unable to do so. My father will repay you if he can—’
He waved a hand. ‘I do not require repayment.’
‘He will desire to, none the less.’
Brent had made enquiries about Lord Rolfe. His debts appeared to be honest ones—crop failures and such. His needs were a far cry from Eunice’s father’s incessant demands that Brent pay his gambling debts.
Brent shrugged. ‘I am well able to assist your family in whatever way they require.’
‘That is all I need,’ she said, her voice low.
He stood. ‘What I suggest, then, is that we see more of each other. To be certain this will suit us both. If you are free tomorrow, I will take you for a turn in Hyde Park.’
She rose as well. ‘That would give me pleasure.’
Brent ignored the sick feeling inside him and tried to sound cheerful. ‘Shall we seek out your parents? And let Peter know his scheme might very well bear fruit?’
She blinked rapidly and he wondered if she was as comfortable with this idea as she let on.
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Let us tell my parents … and Peter.’
‘We do not need a physician!’ Anna was beyond furious.
Three weeks in her new position had also meant three weeks of battling Mrs Tippen, who seemed intent on keeping things exactly as her late marchioness had wanted them.
‘I have sent for him and that is that.’ Mrs Tippen gave her a triumphant glare. ‘We cannot have you endangering the children like this.’
‘Endangering!’ Anna glared back. ‘The boy was running. He fell and cut his chin on a rock. He has a cut, that is all!’
‘That is all you think,’ the housekeeper retorted. ‘You are not a physician.’
‘And you are not in charge of the children!’ Anna retorted.
From all she’d heard this woman had never expressed concern when the children were kept virtual prisoners in the nursery, rarely going out of doors.
Anna glared at her. ‘If you have something to say about them, you will say it to me. Is that clear?’
Mrs Tippen remained unrepentant. ‘You may bet Lord Brentmore will hear about this.’
Anna leaned into the woman’s face. ‘You may be assured Lord Brentmore will hear about this! He gave me the charge of the children, not you.’
Mrs Tippen smirked and made a mocking curtsy before striding away.
Anna bit her lip as she watched the woman. Would Lord Brentmore believe the housekeeper over her? What would he think if Mrs Tippen reported that the new governess behaved in a careless fashion and allowed his son to fall and injure himself?
She and the children had been playing a game of tag on the lawn when Lord Cal tripped and fell. It had frightened him more than anything. A small cut right on his chin produced enough blood to thoroughly alarm his sister. Dory wailed loudly enough to be heard in the next county.
Anna had to admit she’d been alarmed herself. She’d scooped him up and carried him back to the house, but a closer examination showed the injury to be quite minor. She wrapped him in bandages and told the children about men in India who wore turbans for hats. Soon he and Dory were looking in a book with engravings of India and calm had been restored.
Until two hours later when Mrs Tippen informed her that the physician had arrived.
Trying to damp down her anger, Anna strode to the drawing room where the doctor waited.
She entered the room. ‘Doctor Stoke, I am Miss Hill. The children’s new governess.’
He stood and nodded curtly. ‘Miss Hill.’ The man was shorter than Anna, stick-thin, with pinched features and a haughty air. ‘Inform me of the injury, please.’
‘I fear you’ve made an unnecessary trip.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Lord Calmount fell outside and suffered a tiny cut to his chin.’
‘A head injury?’ The doctor’s brows rose. ‘Did the boy become insensible?’
‘No, not at all,’ she assured him. ‘It was not a head injury. Just a minor mishap, needing no more than a bandage—’
He broke in. ‘Are you certain he did not pass out? Were you watching? A blow to the head can have dire consequences. Dire consequences.’
What had Tippen told him?
She gave the doctor a direct look. ‘He did not pass out and he did not suffer a blow to his head. I was right there beside him. He fell and cut his chin on a rock.’
He responded with a sceptical expression. ‘I must examine the boy immediately.’
‘Certainly.’
She led Dr. Stoke up the stairs to the nursery wing.
‘How old is the boy?’ he asked as they walked.
He’d not asked the child’s name, she noticed. ‘Lord Calmount is seven years old.’
She led him to the schoolroom where she’d left the children with Eppy to draw pictures of Indian men in turbans in their sketch books.
Anna made certain she entered the room first. She approached Cal and spoke in a soft, calm voice. ‘Lord Cal, here is Doctor Stoke. Mrs Tippen sent for him to examine your head so we may be certain it is only a very little cut.’
Cal gripped his pencil and glanced warily at the doctor.
‘Hello, young man!’ Doctor Stoke spoke with false cheer. ‘Let me see that head of yours.’
The doctor reached for his head and Cal shrank back.
‘None of that now,’ the doctor said sharply, pulling off the bandages.
Cal panicked and pushed the man and soon was flailing with both fists and feet.
‘No!’ Dory caught her brother’s fear and pulled on the doctor’s coat to get him off. ‘Don’t take his turban! He wants to keep it!’
‘Lord Cal! Dory! Stop it this instant!’ She’d never seen them this way. She turned to Eppy. ‘Take Dory out of here!’
Eppy carried a screaming Dory from the room.
Anna pulled the physician away and placed herself between him and Lord Cal. ‘Cal, it is all right. The doctor will not hurt you. He wants to look at your cut and then we will make a new turban.’
Cal shook his head.
‘Are you in pain?’ Doctor Stoke demanded of the boy.
Cal, of course, did not answer. He pressed his hands against his chin.
It
