Emma Darcy - Inherited - One Nanny

“Never!” came the emphatic reply.

“Did you ever observe him fondle me in what could be called an intimate manner?”

“Certainly not!”

“Did he ever display any sign of being a randy old man around me?”

Sedgewick looked affronted, as well he might. “Mr. Vivian was a gentleman.” Which, to Sedgewick, was the definitive reply, delivered in ringing tones.

However, since a similar declaration by her had not cleared Beau Prescott’s prejudice, Maggie continued to have the situation spelled out, her eyes glittering a proud challenge at her accuser at the other end of the table.

“In your own words, Sedgewick, what was Mr. Vivian’s manner towards me?”

“I believe he thought of you as his adopted daughter whose company was always a delight to him.”

“And my manner towards Mr. Vivian?”

“You wish me to be frank, Nanny Stowe?”

“Ruthlessly frank, Sedgewick.”

“I believe you thought of Mr. Vivian as a benevolent godfather who made beautiful things happen. You saw it as your job to make them even more beautiful for him.”

The truth. The simple truth. And it had been beautiful. It was wicked and destructive of Beau Prescott to soil it with his revolting and insulting interpretations. A rush of tears blurred her eyes and clogged her throat. “Thank you, Sedgewick,” she managed huskily.

He bowed to her in a show of respect. “At your service, Nanny Stowe. Would you like your coffee cup refilled?”

“Please.”

He handled the pot perfectly. Not a drop wavered or spilled. The masterly performance provided a sense of calm. “A refill for you also, sir?’ he inquired.

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