Page 4 of Undercover with the Heiress
The office door opened. Rosanna sat on the far side of the table away from the door, leaving the lower half of the room obscured by the desk. A giggle entered, followed shortly by another. Unmistakably her younger sister Nova, eight years old, followed by Amadeus, Ammie for short, her ten-year-old brother.
Father’s sternness cracked in an instant. A playful grin tugged his lips. ‘Is there a ghost at the Aster, opening doors and sneaking into my office?’
The giggles became louder as they shifted from the door to behind the couch, but before Father could sneak around the table to intercept them, Mama came into the room. Her face drawn, her eyelids heavy, her blonde hair roughly pinned, she held little baby Hazel tight against her chest. The baby squirmed, squawked, then let out an ear-splitting cry. Father changed trajectory and met Mama at the door.
‘We thought we’d get some fresh air. And Nanny Abigail needed some peace so that the younger children could sleep.’ For all her subtle elegance and her soft meekness, Wilhelmina Hempel never apologised for interrupting her husband, andhe never looked annoyed. No matter the moment, her arrival always shifted his body with relief. Like he had been waiting for the sun to rise, and now she was here, his day could begin.
Father eased the baby from Mother’s shoulder and tucked her against his own. The little bundle squirmed before calming against him with a snuffle.
‘Probably just too much excitement.’ Father swayed a little, then kissed Mama’s forehead. ‘You should rest.’
Mama, her mouth still pressed into a worried line, brushed a finger against the baby’s cheek. ‘I’m trying to sleep when she does. Which is never.’
It had started like this with Garnett, all those years before. He was never quiet until silence was all there was. Rosanna had only been ten at the time. She had never known a sadness so suffocating and thought her entire body would break. Ever since, Mama never seemed able to settle into her babies until they could confidently toddle across a room. As if the danger had passed, rather than increased.
Rosanna startled as her sister bounded up before her. Nova held out a small white box tied with a thin pink ribbon. ‘You got a present, Rosie,’ she said. ‘I think it’s from your friend, Lord Richard.’
Rosanna took the box with forced composure, even though she wanted to rip the ribbon off and throw the lid aside. If she was going to be a lady, she needed to be calmer and control her impulses. Instead of fussing, she sat the box on the table.
‘If you marry Lord Richard, will I have to call you Lady Rosanna, or can I still call you Rosie?’ Ammie climbed over the back of the chaise longue from behind it and slid onto the seat.
‘If she marries a marquess, she’ll be a marchioness, not a lady,’ Johannes said.
‘He’s not a marquess, only his son. The third one. She would be Lady Richard, not Lady Rosanna,’ Mama said with tired patience.
‘I don’t care who he is, I’m not calling my sisterlady,’ Ammie announced, slipping onto the floor with a bump.
Nova pressed her spectacles up her nose as she pushed her head into the small pocket of space between Rosanna and the table. ‘What’s your guess? I think it’s a flower. Ammie says a dog.’
Rosanna pulled the tie and unthreaded the knot. ‘It will be nothing so pedestrian as a flower. It will be something exciting, like a hot-air balloon, or a—’
Rosanna peered into the box. Nestled inside, snug against a white cushion and fixed with white thread, sat a gold charm. He ordered them from Paris, he said, from a little jeweller on the Champs-Élysées.
A daisy.
‘It’s perfect,’ she declared, and placed the box on the table.
‘But you said—’
Father, speaking low as he patted the baby’s back, looked at her brother. ‘Johannes, take Amadeus and Nova to see Grandpa Robert. He’s in the kitchen, stuck with a terribly hard task. He needs help.’
‘What’s he doing?’ Amadeus asked nervously.
‘It’s not for the weak or the faint of heart. I hear he’s been taste-testing new flavours of iced cream all morning.’
Johannes stumbled as the younger Hempels pushed past him to tear down the hallway, giggling and shouting out guesses of what flavours they might find before their high voices faded.
‘For heaven’s sake, this is a hotel. Remind them to be quiet? Please?’ Father looked to Johannes. ‘And ask Pierre to send up tea and coffee.’
‘Will do,’ Johannes said, then took off after Ammie and Nova at the same pace. He loved ices as much as the children, if not more.
Mama stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. Father guided her to the couch, and after a small show of resistance, she relented and settled against the cushions. By the time the tap at the door announced the trolley of tea and coffee, Mama’s eyes had closed, and her breath had settled into an easy rhythm.
Father gently eased back into his seat. He pressed a kiss against baby Hazel’s ear. ‘This marquess’s son seems quite taken with you,’ he said.
‘He does,’ Rosanna replied. She made busy at serving the coffee and tea, pouring his how he liked—strong, black, and bitter. She took her tea weak and with a slice of lemon, as a lady should.
‘Is that the life you want?’ he asked.
