In Good Company (3 page)

2

A
s a distinct whiff of ocean, mixed with a large dollop of fish, wafted back to him when Miss Longfellow rushed past, Everett took one step to go after her but then stopped and simply watched as she disappeared through the agency door.

In the past, he would have found her less-than-cooperative attitude rather confusing, given that she was a nanny and he was a well-regarded member of society. However, since he’d come into possession of his three wards—whom he occasionally thought of as
the brats
, and not always fondly—members of the working class were behaving, at least toward him, very oddly indeed. Governesses, nannies, maids, footmen, and even a few of his best drivers, had abandoned his household in droves, leaving his normally pleasant and structured life in a bit of an upheaval.

Taking a moment to consider his options, Everett pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began removing the dirt Miss Longfellow had deposited when she’d taken his hand.

It wasn’t that he disliked Miss Longfellow—quite the contrary. With her decidedly quirky personality and habit of uttering words
that didn’t always suit what she wanted to say, Miss Longfellow was somewhat charming, if slightly deranged.

She seemed to possess an unusual exuberance for life, although at the moment, she also seemed to possess rather short brown curls—something he’d noticed as he’d been conversing with her.

He had a sneaking suspicion the reason behind the shortness was an unfortunate incident with a hot curling tong Miss Longfellow had experimented with a few weeks before. From what he’d heard, Miss Longfellow had perfected the art of
scorching
instead of
curling
, which had resulted with her being discouraged from trying out the tongs on the hair of Miss Harriet Peabody, a lady who was now engaged to one of Everett’s best friends, Mr. Oliver Addleshaw.

Everett smiled as an image of Oliver, with Harriet by his side, immediately sprang to mind. They’d been standing on the deck of Oliver’s yacht, waving madly to everyone who’d turned out to see them off to England. That their love for each other had been unexpected, there could be no denying. Even though Everett had been a little hesitant at first to support the idea of Oliver actually marrying Harriet—a woman who’d been earning a living as a hat maker, of all things—he’d eventually come to realize that Harriet was exactly what Oliver needed.

Shoving the handkerchief back into his pocket, he glanced back toward the agency door and found his thoughts immediately returning to one Miss Millie Longfellow.

It truly was a shame he couldn’t consider hiring her on, especially since she did seem to be a rather pleasant sort, even if she certainly didn’t look like a typical nanny. Her form was waif-like, her features delicate, and she had somewhat intriguing lips—intriguing because they were slightly plumper than a person would expect to find on a face that was so . . .

Realizing that his thoughts were beginning to travel in a direction that they really didn’t need to travel, Everett reminded himself exactly why he truly couldn’t contemplate bringing Miss Longfellow on as a nanny to his wards—and it had absolutely nothing to do with her lips.

It all had to do with the lady’s eyes.

That they were a perfectly ordinary shade of green was not in dispute. But that ordinary green, framed by dark lashes, always held a distinct trace of . . . mischief.

That mischief exactly explained why he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, consider hiring Miss Longfellow on to watch after his wards, because everyone knew that where there was mischief, trouble was certain to follow.

Ever since he’d become the unlikely guardian to three unruly children over five months before, Everett had witnessed more trouble than he’d ever thought possible. His life had been turned upside down—orderliness replaced with chaos, that chaos drawing censure from his friends and disappointment from his very own Miss Dixon.

Caroline Dixon was his perfect match in every way, her standing in society as lofty as his, and her desire to increase that standing rivaling his own. That she was not a girl fresh out of the schoolroom, being twenty-four years of age, was a definite mark in her favor. She didn’t expect tender words whispered into her ears, and appreciated the fact that theirs was a relationship based on mutual advantages rather than any of the romantic fantasies so many younger ladies seemed to want to embrace these days.

Gentlemen of his social position had, for years, chosen their future wives exactly as Everett was choosing his now. If the thought occasionally struck him that it seemed somewhat cold selecting a wife in such a manner, he quickly pushed the thought
aside, consoling himself with the notion that he and Caroline stood to gain much from their practical alliance.

He would secure a wife who was self-assured, competent at holding her own in a conversation, and perfectly capable of securing them the coveted invitations to all the proper dinners and balls.

Caroline would secure herself a husband possessed of an extensive fortune, one he didn’t mind sharing with her in the least. She’d also obtain a husband who wouldn’t hover around her, since he spent a great deal of time managing his many businesses. As an added benefit, when he wasn’t consumed with business matters, having an entire brigade of associates in his employ who were perfectly capable of running his affairs, he enjoyed sailing his yacht on the high seas—something Caroline didn’t particularly care to do all that often, which would allow her further time to spend pursuing her own interests.

All in all, they were a perfect match for each other, which was why he had no hesitation in humoring her, or rather, indulging her, when she turned a little . . . difficult—something she’d done just that afternoon.

When Mrs. Smithey had resigned, or rather, fled, from her position only a few hours before, Caroline had stated she’d had quite enough, and he couldn’t actually blame her. Ever since he’d inherited the children, the life he and Caroline had grown accustomed to had disappeared. Plans, including those for their engagement, had been put on hold, and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d been unable to escort her to a scheduled society event because of difficulties with the children.

Even though she’d been disappointed time and time again over the past five months, she’d handled herself with poise . . . until Mrs. Smithey had up and fled. That unfortunate business had resulted in Caroline losing her composure, apparently unable,
or unwilling, to delay their trip to Newport since she’d delayed so many other events in her life because of his wards.

Tears had begun dribbling down Caroline’s pale cheeks seconds after Mrs. Smithey flew out the door, and Everett had not been immune to the power of Caroline’s tears. Not wishing to disappoint her yet again, he’d immediately headed out for the employment agency, praying a miracle could be found there.

That miracle, however, could not be found in the form of Miss Millie Longfellow. Bringing her, along with her mischievous nature, into his household was inviting further instances of disastrous situations. His wards needed a woman with a stern disposition and little tolerance for nonsense, and that woman certainly was not Miss Longfellow because . . .

The sound of the agency door opening pulled Everett from his thoughts, but he did not discover Miss Longfellow exiting the building, as he’d expected. Standing on the stoop was none other than Mrs. Smithey, the woman who’d just left his employ. She was sniffling into a large handkerchief as she moved down the steps, but she stumbled to a stop when she caught sight of him.

“I won’t go back,” she said in a voice that held a telling note of hysteria in it. “Not even if you offered me a thousand dollars.”

“What if I offered you two thousand for simply watching the children for the rest of the summer?”

A lift of a chin, followed by a very loud sniff, was Mrs. Smithey’s only response before she turned on her sensible heel and marched off, leaving Everett staring after her.

“I would be more than happy to relieve you of two thousand dollars—especially if all that is required of me to earn that small fortune is to look after your little angels.”

Turning back to the agency, he narrowed his eyes on Miss Longfellow, who was peering at him from the doorway.

“Has anyone ever told you that eavesdropping is unbecoming for a lady?”

She waved a slightly dirty hand in the air. “I’ve heard that numerous times, Mr. Mulberry—usually from disintegrated ex-employers.”

“Disintegrated?”

Miss Longfellow bit her lip. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried out a D word, especially since I haven’t studied them for a few months now.” She whipped out what appeared to be a dictionary from her pocket, riffled through it for a second and then looked up. “I might have meant
disenchanted
, although
disgruntled
would probably be a better description.”

“Yes, well,
disintegrated
,
disenchanted
, and
disgruntled
aside, you still shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on me.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. You practically shouted your offer at that unpleasant-looking woman, and it was hardly my fault she didn’t shut the door firmly behind her after she spoke her mind to Mrs. Patterson.” Miss Longfellow smiled. “You’ll be pleased to learn I told Mrs. Patterson you’re here, and . . . she’s anxiously waiting to speak to you.”

“Why did you tell her I was here?”

“To distract her from her annoyance with me, of course.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incorrigible?”

“If that means
delightful
, then certainly.” Miss Longfellow grinned, but her grin disappeared in a flash when Mrs. Patterson joined her in the doorway.

“Mr. Mulberry,” Mrs. Patterson began as she sent him a look that seemed to suggest she found him rather distasteful. “I thought I was fairly clear the last time we saw each other—as in
yesterday
—that you were to strive diligently to get control of your wards so you wouldn’t lose another employee.”

“Was it only yesterday I was here?” he asked weakly.

“You know it was.” Mrs. Patterson gestured to the door. “You might as well come in.”

Knowing he had no other choice, he moved forward, although he did so rather slowly, stopping on the first step to nod at Miss Longfellow. “I suppose this is where we part ways, Miss Longfellow. Do know that I’m incredibly sorry I knocked you to the ground before.”

“Miss Longfellow isn’t leaving quite yet,” Mrs. Patterson said. “She and I have yet to have a proper chat since up until a few minutes ago I was forced to deal with a distraught Mrs. Smithey.” She wagged a finger in Everett’s direction. “I hope you have a reasonable explanation as to why you allowed that poor woman to be set upon by a vicious pet.”

Miss Longfellow’s unladylike snort saved Everett from a response.

“From what Mr. Mulberry told me,” Miss Longfellow began, “Thaddeus’s pet is nothing more than a little frog, and what harm could one of those do to a person?” Miss Longfellow shook her head. “In my humble opinion, this Mrs. Smithey is obviously in the wrong profession. I do hope you’ll refuse to place her with another family, Mrs. Patterson, especially since she seems to have a troubling tendency for dramatic displays.”

Everett found himself shuddering ever so slightly when Mrs. Patterson drew herself up.

“Mrs. Smithey has never been dismissed from a position due to unfortunate shenanigans, which certainly cannot be said about you, Miss Longfellow.”

Mrs. Patterson lifted her chin. “Now then, before I decide to wash my hands of both of you, I suggest we set aside all attempts at nonsense and repair to my office.” She turned and disappeared through the door.

“I do believe she’s rather annoyed with us,” Miss Longfellow
said before she brightened. “But she didn’t say she
was
washing her hands of us, so all hope hasn’t been lost just yet.” She caught his eye. “Would you be a dear and fetch my bag for me? The one I dropped when you knocked me over. It’s lying there all forlorn on the sidewalk.”

Unable to remember the last time someone had call him
a dear
, and asked him to
fetch
something, Everett’s lips curled into a grin, and he ambled over to the bag and bent down to pick it up. Grabbing hold of the worn handle, he straightened . . . but wobbled when the weight of the bag took him by surprise. “What in the world do you have in here?”

“Essentials.”

“What type of
essentials
could possibly weigh this much?”

“Well, if you must know, since I was intending on spending the next nine weeks employed by the Cutler family before I got unfairly dismissed, I had to pack enough reading material to see me through that extended period of time. In that bag rests a few of my favorite dictionaries, one thesaurus, my Bible, numerous works by Shakespeare, although I’m not exactly enjoying his writing, and two books by the incomparable Jane Austen.” She smiled. “Those I enjoy tremendously, but besides my treasured books, I also have a few changes of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and, well, I won’t go into further details, since what’s left to mention will most likely embarrass us both.”