The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets. Noelle Marchand
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“Oh, no. That isn’t necessary.” She brushed the dirt from her skirt, lifted her chin and offered one last faint smile. “Thank you again, Mr. McKay.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
He watched to make sure she was headed in the right direction before crossing the field to the parsonage. Brandon Stillwater answered the door with a welcoming grin. “Come in, David. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need your advice on something.” David removed his hat and stepped inside the foyer.
“Let’s talk in my study. Can I get you anything? Coffee? A cookie? One of those little strudel things Mrs. Hickey is so fond of making?”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Entering the study behind Brandon, David paced back and forth on the bright square of light falling from the window onto the floor in front of the well-hewn desk.
Concern furrowed Brandon’s brow as he leaned his hip against the desk. “What’s going on?”
“Maggie put a snake in the nanny’s bed.”
“What?” Brandon asked in alarm.
“I know.” David sank into a nearby chair. “It was dead. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse. Before I could even try to discipline her, my ma stepped in and fired the nanny for being angry at Maggie. It was a formality, really. The nanny was already halfway up the stairs on her way to pack her bags of her own accord.”
“How long have you been without a nanny?”
“Two days. I’ve been racking my brain for a solution, asking around to see if any of the ladies in town would take the position. None of them are interested. In fact, I may have offended a few husbands and fathers by even suggesting their women might be able to use the extra income. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone in need of a job? Perhaps someone in the congregation?”
Brandon glanced away, looking deep in thought, before he slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The women in our congregation are mostly married or widows with their own children. The unattached women help out on their families’ ranches and farms. A lot of them are younger girls, too. Either way, you might run into the same problem of offending their menfolk. Of course, if we put the word out that you’re looking for help, a few of them might be willing to do so out of pure Christian charity—and a chance to catch the eye of one of the ‘wealthiest and most mysterious bachelors in Little Horn.’”
“Ugh.” David winced. “Is that really what they say about me?”
Brandon grinned. “I’m afraid so.”
“Well, nothing doing. I’m not letting those women into my house. The last thing I’m looking for is romance. There has to be someone else.”
“What about her?”
“Her? Her who?”
“Her.” Brandon tipped his head toward the window.
Confused, David followed his friend’s meaningful look. All he saw was an empty field with a few trees. It was the same field where David had been only a few minutes ago...holding Caroline Murray in his arms while she cried on his shoulder. Heat spread across his face. He met Brandon’s steady, amused gaze. “You saw that?”
“Sure did.”
“Why didn’t you come out to help me?”
Brandon shrugged. “You seemed to have everything well under control, so I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t have been intruding.”
“Are you sure about that?”
David glanced out the window and frowned. “Of course I am.”
“Who is she?”
“Matthew Murray’s sister, Caroline. She’s just here for a visit.” He shook his head. “There has to be someone I can hire.”
“Maybe, but not locally. Have you checked the newspaper? That’s where you found the first nanny, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s the first thing I did. I found the latest papers from Houston and Waco at the general store. None of the personal ads mentioned anything remotely close to a nanny, nurse or governess.”
“Governess.” Brandon held up a finger, then rounded the desk to open a drawer. “I saw something in an Austin newspaper about a governess.” He pulled out a newspaper and rifled through it. “Here it is. ‘Former governess of good reputation and character seeking Christian...husband.’ Oh. She’s a mail-order bride.”
“I didn’t say anything about marriage.” His ma had, though, countless times. She wanted her son to be happy and for her granddaughter to have a mother. Why she thought marriage would ensure his happiness after what he’d been through was beyond him, but there was no denying Maggie would love to have a mother.
“Now hold on. Don’t reject the idea without thinking about it first. You need someone to take care of the triplets until they find a permanent home, but you also need someone to help out with Maggie. This woman may have the experience you’re looking for.”
David gave him a doubtful look. “What else does the ad say?”
“‘Please inquire at—’ She doesn’t give a name. Just a PO Box in...” A wistful look flickered across his face. “Boston.”
“Well, that’s certainly straight to the point, isn’t it? Almost businesslike in a way. It doesn’t mention anything about love or feelings.” Hope started building in his chest. “Maybe I don’t have to, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“If she’s willing, we could have a marriage in name only.”
Brandon frowned. “David, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
That was too bad because the idea had real merit—not the least being the woman wouldn’t be able to run away as soon as Maggie got into trouble. If she did, she wouldn’t take his heart with him. Of course, there was a chance Maggie would get hurt if that happened. He could do his best to rule out that chance, though. In talking to this potential bride first and laying out all the parameters, they would both know from the start where they stood with each other and the marriage. There would be no passion or emotions getting in the way to confuse things. It would be a nice, straightforward marriage of convenience.
Decision made, David glanced up at Brandon. “May I borrow a pen and paper? I have a letter to write.”
Caroline had lost her mind. There was no other explanation for why her thoughts kept straying to a man she’d barely met—a stranger...with the most amazing green eyes. The comfort she’d found in David McKay’s embrace had been a blessing in the moment and downright disconcerting in retrospect.
“Caroline,