Page 8 of The Soldier
“There are certain things, my lord…” Emmie felt her blush deepening but refused to capitulate to embarrassment. “Things a lady knows a gentleman will not, things somebody must pass along to a little girl in due course if she’s to manage in this life.”
“Things.” The earl’s brow knit. “Things like childbirth, perhaps?”
Emmie swallowed, resenting his bluntness even while she admired him for it. “Well, yes. I doubt you’ve given birth, my lord.”
“Have you?” he countered, peering down at her.
“That is not the point.”
“So no advantage to you there, particularly as I have attended a birth or two in my time, and I doubt you’ve managed that either.”
“Why onearthwould…?” Emmie’s mouth snapped shut before she could ask the obvious, rude, burning question.
“I was a soldier,” he said gently. “And war is very hard on soldiers, but even harder on women and children, Miss Farnum. A woman giving birth in a war zone is generally willing to accept the assistance of whomever is to hand, regardless of standing, gender, or even what uniform he wears.”
“So you’ve a little experience, but you aren’t going to tell me you’re familiar with the details of a lady’s bodily… well, that is to say. Well.”
“Her menses?” The earl looked amused again. “You might have some greater degree of familiarity than I. I will grant that much, but as a man with five sisters, I am far more knowledgeable and sympathetic regarding female lunation than I had ever aspired to be. And surely, these matters you raise—childbirth and courses—they are a ways off for Miss Winnie?”
“Bronwyn,” Emmie muttered. Standing so close to him, she could catch the earl’s scent, and it managed to combine both elegance and barbarism. It was spicy rather than floral, but also fresh, like meadows and breezes and cold, fast-running streams.
“Sheanswersto Winnie,” he said, “and she got away from you.”
“She did.” Emmie’s shoulders slumped as some of the fight went out of her. “She does. I’ve lost her for hours at a time, at least in the summer, and nobody has any real notion where she gets off to. It wasn’t so bad when my aunt first died, but it has gotten worse the older Bronwyn gets. I was terrified…”
“Yes?” The green eyes steadily holding hers bore no judgment, just a patient regard with a teasing hint of compassion.
“I was terrified Helmsley would take her south, or worse, let that cretin Stull get hold of her; but Helmsley was her father, so I’d no right to do anything for her nor to have any say in how she goes on.”
“And had your aunt lived, the law would have given Helmsley no claim on the child, nor any obligation to her either.”
“Oh,the law.” Emmie waved a dismissive hand. “The law tells us the better course would have been to allow the child to starve while her dear papa gambled away the estate. Do not quote the law to me, my lord, for it only points out what is legal and what is right do not often coincide where the fate of children is concerned.”
“Legalities aside then, I am in a better position to assist the child than you are. Just as the old earl gave you an education to allow you to make your way as a governess, I can provide every material advantage for Winnie, too. If it comes to that, I can prevail upon the Moreland resources for the child, as well.”
“But I am her cousin,” Emmie said, feeling tears well again. “I am her cousin and her only relation.”
“Not so, though the reverse might be true. The child’s Aunt Anna is now married to my brother, which makes me an uncle-in-law or some such, and I am one of ten, recall. Through her aunt’s marriage, Winnie has a great deal of family.”
“But they don’t know her,” Emmie quietly wailed. “I am Winnie’s family.I am.”
“Shall we compromise?” he asked, drawing Emmie’s arm through his and escorting her to the sofa. “It seems to me we are considering mutually exclusive outcomes, with either you or myself having Winnie’s exclusive company. Why can’t she have us both?”
“You could visit,” Emmie said, warming to the idea. Maybe, she allowed, he was an enlightened barbarian, though his arguments for leaving Winnie in his care were sound. “Or perhaps Winnie might spend time here, as she considers this her home.”
“I do notvisitmy responsibilities, Miss Farnum,” the earl replied, resuming his seat across from her. “Not when they require regular feeding and bathing and instruction in basic table manners that should have been mastered long ago.”
“So how do we compromise?” Emmie ignored the implied criticism by sheer will. “If Winnie lives here with you, how is that a compromise?”
“Simple.” The earl smiled at her, a buccaneer’s smile if ever she saw one. “You live here, too. You’ve said you have experience as a governess; the child needs a governess. You care for her and hold yourself out as entitled to assist with her upbringing. It seems a perfectly feasible solution to me. You remain as her governess until such time as I find a replacement, one who merits your approval and mine.”
“Feasible.” Emmie felt her mouth and eyebrows working in a disjointed symphony of expressions, none of which were intended to convey good cheer. “You want me to be a governess to Bronwyn?” She rose, and the earl watched her but remained seated. “There’s a difficulty.” She hoped her relief did not show on her face.
“Only one?”
“It is formidable.” Emmie eyedhimup and down. “I am qualified to supervise a child of Bronwyn’s age, but I have always been more a friend to her than an authority figure. I am not sure she will listen to me, else I would not find myself fretting so often over her whereabouts.”
“Having not had a papa to speak of and having lost her mother, the child has likely become too self-reliant, something that can only be curbed, not entirely eradicated. And while the child may not listen to you, I have every confidence she will listen to me.”
