Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,233

And if anyone needed interfering in their lives, it was Oliver and Amanda.

Buoyed by her newfound sense of purpose, she strode out the door, feeling once again like her old self. She needed to oversee their lessons, make sure they were learning properly. Oliver was going to need to prepare himself for Eton, where he really ought to enroll in the fall term.

And then there was their clothing. They’d quite outgrown everything in their wardrobes, and Amanda deserved something prettier, and . . .

She sighed with contentment as she hurried up the stairs. Already she was ticking off her projects on her fingers, mentally planning for the dressmaker and the tailor, not to mention devising the wording for the advertisement she intended to place to secure the services of a few more tutors, because they desperately needed to learn French and the pianoforte, and, of course, sums—and were they too young for long division?

Feeling rather jaunty, she pushed open the door to the nursery, and then . . .

She stopped short, trying to figure out what was going on.

Oliver’s eyes were red, as if he’d been crying, and Amanda was sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Both were taking those hiccuppy gasps of breath that one does when one is upset.

“Is something wrong?” Eloise asked, looking first at the children and then at their nurse.

The twins said nothing, but they looked at her with wide, imploring eyes.

“Nurse Edwards?” Eloise asked.

The nurse’s lips were twisted into an unpleasant frown. “They are merely sulking because they were punished.”

Eloise nodded slowly. It wasn’t the least bit surprising that Oliver and Amanda might do something requiring punishment, but nonetheless, there was something wrong about what she was seeing. Maybe it was the broken look in their eyes, as if they’d tried defiance and had given up on it.

Not that she wanted to encourage defiance, especially not against their nurse, who needed to maintain her position of authority in the schoolroom, but nor did she ever want to see this expression in their eyes—so totally humbled, so meek and sorrowful.

“Why were they punished?” Eloise asked.

“Disrespectful speech,” came their nurse’s immediate reply.

“I see.” Eloise sighed. The twins probably had deserved punishment; they did often speak with disrespect and it was something she herself had scolded them about on several occasions. “And what punishment was meted out?”

“They were rapped on the knuckles,” Nurse Edwards said, her back ramrod stiff.

Eloise forced herself to unclench her jaw. She didn’t like corporal punishment, but at the same time, rapped knuckles were a staple in all the best schools. She was quite certain all of her brothers had had their knuckles rapped on numerous occasions at Eton; she couldn’t imagine they had made it through all those years without a number of disciplinary transgressions.

Still, she didn’t like the look in the children’s eyes, so she took Nurse Edwards aside and said softly, “I understand their need for discipline, but if you must do this again, I must ask that you do it more softly.”

“If I do it softly,” the nurse said quite sharply, “they won’t learn their lesson.”

“I will be the judge of their learned lessons,” Eloise said, bristling at the nurse’s tone. “And I am no longer asking. I am telling you, they are children, and you must be more gentle.”

Nurse Edwards’s lips pursed, but she nodded. Once, sharply, to show that she would do as asked, but that she disagreed—and disapproved of Eloise’s interference.

Eloise turned back to the children and said in a loud voice, “I am quite certain they have learned their lesson for today. Perhaps they might take a short break with me.”

“We are practicing our penmanship,” Nurse Edwards said. “We can’t afford to take any time off. Especially not if I am meant to act as both nurse and governess.”

“I assure you that I plan to address that problem with all possible haste,” Eloise said. “And as for today, I will be happy to practice penmanship with the children. You may be assured that they will not fall behind.”

“I do not think—”

Eloise speared her with a glare. She was not a Bridgerton for nothing, and by God, she knew how to deal with recalcitrant servants. “You need only to inform me of your lesson plans.”

The nurse looked exceedingly grumpy, but she informed Eloise that today they were practicing M, N, and O. “Both uppercase and lowercase,” she added sharply.

“I see,” Eloise said, giving her voice a supercilious lilt. “I am fairly certain