Page 13 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

Concerning Ginger Beer, a Swarm of Gnats, Dust, and a Discussion About Puddles; And a Terrapin Finds a New Home…

Xavier strode out of his private study, following the sound of Horatio’s squawks. Mrs. Chase followed close behind.

It didn’t take long to find the locus of the disaster. It was in the nearby library. And the panes of one of the bookcase doors had indeed been broken.

As Xavier stood on the threshold, he took in the scene—or should he say the gigantic mess?

—and its myriad details. Shards of glass—large and small—lay scattered about the Persian rug and some sort of pale foamy liquid was fizzing and bubbling and oozing out of the top of a dark brown bottle which sat in the middle of his desk.

The foam also coated the front of the damaged bookcase and the tomes inside.

It slid down the books’ tooled leather spines and dripped from the shelves before pooling in a pale brown puddle on the floor below.

This strange frothy liquid also trickled down the five faces that turned toward Xavier.

A slightly sweet yet yeasty aroma—beer or ale, perhaps—permeated the air.

Harry threw Xavier a mulish look as she brushed a blob of froth from her nose (at least Xavier thought it was a mulish look; reading facial expressions with any degree of accuracy, especially in a fraught situation like this was not his forte), while Barry and Gary stared wide-eyed at Xavier from beneath the shelter of the mahogany desk.

Woodley, wearing a thunderous scowl (now bald-faced anger was an emotion Xavier could reliably read), was mopping his forehead with a kerchief, while one of the younger housemaids, who was filling in as a nursemaid, gaped at Xavier in open-mouthed horror.

And Horatio, upon seeing his master, ceased screeching and alighted on Xavier’s shoulder.

“Batten down the hatches!” the raven cawed beside Xavier’s ear. “Run! Hide! Duck! Take cover!” Then after the briefest of pauses, “Bottom’s up!”

“Your Grace,” began the butler at the same moment the maid, Fanny, exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, Your Grace, but Miss Harriet absconded from the nursery when I was darning a tear in one of Master Bartholomew’s sleeves, and—”

“It seems she decided to explode a bottle of ginger beer,” concluded Woodley with an arch of a grizzled brow. “It’s like a volcano has erupted in here.”

Harry shrugged and pushed her glasses up her nose.

“It was only supposed to be a little explosion. More of a pop really. I wanted to see if I could make a ginger beer fountain. Something to entertain Bartholomew and Gareth, because they’re bored witless and we haven’t been to the park, or anywhere in fact, in ages.

But I added too much bicarbonate of soda to the bottle, so after I replaced the cork, the pressure inside built up and—”

Xavier held up a hand. “Enough,” he barked before closing his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh.

He didn’t like to raise his voice—and he most certainly didn’t want to scare off Mrs. Chase—but when so many people talked to him at once, competing for his attention, a wave of irritation rose up inside him and a cloud of confusion invaded his mind.

It was akin to being attacked by a swarm of gnats.

It didn’t help that he was already on edge because his usually pristine library had been turned into a complete and utter shambles.

He drew a deep, calming breath and recited pi to six decimal places in his head before he opened his eyes and spoke to his ward.

“While I understand that you’ve been stuck inside St Lawrence House for far too long, Harry,” he said, hoping he was using an appropriate degree of sternness, “I cannot dismiss the fact that you have ignored the rules I set out to keep you and your brothers safe. Did I not tell you yesterday that these scientific experiments of yours must cease? Can you not see that they are dangerous when you are a novice?” He gestured at the ruined bookcase and the mess in general.

“Aside from destroying a perfectly good piece of furniture and its contents, you, or Barry or Gary”—for the life of him, Xavier could never remember the boys’ actual names—“Fanny, or Woodley, or even Horatio might have been terribly injured. Judging by the amount of splintered glass lying about, I’m amazed you weren’t torn to shreds.

” He plunged his brows into a deep frown to convey the depth of his displeasure and disappointment.

“You do realize there must be consequences for your actions. Especially after yesterday when you catapulted flour all over the nursery.”

Harry lifted her small, pointed chin and opened her mouth to respond, but Mrs. Chase stepped forward. “Forgive me for interrupting, but might I have a word with your ward, Your Grace?”

Xavier sighed. “Be my guest.” He then turned to Woodley. “Might I suggest you speak with Mrs. Lambton about assembling a contingent of maids and footmen? It’s going to take a considerable effort to clean this mess up.”

Horatio, who was still perched on Xavier’s shoulder crowed, “All hands on deck. All hands on deck.”

The butler bowed. “I shall do so at once, Your Grace.”

After Woodley quit the room, Xavier cast his gaze over the ruined library once more.

What on earth was he going to say to Harriet that hadn’t already been said?

He scrubbed a hand down his face as exasperation and a sense of hopelessness welled up inside him.

He feared he was going to make a right royal hash of being a guardian.

But maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Chase might make things right.

He was certainly looking forward to finding out what sort of “magic” this Parasol nanny could wield.

She had the job! Emmeline could hardly believe it. Although, considering what had transpired in the library—and in the nursery yesterday—she would have her work cut out for her winning over “Harry, Barry, and Gary” and restoring some semblance of peace and order to St Lawrence House.

But then, if a Parasol nanny wasn’t up to the task, then no one would be.

Emmeline caught the oldest ward’s eye. “Miss Harriet, His Grace has asked me to be your new nanny.”

The girl scowled at Emmeline. “You were the woman stuck on the roof. Bartholomew, Gareth, and I saw you. Why should I listen to someone who does equally silly and dangerous things?”

“Harriet,” said the duke. His tone held an ominous note of warning. “You are already skating on thin ice. Where are your manners?”

Emmeline cast him a quick smile. “No, your ward makes a very good point, Your Grace.” She turned back to the girl.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have been on the roof.

It was a very dangerous and altogether foolish thing for me to do.

And of course, you don’t know me from a bar of soap, so you have every right to question my advice.

But what I do know, is that His Grace is quite right.

You cannot keep conducting these experiments.

They are far too dangerous and destructive.

How would you feel if Bartholomew or Gareth or Horatio or even Archimedes got hurt?

You cannot tell me that you wouldn’t feel terrible. ”

The girl bit her lip. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. But being ignored”—she shot her guardian a resentful look—“and being locked up in a boring old nursery all the time with nothing to do also feels terrible.”

“I agree. There’s nothing worse.” Emmeline pulled her silver watch from her pocket and passed it to the girl.

“I tell you what, Miss Harriet, until I can think up some safer experiments to conduct, I have an idea for a horological study.” She leaned closer to the girl and murmured, “Something that will help you get back into your Cousin Xavier’s good books.

It will be a way for you to make amends. ”

Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “All right…”

“I shall tell you more about it shortly when I visit the nursery. But”—she exchanged a look with the duke before returning her attention to Harriet—“I think we need to get to the bottom of why His Grace’s clocks are not running properly.

My pocket watch keeps perfect time, so we are going to use that to help us set the correct time throughout St Lawrence House.

Then we will monitor each timepiece accordingly.

We’ll need to keep records and make charts and schedules and all sorts of things to keep track of everything—some clocks need a wind every eight days, some clocks need a daily wind—so a notebook would be handy. ”

Harriet pushed her glasses up her nose. “I have one.”

“Excellent. Will you look after my watch for me until I get to the nursery? I should stay here to help sort out things in the library. I won’t be long, though.”

Harriet nodded solemnly and pushed Emmeline’s watch into a pocket of her ginger-beer-stained pinafore. “Very well, Nanny Chase. And I prefer Harry rather than Harriet.”

Emmeline inclined her head. “I will see you soon, Harry.”

After Harry collected Archimedes—the frog had been sheltering under the desk with Bartholomew and Gareth—the young maid, Fanny, ferried the children away. Horatio—after offering his silent congratulations to Emmeline—flew after them.

When Emmeline turned back to face the library, she found the duke was watching her. But his expression was inscrutable. “Harry likes you,” he said simply. “She didn’t poke her tongue out at you, or call you a wicked witch or something else equally insulting.”

Emmeline arched a brow. “I should hope not. I might possess the ability to charm children, but I’m certainly not a witch. And I’m only a little bit wicked.”

The duke blinked at her as though he couldn’t quite make out if she were jesting or not. But then a deep rumbling laugh spilled from him. “My goodness, Mrs. Chase. You say the most peculiar things. But I think it’s one of the qualities I like about you. And I think my wards will, too.”