Page 48 of His Lordship's True Lady
“We never had this conversation, Oscar. If anybody asks, we talked about how to bring my mare back into condition.”
“Regular work,” Oscar said. “Fine for a horse, has no appeal for me. Where are you off to?”
“I must change out of my habit. Uncle would scold me into next year if I showed up at breakfast in riding attire.” And Lily felt a desperate compulsion to make sure her small hoard of money was where she had hidden it.
She let herself through the garden gate and took the servants’ stairs up to her room.
* * *
“We’re off to see your Uncle Worth and Aunt Jacaranda,” Hessian said, extending a hand to Daisy. “At the rate your social schedule is expanding, I shall soon have to find you a pony.”
The nursery maid, a stout, gray-haired bastion of starch and bombazine named Sykes, folded her arms.
Daisy’s grip on Hessian’s hand tightened. “Even if I’m bad, you’d give me a pony?”
Oh, for God’s sake. Hessian hefted the child to his hip. “You cannot be bad, Daisy. You might make a misstep, have a lapse, exercise poor judgment, or do something you regret, butyoucannot be bad. And yes, if you’re consistently making poor choices, I might limit your time in the saddle temporarily, but that would take extreme provocation.”
At this, the nursery maid sniffed.
Daisy shrank against him. “I’m not bad on purpose.”
Hessian had had a wonderful ride in the park with Miss Fer—with Lily—not three hours past, and a call on Worth had become pressing. He’d like nothing better than to ignore the nursemaid glowering down her nose at Daisy and ignore the desperation in Daisy’s grip on his neck.
A mess was brewing in his nursery, though, and messes invariably grew worse when ignored.
“Sykes, have you something to say?”
Her glower expanded to include Hessian. “A child benefits from routine, my lord. This haring about all over London when Miss Amy Marguerite ought to be in the schoolroom is why she doesn’t sleep well. If she can’t sleep, of course she’ll be fidgety and difficult come morning.”
“Fidgety and difficult?”
Daisy was absolutely still in his arms.
“And disrespectful. She doesn’t finish her eggs and toast some days, forgets to say grace other days, and spends far too much time staring out the window like a simpleton.”
Hessian wanted to cover Daisy’s ears—and his own. “A simpleton?”
“Mooning about, my lord. Hardly speaks above a whisper much of the time and takes her sweet time answering common questions. She needs routine, order, and discipline, and she’ll soon be showing her elders proper respect.”
Hessian walked to the window, Daisy affixed to him like a barnacle. Sykes sounded like the late Earl of Grampion, and a bit like the present earl too.
Sykes did not, however, speak with a northern accent. “You traveled with Daisy from Cumberland?”
“No, sir. The other nursery maid, Hancock, comes from the north. Your housekeeper hired me because Hancock must have some rest, and the child keeps the household up until all hours.”
With nightmares of routine and discipline, no doubt. “You’re aware that Daisy has recently lost both parents and been taken away from the only home she’s known?”
“All the more reason not to cosset her, my lord. Children must learn to weather life’s trials with stoic gratitude. All the ponies in the world or a trip to the park every day won’t help the girl learn those lessons.”
“Clearly, you have never had a pony.” Though, what excuse could there be for a London-bred maid’s failure to appreciate Hyde Park in spring? “Sykes, I thank you for your suggestions regarding Daisy’s welfare, but find that your approach to child-rearing and my own are incompatible. You will be given generous severance, a decent character, and coach fare to any location in the realm. Take as long as you need to find another position, but remove yourself and your effects from the nursery before sundown. The other maids will make accommodation for you in their dormitory.”
Her mouth fell open, and her eyebrows disappeared beneath her lacy cap.
Daisy peeked up, then tucked her face against Hessian’s throat. The tension went out of her, and Hessian stifled the rest of his lecture.
Children needed routine and order, true—at least, some children did some of the time—but they also needed love, understanding, affection, and joy.
So did titled lords.“I’ll have a word with the housekeeper regarding your wages when Daisy and I return from our call. Good day.”
