Free Regina Scott by The Courting Campaign Page A

time so I can prepare lessons or fetch a tray. I receive a quarter hour off every afternoon and a Sunday afternoon once a month.”
    “A whole afternoon once a month,” he said. “However do you fill it?”
    Because his sarcasm was evident, she didn’t answer directly. “It’s more than I had in my previous position. Mrs. Dunworthy runs an orderly house. Your concern should be for Alice, not your staff.”
    “Indeed,” he said, but she didn’t think he believed her. She led him into the nursery.
    Ivy glanced up and then hopped to her feet from her place at the table as Emma and Sir Nicholas came through the door.
    “Papa!” Alice cried, rushing forward.
    For a moment Emma thought the tray would come crashing down, but he managed to balance it while his daughter hugged his legs.
    “Good morning to you, too, Alice,” he said. “If you’d return to your seat, I’ll join you for breakfast.”
    She disengaged and scampered back. Ivy had evidently set the table, for the nursery china lay waiting at three places, as usual. With a terrified glance at the master, Ivy hurried to her duties in cleaning and airing Alice’s room after the night.
    Emma went to the cupboard to fetch a fourth set of dishes. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw him set down the tray on the table and move to take the seat closest to Alice, where the third set of china lay.
    “Lady Chamomile sits there,” Alice informed him.
    Emma turned with the place setting in her hands, expecting him to laugh off Alice’s concern, remove the doll from the seat. Instead, halfway down, he twisted to avoid sitting on the doll and straightened. “My mistake. Is the seat on the other side taken?”
    “No,” Alice replied with a gracious wave. “You may have it.”
    Emma bit her lip to keep from commenting. As she brought him a place setting, he was glancing about the room as if seeing it afresh, as well.
    Please don’t let him fix on things, Lord. You know Alice needs more than material possessions.
    “Thank you, Miss Pyrmont,” he said as she set his place. Now she felt the warm walnut gaze on her. For some reason, that made it hard to take her seat and focus on laying out Alice’s breakfast.
    Her charge sighed at the toast and chocolate. Sir Nicholas accepted the cup of chocolate but frowned as well at the thoroughly cold toast.
    “It’s never warm by the time I climb the stairs,” Emma apologized. “We’ve tried covering it, but it just gets mushy.”
    “The heat from the toast allows water to condense on the underside of the metal covering,” he replied. He glanced around the room once more. “You have a fire, I see. No toasting forks?”
    “Mrs. Dunworthy believes that allowing Alice too close to the coals could be dangerous,” Emma explained.
    “Possibly,” he agreed. “But perhaps the new footman can do the toasting. I’ll see that Mrs. Jennings sends up a fork.”
    “Lady Chamomile likes biscuits better than toast,” Alice said, shifting her gaze from Emma to her father and back.
    “Oh, biscuits!” Emma rose and went to the cupboard to retrieve them. “Mrs. Jennings says your father likes these every bit as much as you do, Alice.” She set the plate down between them and had to hide her smile as they both reached for one of the sweets at the same time.
    Alice eyed her father. “You must save some for Lady Chamomile.”
    He inclined his head. “I would never steal a lady’s biscuits.”
    He said it with equal gravity, a solemn promise, and Emma felt her frustration with him thawing further. How odd. Sir Nicholas might not steal biscuits, but it seemed that he had the capacity to steal a few hearts, her own included.
    * * *
    It was Nick’s theory, tested by observation of his colleagues, that a man must be cautious with things he allowed to control his actions. Ministers and tutors had warned of the folly of gluttony, the danger of drink. Until today, Nick would not have ranked cinnamon-sugar biscuits on the same scale.