Page 26 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

“Oh…” Emmeline circled it, admiring the mother-of-pearl face and elegant hour hands inlaid with turquoise enamel.

The lustrous gilt case and its swinging brass pendulum.

Even its regular tick sounded refined; its cadence was as measured as the Queen’s.

“You must have spent hours and hours working on it. I don’t know a lot about electromechanical clocks though.

They are not all that common.” Then she laughed.

“I’ve always imagined that to work, they have lightning rods attached. ”

The duke released a huff of laughter too.

“Not quite. My clock is powered by a Faraday-type of electromagnet. When the pendulum slows—every thirty swings or so—it comes into contact with the magnet, which then gives it a little push.” The duke rocked back on his heels.

“I won’t bore you with the details, but I’m rather proud of it if I do say so myself.

It’s the one clock in this entire house that is incredibly accurate.

Go on.” He gestured at the clock with his chin.

“Compare the time on your Parasol Academy pocket watch to the time on this specimen. I’d wager my clock is marking Greenwich Mean Time just as perfectly. ”

Emmeline pulled out her own watch from her gown’s pocket. “You’re right,” she said after a moment. “Your clock is keeping excellent time.”

“Ultimately, I envisage connecting a number of clocks via a wiring system to this wonderfully accurate electromagnetic clock—the ‘queen’ clock. So the other ‘courtier’ clocks would do the monarch’s bidding.

” The duke grinned. “Or if it were a nanny clock, she would make sure her junior clocks are on time.”

Emmeline returned his smile as she slipped her watch back into her pocket. “I like the sound of that. I gather you’ll patent your clever design, Your Grace?”

The duke placed a hand on the side of his prototype and gave it a pat.

“That is the plan. It would mean that all the clocks in an entire household or place of work—whether it’s a factory or bank or college or any other type of business—would be perfectly synchronized.

I imagine it’s a system that would be quite useful.

I can’t be the only person in Christendom who desires such accuracy. ”

“That would be marvelous,” said Emmeline. “The Westminster clock, it needs to be incredibly accurate, too, does it not? To win the commission?”

“It does,” said the duke. “Although, rather than powering it by an electromagnet, I’ve another idea involving telegraph wires.”

“Telegraph wires?”

“Yes, I’ve been toying with the idea of connecting the Westminster clock directly to the chronometers at the Royal Observatory at Greenwich.

A signal could be sent—an electrical pulse—along already existing telegraph wires to the Palace of Westminster to make sure the clock doesn’t lose time.

I’ve yet to consult George Airy, the Astronomer Royal, but I believe it could be done. ”

“How ingenious,” declared Emmeline. “It sounds very much like using ley—” She broke off, horrified that she’d almost disclosed one of the Parasol Academy’s greatest secrets—that the Fae’s leyline magic could be harnessed for sending te-ley-grams and teleporting.

Drawing a breath, she tried again. “Isn’t it the case that telegraph wires transmit electric signals over lines or wires to send telegrams?

It sounds like that would work remarkably well. ”

“It should. In theory,” said the duke. Then his brow furrowed with concern. “I hope I’m not boring you to death, Mrs. Chase.”

“Oh no. Of course not. Bore away, Your Grace. I mean, I’m not bored at all. I’m fascinated. Truly. And I’m delighted that you’ve shared so much of your work with me. I promise I won’t tell a soul about any of your brilliant plans.”

The duke inclined his head. “It’s been my pleasure, Mrs. Chase.

And I know you’ll be discreet. Perhaps it’s because of your Parasol Academy training, I believe that I can trust you.

And because you understand my passion for horology, I feel as though I’ve known you for a lot longer than a handful of weeks.

” Then to Emmeline’s surprise, the duke’s cheeks grew bright with color.

“My apologies. I sometimes say things that I shouldn’t.

I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable in any way. ”

“No, not at all. I like—” Emmeline bit her lip.

She’d been about to say that she liked the duke, but then she would be guilty of saying something she shouldn’t.

“I enjoy working for you, Your Grace, and your wards are delightful. Which reminds me. I probably should return to the nursery.” She hesitated, her feet seemingly glued to the marble floor.

She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she should, for so many reasons.

Her gaze drifted wistfully over the duke’s worktable and his fascinating collection of watches and clocks.

Harry would love it here, examining all the timepieces, learning about them all.

This room was undoubtedly a sanctuary for the duke, but he’d invited her, Emmeline, to see it.

Would he share it with his clever young ward?

There was only one way to find out. And she wouldn’t be doing her job properly if she didn’t make the suggestion.

Buoyed by her conviction to further nurture the bond between the duke and Miss Harriet, she said, “I know you are terribly busy, Your Grace, but do you… do you think you might have time in your schedule to show this room to Harry? I’m certain she would love to watch you as you create or repair a timepiece.

To learn how watches and clocks work. Or you could simply show her the astrolabe, even if you cannot demonstrate its use until the weather is fairer. ”

In the silence that ensued, the duke studied her face. Emmeline had no idea what he was thinking until he said, “I don’t see why not. In fact, I think I might like that too.”

Emmeline’s heart leapt. “Really?”

The duke smiled. “Yes, really.”

“Wonderful. Well”—Emmeline shifted her gaze to the jib door—“I’ll be going then.”

The duke sighed heavily. “Yes, I suppose you should. Lord knows, I’ve kept you long enough. But I do want to thank you for letting me know about the saboteur’s latest escapade. If Woodley hasn’t already asked the staff to put the paintings to rights, perhaps you could ask—”

At that moment, the jib door moved a fraction and Woodley’s voice filtered through the small gap. “Your Grace. My apologies for interrupting. But you have a visitor waiting outside your study.”

The duke frowned. “Visitor? I’m not expecting anyone. And why in Jove’s name have you let them in?”

“It’s your uncle, Your Grace,” said Woodley. “Lord Peregrine.”

The duke strode toward the door and swung it wider, revealing the grim-faced butler. “Yes. I know my uncle’s name,” he said, his voice bristling with annoyance. “What does he want?”

“To speak with you, Your Grace. He says it’s an urgent matter. And he doesn’t wish to spend too long here as his son has another pending appointment. Mr. Mason is currently waiting downstairs in the entry hall.”

“That suits me,” muttered the duke. Glancing back at Emmeline he said, “Mrs. Chase. I don’t want you to feel awkward so—

“Xavier? Are you in there? It’s your uncle.

” Lord Peregrine Mason possessed a voice as deep as a well, and his consonants were so sharply enunciated, they could have sliced flesh to the bone.

“I don’t wish to waste my time, idling out here in your blasted corridor. And Algernon needs to be elsewhere—”

“Lord Nevergrin. Never-never-never-grin,” squawked Horatio from the study.

Nevergrin? Emmeline had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing at the raven’s jibe. The duke’s uncle must be quite horrid to have earned such a nickname.

Although, the duke wasn’t grinning. In fact, his scowl was so fierce it looked as though he was about to encounter someone exceedingly unpleasant.

Turning back to Emmeline, he said in a low voice meant only for her, “It’s probably best if you stay here while I deal with my uncle.

He’s a patronizing prig at the best of times. ”

“Of course, Your Grace,” replied Emmeline in an equally soft voice. “Perhaps I could set some of your clocks to the correct time while I wait?”

The duke inclined his head. “Thank you. That would be appreciated. The winding keys and cranks are with each device.”

As he stepped into the study, calling for his uncle to enter, Horatio fluttered over his master’s head into the Horology Room.

He settled on top of the duke’s electromechanical clock prototype and cocked his head, his dark beady gaze connecting with Emmeline’s.

Thought I’d keep you company while we wait for the insufferable Lord Nevergrin to leave , he said.

Then he ruffled his glossy black feathers.

It’s either that or I’ll be tempted to drop something rather nasty on the man’s shoulder.

Now don’t look at me like that, Nanny Chase.

The pompous pillock deserves it. If you eavesdr—Pardon me.

If you accidentally hear the conversation taking place in His Grace’s study, you’ll see that I’m not wrong.

Is Lord Peregrine really that bad? asked Emmeline. While she knew that she shouldn’t listen at keyholes—or jib doors—the duke hadn’t fully closed the bookcase, so there was a small gap allowing the conversation currently taking place in the study to drift through into the Horology Room.

Nevergrin is the absolute worst , asserted Horatio. He’s essentially a bully. The equivalent of a morose thundercloud. Or an upset belly. He does nothing but produce a lot of loud, useless, and unpleasant grumbling. Which is very much like the old duke, his late brother.

How dreadful! The duke’s own father had been a bully? Emmeline’s heart swelled with sympathy for her employer. His childhood must have been terribly unhappy if that were the case.