Page 39 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

Focus on doing your duty. Follow the Parasol Academy Handbook’s guidelines to the letter. Nurture and protect the duke’s wards. The duke is a charismatic and handsome distraction. Nothing more.

It was a pity there wasn’t a chapter in the Parasol Academy Handbook dealing with ways to control or even quell one’s unseemly emotions.

It was all well and good for Chapter Five, Paragraph 3.

2, Part a) to proscribe fraternizing with one’s employer, but not particularly helpful when one was hurtling pellmell into disaster.

Now, a spell that one could cast on oneself—a Defascinating (that sounded quite painful) or Unsmittening incantation—would be incredibly useful. The opposite of a love spell.

Love? Emmeline’s breath caught as horror and dismay blasted through her. Her fingers crushed the rosebud. Was she falling in love? Being “in lust” with the duke was one thing, even cultivating a tiny tendre for him was natural, but to be in love?

No. Emphatically and unequivocally no.

Never-in-a-million-years, no-no-nopity-no.

Just no.

All of a sudden, Gareth came running over. His hat had fallen off and his cheeks were flushed pink with exertion. “Nanny Chase, Nanny Chase! Can you play hide-and-seek with us now?”

Emmeline pushed to her feet. Her knees were unsteady, but her voice mercifully wasn’t as she said, “I would love to. Who’s going to count—”

“Nanny Chase?”

Emmeline’s attention swung to the terrace. The French doors were open and standing on the threshold was the housekeeper. “Yes, Mrs. Lambton?” she called.

The housekeeper crossed the flagstones and descended the stone stairs. “His Grace has requested your presence in the drawing room,” she said as she drew close. “I will watch his wards while you are away.”

“Oh. Very well. Is everything all right?” As far as Emmeline knew, the drawing room was rarely used. Since she’d started working at St Lawrence House, she’d only set foot in it to check on the clocks. To be invited there by the duke was exceedingly unusual.

“I believe so,” replied Mrs. Lambton.

Gareth pouted and curled his small fingers around Emmeline’s. “You’ll come back, won’t you, Nanny Chase?”

Emmeline gently ruffled the child’s already tousled hair.

“Of course I will. As soon as I can.” She caught Mrs. Lambton’s eye.

“I’ve already had a word with Mrs. Punchbowl.

Afternoon tea should be appearing shortly.

” She smiled at Bartholomew and Harry who’d wandered over.

“I believe there’s apple teacake and egg-and-cress sandwiches on the menu. ”

“Hurrah,” cried Bartholomew.

That sounds far more palatable than beetles , remarked Horatio from his perch in a nearby beech tree. As much as I’d like to have a stickybeak in the drawing room, I think I’ll stay here with the children, Nanny Chase.

Emmeline inclined her head in the raven’s direction. Very well. But don’t have too much cake. You know it will give you a stomachache.

Horatio released a string of deep-throated caws that sounded very much like a chuckle. Yes, dearest Mama , he said. Now run along. You don’t want to keep the master waiting.

By the time Emmeline arrived outside the closed drawing room door, her pulse was racing, and she was more than a trifle breathless. Not from hurrying (she’d recently introduced a two-mile early morning walk schedule to her daily routine) but from nerves.

Bertie was standing to attention outside the shiny oakpaneled doors along with another young footman named Ollie.

Bertie gave her a wink. “I hear His Grace wants to see you, Nanny Chase.”

“Yes,” replied Emmeline, summoning a smile. “Do you know why? Was he in a good mood?”

Ollie gave a small snort. “When is he ever?” he muttered. “All I ever get is icy stares and frosty orders.”

Emmeline frowned. “His Grace isn’t like that, Ollie. You should show your employer more respect. It’s… it’s just his way.”

“Looks like someone is sweet on His Grace,” teased Ollie. “Poor Bertie, it seems you’ll have to start making calf’s eyes at someone else on staff. Just don’t let Woodley or Mrs. Lambton catch you.”

“Shut up, Ollie,” grumbled Bertie. A red flush crept up his neck and he tugged at his high collar. “I hope all goes well in there, Nanny Chase. His Grace has someone else with him, by the way. I didn’t catch his name.”

Oh? Before Emmeline could think to ask anything else, Bertie and Ollie were opening the double doors to admit her to the drawing room beyond.

It was a spacious room that was elegantly furnished; everywhere the eye settled there was polished wood and touches of gleaming gilt and plush fabrics in hues of soft cream and muted green. But Emmeline paid little attention to these details.

No, all her attention was claimed by the duke and the pale, gray-haired gentleman beside him.

“Papa!” Emmeline cried, her heart leaping with joy. And then she was rushing across the room to hug him, gathering him close and squeezing tight. “Is it really you? Are-Are you really free?” Her throat was so clogged with emotion, she almost couldn’t get the words out.

“My sweet Em,” her father murmured in an equally choked voice as he hugged her back. “Who’d have thought it, eh?” Coughing a little, he released her, then cast the duke a watery smile. “And it’s all thanks to your employer. It’s clear the Duke of St Lawrence is a fine gentleman with a kind heart.”

Emmeline bit her lip to stop it wobbling. She would not blub. Blubbing was not allowed. She was certain that was written somewhere in the Parasol Academy Handbook . (Besides, she looked horrid with red eyes and a drippy nose. She was very much a messy crier not a pretty, dainty crier.)

“He is. He does,” she eventually managed, after the impulse to dissolve into tears had abated. Then she risked a glance at the duke.

He was by the fireplace, his stance as rigid as one of the fire irons, his hands behind his back. And he was looking at her with a curious expression: His gaze was soft but his mouth was set in an uncompromising straight line.

Was he struggling to fight back tears too?

Surely not.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Emmeline. Her voice quivered only a tiny bit. “I don’t know how you managed to make this happen, but I am nothing but grateful. Eternally grateful in fact.”

The duke inclined his head, his expression grave. “Think nothing of it,” he said gruffly. “I would have arranged for your father’s release sooner but there were a few things that required sorting out first. The wheel of justice turns slowly.”

A few things that required sorting out…

Emmeline suddenly felt like she’d been struck by a thunderbolt. “But—Don’t tell me, Your Grace, did you cover my father’s debt so that he might be released?”

The duke hesitated as though taking a moment to choose his next words. “It doesn’t matter—”

“You did!” cried Emmeline and she clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh heavens. It must have cost you an absolute fortune. You didn’t have to—”

“No, you certainly didn’t have to,” added her father. “But I’m thankful that you did.”

Emmeline drew a shaky breath. Of all the things to happen of late, she hadn’t expected this. While she was relieved, she was also shaken to her core. The duke’s generosity was… It was too much. “It goes without saying that we will pay you back, Your Grace.”

“Yes, that goes without saying,” repeated her father.

The duke shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But—” began Emmeline but the duke cut her off.

“No buts, Mrs. Chase. Arguing with me will get you no where.” The duke turned to look at her father.

“If it makes you feel any better, when you are feeling up to it, Mr. Evans, I shall employ you as my personal horology assistant. The Great Exhibition is only a fortnight away and I’d appreciate your help with the setting up of one of my clocks in the Crystal Palace—it’s a new electromechanical design. How does that sound?”

Her father beamed. “I would be delighted.”

“Excellent.” The duke’s mouth turned up in a rare wide smile. “Then it’s all decided.”

“Evidently,” said Emmeline. But she was smiling too.

How could she not? She didn’t think she’d stop smiling for the rest of the year.