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How did he get here so fast? Last she knew, he was in his study, working. She doubted he would have heard Rosie from that far. Perhaps he had been walking to his room when she started crying?
Either way, he was in the room now, humming, swaying from side to side in a stiff, uncertain rhythm. He turned, looked up at Honoria, and frowned.
“I’m sorry,” Honoria said quickly. “I was… um… bathing. It took me a moment to get dres—” She winced. Bathing? Getting dressed? No servant spoke about such things with the master of the house. What was she thinking? “To get to Rosie,” she corrected herself hastily. She stepped toward them, arms extended. “Shall I take her?”
She was expecting a reprimand, anger, or at least contempt. It was her job to look after Rosie, not his. She’d let her cry long enough for him to notice and get to the nursery. She was at fault. She deserved his scorn.
Instead, relief flickered across his face. But when he tried to hand Rosie over, her tiny fists clutched his shirt, and she let out a desperate cry.
His expression shifted from relief to uncertainty. “I don’t think she wants…”
“Don’t worry,” Honoria reassured him, although she felt as certain as the earl looked. “I will calm her down.”
He cleared his throat, composing himself. “That’s not a problem. I can attend to her.”
Honoria hesitated, her hands still outstretched. His gaze flickered to them briefly. Honoria immediately curled her fingers into fists, hiding the dark stains. Had he noticed?
“Are you certain? I can—”
“Please,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “She’s calm now. Let’s not upset her again.”
She nodded and stepped back. “As you wish, sir. I’ll be in the adjoining room should you need me.”
“No,” he blurted out forcefully, then cleared his throat again, composing himself. “Would you mind staying here for a moment? Just in case.”
Oh. There was fear in his eyes. It was obvious now, once Honoria stopped concentrating on her own failures, that the man was utterly and completely lost. She saw it clearly in the way he held the child, his arms tense, his movements tentative. She doubted he had ever held a child in his arms before. And yet, he’d come running for her. For Rosie. He’d picked her up and attempted to soothe her.
Honoria found it quite endearing. She nodded. “Of course.”
He resumed his pacing, his large hand patting Rosie’s back tenderly. Another rumble of thunder echoed through the house, and Rosie burrowed deeper into his neck.
“It’s only thunder, Rosie,” he murmured. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Thunder?” Rosie whispered, peeking her head out and looking around.
“I don’t think she hears the rain,” Honoria offered. “Perhaps that’s what makes the thunder so much more frightening. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from.”
“Oh?” Caldwell glanced down at the child in his arms. “Well, that’s understandable.” He walked toward the window and pointed. “It’s raining, do you see? Sometimes when it rains, there’s lightning, and thunder always follows the lightning. It can be quite loud, but it’s just a sound. It can’t hurt you.”
“No?” Rosie’s little fingers scratched at her head. As if summoned by his words, lightning lit up the window. Rosie flinched and pointed. “Lightning!”
“Yes, exactly,” he said. Then came the thunder, and he nodded. “And there’s the thunder.”
“It follows lightning,” Rosie exclaimed.
“Correct.” The earl nodded.
Honoria watched, a smile tugging at her lips. This gruff, forbidding earl didn’t seem so gruff and forbidding anymore.
Oh, fiddle. As if her physical infatuation toward him wasn’t enough, the last thing she needed was to fall for his kindness and generosity of spirit.
No, Honoria. He is your employer. A man who barely notices you. And that’s how it must stay.
After a long pause at the window, Caldwell carried Rosie back to bed. He tucked her in and asked, “Are you ready to sleep now?”
“I want a story,” she whispered, her voice small but determined.
“A story?” Lord Caldwell repeated, his eyes widening slightly. ‘Um… well… what do you want a story about?”
