for?”
She was loath to destroy the new, and she sensed fragile, relationship with her employer since their supper the night before, but knew she couldn’t continue without setting things straight. “At our first interview you said some things concerning your…your race, implying I harbored certain notions about it.” She was no longer looking at him, but at the linen cloth under her hand. She moved her cup and saucer slightly over its starched surface. “You said—accused me—of expecting to meet someone deformed, avaricious…” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment as she remembered how true his suppositions had been.
His voice cut into her thoughts. “Didn’t you?”
She glanced up at his face. He hadn’t moved. His paper lay on the table before him, his slim fingers holding each edge, his face expressionless, giving her no hint to what he was thinking.
She felt the color creeping up her cheeks. “At one time, yes, I harbored certain misconceptions of your race.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, ashamed of what it confessed.
“Well?” The ironic tone was back. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? Does residing in my household confirm your opinions?”
“I wanted to apologize.” When he said nothing but continued to look at her, his eyes narrowed through his spectacles, she swallowed and continued. “It is true, I had no good conception of your people. But I can assure you, I no longer harbor any such prejudices.”
“To what do I owe this turnabout? Must I feel a paternal pride that my daughter in a mere week has managed to shatter the assumptions of a lifetime?”
For the first time, she glimpsed the pain behind the mockery and realized it was just as much self-directed. She hesitated only briefly before replying. “I have been recently reminded most strenuously that my Lord and Savior Jesus was a Jew.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed? And who brought that startling fact to your attention?”
“He Himself.”
He made no reply, but spent a few moments folding the newspaper. When it was back to its original shape, he addressed her. “I found Rebecca in such cheerful spirits yesterday evening, and looking remarkably well, I might add, that I was prepared to thank you and tell you to dispense with any further trial period. I do thank you.” He held a hand up when she made to speak. “I will be honest with you, Miss Breton. I have already gone through three nurses. It is not my intention to scare you off before you’ve scarcely begun, but I must tell you I had little faith in finding the type of woman to fill my requirements—and those of my daughter. I have seen nothing but slovenliness, incompetence and the worst ignorance thus far. I do not wish to add unbalanced to the list.”
The two sat looking at each other for a few seconds as the implications of what he was saying sank in. Althea let out a slow breath, not having expected to be seen as mentally unfit to take care of a child. “I understand.” When he said nothing, she added softly, “Perhaps you should continue with the probationary period until you are satisfied with my sanity.”
He rose. “We shall see. As I said, I was very pleased with Rebecca’s condition upon my return.” At the doorway, he turned. “I shall be in the library all morning. I will stop by Rebecca’s room around one and spend some time with her before I go to the House. I normally don’t return to dine, but if I manage to escape early, I come up to see Rebecca in the evenings.”
She nodded, trying to take in what he was telling her.
“She enjoyed our dining arrangement last night. I shall talk to Cook about providing the same whenever I am home early. I wish you good day, Miss Breton.”
Before she could reply, he was gone. She looked at his retreating figure with her mouth open. First he accused her of mental incompetence, then he made no commitment to her suggestion of continuing the trial period, and now he was suggesting they continue dining together!
Simon walked briskly down the hall to the library. He had much to do this morning before going to the afternoon session of the House. Parliament had recently reconvened and there were hours of debate to look forward to.
He entered his sanctum of books and papers and closed the heavy door behind him. Quiet. He looked down the length of the room with its large desk at one end and long windows overlooking the garden behind it. His refuge, the only place he felt truly safe.
All his security was held in this room. He glanced along the shelves stocked with calf-bound, gold-embossed books as someone else might look upon a cavern filled with gold. Tomes and tomes, representing years of study, had made him what he was today. He sat down at the mahogany desk and contemplated the papers in front of him.
As much as he wanted to focus on them, his thoughts refused to be harnessed so easily. A woman’s admission kept intruding. Of all the unheard-of absurdities, this had to beat them all.
Someone apologizing to him for the attitudes she held of his race—former attitudes, by her reckoning. He himself doubted anyone could let go of a lifetime of prejudices overnight.
Simon toyed with his quill pen, fingering its tip, which he noticed would need to be mended. He opened a desk drawer and removed a penknife. He busied himself with small tasks of this sort, all the while remembering Miss Breton’s words. He could see it had cost her; she had not been comfortable uttering the words. He would almost hazard to say she had exhibited shame. But that was absurd. No one had ever been ashamed of hating a Jew.
What had brought this “apology” about, he wondered? He dismissed that ridiculous assertion of Jesus Christ. That would be the biggest irony of all: an apology in the name of the One who had been the greatest instigator of all the persecution his race had endured in the ensuing centuries? Simon’s lips curled in disbelief.
Perhaps Rebecca had been responsible. Perhaps her childish innocence had won over Miss Breton to such a degree that she was forced to admit that Jews were human beings—of a sort?
Chapter Three
After their last meeting, Althea hardly expected to see Simon again in the evenings for an early supper. In those days of upheaval around the country, parliamentary sessions often went on until midnight. She knew from Tertius, who was a member of the House of Lords, that members would leave the chambers to take their supper at a local restaurant or tavern, then return while speeches were still going on.
So she was surprised one evening when the footman came up and began setting up the card table in Rebecca’s room.
“Your father says he shall be up presently to dine with you, miss.”
Althea rose from the bed. “Why don’t you set the table up in the sitting room?” she suggested to Harry.
“Oh, yes!” Rebecca clapped her hands. “I’m tired of being in this old bedroom.”
“Very well, miss.”
Simon entered Rebecca’s room a short while later. “Good evening, ladies.”
“Oh, Abba, you look so handsome!”
Althea looked at her employer, realizing the little girl spoke the truth. Although he was only of medium height and slim build, he presented a dashing figure in evening clothes. For once, every curl on his head was in place; his cravat was starched and brilliantly white. The dark jacket and
