Free Regina Scott by The Courting Campaign

was certain she was feeling that she could no longer address the problem herself. “We’ve had trouble keeping our fellows on the staff for some time, sir.”
    Though she didn’t say it, Emma suspected the issue lay in Mrs. Dunworthy. They had men who worked outdoors—grooms, gardeners, the head coachman Mr. Dobbins—but only a single footman indoors, and Charles often looked a bit harried to be at Mrs. Dunworthy’s beck and call. A household this size generally boasted a butler, kitchen help and more maids. Even Dorcus, who served as Mrs. Dunworthy’s maid, had to do double duty, helping with cleaning and serving. But perhaps Mrs. Dunworthy had decided that having fewer staff was wiser so far from London.
    Sir Nicholas obviously thought otherwise. “When you see my sister-in-law,” he said to the cook, “ask her to assign a footman to the nursery. Tell her it was my suggestion.”
    Mrs. Jennings nodded, but Emma considered protesting. She’d been carrying Alice’s tray for months. And she’d carried much heavier things in her foster father’s home. But truth be told, she wouldn’t have minded a little extra help.
    “Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” she said with a curtsey. “This way.”
    That he had never taken the servants’ stair was evident by the way he glanced around at the narrow steps, the dim light from the single window high on the wall. Perhaps she should have gone up the main staircase with him beside her, but that route to the nursery was much longer, and Alice had already been waiting for her breakfast. Besides, servants did not take the main stairs. Ever. That point had been pressed upon her by her foster mother.
    “Are there other needs in the nursery?” he asked.
    She could tell by his frown that the matter concerned him. The fact that Mrs. Jennings had removed the seasoning and sweets from his food had opened his eyes to things he had taken for granted, just as Emma had hoped. Now she needed to turn his thoughts toward Alice.
    “Alice has all she needs materially,” she assured him as they took the first turning. She nodded toward the top of the stairs ahead of them. “She has her own room, just off the nursery, with me on the other side. She has books, toys and clothes to spare. What she needs is company.”
    He glanced at Emma. The frown caused a line to appear in his forehead, pointing down his nose to his lips. Among all those angles, their softness was in direct contrast and all the more apparent. She had to look away.
    “I never had company in the nursery,” he mused.
    “You had your father and mother,” Emma reminded him.
    “Your assumption is ill-founded,” he replied as they passed the ground floor. “My mother preferred to spend her time in London. I don’t remember her at this house. And my father did not visit the nursery.”
    Something inside her twisted. Was that how he had been raised? Small wonder he didn’t see the need to visit Alice! But, oh, what he was missing! She may not have been raised in a family where all children were loved and valued, but she knew such families existed from the many stories she’d read. People didn’t make up stories no one would believe. If those authors wrote about happy people, she reasoned, then at least some examples of the breed must be found. Surely that’s what Alice deserved. Surely that was what the Lord expected for all His children.
    “Well, the people in the home where I was raised had long left the nursery,” Emma told him as they took the final turn. “But the schoolroom was never lonely.”
    “I cannot imagine this nursery is lonely either,” he said. “Not with you in it.”
    Emma blinked. Was that a compliment? No, surely not from a natural philosopher. He meant because she was a competent nanny or that two people were sufficient to ward off loneliness or some more logical construction.
    “I cannot be with her every minute,” Emma protested as they reached the top of the stairs. “Ivy spells me from time to