My Brown-Eyed Earl (23 page)

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.”

Meg nodded. She had never paused to consider her personal philosophy regarding the best way to raise children, but if she had, she might have arrived at the same conclusion. She had to admit Mrs. Hopwood was a likable sort. Even the smattering of freckles across her nose lent her a merry look.

But that didn't excuse Will from springing the news on her like this. He should have consulted her on something so important—especially since it involved the twins.

“Mrs. Hopwood comes highly recommended. In her previous position, she cared for six siblings under the age of twelve.”

“Six?” Meg tried to imagine being responsible for half a dozen children and began to feel faint just thinking about it.

As though she'd read Meg's mind, Mrs. Hopwood leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “The trick is training the older children to look after the wee ones. Most of the time I was left with nothing to do but my needlework.” She laughed and planted her hands on her round hips. “Lord Castleton tells me you're attending the dinner party this evening. You should go and make yourself ready. Do not worry—I have the girls in hand.”

“I don't know…”

“Yes, Miss Lacey, go.” Will placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door. “In honor of Mrs. Hopwood's first day here, I've asked Cook to send up a treat for her and the girls.”

“That's … nice.” But Meg couldn't help feeling like she was being pushed aside. She hadn't even said goodnight to Valerie and Diana.

They didn't seem overly concerned, however. At the earl's mention of a treat they'd begun cleaning even faster. No, they didn't give her a second thought.

Meg hesitated at the doorway. “I suppose I'll see the twins in the morning, then.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Hopwood said. “But you mustn't wake early. I'll see to their breakfast, and then perhaps we'll take a brisk walk before they begin their lessons.”

It seemed Meg's duties had suddenly reduced by half. Any normal governess would have been ecstatic. But she thrived on being busy. It kept her from having to think about Uncle Alistair's mounting debt, her sisters' precarious plight, and her own bleak future.

Will gave her a knee-melting smile and a pointed look. “I look forward to seeing you downstairs shortly, Miss Lacey. We're gathering in the drawing room for drinks at eight.”

Good heavens. She had less than a half hour to dress and mentally prepare herself to face Lady Castleton. Meg nodded and hurried to her bedchamber, glad she'd had the foresight to lay out Charlotte's dress that morning.

She stripped off her dress, washed her face, and brushed her hair till it was a mass of shining curls. If Julie were there, she'd know just how to tame them into a proper hairstyle, but Meg would have to settle for a top knot with some loose tendrils, adorned with a white silk ribbon that matched the sash on Charlotte's gown. It took a few attempts to wrap the ribbon and secure it, but Meg had to admit she was pleased with the overall result.

A light dusting of face powder concealed the smudges beneath her eyes, and a bit of blush added a healthy glow to her cheeks. At first glance, no one would guess that she was a harried, sleep-deprived governess.

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes to dress—more than enough time. She slipped the blue gown over her head, taking extra care not to muss her hair. The muslin skimmed over her skin like a kiss, soft and whisper light, instantly lifting her spirits. She did not feel like a princess, precisely, but rather like a sprite. Magical, spirited, and free.

For once, she approached the mirror with anticipation, eager to see the entire effect. As she laced the gown and tied the sash, she tried to see herself through Lady Rebecca's critical eyes. The dress's soft blue color was feminine without being garish. The low neckline was eye-catching without being vulgar. The lines of the gown were elegant without being ostentatious. Even the uncharitable debutante would be unable to find fault with Meg's appearance this evening.

Better yet, she knew Will would love everything about this gown. The way it clung to her curves and swished about her legs when she walked. The sleeves that constantly threatened to fall off her shoulders and the lace trim that seductively framed the swells of her breasts. She couldn't wait for him to see her in it … and perhaps, much later tonight, he could take it off her.

She checked the clock again and took a deep, fortifying breath. Almost time.

No matter what happened that evening, she knew she'd succeeded on at least one count.
No one
could accuse her of being a wallflower.

She stepped into her prettiest pair of slippers, grabbed a shawl, and summoned her courage before heading to the drawing room. Once in the corridor, however, she paused, listening to the sounds coming from the nursery—giggles and humming. The girls were not in bed, obviously, but all seemed to be well. Smiling to herself, she turned to go.

And the nursery door swung open.

Valerie rushed out. “Miss Lacey!” she squealed. “I wanted to say goodn—
Oh
, you look
beautiful
.”

Meg's heart squeezed. “Thank you, Val. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh yes. Is that a new gown? You look like … like a queen.”

“Miss Lacey?” called Diana from inside the nursery. “I want to see!” She burst through the doorway, pushed past Valerie, and tripped on the carpet runner. The teacup in her hands went sailing.

Straight toward Meg.

The cup hit her squarely in the chest. Thick, gooey brown liquid splattered everywhere and dripped down her dress. Chocolate.

No
. No, no, no. “Diana!” she cried. “How could you? You've ruined…” She breathed through her nose, holding back tears. “… everything!”

Dear God. She spun on her heels, strode to her room, and slammed the door behind her. This could not be happening. Not tonight, when she was about to attend the most important dinner party of her life.

Perhaps there was a way to clean the gown. She rushed to the washstand, grabbed a wet cloth, and frantically rubbed at the sticky dark blob.