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Honoria’s heart sank, her fingers curling into fists by her side. He didn’t need a housekeeper. Was she too late? Had he hired someone else? I can do anything else! She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he spoke again.

“Not a regular housekeeper anyway. Mrs. Clarke has been the housekeeper of this estate for about thirty years and has worked here in some other capacity for a lot longer. I am not looking for anyone to replace her.”

Honoria’s confusion deepened. “But your advertisement stated—”

“You see, up until a few weeks ago,” he interrupted hastily, “my house was run like a clock. Smooth. Perfect. Exact.” His gaze flickered up. “Quiet. I didn’t have to deal with a single thing. Mrs. Clarke and every other servant in the house knows my routine and preferences. However, six weeks ago, our quiet life was disrupted.” As if to underscore his point, the screams got louder. “My sister died of scarlet fever, and her husband followed soon after, making me a guardian to their three lost, confused, grieving, unruly children. I have no idea how to take care of children or what they require. Mrs. Clarke is… not spry and agile enough to keep up with their demands and needs either. They have come with their nanny and a governess, but the children don’t seem to be listening to them, and vice-versa. I personally don’t find them effective in dealing with children, but I am afraid I am not qualified to judge either way.” The screaming intensified, the wail of a little child getting louder and louder. “Plus the children need additional supplies, schedules, tutors. And I need help to—”

The earl’s composure finally broke. He jumped out of his chair, startling Honoria and rushing out of the door with a curt, “Excuse me.”

Honoria hesitated before following him into the corridor where the sounds of the conflict made her shudder. The screams, the reprimands of someone in authority, the defiant arguing of younger children and the wail of a poor baby made her heart squeeze, at the same time bringing some of her worst memories to the surface.

It wasn’t the same as what she had gone through, but the cries of helpless children while they were being screamed at made her blood run cold. Didn’t the earl say they’d lost their parents recently? And now they were treated this way?

No! If there were children in danger in this house, Honoria wouldn’t let the cruelty prevail, even if it compromised her chances of being hired.

Honoria dashed after the earl, slacking behind while his long legs quickly ate up the distance. Honoria clutched her skirts, hurrying toward the crying children.

As she reached the first floor, the scene that greeted her was one of complete chaos.

The youngest child, a girl of no more than three, thrashed wildly in the arms of a harried-looking nanny. Her little dress rode up from all her frantic attempts at getting away, showcasing the angry red lines on her soft baby skin where she must have been skelped. There was a switch still in the nanny’s hand with which she must have hurt the child. The little girl’s face was contorted with fury, tiny fists beating against the woman’s chest as she kicked and writhed against her. “Mama! I want Mama! Help!” she wailed, her voice raw with desperation.

A boy of about seven or eight hung on the nanny’s arm, his own face streaked with tears as he pleaded, “Let go of Rosie!”

Across the hallway, the eldest girl—not more than fourteen—was engaged in a heated argument with a stern-faced governess who blocked her path. “I have told you before, if you interfere with Rosie’s schooling, she will fail to grow into a proper, obedient girl,” the governess reprimanded her coolly, her tone clipped and disapproving, yet too calm and collected among the madness.

The older girl waved a hand toward her little sister, eyes flashing, her cheeks red. “Obedient? She is being thrashed for no reason!”

“There is always a reason, and you should never undermine an adult’s authority.”

“She probably couldn’t hear—”

“What is the meaning of this?” the earl barked, and everything went still for a moment in a chaotic tableau, like a scene from a Jan Steen painting. Even little Rosie’s wails subsided momentarily as all eyes turned to the imposing figure of Lord Caldwell. The silence lasted only seconds before Rosie’s face crumpled again, and she resumed her crying with renewed vigor.

That’s when the boy pulled on the nanny’s arm, and when she didn’t relent, he bit her. The nanny yelped and kicked him away like an unwanted pup.

The earl seized the boy by the shoulder, his grip firm as he pushed him behind his imposing figure.

“Release that child at once!” he commanded. The words emerged as a low, dangerous growl. His previously unaffected, bored mask was replaced by one of barely contained fury. Even Honoria took a step back, her reflexes commanding her to run.

The nanny’s arms loosened instantly, and little Rosie scrambled away, stumbling in her haste.

“Explain yourself,” the earl demanded of the nanny, each syllable clipped and precise. The boy in his grasp made a step toward the baby, but the earl maintained his grip on the boy’s shoulder.

As the nanny stumbled over her words, Honoria’s attention shifted to little Rosie who instantly dashed toward her sister only to be blocked by the tall form of who Honoria assumed to be the elder girl’s governess. “No. You need to ask permission—” she attempted to reprimand the poor child who looked at her with wide, frightened eyes, but Honoria swept past the governess and scooped the youngest child into her arms.

The little girl didn’t protest, momentarily stunned by this unexpected intervention. Honoria quickly crossed the corridor while the child was compliant and deposited Rosie into her sister’s waiting arms. Rosie immediately burrowed into her neck, small fingers clutching at her dress as she continued to sob quietly.

The governess’s eyes widened in outrage. “Who are you and what business is it of yours to interfere in my teachings?”

“Your teachings?” Honoria let out a huff. “Don’t you have eyes? Or perhaps your vision and your hearing are so compromised that you fail to recognize a child in distress? What teachings can you possibly be speaking of at a moment such as this?”

The governess straightened, taken aback, but not by Honoria’s words, it seemed, rather by the noble accent that had a way of coming out of her when Honoria was most cross. She had to always remind herself to speak more plainly, but she was too preoccupied with the children’s plights to control herself now. The governess studied Honoria’s clothing, now silent, no doubt trying to figure out what kind of authority Honoria possessed.

Taking advantage of her speechlessness, Honoria turned to the young girl cradling the little Rosie in her arms. “Miss…”

“Elise,” she murmured, adjusting her little sister in her arms.

“Elise, let’s walk to the other room while your guardian deals with this situation.”