Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,5

Vim revised his judgment: clean babies were easy to like. He tossed his coat on a chair, slipped his cuff links in a pocket, and started rolling up his sleeves.

He soon had the child naked on a blanket before the hearth, the dirty nappy neatly folded and tucked aside. Fortunately, the mess was minimal.

At the soft click of door latch behind him Vim glanced up from where he knelt on the floor. Miss Windham stood there, some folded cloths in one hand, a steaming bowl in the other. Her eyes went to the baby, surprise registering at the child’s state of undress.

From her expression, Vim considered that the baby on the floor was very likely the woman’s first encounter with a completely naked male.

Two

Sophie Windham frequently described herself as a well-read, intelligent woman in an age when neither attribute was much encouraged among her peers. Coming upon the scene in the parlor, all that came out of her mouth was, “My goodness!”

And then… nothing. She frankly gaped at the tableau before her: the baby naked on a nest of rugs and blankets, cheerfully kicking and squirming at nothing in particular, and the great golden length of Mr. Charpentier, curled indolently above the child, long, elegant fingers playing with the child’s feet.

Sophie did not know how to change a diaper.

She did not know how to comfort a fussy baby.

She did not know the particulars of feeding such a small child.

But she did know that these matters were the province of women, a fact of which Mr. Charpentier was apparently ignorant.

“Is it good for him to be… unclothed like that?” she asked.

The man rose smoothly to an imposing height—he was every bit as tall as Sophie’s brothers—and cocked his head at her. “Be a little difficult to get him cleaned up otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sophie felt a blush rising up her neck. “Suppose it would. So how does one…?” She gestured with the clean nappies at the baby.

“It isn’t complicated.” He took the cloths and basin from her. “I shall demonstrate. By the third one, you’ll be an expert. The trick is to be fast and calm, as if you were dealing with a nervous horse or an injured cat.”

He folded himself down to his knees, leaving Sophie no choice but to join him and the baby on the floor.

“Why does he kick and wiggle about like that?”

“Because he can. My guess is if we put him on his tummy, he’d be just about at the stage where he’s getting up on all fours and rocking but not quite crawling yet.” As he spoke, Mr. Charpentier wrung out a cloth in the warm water and started using it to tend to the child… who was quite completely and utterly naked.

Sophie’s blush threatened to become permanent. There were certain body parts not intended for exposure to the broad light of day, much less such gleeful exposure. The baby was grinning and cooing as Mr. Charpentier deftly used the rag to clean what needed to be cleaned. When he seized both of the child’s ankles in one hand and lifted the baby partly off the rug to reach a little farther back, the infant started laughing, as if being handled like that was great, good fun.

Mr. Charpentier set the nasty rag aside and tickled the baby’s tummy. The child grabbed at the man’s hand and caught one long index finger in his tiny fist.

“I’ve been taken prisoner by a fierce pirate.” He shook his finger gently, which inspired the baby to kick madly. “If you’d slide the nappy under the pirate’s bottom, we’ll see to his attire.”

Bottom. Well, what else was there to call it?

She attempted to comply, when Mr. Charpentier again half raised the child by the ankles.

“Other way, Miss Windham. We’ll use the tapes to fasten the thing on him. As much energy as he has, a snug fit is called for.”

She repositioned the diaper but had to move in close to man and baby to get it done. Kneeling side by side with Mr. Charpentier, she made the mistake of glancing over at him.

At the coaching inn, she’d been nigh distraught over the baby’s increasing discontent. Joleen had been gone long enough that Sophie had begun to worry, and thinking what to do over the baby’s crying had been impossible.

And then a quiet, calm male voice right beside her. “May I be of assistance?”

She’d wanted to snap at him something to the effect that it was the baby needing