My Brown-Eyed Earl Page 17

  “I might be,” Meg whispered back. “But I’m not worried.” As she bustled the girls up the stairs, she smiled at Will over her shoulder. “Good night.”

  “Good night, ladies,” he replied formally, causing a chorus of giggles.

  He watched the gentle sway of Meg’s hips until she was out of sight, trying to remember if he’d ever had a bath prepared by someone as lovely as her. But his own nanny had been three times Meg’s size and sixty years old if she was a day.

  And then the realization hit him. What the twins needed was a nanny. Someone to lighten Meg’s load. Or, in the event that they returned home to live with their mother, someone to care for them there. He would pay the woman’s salary, regardless, and have some peace of mind, knowing the girls were in good hands.

  It was the perfect plan. And if he was able to find someone soon, she could watch over the girls on Thursday evening while Meg enjoyed herself at the dinner party.

  Hiring a nanny shouldn’t prove too difficult. He was tempted to solicit help from Meg when it came to interviewing and screening candidates, but the last thing she needed was another duty to add to her list. No, he’d take care of this on his own—and surprise her.

  * * *

  Meg propped her head on her hand and stifled a yawn, determined to finish tomorrow’s history lesson on Mary Queen of Scots. She was close to done—just a murder, a third husband and a beheading to cover. She’d worried that the accounts might be too gory for the twins, but Charlotte had assured her that there was nothing like a little blood to hold children’s attention. Meg wished it could hold hers, because on the other side of the room, her soft bed and its plump pillows beckoned like a siren.

  “I thought I might find you still awake.” Mrs. Lundy walked into Meg’s bedchamber and handed her a parcel wrapped in brown paper. “This arrived for you just after dinner. I didn’t have a chance to bring it up until now.”

  Charlotte’s dress. Meg could hardly wait to try it on. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  The housekeeper’s critical gaze swept over Meg’s face, no doubt lingering on the dark smudges beneath her eyes. “You’ve made enough trips up and down the stairs today. I suggest you retire for the evening—and soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Meg replied with a smile.

  But as soon as Mrs. Lundy said good night, Meg closed her door and tore open the package.

  A cheery shade of blue peeked out from beneath the brown paper, instantly brightening the room. And though the muslin wasn’t as fancy as silk or satin, it was finer than anything she owned, including the brown wool monstrosity she now wore.

  She hauled off her old dress and held Charlotte’s beneath her chin, letting the petal-soft fabric cascade down her legs and lap at her ankles.

  The length seemed about right, but there was no way to know whether the gown would suit her until she tried it on. Why, then, was she suddenly reluctant to do so?

  She swallowed. Abandoning her drab wardrobe was akin to shedding a shabby but comfortable skin. What if fine clothes made her look foolish or pretentious or absurd? In her old gowns, she expected to be mocked. But those dowdy dresses had one distinct advantage. If members of the ton did not embrace her, it was easy to lay the blame with her wardrobe. Charlotte’s gown would provide no such excuse.

  Shrugging off her anxiety, she slipped the sky-blue muslin over her head, secured the pristine white sash beneath her breasts, and spun to face the full-length looking glass.

  Good heavens.

  At first glance, she resembled the fashionable ladies she saw strolling in the park—the ones who regularly shunned her or, worse, acted as though she were invisible. So much so, that she resented herself for a moment.

  But it was her. Her legs beneath yards of gauzy muslin. Her breasts framed by the low square neckline. Her arms revealed by the tiny puffs of sleeves. She twirled in front of the mirror, mesmerized by the way the fabric floated about her body.

  It made her feel beautiful in spite of her dark circles and mussed hair and bare feet.

  God bless Charlotte for lending her this gown and for guessing it would be perfect. Thanks to her thoughtful friend, Meg found herself almost looking forward to the dinner party—and in particular, Will’s expression when he saw her in this gown.

  That alone might make the evening worthwhile.

  Chapter TWENTY-THREE

  Will strolled toward the nursery, hoping that his visit coincided with the twins’ naps. Finding the door slightly ajar, he peeked in, happy to see the twins tucked in their beds, if not asleep. Meg sat on the edge of Valerie’s bed, gently stroking her hair.

  “How long was she in prison?” the girl whispered.

  “Eighteen years.”

  Valerie gasped. “That’s almost as long as you’ve been alive.”

  “True,” Meg whispered.

  “And then they…?”

  Meg nodded soberly. “Yes.”

  “How did they do it?” Diana asked from her bed.

  Meg hesitated a moment. “An axe.”

  “Oh,” said both girls, properly awed.

  Meg closed her eyes briefly and shook her head as though scolding herself. “I fear that was not the best bedtime story. But you needn’t worry—England is a much more civilized place in the nineteenth century than it was back then.” She planted a kiss on Valerie’s forehead, then glided to Diana’s side and kissed her as well.

  “If I had a cousin, I would never throw her in prison,” Valerie said, yawning.

  “I might,” Diana confessed, “but I would visit her.”

  “I’ve no doubt you would. Rest your eyes, now,” Meg said, “and we’ll talk more about it this afternoon.”

  Will may not have known much about children, but he knew better than to dare venture into the nursery at this critical juncture. Instead, he watched from the corridor as Meg quietly drew the curtains, straightened her papers, and placed Valerie’s doll in the crook of her arm. When at last she walked toward the door and him, Will waved, startling her.

  She pressed a hand to her chest but smiled as she closed the door behind her. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “But you’re glad I am?” he provided helpfully.

  “I might be,” she admitted.

  “I consider this marked progress.” He took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm. “I missed you last night.”

  Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink. “I confess I slept like a rock.”

  “I thought you might need your rest. That’s why I went to my club. If I’d been here, I would have been unable to resist knocking on your door.”

  Arching a brow, she said, “My door? How positively ordinary.”

  “You prefer the window then?”

  She shrugged, unimpressed. “That’s been done. Perhaps next time you could try the chimney.”

  “It might be messy.” He cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb across her lower lip. “But you’d be worth it. Shall I come tonight?” His heart pounded as he awaited her answer.

  “I don’t think that’s wise.” Her face clouded with regret, she glanced down the corridor. “We were very lucky not to be discovered last time.”

  Will tamped down his disappointment. “I agree we must be cautious. But you cannot blame me for trying.”

  “No.” She squeezed his hand, instantly heating his blood. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “How are you?” He really wanted to ask if she thought about him half as much as he thought about her.

  “I’m well. And the twins seem to be doing better, too. Diana’s still a little quieter than usual.”

  “You say that as though it’s a bad thing,” he teased, but it concerned him as well. “I wrote to Lila this morning.” It had taken him a damned hour to compose a letter that struck just the right tone, splitting the difference between barely civil and friendly. He’d made it clear that the twins were not pawns to be used for her personal gain and that he wouldn’t allow her to h
urt them again.

  “Thank you.” She beamed at him, making the whole letter-writing exercise worth it. “I’m nervous that she won’t respond … and equally worried that she will.”

  “Whatever happens, we will make sure Diana and Valerie are well cared for. They’re strong girls—not unlike you and your sisters.” He pulled her into a light embrace, savoring the feel of her in his arms. “The dinner party is tomorrow night.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “But you’d like to.”

  She shot him an impish grin. “I’ve resigned myself to going, and at least Charlotte will be there.”

  “You’re fortunate I’m not easily offended, vixen.” He nudged her toward the wall, pressed her back against it, and braced his arms on either side of her head. “I want you to think very carefully. Is there anyone beside Charlotte you look forward to seeing?”

  “Well…”

  While she pretended to consider the question, he kissed the side of her neck. God, she tasted good. Like vanilla and cream.

  “Do you have an answer yet?” he murmured against her warm skin.

  “Hmm…”

  He wedged his leg between hers and leaned into her hips, loving the way her breathing quickened in response.

  “Will.” She speared her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss that made his head spin.

  Jesus. He was trying to listen for anyone who might be coming down the corridor, but the truth was, as long as Meg was kissing him, a parade could march right by and he’d be none the wiser. Desperate to quench the desire that engulfed them, he swept his hands down her sides, over her hips, and beneath her bottom, rocking against her until she moaned.

  “You are mine,” he breathed. “Now. Always.”

  She pulled back and blinked up at him. “What does that mean?”

  “We will discuss it. Soon. For now, all you need to do is trust me. And endeavor to enjoy yourself at the dinner party tomorrow night.” He brushed a loose curl away off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  “I will try,” she said doubtfully.

  “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” It was all he could do not to give the surprise away.

  He’d wanted to do something special for her in advance of the dinner party. Something that would let her know how much she meant to him and boost her confidence. His first thought had been to purchase her a new gown. But they’d sparred about her wardrobe on several occasions before. He’d invariably lost. Besides, he didn’t give a damn what she wore as long as it eventually ended up on the floor of his bedchamber.

  No, Meg didn’t want a new dress from him; what she wanted was a gesture.

  And Will had thought of one. Everything was arranged, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction tomorrow night.

  In the meantime, he had scheduled interviews with two potential nannies for later that afternoon. Both women came with excellent references, and he hoped one would have the right temperament for Diana and Valerie. If she could start tomorrow, all the better.

  Meg narrowed her eyes. “Why do you look as though you’re plotting something?”

  “Because I am.” He nibbled on her lower lip.

  “Dare I ask what?”

  “Simple. How to get you into my bed.”

  * * *

  Meg had devised a strategy to keep the twins in the nursery and out of trouble during the dinner party that evening. The first step was to exhaust the girls through a series of lessons, outings, and games. The second step was to allow them to forego nap time. With a bit of good fortune, they would voluntarily dive into their beds an hour before their bedtime and sleep soundly through the night.

  Alas, the plan went awry.

  With barely an hour to go before the dinner-party guests were scheduled to arrive, the twins displayed no signs of fatigue. None. In spite of the day’s grueling schedule, the girls bounced around the nursery, full of energy and brimming with questions. And the only one exhausted was Meg.

  “Will there be any dukes at the dinner party?” Diana asked.

  Heaven forfend. “I don’t think so.”

  Diana’s shoulders slumped. “Drat. I should have liked to meet a duke.”

  Meg wiped a sleeve across her forehead as she turned down the girls’ beds in a most-likely futile effort to make them appear inviting. “As I’ve already explained—several times—you shall not meet any of the guests this evening because you’ll be sleeping.”

  Valerie spun around on her heels in an apparent attempt to make herself dizzy. “What if I’m not able to fall asleep?”

  “I feel certain that you shall fall asleep quickly,” Meg replied, placing all her hopes on the power of suggestion. She narrowed her eyes at Diana, who leaned back in her chair as though trying to balance it on the back two legs. “Please don’t do that—I don’t want you to fall.”

  “Will there be dancing?” Diana’s chair rocked forward, thumping on the floor. “And who would you most like to dance with?”

  Meg shook her head as she began moving about the nursery, picking up dolls, ribbons, and assorted toys. “No music or dancing. It’s only a simple dinner party—not a ball.” Something she’d do well to remind herself. Her nervousness was entirely out of proportion to the event.

  Valerie stopped spinning and began staggering like she’d drunk three pints of ale. Heading directly toward Diana, who once again balanced precariously on the hind legs of her chair.

  Meg’s fingers tingled with fear. “Careful, Val!”

  But it was too late. Valerie’s arm brushed Diana’s shoulder, and the chair toppled over, taking both girls with it. Diana let out a blood-curdling scream and Valerie began to wail. Meg dropped her armful of toys and rushed to the girls.

  Diana was sprawled on the floor, gasping dramatically. “Where does it hurt?” Meg asked.

  “E-e-everywhere!”

  Meg scanned the carpet for blood, relieved to find none. “Did you hit your head?”

  “M-m-my back.”

  Valerie rocked on her bottom, sobbing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Of course you didn’t, darling.”

  Diana sat up and pointed a finger at her sister. “She knocked me over!”

  The accusation provoked a fresh round of tears from Valerie; however, Meg was relieved to see Diana sitting. For she was fairly certain that a child with a broken neck wouldn’t have been able to sit. But then, what did she know?

  She ran a hand up and down Diana’s back, hoping to soothe her. At the same time, she hugged Valerie, whose sobs had turned to body-racking hiccups.

  “Shh,” murmured Meg, huddling the girls together. “We all had a bit of a fright, but you’re both fine. I think.”

  The sound of a throat clearing startled their trio, causing all three of them to look toward the nursery door.

  It was the earl, of course, already dressed for dinner in a midnight blue jacket and cerulean waistcoat. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the scattered toys, the toppled chair, and the twins’ tear-stained faces. “I see today’s lessons are going well.”

  He was, no doubt, teasing; however, at that particular moment, Meg failed to find a smidgen of humor in the quip. In fact, she longed to throttle him with his pristine cravat.

  “It’s going swimmingly,” she snapped. “We’ve just concluded a physics lesson in which we demonstrated the unintended effects of gravity on an object. Or a person.”

  Diana crossed her arms. “I detest gravity!”

  “I’m afraid it’s here to stay,” Will said, oh so helpfully.

  Meg rose to her feet and heaved a sigh as she faced him. “We apologize for the commotion and did not mean to alarm the household. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have much to do and less than an hour in which to accomplish it.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels smugly. “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

  She raised a brow and shot a pointed look at his vexingly lint
-free trousers and polished boots. “You’re here to help?”

  “Er, not directly. But I have brought reinforcements. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Hopwood.” He waved an arm at the doorway, and a petite, older woman wearing a cap over her bright red hair toddled into the room, beaming as though she found the combination of unruly children and wrecked nurseries utterly charming.

  Will smiled, inordinately pleased with himself. “Mrs. Hopwood is the twins’ new nanny.”

  Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  Meg blinked. She must have misunderstood. “Nanny?”

  “I hired her this afternoon, and she was kind enough to agree to start right away,” Will declared, like it was cause for great celebration. “I thought you’d be better able to enjoy yourself downstairs this evening if you weren’t worried about the girls.”

  No, instead she’d be worried about the strange woman who was upstairs in the nursery with the twins.

  Valerie screwed up her face. “What do we need a nanny for? We have Miss Lacey.” Meg’s thoughts, precisely, but she located her manners and extended her hand to the woman. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hopwood. This is Diana.” She patted the girl’s mop of hair. “And this is Valerie,” she said, repeating the gesture.

  “The pleasure is mine, dearies.”

  “Miss Lacey is your governess,” Will told the twins. “She is here to assist you in your studies, not see to your every need.”

  “We like how she sees to our needs,” Diana pouted.

  “I am sure you do,” Will said sternly, “but she isn’t your personal maid. Neither is Mrs. Hopwood, for that matter.” He pointed to the scattered toys. “Tidy the room now. You may become acquainted with Mrs. Hopwood when you are done.”

  The girls jumped to the task with an urgency that made Meg resent Will a little. Beginner’s luck.

  “Please forgive all the chaos,” Meg said to the nanny. “We were not expecting visitors to the nursery.” The woman’s sympathetic look said they both knew advance notice would not have made a whit of difference.

  “No worries at all.” Mrs. Hopwood waved a plump hand. “Children should not be required to comport themselves like miniature adults. I believe in allowing them to play and explore—within reason of course.”