her eye than go to live at Becket Hall. And now Buttercup and I have you, and she can go away.” Alice looked up at Julia. “Why would anyone want to poke a stick in her eye?”
“A good question, as I nearly did just that a few moments ago with your papa,” Julia said as they headed up the stairs, three whole flights, to the top of the house. “Oh, isn’t this pretty,” she said as they stepped into a large room with too few windows. “Aren’t you a lucky little girl.”
Alice became very serious. “No, I’m a motherless child and can never be happy again,” she said, clearly parroting someone else’s words.
“Mrs. Jenkins said that?”
Alice nodded, holding Buttercup close. “She is very put out that I am not dressed head to toe in black because Papa said I shouldn’t. And when I laugh she tells me I’m unnatural. What is that? Unnatural?”
“It’s nonsense, that’s what it is, and nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” Julia said, looking around the room, ready to slay dragons for this child. Or at the very least pop open one of the small, high windows and stuff Mrs. Jenkins out of it, onto the flagway below. “Ah, and here comes our tea, I believe.”
Alice scrambled into one of the chairs set around a low table, stuffing Buttercup into another one as a lace-capped maid carried in a large tray.
The maid stopped, wide-eyed. “Who are you?”
Julia took the tray before the maid dropped it. “I’m Julia Carruthers, Miss Alice’s new nurse…nanny. And you are…?”
“Bettyann. Good afternoon and welcome to you,” the girl said, dropping into a quick curtsy before casting her gaze toward the slightly ajar door on the far wall. “Will Mrs. Jenkins be leaving soon then, miss? She will, won’t she?”
“In there, is she?” Julia asked, following Bettyann’s nervous gaze, realizing that the uneven sounds she had been hearing were not that of wind in the eaves but rather deep snores coming from the other room. Anything less than cannon fire was not going to rouse Mrs. Jenkins. Certainly not Alice slipping out of the nursery, as she’d done only minutes ago. “Is this usual for Mrs. Jenkins?”
“Yes, miss. She mostly stays in there, and then Miss Alice flits about the house, getting underfoot—not that any of us minds, you understand. Will she be leaving then, miss?”
“Before the cat can lick its ear,” Julia said, feeling rather powerful in her new position. “I will be accompanying Miss Alice to…to Becket Hall.”
“Oh,