Page 14 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

His shoulders then rose and fell with a weary sigh. “You don’t have to do anything about this.” He nodded at the library. “Woodley and the rest of the staff will take care of it. God knows, they’ve had a great deal of experience in dealing with enormous messes of late.”

“It’s quite all right, Your Grace,” said Emmeline.

“I want to make a difference in your life and that of your wards. Making things better is one of the main duties of a Parasol nanny.” She offered him a tentative smile.

“Besides, I wouldn’t mind taking a peek at what books you have that might be of interest to children. ”

The duke’s gaze wandered over the sticky shelves. “I’m guessing none at all. None that I can recall at any rate. And I grew up here.” His eyes returned to Emmeline’s face. “I’m happy to expend funds on books my wards might enjoy. I have an account at Hatchards.”

Emmeline nodded her approval. “I shall let you know.”

“Very well then, Mrs. Chase.” The duke bowed stiffly.

“No doubt, I shall see you anon? I’m sure we’ll need to speak about making arrangements to have your belongings moved to St Lawrence House.

” He frowned. “Of course, I’ve made the assumption that you wish to start here immediately.

If that’s not the case, I do apologize.”

“There’s no need for an apology. I do wish to start. Straightaway.”

“Excellent. When you’re ready, you shall find me in my study. Mrs. Lambton, my housekeeper, will help you with settling in. I’ll also send a message to Mrs. Temple about your employment contract.”

Emmeline bobbed a curtsy. She must remember her employer was a duke. “Thank you, Your Grace. You’ll never know how grateful I am for this opportunity.”

The ghost of a smile momentarily softened the duke’s harsh features. “No, thank you , Mrs. Chase.” And then the man turned on his heel and stalked stiffly away.

When the duke disappeared from view, Emmeline reached into her pocket.

It wasn’t a lie when she’d said one of her chief duties was to make things better.

And considering the chaos in front of her—the smashed glass and ruined books and the sticky ginger beer foam coating everything—she would begin right now.

On rare occasions—in exceptional circumstances—the Parasol Academy Handbook permitted nannies and governesses to discreetly use “decalamitifying dust.” It didn’t always appear in one’s pocket.

One had to “ask” the Fae Realm for it. If and only if the incident was deemed a true calamity by the Fae—and one that should be rectified by such powerful magic—would the enchanted dust materialize.

Surely it couldn’t hurt to call upon such a tool now. There had been an explosion of sorts.

While Emmeline could, in theory, employ the dust to put the whole room to rights—so it looked like nothing untoward had happened at all—it might invite too many inconvenient questions.

It would be difficult to explain how one woman could clean up all the broken glass shards and repair the glass panes in the bookcases in next to no time.

But she could at least remove the ginger beer residue and return the stained books to an unsullied state.

If anyone did happen to ask her about the library’s restoration, she’d claim that courtesy of her Parasol Academy training, she was a dab hand with a cleaning cloth.

More than anything, she wanted to impress the duke. She did want to make a difference in his life. And in the lives of his wards too.

Mind made up, Emmeline fisted her hand in her pocket, closed her eyes tightly, and with great reverence and sincerity, silently entreated the Fae to grant her the gift of the decalamitifying dust. And then her heart skipped as she felt a gentle tingling warmth in her fingertips which rapidly spread to her palm, making it buzz. Yes.

When Emmeline withdrew her fist, she knew that she held a small handful of magical silver powder.

As she unfurled her fingers, the mound of dust sitting on her palm—no more than a spoonful—glittered and winked.

Now she had been gifted it, she just had to deploy it with careful and clear intent.

“ Decalamitify ginger beer,” she whispered, then gently blew.

The dust immediately dispersed, spreading outward and around the library in a great twinkling, starlike cloud.

It engulfed the bookcases, the ceiling, the Persian rug.

It blanketed the desk and the furniture and the mantelpiece.

Everything was swallowed up in a sparkling haze.

And then all at once, the cloud dissipated, revealing that the library was spotless.

Well, free of ginger beer foam at any rate.

Emmeline gave an approving nod. What a pity she didn’t think to use decalamitifying dust in the duke’s study after they upset the afternoon tea table.

“You’re not like the other nannies,” came a small voice from behind Emmeline, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

Swinging around, she discovered that Bartholomew, the middle child—no one had told her his age, but she suspected he was about six or seven—was standing in the hall.

Emmeline pressed a hand to her chest where her heart was pounding hard and fast. Oh, blast and drat and some other curse word she shouldn’t even think of in the presence of a child.

Had the boy seen her using the decalamitifying dust?

Because that was a big no-no. A you-shall-be-expelled-from-the-Parasol-Academy-ranks-forevermore kind of offense.

She really should have shut the door.

Emmeline knelt down on the floor and looked into the young boy’s eyes. “Hullo there, Master Bartholomew. What do you mean, I’m not like the other nannies?”

His small nose screwed up. “Well, for one thing, you’re nice. And you smile a lot.”

Maybe Bartholomew hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Emmeline breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Well, I should hope that I’m not like other nannies. That would be rather dull. To be like everyone else. And I believe that one should smile. And often.”

“Cousin Xavier said you found Gareth’s tin soldier,” said the boy. “That it was on the roof and you put it in your pocket for safekeeping.”

“I did,” said Emmeline. It was only a small white lie.

Bartholomew’s large brown eyes suddenly gleamed with a hopeful light. “Will you really take us to the park? In the rain?”

Emmeline smiled. “Of course. Who doesn’t like jumping in puddles?”

Bartholomew nodded, then another look crossed his features. An expression that was bright-eyed eagerness tempered with hesitancy. “Is there something in your pocket for me, Nanny Chase?”

Oh my. What a sweet child. “I suppose that depends on what you need, Master Bartholomew.”

The boy bit his lip. “I want Mama and Papa back,” he said. “But I know you can’t do that.”

Emmeline’s breath hitched and her heart suddenly felt like it was about to break in two. “No. I can’t do that,” she said gently. “I wish I could.”

Bartholomew nodded. “I sometimes want a hug. Harry hugs me. But it’s not quite the same.”

“Well,” said Emmeline, “if you ever need one of those, you can always ask me. I have an endless supply.”

A small smile lifted the corners of the boy’s mouth. “All right.”

“Wait a minute. There is something in my pocket for you.” Emmeline had the sudden urge to reach into the folds of her gown, and when she pulled out her hand, she was holding a small turtle with a lovely glossy shell.

Sometimes Parasol Academy uniform pockets simply worked that way.

They produced exactly what a child needed at the right moment.

Bartholomew’s eyes immediately brightened. “It’s a tortoise!” he cried. “I’ve always wanted one.”

“I think it’s actually a type of turtle.

A terrapin.” Emmeline lifted the creature to her ear.

“He tells me his name is Aristotle and he would very much like to become friends with you and Archimedes. Oh…” She reached back into her pocket again and pulled out a glass jar.

“I hope you’re not squeamish, but I have some crickets here to feed both Archimedes and Aristotle.

And when we go to the park tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll find plenty of snails and worms for them too. ”

Bartholomew clapped his hands. “Hurrah!”

Emmeline passed Aristotle to the boy and then climbed to her feet. “Will you show me the way to the nursery from here?”

Bartholomew clasped her hand. “This way,” he said, tugging her down the hall toward the stairs, and Emmeline smiled. She couldn’t quite explain the unexpected glow suffusing her chest, but she suddenly felt like she’d found more than a mere “situation.”

Of course , Emmeline sternly reminded herself as her young charge led her past the door to the duke’s study, I mustn’t let my guard down too much.

She must always remember to keep her mind on the job.

She mustn’t let her thoughts stray to her enigmatic and far-too-attractive employer.

She must quell the pitter-patter of her heart every time the Duke of St Lawrence walked into the room, or looked her way, or even uttered a word in that mesmerizing baritone of his.

Yes, she was a Parasol nanny first and foremost. She would be professional. She would carry out her duties in an exemplary fashion. Fraternizing with one’s employer was forbidden by the Academy, and she could not afford to lose this job or her Parasol Academy licence for oh, so many reasons.

No matter what happened in the duke’s chaotic household over the coming days, she would strictly adhere to one of the Academy’s mottos. She would, “Keep calm and nanny on.”