The Nanny Arrangement (15 page)

“Well, George is a sea captain. He feels most alive when he’s strolling the deck of his ship, not cooped up in a Mayfair townhome. And my sisters are deeply embarrassed by its grandeur. They all vastly prefer the simple life in the country. All of my siblings refuse to come to London unless they have pressing business and cannot find a way to cry off.” He paused for a moment, staring at the hearth. “Juliana came here once for the season. She rather enjoyed its grand drawing room with its superior pianoforte.”

The shuttered look that usually passed across his face when he spoke of Juliana was completely absent now. He stared pensively at a fixed place on the hearth, but his shoulders remained relaxed. The change in him made her catch her breath, as though for the first time, she was being allowed to look inside a walled garden.

She was not ready to have the gate closed. Not yet. She steered the conversation gently away, for just a moment, for who knew how long he would remain at ease? “How many sisters do you have?”

“Well, let’s see. Five, save Juliana. Caroline is the eldest, then Elizabeth and Cassandra. The others were born after me—Sarah and Hannah. They are twins and look as alike as peas in a pod. George was born before the twins.” He shifted his glance from the fireplace and looked at Becky, his brown eyes warm. “And all of them married, happy in their lives and secure in their persons.”

“Five sisters—one set of twins?” Becky shook her head. “I don’t envy you the task of managing all that. Certainly not when you were so young yourself.”

“When Papa died, all the girls were either married or engaged to be so. They all married rather young. Juliana was the last of the lot. And George, off to find his fortune as the second son, was already at sea. So you see, managing Juliana became as crucial to me as managing Kellridge.” He fell silent once more.

“Of course, that makes sense.” Her heart ached for Paul. What an awful lot he’d had to shoulder, and at an age when most men were able to live fancy-free, thinking only of themselves and of pleasure. Small wonder he held so steadfastly to order and to precision. His methods were likely the only way he could maintain his home.

Of course, she had been through a great deal, too. And with Susannah and Nan, they had come through the worst of life. But they’d done so together. Juliana had been a storm unto herself, unlikely to have done anything to ease Paul’s burden. He must have felt so terribly alone.

She couldn’t bear for him to fall to brooding about Juliana once more. He had done so much for Juliana, and was continuing to do so in caring for her child. If only he would see the good he had done, rather than considering just what he deemed his greatest failure.

“So, your brother is a sea captain, and your sisters are happily married.” She ticked all of them off on her fingers. “That is quite astonishing. Where do your sisters live?”

He gazed at her as though drifting back through a fog. “Caroline lives near Liverpool, Elizabeth near Dover and Cassandra near Norwich. They met their husbands in London, but never returned, for they love the country life so. Caroline paints, Elizabeth is an excellent judge of horseflesh and Cassandra writes poetry. So they indulge these pursuits while running their homes and their families.”

Poets, painters, musicians. Paul’s family fairly brimmed with artistic talent. “And the twins?”

“Sarah and Hannah married twin brothers, of all things. They live together on a huge joint estate in Scotland.” He gave a little chuckle. “And yet none of them have had twins yet. Most extraordinary, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Paul was not just the annoying young man who teased her, or the stern lord of the manor. “Paul, why did you take Juliet? If you have sisters who have children, why didn’t one of them step up to care for their niece?”

Paul looked at her, frank astonishment showing on his handsome face. “Juliet is my responsibility. Not theirs.”

Becky blinked. “Didn’t any of your sisters feel obligated to take Juliet?”

“Not really. I am the master of the family, and I made it very clear, since Juliana’s marriage, that her problems were mine. Not that I consider Juliet a problem, mind you. But she is my primary concern.”

He still felt the deep and abiding guilt that he failed his sister. Becky’s heart surged with warmth for him. He was not a failure, no matter how much he chastised himself for Juliet’s downfall. No, he was a good brother who shouldered all the family responsibilities as his siblings scattered all over the globe. His siblings sounded happy. They were married, at least. They had moved to places that beckoned, and refused to visit places they disliked. Meanwhile, Paul continued running Kellridge, maintaining the London townhome and assuming responsibility for his sister’s child.

He was a good man.

Was he a happy man?

She couldn’t ask why he never married. That was too saucy, even for someone as well acquainted with him as she, and even within the context of the newfound warmth they shared. “It sounds like your siblings all had a taste of adventure,” she admitted. “What of you? Did you desire to break free yourself?”

“Of course. And I indulged in some rather unsavory pursuits which I shan’t discuss with a lady,” he confessed. “I am the eldest son. It’s my duty to take care of my father’s legacy. This trip to London is to see if selling my shares in shipping will be for the best. They were my father’s shares, but I don’t have his attention to the business. George does—it’s part of his job as a captain. As for me, I would rather let them go and focus on Kellridge.” This last came out in a rush, as though Paul were unburdening himself of something that tugged at his conscience.

“I am certain you will make the right choice.” She kept her voice soothing, as though she were talking to Juliet at the end of a difficult day. “As far as I am concerned, you have done an excellent job in everything. I would even go so far as to say you’re not the teasing rogue I thought you.”

“Or the hateful master?” He gave her a wry grin, and her heart caught in her throat.

She shook her head. Words seemed too difficult, too tender, at this moment.

“Well, I am glad you think so, Becky-girl. Your opinion means a great deal.” Paul caught her glance for a moment and held it. She couldn’t draw breath. She couldn’t look away.

Then he averted his gaze back to the hearth, and the gate to the walled garden swung shut. She stood on the outside, cold and breathless.

That glimpse of the real Paul had left her wanting more. If only he would let her in.

Chapter Fifteen

B
etter to be done with the business at hand. This was, after all, what brought him to London in the first place.

Paul strode along the crowded, bustling streets of town. Eschewing the carriage was the right decision. Walking gave him time to think, to resolve the matter in his head and to make peace with it. Father would not be angry he was selling his shares; after all, Paul had maintained the Holmes family legacy with aplomb since his father’s passing. Even George understood, though he’d made it quite clear he would be maintaining his ship. So there was no need for this niggling feeling of unease. Yet it persisted.

Paul sidestepped a lady hawking vegetables on the street and, as he moved around her, came face to shoulder with a man alighting from his carriage. “Beg pardon,” Paul remarked. The man, a rotund fellow with a shrewd look about him, merely nodded. As the fellow closed his carriage door, Paul caught a glimpse of the bold letter “G” painted on the side. Nay, bold wasn’t even the right word. This was a florid, glaring monogram that declared to all and sundry that it belonged to Mr. Gail. In fact, engravers found much fodder for satire in Gail’s pretensions, and his carriage was one of the most laughed about objects in London.

This portly fellow wasn’t Gail. Paul drew to one side, feigning interest in a shop window.

The man darted a few quick glances around, then made his way up the sidewalk, along the very path Paul intended to take. What would Gail’s carriage be doing in this part of town? Surely the big man himself would be expected at the House of Commons in no time at all.

Paul followed the portly fellow as he traversed the pavement, homing in on him as he would a fox when on the hunt. Sure enough, the fellow opened the door to the chambers of Poole & Blackburn, Solicitors. Clenching his jaw, Paul waited a moment. Let his quarry have time to make himself at home. Why it could be that he, too, had business with the solicitors, and had nothing to do at all with Paul’s transaction.

“Not likely,” Paul muttered under his breath.

He let himself in and walked up the creaking staircase.

“Mr. Holmes, good to see you.” James Blackburn greeted him at the landing. “I am so pleased you came in to London to handle this matter yourself. I was rather expecting your man of affairs.”

“As you know, Blackburn, I handle all things related to my shipping shares myself. My father took a particular interest in every aspect of the business, and I treat it with the same care as he would.” Paul shook his solicitor’s hand but glanced about the room. “Shall we go in, then?”

“Yes, of course. Right this way.” Blackburn beckoned him to a room just beyond the top of the stairs. “Mr. Smith only just arrived.”

Yes, he certainly had just arrived. Only a few moments before Paul himself, as a matter of fact. As his solicitor opened the door, Paul saw the same portly fellow he’d been following since seeing him alight from Gail’s carriage.

So the sly dog was using a proxy. Smart business move, that. Gail probably thought Paul would send his man of affairs and never know the difference. Then he would purchase all of the Holmes shipping shares and leverage his influence to continue the illegal slave trade.

Never. The vague uneasy feeling that had plagued him through this entire journey dissipated like mist evaporating before the sun.

“May I present Mr. John Smith? Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Paul Holmes.” Blackburn made the introductions briskly.

Paul nodded to Mr. Smith and extended his hand. “My pleasure.”

“Well, gentlemen, if you will wait just a moment, I have all the papers here,” Blackburn began, spreading the documents out on the surface of the table.

“That won’t be necessary, Blackburn. I’ve only come to inform Mr. Smith I changed my mind.” Paul quirked his mouth in a rueful grin. “I didn’t want to be rude and tell him by proxy.”

Smith blinked rapidly. “What if I doubled my price?”

Paul fought the inclination to chuckle. Gail had likely told the fellow to pay any amount of coin, as long as he brought home those controlling shares. One could almost pity him, once Gail found he failed in his mission. Almost.

“I appreciate the offer, but my decision isn’t based on money.” Paul gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized my father entrusted me with those shares. Selling them would be dishonoring his memory.” Paul glanced over at his solicitor. “I am sure no one here would wish me to go against my father’s legacy.”

“Of course.” Blackburn shot an apologetic look at Smith. “So, if I am to understand it, you are no longer willing to sell—not at any price?”

“Not at any price,” Paul echoed, his heart beating strangely against his chest. “I shan’t entertain any more offers, but I do appreciate Mr. Smith coming by today. And Smith—I do wish you the best.” He held out his hand.

Smith rose, his face drained of all color. “Of course.” His handshake was cold and limp.

“Blackburn, I apologize for putting you through the trouble of drawing up the papers,” Paul added. “Do send the bill round for your time. I appreciate, as always, your kind attention to these matters.”

“Naturally, Mr. Holmes.” The solicitor gathered the papers up, stacking them to one side. “We’ll throw these on the fire, then.”

A jolly good blaze that would be. “Thank you.” With a last nod at both gentlemen, Paul quit the room and pounded down the staircase to the street. Once outside, he took a gulp of fresh air—or, as fresh as London air could be at that time of year.

Exhilaration sang through his very being, and with it, a strange, abashed feeling. Double the money on an already ridiculously large sum, and he had turned it down. He’d turned the offer away because selling those shares would have, most certainly, meant that the ships would be used to traffic in slaves. No human misery was worth any amount of coin.

He had to tell someone. The desire to laugh, yell and throw his hat up in the air was overpowering. Why, he hadn’t experienced emotions this strong since he was a lad. He didn’t want to shut the door on them—nay, the joy was too strong. If he wrote to George, his stolid younger brother would simply say, “Hadn’t I warned you?” No celebration to be had there.

He took off down the pavement, weaving through the teeming crowds toward Grosvenor Square.

Becky. He must tell Becky.

As he made his way through the throngs, he picked out Gail’s gaudy carriage, still waiting, its occupant likely rubbing his greedy hands together in anticipation of those shipping shares. Paul suppressed the urge to make a cheeky face as he passed. Better to keep one’s head down and never let on that he knew what had transpired. That instinct of his—

Was it really instinct? Or was it divine intervention?

I am the vine, ye are the branches.
If he could really do nothing without God, was it God who had warned him—who had allowed him that glimpse of Gail’s carriage in the street—who had provided him with that guarded intuition from the moment Parker mentioned the deal?

His joy turned a shade more thoughtful. If it was so, then how could he profess himself an unbeliever any longer?

He rounded the corner, and a familiar pair greeted him—Becky and Juliet, out for a morning stroll. Becky didn’t spy him at first; her attention was turned toward her charge. She was smiling down at Juliet and offering her some words of encouragement or praise. The dimple in her left cheek made its appearance, and his heart warmed at the sight of it. If he were to believe more in the workings of Providence, he’d understand that God had sent Becky his way, and Juliet his way, and together they made his life all the richer.

Juliet saw him first; she broke free of Becky’s hold and ran toward him, her bonnet nearly taking flight. She threw her little body at him with all her might, and he caught her in his arms, spinning her round and round. “Did you miss me, little one?” He squeezed her tightly, then set her down as Becky bustled up, a confused and hesitant expression on her pretty face.

“Is everything all right, Paul? I’m so sorry. I should have kept better hold of Juliet.” She straightened Juliet’s bonnet.

“All right? Everything is extraordinary, Becky-girl. Congratulate me. I just turned down an exorbitant amount of money to do God’s will.”

* * *

Was Paul teasing her again? If so, it wasn’t the least bit funny, making light of her feelings about the Lord and her purpose in the world.

She searched his face. His brown eyes flashed, but not with mockery. No, they were lit from within by a deeper, warmer light.

“I don’t understand,” she replied slowly. Exorbitant amount of money? What’s more, he’d embraced Juliet when the little imp broke free and ran up to him. He called her Becky-girl. Paul must be in a thoroughly good mood—but why?

“Come, walk with me.” He scooped Juliet into his arms, shifting her over to his right side, and offered Becky his left elbow with a courtly air. “You’re the only person in London who will fully appreciate this. I couldn’t wait to share the tale with you. I fairly ran from the solicitor’s office.”

He steered them down the path toward Hyde Park. This was the closest she’d been to Paul in their entire acquaintance, not just because her hand was tucked securely into the crook of his arm, but because of his delightful, confidential manner and the genuine smile he offered her. As they made their way into the park, they surely presented an odd trio to the handful of gentlemen strolling past: Paul, impeccably dressed as always, except for the hat knocked slightly askew by Juliet, who was cooing one of her nameless, wordless songs, her bonnet now hanging by its strings and the bodice of her dress smeared with—oh dear—smeared with raspberry jam.

While she, strolling along on Paul’s arm in her simple nursemaid’s gown, tried to conceal the glow of her cheeks by tugging her bonnet forward. What a strange world she had entered the moment he’d approached them on the pavement. Everything had turned upside down, and this heady mixture of wonder and bewilderment would not abate.

“The entire purpose of my journey to London was to sell my father’s shipping shares. These formed the basis of his fortune, but a time-consuming one, for Father was always very intent on knowing each passenger of each ship, what every cargo hold contained. Over the years, we’ve used our shares to ensure that none of our ships trade in slavery.” Paul nodded to a nearby fellow but maintained the same swift pace.

“The slave trade? Wasn’t that outlawed over a decade ago?” Becky looked up at Paul. “How could it possibly be allowed to continue?”

“Slavery was quite lawful when Father had his shares, but even so, he would never allow it on his ships. That is why he kept such a close eye on every passage, and why he amassed so many shares. He felt, most strongly, that slavery was a heinous enterprise. When I inherited his shares, I shared his belief and his close attention to each ship. Unfortunately, Becky, the slave trade continues, even to this day. Many captains smuggle slaves aboard each ship.”

Becky gasped. “That is dreadful. I had no idea.” She had no idea about so many things. Paul was opening her eyes, bit by bit, to the reality of the world. She’d taken it so for granted that she was an isolated individual, untouched by any other person’s suffering. Indeed, because of Paul, she’d grown to care for a child who was not hers, and felt loyalty to a family to which she didn’t even belong. She knew more of suffering, of pain and of the bonds of family now than she ever had that horrid day out on the moor.

“Most young, gently bred women would not. I don’t fault you for that, Becky-girl. Over time, though, the demands of Kellridge, of my sister—and well, of my own frivolous pastimes—began to take their toll. I didn’t think I could give the shares as much attention as they deserved, so I decided to sell.”

Frivolous pastimes? An unreasonable spark of jealousy kindled within her breast. Was Paul referring to a lady? Or many ladies, as Kate had hinted at? She couldn’t trust her voice, so she merely nodded.

“I set the price ridiculously high, for I didn’t want to sell them to just anyone, nor did I particularly want to sell them quickly. You see, even then I was having qualms about it. A fellow by the name of Gail wanted to buy them—offered to pay handsomely for them—but George warned me that he had a reputation for being a smuggler. So I refused to sell.”

“Oh, that was good,” she breathed. “What happened today that makes you so joyful?”

As they neared a clearing, he set Juliet down. “Run and play, little one.”

Juliet obliged by dancing a few feet down the path, but staying close enough that she could observe them both. How far she had come, too. No more clinging to Becky’s skirts, or throwing a kicking and screaming fit. ’Twas good indeed to see her progress, and to feel a part of it.

“Gail sent a proxy, a fellow named Smith, to buy them. I discovered the ruse, quite by chance, this morning on my way to sign the papers. Do you know what I did? I told Smith I wouldn’t sell, not even after he doubled his price. I knew from the beginning something was off about the deal.” He gave a sudden turn and grasped both her elbows, holding her close. “At that moment, I knew why I’d felt so uneasy—that lesson from the chapel flashed to mind and I suddenly knew that I could do nothing without God. That keeping these shares was my way of doing His will. And that by doing so, I would be assisting in ending a trade that is an abomination before God.”

“Oh, Paul. I am so proud of you.” What a good man he was, he had always been! Now he could become the best man he could be. “I am so thankful you have finally discovered His plans for you.”

“I wouldn’t have done so without your help. As soon as I felt it for myself, I could hardly contain myself for joy. I wanted to fly home just so I could tell you.” With one sudden, swift movement, he whirled her around in the air, laughing. “Becky-girl, I feel like a new man. I cannot thank Him enough for bringing you into my life.”

Becky couldn’t suppress a smile, but as he set her down, she caught a giddy glance of the passersby openly gawking at them. It wasn’t the fashionable hour, and the park wasn’t teeming with fine couples, but that hardly mattered. Even to the few people gathered here, they must be making quite a display, one that might be completely misunderstood and which could quickly cause scandal. She took a step back, glancing over her shoulder. “Juliet?” she called, keeping her face hidden. She must gain control of her blush.