Page 4

Honoria scanned the long corridor and noted a room with an open door on the other side. Tiptoeing around the thundering earl, Honoria led the girls toward the room. She stepped over the fragments of a delicate porcelain vase scattered across the polished floor and skirted the side table that lay overturned on the floor. Honoria hadn’t even noticed the full scope of the disarray in the corridor in her fit of outrage. What had happened here before they arrived? They must have missed quite a scene.

“I have endured enough of your interference with my disciplining the children,” the nanny declared loudly as they moved past her, her voice trembling with indignation. “They are the most disobedient and impertinent bunch. And if you prefer to keep them wild, you should have told me from the beginning, and I would have declined continuing my position with the family on the spot! The late Mr. Stephenson understood the importance of discipline.”

Honoria flinched at the nanny’s words. She herself had a very strict nanny and even stricter governess who would concur with this woman’s words. Yet where did that lead her? To years of servitude to her family first and then—

“I’m so sorry!” Elise stepped on Honoria’s hem, making them both stumble as they continued their escape. “I can’t see very well with Rosie in my arms. And she’s heavy.”

Honoria reached for the little child. “Would you mind if I hold you?”

Rosie’s teary eyes widened as she looked from Honoria to her sister, then back again, before hugging Elise tighter. That’s a no, then. “Right, let’s just get inside.”

Hovering over Elise to make certain she wouldn’t drop little Rosie, Honoria led the girls into the empty room and helped them settle into the armchair by the fireplace. The youngest girl sat cradled on her sister’s lap, still crying, albeit softer now, interrupted by occasional hiccups.

The boy peeked his head into the room, his gaze uncertain.

“Robbie, come!” The eldest girl motioned for him to join them. Honoria stepped away from the chair, giving Robbie an opportunity to reach his sisters unimpeded. She looked around and carefully settled onto a settee across from the girls.

Robbie dashed toward his sisters and plopped onto the floor, hugging Elise’s knees, his face red and streaked with tears.

Poor children. They had lost their parents, then had been shipped off to a random relative to live in an unfamiliar place. And now they were being mistreated by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

Honoria didn’t know if the earl was a fair man. So far, at least, it seemed he cared enough about the children to worry about their education and well-being. Cared enough to realize he wasn’t qualified to cater to all their needs and to hire someone just for that purpose.

“She won’t stop crying,” the oldest girl whispered, her own eyes filled with tears. She seemed so confident when taking her little sister into her arms or guiding her brother toward them. But she was just a frightened child herself.

Honoria smiled softly, while her mind frantically grasped for a solution. How do people calm their children? She wrinkled her nose, trying to remember how she used to soothe herself during trying times by singing herself to sleep. Right, a song. “Do you know a lullaby?”

“I don’t remember.” Elise’s voice was high, her eyes liquid—she was on the verge of tears.

Honoria turned away, her gaze falling onto the gardens outside the window. “’Winter Rose!’” she exclaimed. “Do you know the old lullaby, ‘Winter Rose?’”

Elise nodded. “I think so.”

“Let’s sing it, shall we?” Honoria encouraged and started to sing slowly. “Hush my wild, winter rose, Thorns and petals softly close.”

“All the secrets earth can keep.” The girl’s shaking voice joined the verse, and Honoria smiled. “Lie in roots that dream too deep.”

“Sleep, my wild, winter rose, Safe until the morning shows.” Honoria started swinging in place, encouraging the girl to rock her sibling in her arms as they continued to sing.

After a moment, Robbie joined in with his sister, his voice slightly hoarse from crying.

As they sang, little Rosie’s sobs gradually subsided. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing deepened and slowed until she was nestled peacefully against her sister’s shoulder, fast asleep.

“Keep singing,” Honoria encouraged. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure standing in the doorway and turned toward it, surprised to realize they had an audience.

Lord Caldwell stood watching them, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and the severe frown still creased his brow, but something in his dark eyes had softened as he observed the tableau before him. How long had he been standing there?

“You’re hired,” he said softly, then pushed away from the doorframe and walked away.

Chapter 2

Dear Lydia,

I write to you from my new position at Caldwell Manor, where I have been employed this past week. I am pleased to report that my circumstances have improved considerably since my last letter.

The Earl of Caldwell is precisely what one might expect of a reclusive nobleman—cold, severe, and utterly disinterested in the daily operations of the household. This suits me perfectly, as his detachment allows me to go about my duties largely undisturbed. I confess I find him rather intimidating, with his dark countenance and perpetual frown. Thankfully, our paths seldom cross, and when they do, our interactions are mercifully brief.

He has three wards under his guardianship, and it falls to me to see to their accommodation and welfare. At times, I feel rather like a fish out of water, but do not fret, this is not a challenge I am unequal to.