Sophie Pembroke - Pregnant On The Earl's Doorstep

Mrs Peterson’s mouth flickered into something that might almost, almost be considered a smile. If she squinted. The almost smile was gone so quickly that Heather wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it.

‘Daisy. Come and say hello to Miss Reid.’

Over at the window, looking out over the very steps Heather had climbed to get into the castle, sat Daisy. She must take after her mother, Heather decided, given the pale mousy hair, braided into thin plaits that hung over her thinner shoulders. There was nothing about Daisy that spoke of the broad-shouldered confidence the Bryce men seemed to be born with.

Then she turned away from the window to face Heather and pierced her with sharp, intelligent amber eyes that were all her Uncle Cal.

‘Nannies don’t wear baggy jumpers,’ she said, looking Heather up and down. ‘Or trainers.’

‘Well, this one does,’ Heather said cheerfully.

These kids had better get used to her wardrobe, since she hadn’t brought anything smart in her small rucksack. In fact, she hadn’t brought much of anything. A single change of clothing, her phone charger, that sort of thing. She hadn’t been planning on staying, after all. She’d have to find out if Cal’s generous employment deal included an advance for suitable work wear.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then, Miss Reid,’ Mrs Peterson said, as if she were saying, I hope the lions don’t eat you, but they probably will .

‘Heather, please,’ she tried one last time, but Mrs Peterson ignored her.

‘Dinner is at six in the dining hall,’ she added, closing the door behind her.

Heather looked at the children. The children looked at Heather, clearly waiting for her to break first.

They’d broken eight different nannies, Heather remembered uncomfortably. But they wouldn’t break her. Because Heather knew something that they didn’t.

They were family. Or they would be once this baby was born. And if Heather had learned one thing from her taunting, scandal-ridden childhood, it was this: you never ran out on family.

‘Right,’ she said, clapping her hands together à la Mary Poppins. ‘Mrs Peterson has shown me all around the inside of the castle—how about you two show me around outside?’

Daisy and Ryan exchanged a look that Heather couldn’t read.

‘Outside?’ Daisy asked suspiciously, as if there had to be a catch somewhere.

‘Yep. I saw some great-looking woodland on my way in—I bet that’s fun to explore.’ She shot a sideways look at Daisy, who was trying to communicate something to her brother using only her eyebrows. ‘Plus, I understand that the castle moat has some very unusual ducks in it.’

Ryan stifled a snigger at that, while Daisy glared at him so hard that Heather thought lasers might shoot out of her eyes.

‘Come on! It’s summer. You two should be outside, enjoying the glorious sunshine.’ Heather glanced out of the window. ‘But grab your wellies on the way, yeah?’

They were in Scotland, after all.

* * *

The dining hall at Lengroth Castle was large, cold, prone to damp and currently mostly empty.

From the head of the oversized table Cal stared down at the vacant seats arranged around him. Alone, it was almost too easy for him to remember them occupied by Ross, or their parents. Even society’s brightest and best, in the castle’s heyday, before his father’s rages had taken greater hold and entertaining had become just too risky.

Right now, though, all that was missing was his niece, his nephew and his new nanny.

‘Dinner will be cold,’ Mrs Peterson said, speaking volumes with her tone.

With just those four innocent words, Cal knew exactly what she was really asking.

Who is this Miss Reid? Why is she here? Do you really expect me to believe that the local agency sent her, with an accent like that? And, most importantly, What has she done with the children?

‘I’m sure they’ll be here soon,’ Cal said, as mildly as he could. ‘Miss Reid seems like a very responsible person.’ Apart from sleeping with strange, married earls she met in London bars. ‘And her references are impeccable.’

She was practically family, after all. And if Cal’s parents had taught him anything about family it was that they knew where the bodies were buried, so you had to keep them close.

‘Hmm...’ Mrs Peterson said, speaking volumes once more with just one noise.

Suddenly the huge, wooden door of the castle crashed open.

‘Sorry we’re late!’

Heather’s English tones rang through the castle corridors, probably reaching them a good thirty seconds after she spoke, due to the distance from the door to the dining room. Clearly she had some lungs on her.

‘Where’s the damn...? I mean, Daisy, where’s the dining room?’

The last was quieter, but sound carried well in the castle. Something Cal had had reason to curse plenty of times in his life.

‘I think they’re here,’ Cal said redundantly, and Mrs Peterson gave him a look that suggested that, given their joint ability to state the obvious, he and Miss Reid deserved each other.

‘I’m so sorry!’ Heather gasped as she and the children barrelled through the big double doors at one end of the dining hall. Not the end nearest to the front door, Cal noticed, which meant that Ryan had been playing his usual trick of trying to get the new nanny disorientated and lost.

He blinked as he took in the full impact of their appearance. Behind him Mrs Peterson made a faint noise of either astonishment, disgust, or both.

Mud was dripping from Heather’s nose. And her hair. And her sodden jumper. The skirt of her sundress was caked in mud, and there were twigs in her cascading copper hair.

Daisy and Ryan were suspiciously clean by comparison.

Cal surveyed his niece and nephew, both of whom appeared to be working hard at maintaining an air of innocence. Then he met Heather’s gaze and saw there a determination and steeliness that surprised him with its depth.

It’s going to take more than a fall in the river to scare this one off, kids.

At least, that was what he assumed had happened. It was what they’d done to nanny number three, anyway. There was a stretch where the bridge didn’t quite reach the far bank—not since the river had swelled and burst its banks the winter before. It was simple enough to jump to safety via the stepping stones on the other side, but only if you knew to look for them. If you weren’t paying proper attention when you reached the end of the bridge—say if an evil child was distracting you by dangling from a tree, or something—it was easy to miss the fact that the bridge basically gave way to a river of mud.

‘Miss Reid, perhaps you would like to freshen up before dinner?’ Mrs Peterson said, as if Heather had merely a smudge of dust on her nose or something.

Ryan snorted. Daisy, as ever, remained implacable. The girl was definitely her mother’s daughter, Cal decided. Janey must have known what Ross was really like—what was going on behind her back. But he’d never seen a glimpse of it in her calm, serene expression.

Heather gave a grateful smile. ‘I won’t be long. Children, why don’t you come with me? We can all change for dinner.’

‘But we’re not muddy,’ Ryan protested.

They hadn’t eaten since lunch, what with the impromptu nature ramble Heather had taken them on, so Cal assumed the boy must be starving. He knew he was.

‘The great outdoors is full of all sorts of germs, though,’ Heather said airily. ‘You definitely need to wash before you eat. Maybe even have a bath...’

There was a wicked twinkle in her eye. One Cal approved of mightily.