Regina Scott (17 page)

Alice stared at the parchment a moment before handing it to Emma. “What does it say?” she whispered.

Emma saw the same hurried scrawl she’d noticed on the notes on Nick’s desk, and her heart started to beat faster. Why would he write to the child? Was he going away, perhaps to London to share his discovery?

Please, Lord. Let this be good news for Alice.

She broke the seal and read aloud.

“To Lady Chamomile and her delightful friend, Miss Alice Rotherford, my most sincere greetings. Would you two and your companion, Miss Pyrmont, do me the honor of joining me in the Green Salon for a ball in your honor this afternoon at five? Dinner to follow. Your humble servant, Sir Nicholas Rotherford.”

Alice clapped her hands together and jumped up and down. “A ball! Oh, a ball! May we go, Nanny, please?”

“I’m certain we can find the time,” Emma said, folding the note carefully. What a wonderful idea! Good for him for thinking of it. Alice would talk of nothing else for weeks.

“Then shall I tell my master you agree?” the footman asked Alice.

Alice stopped cavorting to nod. “Oh, yes, please.”

He bowed. “Very good, miss.” With a wink to Emma, he made his stately way from the room.

Emma glanced at the clock on the mantel. There was still an hour before they were needed downstairs, but she knew Alice would never be able to sit still. Emma rose and held out her hand. “Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Rotherford? Let’s get you and Lady Chamomile ready for a ball.”

It took more than a half hour to dress the bouncing Alice in her prettiest gown, a white satin dress with rosebuds embroidered around the hem, neck and puffed sleeves. Ivy arrived to help. Emma left the two of them to dress Lady Chamomile and went to her own room to tidy her hair. She thought she might change into the blue flowered apron gown Mrs. Dunworthy had found for her. It was hardly a ball gown, but it was certainly more appropriate than her brown wool.

But when she entered her room, she found another gown lying on her bed. The skirt and puffed short sleeves were of white crepe, the high bodice of velvet in a violet as deep as Alice’s eyes, with similar velvet at the edge of the sleeves. The neck was trimmed in lace. Around the hem and up the front were a line of waves made from bluer chenille. She imagined they must move as she danced.

Danced?

Well, why not dance? She was going to a ball, after all!

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ivy asked, coming into the room. “It was made for Lady Rotherford, only she never had a chance to wear it.”

How sad! Emma fingered the soft velvet of the bodice. “Perhaps I shouldn’t wear it either then. I wouldn’t want to bring up sad memories.”

Ivy hurried to join her at the side of the bed. “Oh, please, miss, you must wear it! Mrs. Jennings said she’s never seen the master so happy. And you’d set such a good example for Miss Alice.”

That ache was rising inside her again. What would it be like, just once, to dress in something so fine, to act like the lady her parents must have hoped she’d be? She knew it was all just a game—she had no expectations that tomorrow would be different. She was generally very happy being Alice’s nanny.

But couldn’t she pretend to be a princess from one of her books, for one night?

“All right,” she told Ivy. “I’ll wear it. But you’ll have to find me some gloves that will go at least to my elbow.” That would cover any sign of her burn.

Ivy nodded eagerly. “Yes, miss! Anything else?”

“Yes,” Emma said with a grin, “bring Alice in here while you help me change. I don’t want to think about what she and Lady Chamomile can get up to left to their own devices and all this excitement!”

Chapter Seventeen

E
mma and Alice stood in the doorway of the Green Salon at the back of the Grange. She could see why it wasn’t generally used by the family. For one thing, the room was too long for the current residents to sit comfortably and converse. For another, she suspected Nick might not find it congenial.

The walls were paneled in emerald silk patterned with scallops of white, like moonlight spearing through the leaves of a garden. Each wooden beam overhead and between the silken panels was painted white with fanciful leaves and flowers weaving their way along the length. On the mantel of the fireplace, huge vases held sprays of lavender that perfumed the air. Even the carpet in the center of the hardwood floor was woven with curling, leafy fronds of green. The gilded chairs appeared to be hugging the walls in self-defense.

So much imagination, so little geometric symmetry. Alice was immediately entranced.

Her aunt looked as if she belonged in the space. Mrs. Dunworthy was draped along a chaise lounge. Her ball gown of embroidered net over spring-green satin made her seem as if she had been planted in the garden. Mr. Dobbins, who was seated in one corner with his fiddle, looked out of place, particularly dressed in footman’s finery.

But more impressive was the gentleman waiting for them in the center of the carpet. Nick wore the black double-breasted cutaway coat of a London gentleman out for the evening. His cravat was elegantly tied, his cream-colored waistcoat shot with gold. The light from the crystal chandelier made his raven hair glow and set the pocket watch peeking from his coat to sparkling. She thought no duke or prince had ever looked better.

At the sight of them, he bowed.

“Ladies. Thank you for accepting my invitation.” He held out his hand. “Miss Rotherford, would you favor me with the first dance?”

Alice glanced at Emma as if seeking permission. Emma released her hand and nodded toward her father with a smile. Handing Lady Chamomile to Emma, the girl scampered forward.

Mr. Dobbins began to play, and Nick guided his daughter through the steps. Emma moved along the wall to watch, holding the doll in her arms.

Mrs. Dunworthy rose to join her. “This was his idea, you know,” she murmured. “It seems you achieved your goal.”

Emma had the same thought. He was so patient, a smile teasing his lips, as he danced a minuet with Alice, that her heart nearly turned over in her chest. But what she couldn’t understand was why Mrs. Dunworthy sounded less than pleased by the fact that Nick was finally favoring his daughter.

He brought Alice to their sides after the first dance and handed her to her aunt. “Perhaps you’d care to take a turn, Charlotte?”

“Delighted,” Mrs. Dunworthy said with a smile to Alice. “Mr. Dobbins, another minuet, if you please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the coachman said and began to play the stately music.

Nick held out his arm. “Would you partner me, Emma?”

Though she’d never taken the floor herself, she’d seen her foster sisters at lessons with a dance master. Surely if Alice could make it through the steps, then so could she. With a grin, she set Lady Chamomile on a nearby chair, put her hand on Nick’s arm and let him lead her out.

It was a simple dance, slow, elegant. Alice moved hesitantly with her aunt. Emma was more aware of her hand on Nick’s arm, his body moving with hers. She couldn’t quite match his step at first, but then she caught sight of Mrs. Dunworthy’s slippers as the lady moved beside them. Right together, left-right-left together. Two sets of that combination forward, two back, two right, two left.

Emma raised her head and danced, floating on the music, guided by the assurance of Nick’s arm under her fingers. His face remained composed, dignified, but a smile graced his expressive mouth.

She didn’t try to look composed. She was having too much fun. The lilt of the music, the swirl of her borrowed crepe skirts against her ankles as she danced, the scent of lavender clinging to the air and the admiration in Nick’s gaze all combined to make the salon a place of fantasy, of dreams come true.

But the music faded, the dance ended. Nick bowed, she curtsied, and Alice ran to her, calling her name. The world settled in around them. She had her place, her duties. But Emma knew she would hold the memory of that dance in her heart for a long time.

She danced with Alice for the next song, and Nick partnered his sister-in-law. They moved elegantly to the music, with no hesitation, no uncertainty. But while they were a match in looks and demeanor, Emma couldn’t help noticing they seemed remarkably stiff. Each time she glanced their way, Mrs. Dunworthy’s gaze was steadfastly away from Nick. And Emma caught no hint of a smile from him.

Emma and Alice had no such trouble, giggling when they misstepped, hurrying to catch up with the more practiced pair. But by the time the dance was over, Emma was panting for breath.

“Another, another!” Alice begged, hopping up and down.

Nick nodded toward the door, where Mrs. Jennings, Charles, Ivy and Dorcus had been watching with grins on their faces. “I fear we have tarried too long. Dinner appears to be ready.”

Mrs. Jennings reddened and shooed the maids out into the corridor. The footman clicked his heels together, head high as if he had intended on doing nothing but his duty all along.

“Ladies, Sir Nicholas, dinner is served,” he announced.

“Oh.” Alice deflated.

Nick took her hand. “We’ll hold another ball soon,” he promised. “Perhaps Lady Chamomile can be convinced to partner me.”

Alice took his hand with a giggle. “Silly Papa. Lady Chamomile doesn’t dance. She is a doll.”

A doll?
Oh, thank You, Lord, for helping her see the difference between Lady Chamomile and the people who love her.

“And a delightful one at that,” Nick said. “Given that she cannot eat either, let’s go to dinner and retrieve her on our way back upstairs.”

Alice seemed to accept that, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her from the room. Emma and Mrs. Dunworthy fell into step behind them.

“I trust you enjoyed the ball,” he said to Alice as they started down the corridor for the front of the house.

“Oh, yes,” Alice assured him.

He glanced back at Emma with a smile. “Excellent. Perhaps your aunt can locate a dancing master for you and Emma.”

Emma laughed. “I think that’s your father’s way of telling us we need more practice, Alice.”

He grinned before facing front again, but Mrs. Dunworthy fanned herself with one gloved hand as if the dancing had winded her, as well. “Emma, is it,” she murmured. “Are you certain that’s appropriate?”

Emma felt herself coloring. In truth, she hadn’t given him permission to use her first name, but surely the rules were a little different between master and servant. The maids here were all called by their first names within the house, and her foster father hadn’t bothered to call her foster brothers anything other than “You, boy!”

“I wouldn’t know, madam,” she said truthfully as they approached the dining room.

Mrs. Dunworthy dropped her hand. “About this dance master, Nicholas,” she said, raising her voice. “Alice is a little young. Most girls don’t require a dancing master until they are fourteen or fifteen.”

“All the more reason for my daughter to be more accomplished,” Nick said, and the pride in his voice made Emma’s smile return.

“Well,” Mrs. Dunworthy said, entering the room and going to her place at his left as he led Alice to her place at his right, “if you’re determined to advance her education, then I expect we’ll need to hire a governess, as well.”

Emma nearly missed her step as she came around the table. A governess? Once a girl had a governess she had no need for a nanny. Emma had hoped for at least two more years with Alice. If Mrs. Dunworthy hired a governess, would Emma have to leave?

The very thought hurt so much she could barely take her seat at the table. What was wrong with her? She’d known this day would come. Alice was growing physically. A day didn’t go by when one of her articles of clothing didn’t need to be let out or let down. And she was growing in accomplishments as well—sounding out her letters, playing at the pianoforte, now dancing. Emma didn’t want to hand her over to someone else. She wanted to be there to see Alice become the lady she was capable of being.

Just as she wanted to be there to see Nick blossom into the father Alice needed.

Perhaps that was the thought that made Mrs. Jennings’s excellent roast so difficult to swallow. When Emma thought of moving to a new household, new children, her losses seemed more important than her gains. She’d miss raising Alice. She’d miss Mrs. Jennings’s counsel, Ivy’s cheerful help. She’d miss walking in the woods and flying kites with the peaks behind her.

But most of all, she’d miss conversations with Nick, partnering on some activity for Alice, watching his eyes light at the sight of her in his laboratory doorway, hearing him explain the wonders of the world so patiently, so earnestly. She’d miss his reluctant smile, the way he tapped his fingers on his thigh, the touch of his hand, the sweet pressure of his lips on hers.

She felt as if she were leaving a part of herself behind.

How ironic. Mrs. Dunworthy seemed to be right. Emma had succeeded in capturing Nick’s heart for his daughter.

And lost her own heart in the process.

* * *

Nick leaned back in his chair and smiled at the ladies on either side. Alice had arranged her peas in a precise four-by-four square that boded well for her mathematical abilities if not her artistic pretensions. Charlotte actually seemed in charity with him for once.

And Emma, well Emma had an exceptional amount of liquid in her eyes and a tremble to her smile that suggested she was pleased by his gesture. With his prototype soon to be tested and his notes compiled, he could not imagine a better end to his efforts.

As if Charlotte had read his mind, she raised her glass. “I understand you achieved your goal in your laboratory, Nicholas. Congratulations. To second chances.”

“To success,” Emma said instead, raising her glass. Alice mimicked her and drank along with the others.

“Thank you,” Nick said as he lowered his glass. “But congratulations are premature. The device won’t be tested in the mine until next week.”

Charlotte shuddered as she set down her glass. “Surely you won’t need to take part.”

Surely he would. “I already promised Jennings,” he replied. “I intend to oversee every aspect. Nothing will go wrong this time.”

“I cannot believe those people at the mine will be receptive to trying again,” Charlotte said with a curl to her lip. The look suggested contempt, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the hardworking miners or his scientific pursuits that Charlotte found beneath her.

“After the recent explosion,” Emma put in, “I would think they would be more eager to find a solution.”

Nick nodded. Count on Emma to state the matter plainly.

“Indeed,” Charlotte said in her usual detached way. “I imagine you have much work ahead of you then, Nicholas.”

He nearly chuckled aloud. And count on Charlotte to bring him back to reality. “Actually, I am confident the device is ready. Thanks to Emma’s excellent wick, it functions exactly as I had hoped.”

“
Emma’s
wick?” Charlotte turned her gaze on Emma, who blushed.

Nick would have sworn the emphasis in that sentence should be on the material, not Emma’s first name as Charlotte had stated it. “Emma’s
wicks,
” he said, deliberately shifting the balance. “She has this talent to construct various items out of loops of yarn. Ingenious.”

“I knit,” she seemed compelled to explain to Charlotte. “Socks, gloves, that sort of thing. Mrs. Jennings has been supplying me with yarn until you provided Sir Nicholas with undyed wool.” She reached for her glass and took a deep swallow. Somehow he didn’t think it was thirst that motivated her. Was she trying to avoid further speech?

“She made pretty socks for Lady Chamomile,” Alice said with a nod. She selected one of her peas and popped it into her mouth, then frowned as if she noticed she’d destroyed the symmetry of her design.

“From socks for dolls to wicks for safety lamps,” Charlotte said. “What a very versatile person you are,
Emma
.”

Charlotte definitely had some issue with Emma’s first name, but he didn’t have enough information to determine a reason. “Yes, she is,” he said, cutting off a piece of the roast. “We’re very fortunate to have her with us. I commend you for recognizing her talent, Charlotte.”

He’d thought the compliment might help counter whatever was troubling her. Charlotte merely smiled at him, with no warmth. “Thank you, Nicholas. But you have me quite curious now. I’d very much like to see this device of yours. Perhaps you’d be willing to show me and Alice after dinner.”

“Delighted,” Nick assured her. “You’ll want to come too, Emma. I’ve made a few adjustments I think you’ll find interesting.”

Her eyes lit. Something inside him brightened, as well. It seemed a continuous phenomenon when she was near. With Emma at his side, challenges seemed surmountable, his skills sharper. Alice had benefited from the encouragement, as well. His daughter hadn’t even questioned his suggestion that they leave Lady Chamomile behind in the Green Salon, when previously she had seemed more dependent on her beloved doll.

What would Alice do if Charlotte hired a governess and they lost Emma?

The very possibility seemed so dire he knew he must find an alternative. So as they finished the second course of apricots and strawberry ice, he put his mind to work on how to keep Emma at the Grange. She’d make an excellent assistant, but he knew too many would consider a man and woman working together alone to be scandalous. He could not see her serving elsewhere in the house. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of her serving at all.

But if Emma was neither servant nor staff, there was only one way for her to live in the same house with him. They would have to be family. If he wanted Emma to stay, he’d have to marry her.

“Sir Nicholas,” Emma ventured. “Is something wrong?”