Page 49 of His Lordship's True Lady
He left the nursery maid standing in the middle of the playroom and knew a moment of pride in the child, for she hadn’t stuck her tongue out at Sykes, though Hessian could feel the impulse quivering through her.
“She meant well.” He set Daisy on her feet. “She was simply misguided. The poor woman has never raised a child of her own, and her theories are uninformed by parental experience.”
Daisy took his hand. “Was she bad?”
“She was not well suited to her position. We will provide her every assistance in finding a post more in keeping with her skills.” Scrubbing privies in the Antipodes, for example.
Daisy studied the newel post at the top of the steps. The wood was carved in the shape of a gryphon with folded wings.
“She said if I was bad, I’d be sent away.”
“She was wrong.” Good girls went to heaven, bad girls got sent away. Hessian put that conundrum together while Daisy blinked hard at the gryphon. “And you made a small miscalculation too, Daisy.”
“Will you send me away?”
“Never. We are family now. Family is forever.” Though sometimes, family got into stupid, stubborn muddles that took a few years to sort out. “Your miscalculation is understandable, because becoming a family in a situation like ours doesn’t happen in an instant.”
“I made a mistake?”
“We both did. You should have told me that Sykes was spouting stupidities, and I should have asked you how you were getting on in the nursery when we had privacy to air our honest feelings. You will join me for breakfast starting tomorrow, and we won’t make the same mistakes in future.”
Children did dine at the family breakfast table, once they had some manners. At Daisy’s age, Hessian had taken great pride in his breakfast privileges, while Worth had remained in the nursery of a morning.
“You want me to eatdownstairs? My brothers ate downstairs.”
“You have fine manners, and mine are in good repair as well. We’ll manage breakfast, as long as you don’t steal the newspaper or the preserves.”
“I don’t care for jam. I like cinnamon.”
“A lady of refined tastes. Would you like to slide down that banister?” Hessian’s good spirits were to blame for that suggestion. This was what came of kisses in the park and sacked nursery maids.
“Slide down the banister?”
“You must never undertake to use of the banister when an adult is about, or even a servant, for they might think you should be tattled upon. A good polishing never hurt a well-made banister, and I have only the sturdiest banisters in my houses.”
Hessian deposited Daisy on the banister, and down she went, grinning the whole way. She scrambled unaided from the bottom newel post and spun around like a top.
“I shall tell Bronwyn and Avery! I shall come down to breakfast every morning on the banister!”
“Mind you, don’t let anybody see you. Decorum has a place in an earl’s household.” What would Lily think of this morning’s work? Hessian couldn’t wait to ask her—he flipped open his pocket watch—in about nine hours. “Let’s be off to visit your uncle.”
Daisy studied Hessian’s outstretched hand. “I don’t have any uncles.”
What could he say to that? “You haven’t any official uncles, but I’m sure Worth would love to be an honorary uncle to such a lovely little girl. I’ll thrash him to tiny bits if he says otherwise.”
“Boys like to fight. Mama said that, and Papa agreed.”
Daisy was mentioning her parents, and that was good. “I’m sure fisticuffs won’t be necessary. Now shall we be on our way?”
Daisy skipped half the distance to Worth’s house, and Hessian got a few odd looks for having a child clinging to his hand. He also saw a few smiles. She bolted from his side the instant she spotted Avery at the top of Worth’s main staircase, and amid much squealing and hopping about, the little girls disappeared to the second floor.
“And to think you said she was a withdrawn child,” Worth muttered as he led the way to his back terrace.
“We sacked a nursery maid this morning. The effect was invigorating.”
Worth paused, hand on the door latch. “You sacked a maid?”
“She had no compassion, no flexibility. Went maundering on about order, discipline, and stoicism. I ask you, when did Greek philosophy ever comfort an orphaned child?”
