Heaven Sent (7 page)

“
Becky,” he said, and his
voice trembled slightly. “I—I’m sorry, Becky. I—I—”

“
Never mind.” Callie’s smile
was as stiff and cold as an icicle. “We’ll find more congenial
surroundings, Mr. Lockhart. I’m so sorry we disturbed
you.”

The sarcasm in her voice and manner
annoyed Aubrey. He wanted to say something, to further apologize to
his daughter, but feared that, if he tried to, he’d shout. He’d
already shouted. Shouting wasn’t fair to Becky. He’d really like to
shout at Miss Prophet. He’d like to tell her to get the hell out of
his house and his life and never come back.

He was shaking when Callie marched
herself and Becky out of his library and closed the door with a
hint of a slam behind her. As soon as the room was clear of
extraneous females, Aubrey lowered himself into his desk chair,
folded his arms on his desk, buried his head in them, and proceeded
to call himself as many foul names as he could come up
with.

*****

Never, in all her born days, had
Callie met a more selfish, overbearing, crabby, and touchy specimen
of humankind as Mr. Aubrey Lockhart.

It had taken her a good forty-five
minutes to calm Becky down after Aubrey’s tantrum in the library.
Whatever had caused him to roar at them like that? Not that it
mattered. He had no right—no right at all—to act like that in front
of his daughter.

Callie and Becky had discussed the
incident, although Callie’d had to do some prodding to get the
little girl to open up. But, blast it all, the child needed to
unburden herself.

The conclusion Becky and she had
eventually come to was that Becky’s papa didn’t feel
well.

“ ‘
Cause he never yells at
me,” Becky said in a tiny, worried voice. “Maybe he’s
sick.”

He’s sick, all
right
, Callie thought indignantly. She
said, “I suppose that’s the answer. Sometimes when people don’t
feel well, they get grumpy. I know I do.”

Becky looked up at her, alarmed. “Do
you?”

With a laugh, Callie reassured her.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll never yell at you. Well,” she added
with a wink, “not unless you do something really bad.”

She’d expected Becky to smile, or
maybe even laugh a little at her wink, but evidently Aubrey’s
tantrum had bothered her a lot. “I won’t,” she said, far too
seriously for a child her age. “I promise.”

Normally, Becky’s reserved, adult
behavior would have brought a tear to Callie’s eye. Today, however,
it only served to make Callie even angrier and more determined to
help the little girl.

As soon as she thought Becky had
recovered enough to be left in the kitchen with Mrs. Granger and a
glass of lemonade, Callie went in search of Mr. Lockhart. If it
cost her the job she’d only just assumed today, she intended to
deliver unto him a large piece of her mind.

The door to the library was closed.
Callie suspected he was in there, wallowing in self-pity. She drew
herself up as straight as she could, sucked in a deep breath,
mentally uttered a prayer for strength, and rapped sharply on the
door.

Immediately a sound of creaking hinges
came to her, as if someone had been startled into sitting up
suddenly. She hoped so. The man badly needed startling.

“
Who is it?”

He sounded fretful. So be it. Callie
was feeling rather fretful herself. Without answering, she turned
the doorknob, pushed the door open, and walked into the room. She
was pleased to see that Mr. Lockhart hadn’t anticipated such a
daring gesture from a member of his staff. When he saw who had
dared invade his privacy, he scowled at her, but Callie just
scowled right back.

“
Mr. Lockhart,” she said in
her steeliest voice, “we need to talk about Becky.”

He didn’t stand as a gentleman should,
but continued to sit sprawled in his chair, glowering for all he
was worth, which was a good deal. This lapse in manners was not
lost on Callie.

“
What about Becky?” he
barked, his voice full of anger and annoyance.

No quantity of barks was going to
prevent Callie from fulfilling what she perceived as her duty. “You
upset her terribly when you shouted at us earlier. It has taken me
all this time to soothe her poor nerves.”

"Hmm.”

She pressed her lips together in fury
before opening them again. “It’s all very well for you to say
‘Hmm,’ Mr. Lockhart, but the fact is that your daughter is in a
very fragile state right now. In case it’s slipped your mind, she
lost her mother a mere year ago.

His glower deepened. “In case it’s
slipped my mind?”

Callie lifted her chin. “Yes. And in
case it’s slipped your mind as well, your daughter is only six
years old. I understand that you prefer to languish in your own
selfish grief and ignore hers, but you’ve hired me to care for her,
and I shan’t put up with anyone, even you, undermining my
job.”

“
You shan’t put up with it?”
he goggled, incredulous.

As well he might. Callie could hardly
credit herself with this stroke of boldness. She made a conscious
effort to relax her hands, which had balled into fists. She knew
her cheeks must be flaming, because she was burning with
rage.

“
No,” she declared stoutly.
“I shall not. In the few months I’ve known Becky, I’ve become very
fond of her, sir. She’s a darling, dear child, and she doesn’t
deserve such a father as you.”

“
Why, you—” Aubrey started
to rise from his chair.

Callie trampled over whatever he’d
been going to say, sensing that if she didn’t get it out now, she
might never have another chance. “I say that,” she continued
brutally, “not because I believe you don’t love your daughter, but
because I know your late wife would be horrified to see you neglect
her as you are doing.”

“
My late wife,” he said, and
Callie could see his clenched teeth, “was a saint. You have no
business to refer to her at all, young woman, and I won’t
permit—”

“
Yes,” Callie said, again
interrupting, “I know. Your late wife was universally esteemed and
admired. She was a woman of great love and humanity. It’s a pity
that she didn’t instill some of the same qualities in you while she
had the chance. It may be too late to redeem you, but I still won’t
allow you to bully my charge while I’m in your employ.”

He’d risen to his feet and now towered
over Callie. She wanted to shrink back and scuttle out of the room,
but she wouldn’t allow her fear of Aubrey’s anger to overcome her
mission. Becky needed her, and, more importantly, Becky needed
Aubrey. As dramatic as it sounded, Callie perceived this
confrontation as something of a battle for Becky’s life.

“
And what makes you think
you’re going to remain in my employ after this act of impudence,
Miss Prophet?”

Callie had feared it would come to
this. She supposed it was better that it happen now rather than
after she’d been in the house long enough for Becky to form an even
deeper attachment to her.

She took another deep breath and said
another quick mental prayer before she started to speak. “I believe
I shall stay in your employ, Mr. Lockhart, because however much you
don’t like me or want me here, you and your daughter need me.
Although you have chosen to have nothing to do with your daughter—a
rather blockheaded move if you ask me— you’ve evidently noticed
that she needs someone upon whom she can rely. And that someone is
me. So the way I see it, you’ve got two choices: either take care
of your daughter by yourself, or keep me—someone your daughter
trusts and cares about—as her nanny. Becky and I get along too well
for you to dismiss me out of pique.”

Aubrey roared, “Out
of
pique
?”

Unflinching, outwardly—inwardly she’d,
flinched into a quivering ball of anxiety—Callie said, “Yes. Out of
pique. You know you’re doing your child a great disservice in
ignoring her as you’ve been doing all these months. That’s why you
hired me in the first place. If you dismiss me now, you will be
doing it for your own selfish reasons and disregarding Becky’s
welfare. I don’t believe even you would sink to that
depth.”

She saw his chest expand with the
lungful of air he drew in. He had a rather impressive physique, if
one were in a mood to admire such things. Callie decided to ponder
Aubrey’s physique later. She stared straight back at him, daring
him by her posture and her glittering eyes—at least she hoped they
were glittering—to deny that what she’d just said was the
truth.

He didn’t. Instead, after
standing for several seconds in a pose reminiscent of a great
Indian on the warpath, he Jet his breath out slowly. Callie had no
illusion that he’d calmed down though—it was clear from the dour
look on his face that he was still as mad as finders. “Get out of
my library, Miss Prophet.” His speech was measured, as if he were
trying hard not to yell. “For the sake of my daughter, I won’t fire
you this time,” placing special emphasis on the
this
. “But I warn you, I don’t
tolerate impertinence from my hired help.”

“
Of course not.” Callie had
to take a pretty deep breath herself. She didn’t really want to say
what she aimed to say next, but felt it would be to Becky’s benefit
to do so. Therefore, although it cost her an internal pang, she
said, “And I didn’t mean this chat—”

“
Chat?” Aubrey
snorted.

Callie chose to ignore his outburst.
“I didn’t mean it to be impertinent. You need to understand that
when you yell at Becky for what seems to her no reason at all, you
upset her.” She went on, wondering if she was right. “I know that
you your daughter and want only what’s best for her.”

He nodded. She took some encouragement
from that and continued her speech. “Therefore, if you will think
before you yell in the future, I believe it would be best for
Becky.”

He said nothing.

She waited.

He said nothing some more.

Taking this as a sign that she’d best
not push her luck, Callie decided to do something she rarely did
unless she was in the presence of her formidable aunt Venetia. She
curtsied.

“
Thank you, Mr. Lockhart. I
shan’t disturb you any longer.”

Callie thought he said, “Good,” as she
headed for the door, but she wasn’t positive. And she sure as
anything wasn’t going to ask him if he’d spoken.

Chapter Four

Aubrey stood, quaking and staring at
the library door, for several minutes after Callie Prophet exited
the room.

How dare she? How
dare
she scold him about
how he treated his own daughter? He couldn’t believe she’d done
such a thing. The vicious-tongued witch. He wasn’t sure if he was
more furious because she’d dared to enter his sanctum and challenge
him about his behavior or because she was right. Suddenly all the
rage evaporated and he slumped into his chair, deflated as a
pricked balloon.

“
Damn it, she is right,” he
muttered to the empty room.

He’d known it all along but, until
Miss Callie Prophet barged into his life, no one had challenged him
about his deplorable abandonment of his child. Aubrey loved Becky
with all his heart, but, without Anne there to help him, he had no
clue as to how to deal with Becky. Anne had been the one who’d
bridged communications between himself and his child.

Dash it, he was a man. Men weren’t
supposed to rear children by themselves. That’s why he’d hired the
impossible Miss Prophet to begin with. Damn her.

Oh, he knew his reaction to seeing and
hearing them in that chair had been illogical. But when he’d
discovered them in the same chair Anne used to sit in, reading the
book Anne used to read from, he’d undergone such a powerful wrench
of agony he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Not, of course, that
his reason justified his shouting at Becky. He knew he shouldn’t
have done it. He wouldn’t mind hollering at Miss Prophet for hours
at a time, but Becky didn’t deserve such treatment from the only
parent she had left.

He was still brooding when Figgins
sounded the gong to call the household to dinner. Aubrey had told
Mrs. Granger before he’d hired Callie that the nanny was to be
treated as a member of the household and would, accordingly, take
meals with them in the dining room. He presumed the ever-efficient
Mrs. Granger had communicated this message to Callie already, damn
it, so there was probably no way he could avoid her. He dreaded
seeing Callie at dinner and having to pretend everything was rosy
between them.

If he’d had his wits about him when
he’d considered hiring a nanny, he’d have made arrangements for the
nanny and Becky to dine in the nursery together. That’s the way
most affluent families went about mealtimes. But Anne hadn’t had
any use for traditions that estranged her from her daughter and so
the Lockharts had always dined together as a family. Even after
Anne’s death, Aubrey had taken his meals with his daughter. They’d
been strange, strained affairs, since he felt awkward around Becky,
but he hadn’t had the heart to banish her from the dining room
because of his own deficiencies.