did not leave them with Lady Caroline.”
She had the attention of everyone in the kitchen, and one of the maids blurted, “Then who?”
“Lord Trelawney.”
Gasps rushed around the kitchen, quieting when Mrs. Ford gave her staff a frown. Putting down the bowl, the cook wiped her hands on her apron as she walked over to where Maris stood with her foot on the first step of the nursery stairs.
Too low for anyone else to hear, the cook asked, “Is this a jest?”
“No.” Maris could trust Mrs. Ford, who had begun her service at Cothaire before Maris was born. “Lady Caroline suggested he get to know these children better before he meets the children of a lady named Gwendolyn next month.”
“Ah.” The cook smiled. “Thank God! Lord Trelawney is going courting.”
Maris put her finger to her lips. “Shhh!”
“You don’t need to shush me. I know how to keep my mouth shut about the family’s business, but this is good news, it is.” Sudden tears bloomed in the cook’s eyes. “It is high time for Lord Trelawney to take a bride and spend less time riding around the estate. He needs to be here for his father. The earl is not well, and it is important for him to see his heir’s heir.”
Maris nodded. She deeply missed her own parents, who had died when she was sixteen. Her one comfort was that she had had many wonderful days with them. Lord Trelawney had his duties, but those should include treasuring every moment he could with the earl.
“Do your best to help him, Miss Oliver, and you will have done this household a great service.” The cook returned to her task without waiting for an answer.
Maris went up the stairs, then paused on the landing near the day nursery door. If his intentions were to marry the lady named Gwendolyn, why had he gazed intently at Maris with those incredible eyes? Or had she read more into the moment than he intended? She was a poor judge of men; that much was for sure. She should not accuse Lord Trelawney of a misdeed when he might not be guilty. His attention might have been on Joy rather than on her. After all, she was the nurse, and he saw her as a useful tool to help him learn more about children.
Perhaps he might even be grateful and let her stay on at Cothaire. Even after the children’s pasts were uncovered, a nurse would be needed for Lord Trelawney’s children. That would mean Maris would be assured of a roof over her head and plenty of food for years to come. She had learned about the fear of hunger after her parents died, and the debts they had amassed in order to live at the edges of the ton had consumed the money from the estate’s sale. Only the generosity of her friend had enabled Maris to survive.
Equally as important, she would be invisible in the nursery, so she could avoid lecherous men like Lord Litchfield. While she did her best to assist Lord Trelawney, she would wisely make sure they were never alone. So far, he had been kind to her, but she would not be duped again.
A cry came from the nursery. Maris threw the door open and rushed in.
Lord Trelawney had not moved, but heaps of toys surrounded him. The poor man looked as lost as an explorer on an untouched shore. The children danced around him, singing of ships.
He glanced toward her as she came into the nursery. With relief, she noted.
“I am back, Moses,” she said with a laugh she could not silence.
“Moses?”
“Your expression reminded me of when Moses said, ‘I have been a stranger in a strange land.’”
The viscount’s brows arched, and the corner of his lips curved.
She looked away, shocked by her own words. To speak brazenly to him was unthinkable. As unthinkable as her quoting a passage from the Bible. Even though she had attended church since her arrival in Porthlowen, she had not prayed since she fled from her friend’s house after the attack. God had not heard her in the midst of the attack and sent someone to save her. Afterward, when Lord Litchfield threatened her with ruin and her friend’s family turned her out because they believed his lies that she had tried to seduce him, she wondered if He had ever listened to her.
She was saved from her own thoughts when the children ran to her, greeting her as if she had been gone for five days rather than five minutes. She hugged each one, but spoke to Lord Trelawney. “I assure you, my lord, that they do not bite, except each other occasionally, but we are working on that.”
“No bite,” Bertie said, as serious as a judge pronouncing a sentence.
She fluffed his hair, which was fairer than her own. “That is right.”
The viscount glanced toward the door, clearly eager to make his escape.
“My lord,” she continued, when he did not answer, “may I suggest you join the children and me on our walk tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Where?”
She hesitated. The obvious place was a section of the cove’s sandy shore. Many of the buildings in the village, including the parsonage, overlooked it. The nearby harbor always bustled with activity. There, she would never be alone with Lord Trelawney.
“Down to the water,” she said. “With their short legs, that journey is enough to tire them out long enough to sit still. While we are there, you can talk to them.”
“About what?” His full attention was on her.
“Whatever you or they have on their minds.”
“That should be interesting.” He bid her a good day and strode toward the hallway door.
Beside her, Lulu asked, “Is the big man coming back?”
“Yes.” And she must be prepared. She could not make another horrible mistake as she had with Lord Litchfield.
* * *
Arthur had half hoped that Miss Oliver would send him a note that neither she nor the children were going to visit the harbor. He could have used the time instead to encode a message to Gwendolyn and ask what was in the message she had sent to Cothaire. Either she had changed the code without alerting him, or she had made mistakes in writing the note. It made no sense other than a few random words.
Or had he made the mistakes? He had checked the message a second time and still it made no sense, but he admittedly was distracted. Miss Oliver kept popping into his mind. The shapeless apron she wore over her gray dress failed to hide her pleasing curves, and her smile lit her pretty face. He wondered why she made such an effort to appear drab.
As he walked across Cothaire’s entry hall, he warned himself to keep his mind on the task of getting to know the children, not their nurse. He had agreed to Carrie’s request, and he must do as he promised. And, he reminded himself, the outing would keep him from wondering about Gwendolyn’s odd message.
The breeze was brisk when Arthur emerged from the house. Lighthearted voices came from the left where the children surrounded Miss Oliver. They bounced in every direction like a handful of dropped coins, but Miss Oliver radiated calm. She answered their questions with an unwavering smile while she kept them from wandering away.
She
