her father’s eyes, seeming cross that I’ve denied her my breasts.
Then she tips back her head and begins howling.
I rock her. I try and burp her. I make faces at her.
Everything I do just seems to make her cry that much louder.
“Don’t fret, girl. I’m sure you won’t be the last to fail.”
I start, throwing Mrs. Potter a flustered look over my shoulder. Where on earth did she come from? I would have seen her moving through the archway from the corner of my eye — and she definitely didn’t use that entrance.
“Here you are.” Mrs. Potter hands me a warm bottle. I give her a thankful nod, and then shift Rose in my arms. Glancing around, I spot a rocking chair a few feet away and go sit in it. Mrs. Potter stands in the middle of the room, not moving, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Must you watch?” I ask, not bothering to take the snap from my voice. Had she not startled me half to death, I wouldn’t be rattling like this. I lay Rose in my lap and quickly test the formula on my wrist. Mrs. Potter sniffs and glances away as if I’ve insulted her deeply. I ignore her — I may not have any actual experience as a nanny or a nurse, but I know the basics of feeding a baby. And I’m not about to give Mrs. Potter any doubt in my capabilities.
I flush a little, and dip my head to murmur soothing words to Rose so Mrs. Potter won’t see the color tinging my cheeks.
No one can know, Pippa. They’ll send you back without a dime in your pocket.
I position Rose against my bosom, urge her hand away from my breast, and bring the teat to her lips.
She scowls, blows a fat bubble at me, and turns her head away.
“It’s the same every time,” Mrs. Potter says, punctuating her statement with a sniff. I glance at her, my spine straightening when I see the contempt in her eyes. I give her a wide smile, and shrug a little.
“Rose and I are still strangers,” I murmur, keeping my voice as low and soothing as possible. “Once we’re friends—”
“The baron wouldn’t dare keep you that long.” Mrs. Potter tips up her chin at me. “If you can’t get her to feed before the day is out, you’ll be leaving on the coach come the morrow.” With that, Mrs. Potter pivots on her heel and struts from the room, this time using the archway and disappearing into the study.
Rose makes another grab for my breast. I knock away her hand with a firm, “No!” and put the teat to her mouth. She spits it out, frowns hard, and promptly bursts into tears. I bring the teat back, and this time she fights it with her little red fists.
Is her entire body covered in these red splotches? Curiosity burns in me until I can no longer bear it. I tug down the blanket wrapped over her body. It seems not a single inch of her skin has been spared. How difficult it will be for her, growing up and having to deal with the stares, all those hurtful words whispered behind cupped hands? My heart swells with sadness.
And then that pressure starts up again. A deep ache starts up in my breasts before—
I gasp, and blush as red as Rose. Milk seeps into the front of my dress, warm and then immediately cooling in the brisk air. Rose howls and reaches for my breast, pushing away the bottle I desperately try to urge into her mouth. I manage to dribble a little of the milk in and she coughs as if I’m drowning her.
“No!” I push away her grasping hands, frustration welling to fury.
Tears race first hot, then cool, down my cheeks.
“It’s not…” I choke on my words, dipping my head low and trying to reason with Rose through my tears. “I know you miss your momma, but I can’t nurse you. It’s not—?”
Proper? Why on God’s green earth not, Pippa? Haven’t you heard of wet nurses?
I shove away Howard’s voice, my lips trembling as I attempt to control myself.
It’s not what I was hired to do. The baron seems adamant that Rose needs a bottle.
So you’ll let her starve?
In my mind’s eye, Howard’s lip turns up into a condescending sneer. Use that fluff between your ears, Pippa, what little you have. The babe’s hungry. You have breasts swollen with milk. Or have you forgotten how