The joy in her expression could be bottled and sold as a tonic.
As if sensing his stare, she darted a glance at him then away, fussing over the sling she’d arranged.
‘Please, Uncle Jake. Can you ask now?’
‘Of course.’ He got up and called Lotte on the house phone. The interview had been derailed by Ariane and her damaged bear. But perhaps that was a good thing. Despite requiring the best qualified person, he also had to find someone caring. Someone Ariane could relate to.
As he watched the two females together it seemed as if he’d found just that. Or, he amended, someone who could put on a good initial show but who might not have the depth of experience Ariane needed. The thought loosened the ribbon of tension tightening around his gut.
He didn’t want to give Caro Rivage the job.
Yet there was no denying Ariane liked her. He owed it to his niece to give the woman a chance, despite his doubts. Without a solid reason to reject her she deserved that much.
Ariane spoke again.
‘Can you speak English, Ariane?’ that throaty voice asked. ‘I don’t think your uncle understands Ancillan and it’s not nice to exclude him.’
Spoken like a true governess. As if he cared. He was just glad to hear Ariane sound so animated after weeks of being withdrawn and teary.
‘Exclude?’
‘It means to shut someone out so they feel all alone. It’s not a friendly thing to do. You don’t want to hurt your uncle’s feelings, do you?’
Ariane shook her head yet she looked unhappy. ‘But I like talking with you. It’s like being home, talking with my...’ Her mouth clamped shut and her little chin wobbled and Jake wanted to tell her he didn’t give a damn what language she spoke. He hated it when she withdrew into that grief-stricken bubble where he had trouble reaching her.
He opened his mouth but Caro Rivage spoke first. ‘Of course you want to speak Ancillan. I’m sure you’ll soon be able to do that a lot.’
‘With you?’
Jake’s heart cramped as he looked into that woebegone little face.
‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ Full marks to Ms Rivage for not playing on Ariane’s desperation to make promises she couldn’t keep. She turned to the opening door. ‘Now, is this Lotte?’
Jake crossed his arms and leaned against the desk to watch proceedings. As expected, Lotte had wool in several colours, plus needles and scissors. The housekeeper reached for Maxim, offering to sew him better, but she was forestalled by Ariane, who insisted Caro do it.
He saw the women’s gazes meet, assessing and something more. Caro asked permission to use Lotte’s supplies, then sought a second opinion on the choice of colour and needle size. By the time the two had discussed possible stitches and the need to reinforce Maxim’s other arm, the women were firm allies.
Silently Jake applauded Caro Rivage. She knew she trod on the housekeeper’s territory and had adroitly co-opted her as an ally rather than a rival. Lotte fretted over Ariane like a broody hen with a single chick yet now she smiled and nodded, praising the newcomer’s stitching and telling Ariane that Maxim would be as good as new.
Caro Rivage was a smooth operator, able to read people’s sensitivities.
Was that what she tried to do with him? Were those downcast eyes a ploy to make her seem the ideal nanny?
But she’d met his gaze steadily when she had to. He sensed she really was nervous, despite her show of calm. Clearly she wanted this job badly.
Was she broke? Her clothes looked new if unremarkable. Maybe she wanted the kudos of working for him. A stint in his employ would open any door to her.
The idea eased his tension. Why shouldn’t she want the job? This vague sense of something askew dissipated. The woman checked out. She had no criminal record and her references were good.
‘Maxim looks as good as new,’ he murmured when she cut the thread and handed the bear to a grinning Ariane.
‘Thank you, Caro!’
Jake thought Ariane might even hug the newcomer, but instead she cuddled the toy while Lotte looked on, beaming from ear to ear.
Jake cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps, Lotte, you could take Ariane for a snack while Ms Rivage and I conclude our business?’
It took some doing as Ariane didn’t want to leave but finally they were alone. He watched Caro get to her feet. Her hands twisted together before she seemed to collect herself and let them fall to her sides. Her eyes met his and once more he felt the curious blankness of that dark-eyed stare. It struck him that when she was in control of herself she gave little away.
Jake was torn between annoyance and admiration.
‘Shall I sit by the desk again?’ She gestured to where she’d faced him across the expanse of glossy wood.
‘No, Ms Rivage.’ That deep voice rippled across her skin. ‘The interview is over.’
Just like that dismay slammed into her. Her belly knotted with nausea. Caro flexed her fingers then linked them behind her back rather than press them to her roiling abdomen.
He couldn’t dismiss her so quickly! They’d barely begun to talk when they’d been interrupted.
‘I believe you should reconsider, Mr Maynard.’ There. Her voice was even, though a little hoarse. Amazing what desperation could do.
‘Reconsider? You haven’t heard what I have in mind.’
Amusement sparked in his cool, grey eyes as if delighting in her discomfort.
Outrage filled her. She’d been the butt of her family’s amusement so often as a child that it grated. Because she was shy. Because she looked different. Because she didn’t fit with the rest of them.
Okay, it was mainly her stepmother rather than her half-brothers who’d made her feel an outsider, but the wounds carved deep. Especially as her father had merely raised his eyebrows and told her not to be sensitive.
Caro planted her feet more firmly and met Jake Maynard’s sparkling gaze with one of her own. ‘Perhaps you’d like to inform me what you do have in mind?’
Her tone would have done her father proud. Cool, composed and superior. She saw Jake Maynard’s eyes widen then narrow suspiciously but she refused to back down. This was too important. This meant everything.
‘I had in mind to invite you to stay overnight. To give you a trial period with my niece.’
Caro felt the air whoosh from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath. Only years of training at projecting the right image kept her on her feet, for her knees trembled like leaves in a gale. Her heart jammed up in her throat and there was a roaring in her ears, blocking out the rest of his words. She saw him speak, tried
