Page 28 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

In Which There Is a Discussion About Awkward Insertions, the Principles of Sensible Living, Breaking Rules, Umbrella Thwacks, and Hidey-Holes…

“Your Grace?”

For the second time this afternoon, Xavier looked up to find Mrs. Chase in his study.

He frowned as confusion and concern warred with a bright burst of pleasure at seeing her again so unexpectedly.

She’d quit the room not fifteen minutes ago in a flurry of righteous indignation and navy-blue skirts, and he had no idea what had brought her to his door this time.

Glancing at her face, he couldn’t read her mood. Apprehensive, perhaps?

Then he admonished himself for staring like a dolt. Pushing to his feet, he beckoned her farther into the room. “Mrs. Chase. What is it? Has something else happened? I haven’t heard any screams or explosions.”

“No. I…” Her voice trailed away before she rallied and met his eyes.

“I came to see you because I…” She swallowed and lifted her chin, her manner determined.

As though she were about to face a judge or a general.

“Even though you and Lord Peregrine are not on the best of terms, that is no excuse for what transpired in this room before. I did not acquit myself as a Parasol Academy graduate should have. I inserted myself in a conversation that I had no business being in. I was rude to your uncle. I’ve disgraced my name, broken the Parasol Academy’s rules and put the Academy’s esteemed reputation at risk.

And no doubt, I’ve angered you. Therefore, I’ve come to offer my unequivocal apol—”

“Stop right there, Mrs. Chase.” Xavier held up a hand. “While you might have breached your Academy’s rules, do you recall the conversation we had during your interview in this very room almost a month ago? Do you remember what you said about your own principles?

“I…” The nanny frowned and clasped her hands at her waist. “Yes. I think I do.”

“I recall that discussion. In detail. In fact, you said, ‘sometimes certain things simply need to be said,’ did you not? You even called your personal creed The Principles of Sensible Living According to Mrs. Emmeline Chase . And I happen to like it. I think your way of looking at the world is very sound.”

The nanny blushed. “I also said that there are some ground rules that should never be broken and boundaries that should never be crossed. And I did both of those things.”

Xavier crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you seriously arguing with me, Mrs. Chase?”

“No. I…” She gave a short laugh. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I’m doing or what’s gotten into me today.”

“Well, I do,” said Xavier. “You were defending me. You stood up for me. And I was nothing but impressed.”

“Oh…” Mrs. Chase’s gaze dropped to the floor before she looked up through her lashes at him. “So you honestly don’t mind that I listened in on your private conversation and then insulted your uncle?”

“It’s not behavior I would ordinarily condone. But I understand why you did it. Lord knows, my uncle deserves it. As I said, he’s a patronizing prig.”

The nanny pressed her lips together as though she was attempting to suppress a smile. “I also wanted to say that I’m so sorry you had such a difficult childhood. That your upbringing wasn’t easy.”

Xavier looked away this time. “No. It wasn’t.”

He probably should dismiss Mrs. Chase. Send her back to the nursery.

He recognized that he’d already been too familiar with her this afternoon.

Asking her to remove her nanny’s cap so he could better see her beautiful coppery hair had been one thing.

But then offering her his hand and then escorting her into his Horology Room—because how could she refuse when he was her employer?

—was a step too far. Men in his position shouldn’t behave that way.

He still couldn’t work out why he’d crossed his own line and stepped out of bounds.

But… though he might be grossly inexperienced when it came to interacting with the opposite sex, he’d noticed certain things about Mrs. Chase and the way she’d responded to his requests and his nearness.

His touch. She hadn’t shied away. She hadn’t told him off—and he knew she was more than capable of speaking her mind if she felt strongly about something.

Yes, he’d noted the delicate flush in her cheeks when he’d wrapped his gloved fingers around hers. The increased pace of her breathing. He was as certain as he could be that she hadn’t been put off by his nearness.

She’d definitely been awestruck when she’d explored his Horology Room and studied his electromechanical clock.

That clock was one of the things Xavier was most proud of.

Unlike his past or the fact that almost everyone thought he was “crackbrained.” Yet Mrs. Chase didn’t seem to think he was mad.

He was nothing but grateful that she genuinely wasn’t discomfited by his eccentricities and ofttimes off-putting manner.

Before Xavier could stop himself he said, “Just before you arrived, Mrs. Punchbowl sent up a fresh pot of coffee from the kitchen. Would-would you like to stay for a short while and have a cup? I feel as if…” How should he put this?

He made himself look Mrs. Chase in the eye.

“I don’t know why. I can’t explain it, but I have this need to talk to you—confide in you—about my family.

About why I am the way that I am. At least to some extent.

Perhaps it might even help us to work out the identity of my invisible enemy.

If you know more about me and my history. ”

When Mrs. Chase didn’t say anything, he rushed on. “Of course, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t feel obliged to listen just because I’m your employer. But I would appreciate your thoughts.”

The nanny hesitated, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, but only for a moment.

“I would love to stay, Your Grace,” she said softly.

“Not because I feel it is my duty, but because I want to.” Lifting her chin, she added in a firmer tone, “Whatever affects you also affects your wards. I want to help in any way that I can.”

“Very well. Shall we be seated?” Xavier brought the coffee tray over to the fireside, and once they were both settled in chairs and armed with brimming coffee cups, he fell to contemplating how to begin.

Apart from his best friend, Marcus, Lord Hartwell, no one knew what he’d been through.

His childhood was a quagmire of painful memories and without a doubt there were details he didn’t wish to burden Mrs. Chase with.

He didn’t want her pity. But, inexplicably, he did want her to understand him.

He wanted to be vulnerable in a way he never had before.

He sipped his coffee, the brew as bitter and dark as his recollections about his youth, then he put the cup aside.

Steepling his fingers beneath his chin he said, “I’m not the most eloquent of men, Mrs. Chase.

So I hope you’ll bear with me while I find the words I need.

It’s not easy revisiting times one would rather forget.

That being said, I feel it is important that you know certain things.

It’s not a secret that many think I’m mad. ”

“I know you’re not. I’ve never thought that and the more time I spend with you the more I find that I’m…

” She trailed off, her cheeks pinkening as she bit her lip as though she were about to say something she shouldn’t.

“We all have our idiosyncrasies. I don’t see anyone accusing Sir Randolph of being eccentric or mad because he’s a horologist. It isn’t fair that society, and even your own family, think that there’s something wrong with you. ”

“We both know life is rarely fair though.” He sighed heavily. “Though, I do worry that at some point, all these aspersions about my soundness of mine may result in Harry, Bartholomew, and Gareth being removed from my care. And I would hate for that to happen.”

“Oh, surely not,” said Mrs. Chase. “I, for one, would defend you, most fiercely.”

“Thank you,” said Xavier with a solemn smile. The nanny’s support—her faith in him as a parent finding his way—was deeply appreciated.

He was about to tell her so when Mrs. Chase’s eyes lifted to his. “I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing up a difficult subject, Your Grace, but Lord Peregrine mentioned that he thought your father should have sent you to an asylum. But he didn’t.”

Xavier couldn’t contain a short huff of laughter.

“Only because my father didn’t want the family name to be damaged beyond repair.

No, my father was an autocratic, distant sort of man who always strove to keep up appearances, no matter what.

He didn’t want to confirm what the rest of society whispered about—that his only son was at best peculiar and eccentric, and at worst, insane.

No, his way of dealing with his problematic son was to ignore the rumors, preferring to sneer at them rather than give them any credence.

Especially after I’d graduated from Oxford and was seen about town on a more regular basis.

The gossipmongers began to have a field day. ”