To Tempt A Rogue (20 page)

“I need your assistance on a most important matter,” she began. “It seems that somehow when the children moved Jeanne Marie's doll was forgotten.” Harriet turned and gazed fondly at the little girls. “That was why she was crying so much this morning. She misses the toy dreadfully.”

“A doll?”

“Yes. She calls it Lady Julienne.”

Mr. Wainwright was instantly on guard. “I remember she used to cling to a tattered rag doll. It might be the same toy, though I assumed it had ended up on the trash heap.”

“My goodness, I hope not,” Harriet exclaimed. “Jeanne Marie loves that toy and Phoebe just explained it was a gift from their mother, so it has even more significance for the child.”

Harriet noticed his jaw was twitching and his face seemed to pale slightly at this news.

“The girls mentioned it was left behind by mistake,” Harriet continued. “I imagine it would be easy enough to have it sent here. Though I suppose it will take some time for it to arrive.”

“No! It cannot be sent here.”

Harriet took a half-step back, surprised at his vehement, almost growling tone.

“I really do not—”

“I said no,” he interrupted. “If Jeanne Marie is upset, I shall buy her another doll to replace the one that is lost.”

Harriet smiled sourly and placed her hand on her hip. “Mr. McTate has already tried that approach, as that trunk filled to nearly overflowing with dolls will attest. It has not worked. I know it might sound trite, but you must understand the special significance of this particular toy. For Jeanne Marie it is simply irreplaceable.”

Mr. Wainwright shoved his hand through his hair again. “I do not want the child spoiled beyond reason. Besides, you said it would take a long time for the doll to arrive here in Scotland. We might be gone when it at last reaches Hillsdale Castle.”

“We are leaving here? Just when the children have finally arrived? Why have you waited until now to tell me this news?”

Scorn curled Mr. Wainwright's lips. “I am not in the habit of consulting my employees when making decisions, Miss Sainthill.”

Harriet felt her entire body go rigid as the barb hit its mark. With just one sentence he had rather neatly reminded her of her place in his household. And in his life. She tore her gaze from his and stared blindly toward the opposite side of the room where the girls were gathered.

“I certainly understand how you would be far too busy to focus your attention on such a trivial matter as a child's toy, therefore I am more than willing to cope with solving this problem,” Harriet said quietly. “All I require is some basic information. The address of the children's former home and the name of a servant who would be able to assist me. A nursemaid or nanny or even the housekeeper will suffice.”

“You are far exceeding your authority, Miss Sainthill.” He shot her a strained look, his eyes cold and hard. “I absolutely forbid you to take any action on this matter.”

He stormed away before she had a chance to offer any objections.

His words had cast a pall over the room. Harriet could barely contain her astonishment, and her hurt. She had watched him closely as he spoke, weighing all his reactions, listening intently to his words. Questions tormented her. There was something he was not telling her. Harriet was certain of it. But what? Something that had to do with the children's past, but it also seemed mixed together with his true relationship to them.

Harriet only knew they were his wards. And they were orphans. She did not know the particulars of the connection between them all and while she had been curious, she did agree it was not her business to meddle in the affairs of her employer. But now she felt she was unable to do her job without knowing at least
some
of their background.

Discouraged, she rejoined the girls, who thankfully were unaware of the tension between their governess and guardian. On the verge of dropping the matter entirely, Harriet watched the sisters with a careful eye, wishing there was some way she could help.

“Lady Julienne's dress is also blue,” Jeanne Marie said in a sorrowful tone as she held up a doll clothed in a blue gown. “It is her favorite color. Mine, too.”

Though she did not begin to cry, Harriet could not fail to notice the shadow of sadness that darkened the child's eyes. A small, warm hand grabbed Harriet's. She tugged at it gently, encouraging Jeanne Marie to climb into her lap. When the child complied, Harriet rubbed her cheek against the little girl's soft curls and held her tight.

Jeanne Marie let out a few shuddering breaths, then took a deep, quivering sigh. It was that sorrowful, emotional sigh that forced Harriet's decision.

“Your Uncle Nathaniel was just telling me about your old house,” Harriet said in a patently cheerful tone. “The one you lived in before you went to Uncle Duncan's. He said it was much smaller than the castle, but I'm not sure that's right. What do you think?”

Both Phoebe and Jeanne Marie gazed at her in wide-eyed innocence. “Uncle Nathaniel told you about our London house?” Phoebe asked.

Harriet nodded slightly.
London. She would never have guessed they had once lived in Town.
Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. She knew in her heart it was wrong to manipulate the children in an effort to gain information, but if she had any hope of getting Jeanne Marie's doll she would need some help. Since Mr. Wainwright was not forthcoming, that left the children as her only source.

“Yes, the London house. What can you tell me about it?”

“It was very grand,” Phoebe said in a wistful voice.

“And had lots of stairs,” Jeanne Marie added helpfully.

“I've been to London several times.” Harriet leaned her back against the wall. “Why, I might have even ridden right by it. By any chance, do you remember the address or the name of the street?”

Jeanne Marie squirmed to place herself in a more comfortable position. “I know. It was in Grosvenor Square,” she said, resting her cheek against Harriet's arm.

Harriet had difficulty hiding her astonishment. Grosvenor Square was among the most exclusive addresses in town, an area where only the very wealthy nobility lived.

“It was a very wonderful place,” Phoebe said. “We miss it.”

“And our ponies. We miss them too,” Jeanne Marie sniffed.

“I miss Mrs. Hutchinson,” Phoebe said. “She was always kind to us and never raised her voice, even when Gregory was naughty and the other servants were mad at him.”

“Was she your nanny?”

“No, she is our housekeeper.”

“She always made sure Cook baked our favorite cakes and cooked only the things we liked to eat for our dinner.” Jeanne Marie's face darkened. “And when the other servants were mean to us, she would yell at them.”

“Well, she certainly sounds like a wonderful person,” Harriet replied, her mind spinning with confusion. “Did Uncle Nathaniel live at the house too?”

“When he was a boy.” Phoebe ran her hands through the long blond curls of the doll perched in her lap. “May I get a brush so I can properly arrange her hair?”

Harriet nodded. “And bring some pins and ribbons so we can tie the curls atop her head.”

“I know where the pins are,” Jeanne Marie shouted. She scrambled out of Harriet's lap and raced her sister across the room.

Harriet tossed her head back against the wall with a loud thump and thought about the information the children had given her. Yet this little discussion had created more questions than answers. A posh London address, servants that were mean to them, the place where Nathaniel had lived as a boy. What did it all mean?

The girls soon returned with an armload of supplies. Harriet was glad the distraction of dressing the doll's hair had eased Jeanne Marie's sorrow and she turned her attention towards helping those small fingers braid and twist and pin an elaborate coiffure. But her mind could not entirely abandon what she had just discovered.

Harriet believed she had sufficient information to mail a letter and request that Jeanne Marie's doll be sent to Hillsdale Castle. The problem was, she could not decide if that was the best course of action, given these most peculiar circumstances.

 

 

Nathaniel stood silently at the open library door, the hamper filled with picnic goodies he had Mrs. Mullins make for him dangling from one arm. As he gazed at the children, each bent studiously over their work, he found himself impressed with the order Harriet had created.

Since the castle lacked a proper school room, she had commandeered a section of the library, fitting it with proper sized furniture and the necessary supplies to accommodate her young students. Sunlight crept through the curtains, brightening the whole room, making it an even more cheerful environment.

Harriet circled her students slowly, answering questions, bending down to make corrections on their slates, smiling with encouragement as they struggled with a complicated problem. The sunlight illuminated the shine in her hair and the glow of her cheeks. She had the most incredible complexion of any woman he had ever known, pure as snow and soft to the touch.

Nathaniel cleared his throat loudly. Three small heads instantly popped up.

“Uncle Nathaniel!” The children immediately clamored out of their chairs and swarmed toward him. Nathaniel smiled, enjoying both their greeting and attention. If only their governess would look at him with one-tenth of their enthusiasm, then he could truly enjoy this sunny day.

Her back was to the doorway, but he had seen her stiffen when the children called out his name. Slowly she turned to face him. His gaze flickered to hers and he smiled. She nodded her head fractionally, not looking at all pleased to see him.

Nathaniel grimaced. Harriet had been decidedly cool to him since the incident over the doll and in all honesty he couldn't blame her. She had come to him with a problem concerning one of the children and he had acted like an autocratic ass. Instead of trying to aid her, he had bullied and belittled her. For a woman of Harriet's pride he knew that must surely be a devastating blow.

Yet he felt he had no choice. He had panicked utterly when she spoke of contacting someone to send the doll. It was tantamount to sending a road map to his uncle and a beacon to light the way to the missing children.

Nathaniel was also angry with himself. He felt that he and McTate had done a superior job when snatching the children. They had left London with only the clothes on their backs, but he had trunks of new garments waiting for them in Edinburgh. He thought he had been so careful, so thorough and it was a blow to discover he had indeed been shamefully neglectful.

He knew how much Jeanne Marie loved her doll. He should have somehow made certain it was brought along. This lack of foresight was causing the child deep distress and had placed a barrier of misunderstanding between him and Harriet.

“What's in the basket, Uncle Nathaniel?” Gregory asked, stretching on his toes in an attempt to peer inside.

Lord Avery lifted the basket higher and smiled mysteriously. All three children joined in the game, but it was Phoebe, the oldest and the tallest who got a good look at the contents.

“A picnic!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I do love picnics.”

“Is it for us?” Jeanne Marie asked.

“It could be, if your governess allows it.” Phoebe turned to Harriet. “I have nearly finished my assignments. Please say that we may go, Miss Sainthill.”

“There is one other condition.” Nathaniel smiled pleasantly. “Miss Sainthill must join us.”

A strained silence filled the room. “It really won't be any fun for us if you don't come along,” Nathaniel added gently.

“Please!” Gregory shouted, hopping up and down excitedly on one foot. “Say yes!”

Harriet managed a pained smile. She obviously knew she was being shamelessly manipulated. “All right, I suppose I can come.”

Everyone scrambled to find coats and bonnets and put on proper walking shoes. As soon as they were ready, they set out, packed together tightly in an open rig, with Nathaniel at the reins. He was disappointed that Harriet had managed to put the children between them on the front bench, for he would have enjoyed pressing his thigh against hers and watching the charming surge of color rise in her cheek.

Still, the midday sun felt warm on his hatless head and the children were laughing and fidgeting, eager for an adventure. He was determined to make this a memorable afternoon. For all of them.

When the road ended, Nathaniel tethered the mount to a tree, hefted the picnic basket from the carriage and led his little troop up the mountain. He chose a spot high on a hill overlooking the castle that afforded a view of the stone cottages and green pastures spotted with sheep in the valley.

“Does this meet with your approval?” he asked Harriet, charmed by the way the faint breeze ruffled a few stands of hair that had escaped from their pins.

“It is lovely.”

She helped him spread the blanket, then laid out the simple feast. Harriet, he noticed, ate only the fruit, cheese, and crusty bread, leaving the meat pies for him and the children to devour. Fresh air inspired everyone's appetites, or else they were finally becoming used to Mrs. Mullins's cooking. In short order the majority of food was gone.

The children sprawled lazily on the blanket, their expressions an identical dreamlike state. If they did not get moving soon, they would all be asleep, himself included.

His eyes half opened, Nathaniel noticed Harriet reach into the pocket of her cloak and pull something out.

“Who wants to play?”

The children were roused from their near slumber by the sound of the shuffling deck.

“Cards?” Nathaniel rolled over and sat up. “Will there be wagering too?”

“Why not?” Harriet glanced around the area near the blanket. “You may each gather a small pile of fifteen stones. That will be your stake.”