A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(11)
Not only did Lettuce Mackay possess the experience and impeccable references we desired, but she also seemed to possess a desire for adventure that she’d heretofore been unable to indulge. She’d confessed that one of the reasons she’d applied was specifically because she wanted to travel. Before now, she’d been trapped at a pair of manors located in the countryside of Midlothian for decades at a time. After so many years in one place, she wished to see more of Britain or even Europe, and the only way she was likely to ever do that was to find a place with a family like ours.
Given the intrepid natures of many of the members of our staff, the nurse had seemed to settle in easily. I knew my maid Bree, a fellow Scotswoman, liked her, as did our butler, Jeffers, who was still back in Edinburgh. Gage’s valet, Anderley, didn’t spend much time conversing with me unless we were in the midst of an investigation he was assisting us with, but I had heard him laughing at one of her jests one evening, which I viewed as an encouraging sign.
And as for her care of Emma, I was more than pleased. She was warm and kind, often singing and talking to her. When I approached the nursery, I could tell whether my daughter was asleep or awake simply by listening for the sound of her nurse’s voice, for she seemed to chatter almost constantly about everything and nothing when Emma wasn’t resting. Had I been the one forced to listen to her nonstop, I might have run screaming from the room, but Emma didn’t seem to mind.
Mrs. Mackay was also steady and confident, and having raised so many children, nothing seemed to rattle her. Emma being my first child, I appreciated this tremendously. For Mrs. Mackay’s calm often soothed my own worries, and yet I detected no condescension in her when I asked her a question or solicited her advice. I had been warned by my sister, Alana, that some nannies could be very set in their ways and determined to have things done how they’d always done them, but thus far I’d had no such clashes with Mrs. Mackay. Of course, with Emma being less than four months old, that might change, but for now it was not a concern, and I wasn’t about to go borrowing more trouble when I already had a forgery to denounce.
“Did we fill our belly?” Mrs. Mackay asked Emma as she approached, offering her a gentle smile.
Emma pulled the ragdoll from her mouth, offering her a slobbery grin in return.
“She did,” I confirmed somewhat unnecessarily given the fact she’d been wailing like a banshee when I’d taken her from Mrs. Mackay three quarters of an hour earlier.
I pressed a kiss to both of Emma’s cheeks before passing her to her nurse. “I’ll be back in time to feed her before I change for dinner like usual. And I won’t lose track of the hour this time,” I added somewhat fretfully.
“Och, there’s no need to worry,” she assured me. “The bairn just had to exercise her lungs for a wee bit, and she needs to do tha’ from time to time anyways. ’Tis good for her.”
I laughed lightly, feeling I shouldn’t need this reassurance, but grateful for it nonetheless.
Gage dropped a kiss on Emma’s downy blond head while I checked my appearance in the mirror, adjusting the epaulettes on my sleeves and the high neckline of my morning gown of small floral bouquets over a white background. Then we set off arm in arm in search of Lord Barbreck.
We found him seated with Lady Bearsden in front of the tall Georgian windows of the library which looked out over an ornate portico at the side of the house. The pair of them were perched in tall wingback chairs upholstered in regal purple silk with their heads bent together. A naughty timbre shaded Barbreck’s voice as he made some sort of jest, to which Lady Bearsden tittered almost girlishly. I could only wonder what sort of mischief they were up to.
We paused for a moment in the doorway, waiting for them to notice us across the expanse of the chamber. White-trimmed bookcases spanned the length of three walls from floor to ceiling, save for two doorways—one which led into the corridor and the other to Barbreck’s private study. Two sliding ladders were affixed to the tracks at opposite sides of the rooms, allowing for access to the higher shelves. Groups of furniture were spaced evenly about the medallion carpet to allow one to cozy up with a book, indulge in a tête-à-tête, or tip one’s head back to admire the magnificent coffered ceiling.
“Ah, my dear Mrs. Gage,” Lady Bearsden exclaimed, being the first to catch sight of us. “And your darling husband,” she simpered as we crossed the chamber toward them. “If you’re looking for Charlotte, she’s gone for a stroll in the garden with Mr. Mallery. I believe they wished for a moment alone.”
From the twinkle in her eye, it was clear she believed this was for romantic reasons, but I had to wonder whether instead Charlotte intended to discuss her concerns about Miss Ferguson, the governess. However, if she hadn’t confided as much in her great-aunt, I was not going to do so.
“Actually, we were looking for his lordship,” I replied, glancing at the man in question.
His chin arched, and had I not been fighting the nerves fluttering in my stomach, I might have been amused by the sight of him preening. “Aye, lass. What can I do for my favorite niece?”
I wasn’t truly his niece, nor did I believe I was his favorite. Barbreck simply liked to bandy the title about from time to time when one of us pleased him, as if to pit us against each other. Or layer on the guilt.
His gaze flicked toward my husband. “Do I need to take this gentleman to task for abandonin’ ye last night for a game o’ billiards?” he queried with mock severity, lifting his walking stick to point it at Gage’s chest before lowering it back to the floor. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Heard there was quite a ruckus when he and Lord Henry thrashed Rye and Jack.”