“Who are you?” Layton rubbed Caroline’s back to keep her warm.
“Mary Wood, sir.” The woman curtsied. “I am the governess.”
“We do not have a governess.”
“I was hired only recently, sir. I replaced the nurse.”
The nurse. Layton vaguely remembered the woman, a mousy thing who hid in corners and mumbled under her breath from beneath the nursery windows.
“Hilga or Hattie or something of that nature,” he muttered.
“Harriet, Papa,” Caroline mumbled, her face pressed into him. “She left.”
Layton eyed his newest employee with more than his usual criticism. She’d set his back up, though he could not rightly say why.
“Yes, sir,” the governess replied, though her tone was anything but meek and subservient. “I’ve been here but three days.”
“Hmm.” Why did she smile so much? She seemed far too cheerful to be a servant.
“Caroline is rather young for a governess,” Layton said.
“And yet, here I am.” Was that annoyance he saw flash momentarily through her eyes? So there were limits to her cheeriness.
“I’m not too young for a gubbyness, Papa.” Caroline’s voice clearly communicated her growing sleepiness. “She is teaching me to be a diggyfied young lady.”
“Diggyfied? That was, I imagine, Miss Wood’s exact phrase.”
“Right-o, guv’nuh,” Mary said, sounding precisely like a London street urchin. “The Li’l Mizz needs a right bit o diggyfyin’ iffen ye’re asken Mary Wood. Righ’ she does, guv’nuh! An’ a righ’ hot bath, sez I. Jus’ leave it tah ol’ Mary Wood!”
She offered a military-style salute and spun on the spot before sauntering up to the house. Layton didn’t know whether to throttle her saucy neck or laugh. Both proved strong temptations. And he never laughed.
“Mary is silly.” Caroline giggled groggily as she snuggled closer to him.
“Yes, apparently she is.” The corners of Layton’s mouth twitched as he watched the obviously offended governess walk toward the house, chin held high, hair flying in complete disarray, turning at the last minute to the back and the servants’ entrance. He was certain he would never forget the way she’d tapped her nose as she’d called him “guv’nuh” or the triumphant gleam in her eyes as she shot him a mocking salute.
He had every right to dismiss her for her impertinence. It would probably be the wise thing to do. A servant who had no qualms about mouthing off to her employer could set the most well-run household on its ear. And Farland Meadows, regrettably, was far from well run. Yet he found himself strangely reluctant to dismiss this Mary.
“Should we go in and ask Cook for some hot chocolate?” Layton asked his daughter, walking toward the house.
“Mmm.”
“Do you like Mary, Caroline?” He spoke as casually as he could manage, at a loss to understand why he hoped she didn’t while also hoping she did.
“Oh yes.” Caroline mumbled. “She likes when I talk, Papa.”
“I am sure everyone likes to hear you talk,” Layton replied. She so seldom did that it was a treat.
“Harriet said I was agmavating.” Caroline shifted her head on his shoulder.
“Aggravating?” Layton asked, feeling himself tense. Had her last nurse really said such a thing? To her?
Caroline nodded. It was a very good thing for Harriet that she had left.
“But Mary says what I say is ’portant.” Caroline yawned. “And she listens when I talk.”
“She is kind to you?”
“Mary is wonderful.”
“Then we should keep her?”
“Forever and ever.” Caroline’s head grew heavy on his shoulder as he walked up the front steps.
Layton had never been able to deny his daughter anything. So Miss Saucy would be keeping her position, it seemed. But only after she’d been reminded of her place, something he supposed he would have to do.
Why couldn’t the household simply run itself and let him be?
Chapter Five
She was about to be let go. After that horrid display outside, Marion certainly couldn’t blame Mr. Jonquil. She’d been insolent and saucy. Had she actually saluted the man? She knew she’d called him “guv’nuh” more than once.
“Oh bother,” Marion muttered under her breath as she approached the door of the library, where Mr. Jonquil had requested she meet with him. Caroline was soundly asleep upstairs, the nursery straightened beyond what was strictly necessary. Marion had no valid excuse for postponing this meeting any longer.
Caroline had described her father as a giant. She hadn’t been far off the mark. Of course, being nineteen instead of four significantly decreased the impact of his stature. Still, he was quite decidedly broad shouldered and must have stood six feet high or more. Compared to Marion’s five feet two-odd inches, Mr. Jonquil was quite tall. Something in his air was overpowering, something that had little to do with his size. If he weren’t so ridiculously handsome, he’d have been positively frightening.