Page 25 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

F rom her bedroom, Ella peered out the window and saw two skinny little legs disappear into the carriage. She stormed into the hallway, down the stairs. Carlisle heard her coming and opened the front door in preparation.

“Wait! Please wait!” she called out, getting to the carriage just as the footman was folding up its stairs. At the same time, Sonia and Jack popped their heads out into the open space, looking at her like she had two heads.

“We’re leaving,” he said grumpily, and Ella could guess why. The man looked like hell warmed over. With two sets of purple and blue bags under each eye, it was evident that sleep had not come easy after she’d left him the night before.

“I can see you’re leaving,” she replied testily, annoyed and not a little hurt by his tone. Hadn’t they shared a moment outside Sonia’s bedroom? Or had that just been her overactive imagination? “Where are you going?”

“I have a ship scheduled to come into port,” he answered like he hadn’t just allowed Ella to peer into his soul hours before. “My partner can’t do it all himself. I have to be there.”

Ella thought that was perfectly reasonable. What wasn’t so apparent was why he thought a ten-year-old girl should accompany him.

“Why are you bringing Sonia?”

“Because I’ll be there.”

Did it always have to be so difficult getting more than a few words out of the man at one time? “Do you honestly believe the docks are a safe place for a little girl?”

Sonia had reclined back in her seat, and her voice rang out from inside the carriage. “I’ll be fine!”

Ella ignored her, dubiously lifting her brow at Jack as she waited for his answer.

His wide shoulders rolled off a shrug. “She’ll be fine. She’ll be with me.”

Jack reached for the door and tried to shut it, but Ella blocked him with her arm. “I understand that,” she began, “but I must repeat myself and say the docks are not an appropriate place for a little girl.”

Jack lowered his chin, leveling Ella with a withering glower. “What do you want me to do? Find a woman there and ask her to watch Sonia while I’m busy inspecting cargo? Fine, then. Wonderful idea. I’ll get to it the second we arrive.”

Ella’s eyes felt like they were bulging out of her head. “You will not ask a woman at the docks to watch this child. Do you hear me?”

“What’s wrong with women at the docks?” Sonia’s voice was alarmingly curious.

“Nothing,” Ella snapped.

“Nothing at all!” Jack snapped back. He shot her another baleful glare. “What do you want me—”

“She’s staying with me,” Ella announced. Before either of them could argue, she reached inside the carriage, waving her fingers. “Come on, you,” she said, pulling the girl from her seat. “You can have fun with your father on his ship later. For now, you’re spending the day with me.”

“Ella,” Jack warned, but she wasn’t having it. She was aware that he had only been a father for a day, but someone needed to put him in his place. Since no one else seemed to care, that person was going to be her.

Ella turned Sonia to face Jack and hugged her shoulders, planting a cheerful smile on her face. “Have a wonderful day at work, my lord. We’ll see you when you get back!”

Hearing Sonia sulk, Ella picked up the child’s arm and waved it for Jack’s benefit.

In turn, both father and daughter regaled her with matching groans. But that was as far as it went. Jack caved. Tousling Sonia’s hair, he told the driver to get on with it. Ella and Sonia watched in silence as the carriage faded away into a tiny dot down the dusty path.

Sonia’s shoulders hunched over as she followed Ella back inside the house. “What are we going to do?” she whined. “There’s no toys here. This house is so boring and old . I want to be with Jack.”

Ella had to stop herself from agreeing with the child. The house was boring and old. And she had an insatiable desire to spend all her time with Jack as well. But she wasn’t about to admit to any of that—especially to his daughter.

Once more, Ella skimmed through her memories of her nanny, Goodbody. They might not have been particularly enjoyable times, but they were productive. And rigorously scheduled.

And then it came to her.

Sweet relief filled Ella as Carlisle opened the door for them to retreat back inside. She gazed down at the little one, who wore the same shabby, dull-colored dress from the day before. And since Sonia’s hair hadn’t been braided before bed, it haloed around her in an oily rat’s nest.

Ella wouldn’t be reading alone in the library today. And she certainly wouldn’t be bored. Nor, she considered, would her mind wander aimlessly back to Jack again and again.

She placed her hands on her hips, perfecting her authoritative expression on her new charge. “You, my little girl, are about to start the first day of the rest of your life.”

Sonia pouted. “Do I have to?”

Ella nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry. It will be so much fun!”

*

It was not fun. Not even a little bit. Keeping a child engaged and on task was the single most difficult thing Ella had ever done in her life. Surviving scarlet fever? Blissfully easy compared to watching a ten-year-old.

It didn’t help that Sonia wasn’t an ordinary ten-year-old. Hardheaded, canny, and wise beyond her years, she threatened to thwart Ella at every turn.

For starters, she refused to read in the nursery longer than five minutes because she said the dust in the books was making her eyes itchy. When Ella suggested they take the book outside, Sonia declared the sun was too distracting.

She didn’t last on their walk because she complained that her shoes pinched.

The house was too quiet; she couldn’t concentrate on geography.

She hadn’t eaten enough at breakfast, and her stomach growled too loudly for her to pay attention to history.

Her hands hurt too much from when the nuns slapped her, so she couldn’t possibly hold a pencil to practice her penmanship.

Ella hadn’t the heart to rebuke that excuse. She’d noticed the little red welts when she gave Sonia a bath. Handwriting could wait for another day.

Art had been the only subject that piqued the girl’s interest, and naturally, it hadn’t been Ella’s idea.

As Sonia had been staring out the nursery window, blatantly ignoring Ella’s lecture on the Battle of Hastings (all two minutes of what Ella could remember), she’d hopped up and down.

“He’s painting,” she cried out. “Let’s go out and see it! ”

Ella didn’t have to ask whom the girl was referring to, and her heart immediately seized. “Oh, I think not.” She lunged for the child, but couldn’t tackle her in time. Slipperier than an eel, Sonia was out of the room in seconds, skipping down the hallway, laughter trailing behind her.

Ella was quick, but with all her petticoats, she was no match for the ten-year-old. She cried out for the girl to stop, but Sonia was not in a listening mood that day (or probably any day) and paid her no mind.

Ella could only pray as the child reached the outdoors. Please, Lord, let Uncle Edward have moved on to a more tasteful subject! Or, at the very least, let him hear the little footsteps coming and hide his work quicker than he did before.

But, like Sonia, the Almighty wasn’t in the listening mood.

As Ella scurried out to the back lawn, she could only watch in horror as the girl bounded up behind Uncle Edward.

The man must have been lost in his art, because he didn’t jump out of his skin until Sonia was already peering around his body, inspecting the canvas.

“Sorry, so sorry, my lord” Ella called out, running toward them, hoping to distract the girl long enough for the lord to react. Alas, despite having the attention of a gnat whenever Ella attempted to teach her something, Sonia’s current focus was not to be lured away.

And Edward was too slow. Even as he threw his arms out wide, great patches of the piece were more than available for Sonia’s frank perusal.

As well as Ella’s. Disappointingly, the lord had not finished his previous work. She reached them and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders, pulling her back. But Sonia was stubborn… and fixated.

She cocked her head. “Her hair’s not red enough. You’ve painted it almost brown,” she commented. Sonia glanced over her shoulder, giving Ella a questioning look. “Don’t you agree?”

Ella was out of her depth—and, apparently, uncultured. Her hair. Her hair? Color was the only issue the child had with the painting?

“I don’t know,” Ella replied slowly, forcing herself to give the picture her full attention.

Edward had made some changes since her last brief, unfortunate viewing.

The woman’s arm shielded one breast, though the other still left nothing to the imagination.

The long hair (which was supposedly too brown) covered her other intimate area.

Where was the mermaid? Had there even been one, or had Ella’s imagination added the flippers in its state of shock?

She peered closer. The picture was vaguely familiar. Ella was sure that she should know it, especially since Sonia’s frown turned fiercer at her vague response.

Edward tossed his paintbrush onto his tray in a decided huff. “It’s not brown. It’s clearly auburn.”

Sonia matched his huff with her own. “Not auburn enough. Botticelli’s Venus was almost orange. Yours is a bland brown.”

Botticelli! That was it! Ella was a philistine.

How had she not known Uncle Edward was painting The Birth of Venus ?

Most likely because she’d seen pointed nipples and spun away like a prudish miss.

Ella had judged the man poorly. Although she had to point out that he had painted Venus completely nude before he decided to cover her up.

She wasn’t sure if that step was completely necessary to achieve the desired effect.

Edward faced the canvas. “Her hair is red.”

Sonia snorted.

“What do you think?” he asked Ella. He picked up his paintbrush and tapped its end against his cheek. “What does a child know about Botticelli, anyway?”