Page 47 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

Curses. The kidnapper was going to scarper.

Not on her watch. He had questions to answer. Not only that, but he needed to be locked up.

“Go to Cousin Xavier,” Emmeline called to Gareth as she launched herself at the kidnapper’s legs, knocking him to the ground in a rugby tackle.

They grappled briefly and then rolled over—once, twice, three times—ending up in the dust of Rotten Row, Emmeline landing on top.

Her skirts were tangled in the kidnapper’s legs and he was gripping her shoulders with bruising force.

And then all at once the thug landed a glancing blow on her jaw.

Her head was instantly abuzz, her vision blurry.

Bleeding bastard! She balled her hand into a fist and punched him back, her fist connecting with his nose.

Or maybe it was his eye. Before she could get another blow in, the brute twisted his body, throwing her off, and then he was scrambling to his feet and hurtling away, heading for the Albert Gate and the busy street beyond.

Damn and blast and bloody quadruple bleeding hell!

Frustration surged through Emmeline as she clambered to her feet.

She wanted to give chase, but her head still spun with dizziness and she feared she wasn’t up to it.

She bent over, her hands on her knees, shoulders heaving.

She was not going to pass out or throw up. She must not.

“Emmeline…”

The duke. Emmeline forced herself upright and pushed a lock of tangled hair out of her eyes.

Somewhere along the way she’d lost her bonnet, and the right side of her face was throbbing and stinging like it had been attacked by a swarm of angry bees.

But none of that compared to the fury and frustration swirling in her belly.

And a good dose of guilt and humiliation because she’d failed in her duty.

“Your Grace,” she managed between snatched breaths. “How… How is Gareth? Where is he?”

“He’s confused and shaken but otherwise all right,” said the duke. “He’s with Bertie and Horatio, just over there.” He pointed toward an ancient oak and sure enough, Gareth was there, safe and sound. “I believe Ollie and Fanny are still waiting with Harry and Bartholomew at the Dinosaur Court.”

The duke then reached into the pocket of his frock coat and withdrew a handkerchief. “Here, Mrs. Chase,” he said gently, his eyes filled with concern. “You might need this for your lip.”

Emmeline took the fine piece of white linen and dabbed gingerly at her mouth.

Oh, dickens on toast. Her bottom lip was split and bleeding.

No wonder it was stinging. “I’m sorry,” she said and then blinked rapidly as her vision grew blurry.

Behind the duke she could see that a group of nosy parkers had gathered.

She mustn’t make a bigger scene than she already had by bursting into tears.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” asked the duke. “You are not to blame for the actions of a thug hired to intimidate me and those I care about. The man who lured Gareth away, I saw it was the same dog who chased us down Middle Temple Lane. All this occurred because of me. Not you.”

“I was distracted,” admitted Emmeline as a tear dripped onto her cheek. Annoyed with herself, she hastily dashed it away. “I should have had my eyes on Gareth the whole time. I was careless and that is unforgivable.”

“It makes you human. And thanks to your Parasol Academy training, you also saved my ward,” said the duke softly.

“I’ve never seen someone run so swiftly or tackle a brute twice their size so fearlessly.

You are a force to be reckoned with, Mrs. Chase.

Now”—he reached out and gently touched her shoulder—“let’s gather everyone together and return to St Lawrence House. ”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin the rest of everyone’s day—”

“Mrs. Chase,” said the duke, his voice imbued with warning.

“You’re hurt. There will be no arguments.

Besides, I need to talk with the Metropolitan Police about the incident.

The kidnapper and whoever was behind this attack need to be brought to justice.

” He glanced about. “Actually, I’m surprised there aren’t more bobbies around—”

“Nevergrin! Nevergrin!” Horatio squawked from the oak tree. “Nevermore!”

Oh no. Emmeline did not want to have an encounter with the duke’s uncle right now. Nor the man’s wife or son. She was sure the duke didn’t either, judging by the sudden ferocious cast of his features.

Turning, Emmeline faced a sneering Lord Peregrine at the front of the small crowd of onlookers.

On his arm was a middleaged woman wearing an enormous hat that resembled a strutting peacock, considering the number of azure and turquoise feathers cascading from its crown.

On her other side was a younger, narrow-framed gentleman, Algernon Mason, whose expression was not dissimilar to his father’s.

But then, Emmeline knew she must look a fright given the fact her hair was tumbling down, her face was battered, and her uniform was covered in dust and grass stains.

It was the woman—Lady Peregrine no doubt—who spoke first. “Is this the rude creature you spoke about, Peregrine? She’s a nanny , you say?

” She made a tsking sound. “What a disgrace. She looks like the worst kind of hoyden.” Fixing her gaze on the duke, she added, “I really don’t know what you were thinking to employ her, Your Grace. ”

Hoyden? Emmeline bit her tongue as a wave of impotent fury and mortification rolled over her. While part of her wanted to defend herself, she knew that if she lashed out, she’d only make things worse.

Algernon Mason sniggered. “Lud, hoyden is far too polite an expression if you ask me. What the deuce has she been doing? Brawling in public?”

Lord Peregrine raised his monocle and raked Emmeline from head to toe with a scathing look. “I believe she’s a graduate from the Parasol Academy for Exceptional Nannies and Governesses.” Then he snorted. “Exceptional? I’d say she’s the opposite.”

A muscle flickered in the duke’s cheek as he glared coldly at his relatives. “Are you quite finished with your unjust character assassination? This nanny just saved my ward from the clutches of a kidnapper. She deserves a medal, and a commendation from Queen Victoria, not ridicule.”

Huzzah! Bravo! cheered Horatio from the sidelines. About time His Grace defended you, Nanny Chase.

Lady Peregrine sniffed. “If you say so, Your Grace.”

“I do. And it’s my opinion that matters, not anyone else’s.

Especially not yours, dearest Aunt, Uncle, Cousin,” returned the duke, his contempt for them clear.

Indeed, Emmeline was certain that the definition of the word “disdainful” in the Imperial Dictionary contained a reference to the Duke of St Lawrence in that moment.

As if from nowhere, Sir Randolph materialized at the front of the crowd. “Oh, I don’t know. Hoydens have their place,” he said with a chuckle, winking at Emmeline. “And hell-raising hellions. In fact, I quite like the idea of a feisty redhead who’s not afraid to get down and dirty—”

Faster than a striking bird of prey, the duke shot forward and gripped the baronet by the throat.

His eyes were hard and burning, his words as sharp as glacial ice as he ground out, “Say one more word about her and I’ll knock the living daylights out of you, you pathetic piece of worm’s meat.

” Then he thrust Sir Randolph away with such force, the man ended up on his backside on the grass.

Ignoring the shocked gasps around them, the duke tugged his coat cuffs back into place then returned to Emmeline. “Come, Mrs. Chase,” he said, placing a hand at the small of her back. “Let’s go home. I’d say we’ve both had enough of this rabble.”

“I won’t disagree,” she murmured as they turned away from the gawking, gossiping crowds. Returning to St Lawrence House would also give her time to regroup before she was called to account before the headmistress of the Parasol Academy.

This hitherto-fine-now-rapidly-turning-into-a-horrid-mud-puddle day wasn’t over quite yet. Such a pity she couldn’t cast an Unsmirchify spell to clean up the whole terrible mess.

Although, not all messes were terrible, she decided when Horatio flew past and called out to her, Don’t worry, Nanny Chase. The Nevergrins are about to experience my wrath.

Then a few seconds later, Guano grenades away!

As enraged male shouts and a woman’s screech filled the air, Emmeline tried very hard not to smile… at least for a full half second.

Well, Lady Nevergrin had called her a hoyden.