Sir Phillip looked at her and smiled, there was an air of shyness to it, as if he weren’t quite used to smiling at women. And she was left with the feeling that he was a man who, if all the pieces of their puzzle fell together in just the right way, might someday come to treasure her. Even if he never loved her, he would value her and not take her for granted.
And it was for that reason that Eloise was not yet prepared to pack her bags and leave, despite his rather gruff behavior of the previous day.
Stomach growling, she made her way down to the breakfast room, only to be informed that Sir Phillip had already come and gone. Eloise tried not to be discouraged. It didn’t mean he was trying to avoid her; it was entirely possible, after all, that he had assumed she was not an early riser and had elected not to wait for her.
But when she peeked into his greenhouse and found it empty, she declared herself stymied and went looking for other company.
Oliver and Amanda owed her an afternoon, didn’t they? Eloise marched resolutely up the stairs. There was no reason they couldn’t make it a morning, instead.
“You want to go swimming?”
Oliver was looking at her as if she were mad.
“I do,” Eloise replied with a nod. “Don’t you?”
“No,” he said.
“I do,” Amanda piped up, sticking her tongue out at her brother when he shot her a ferocious glare. “I love to swim, and so does Oliver. He’s just too cross with you to admit it.”
“I don’t think they should go,” replied their nursemaid, a rather stern-looking woman of indeterminate years.
“Nonsense,” Eloise said breezily, disliking the woman immediately. She looked the sort to tug on ears and rap hands. “It is unseasonably warm and a bit of exercise will be quite healthful.”
“Nevertheless—” the nursemaid said, her testy voice demonstrating her irritation at having her authority challenged.
“I shall give them lessons while we go about it,” Eloise continued, using the tone of voice her mother used when it was clear she would brook no argument. “They are currently without a governess, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” the nurse said, “the two little monsters glued—”
“Whatever the reason for her departure,” Eloise interrupted, quite certain she didn’t want to know what they had done to their last governess, “I’m sure it has been a monstrous burden upon you to assume both roles these last few weeks.”
“Months,” the nursemaid bit off.
“Even worse,” Eloise agreed. “One would think you deserve a free morning, wouldn’t one?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind a brief trip into town. . . .”
“Then it’s settled.” Eloise glanced down at the children and allowed herself a small moment of self-congratulation. They were staring at her in awe. “Off you go,” she said to the nurse, bustling her out the door. “Enjoy your morning.”
She shut the door behind the still-bewildered nurse and turned to face the children.
“You are very clever,” Amanda said breathlessly.
Even Oliver couldn’t help but nod his agreement.
“I hate Nurse Edwards,” Amanda said.
“Of course you don’t,” Eloise said, but her heart wasn’t into the statement; she hadn’t much liked Nurse Edwards, either.
“Yes, we do,” Oliver said. “She’s horrid.”
Amanda nodded. “I wish we could have Nurse Millsby back, but she had to leave to care for her mother. She’s sick,” she explained.
“Her mother,” Oliver said, “not Nurse Millsby.”
“How long has Nurse Edwards been here?” Eloise asked.
“Five months,” Amanda said glumly. “Five very long months.”
“Well, I’m sure she’s not as bad as all that,” Eloise said, intending to say more, but closing her mouth when Oliver interrupted with—
“Oh, she is.”
Eloise wasn’t about to disparage another adult, especially one who was meant to have some authority over them, so instead she decided to sidestep the issue by saying, “It doesn’t matter this morning, does it, because you have me instead.”
Amanda reached out shyly and took her hand. “I like you,” she said.
“I like you, too,” Eloise replied, surprised by the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Oliver said nothing. Eloise wasn’t insulted. It took some people longer to warm up to a person than others. Besides, these children had a right to be wary. Their mother had left them, after all. Granted, it was through death, but they were young; all they would know was that they had loved her and she was gone.
Eloise remembered well the months following the death of her father. She had clung to her mother at every opportunity, telling herself that if she just