Tomorrow she would walk through his front door. She would be under his roof, in his employ, at his table. He would see her every morning and every evening. He would hear her voice in the corridors and catch her scent when she passed. And he would have to stand there and breathe it in, saying nothing, doing nothing, wanting nothing.
He was already failing at the last of those three.
He pushed off from the window ledge and straightened his cravat. A woman with a parasol glanced at him curiously as she passed, and he gave a stiff nod that sent her hurrying on.
He walked the final stretch with his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of a gentleman returning from an errand. No one on the street would have guessed that anything was amiss. That was the advantage of good tailoring and a lifetime of practice.
The disadvantage was that it fooled everyone except the man inside the coat.
He climbed the steps to Darcy House and waited for the butler to open the door.
With a nod to him, he headed towards the grand staircase. He took the steps two at a time, which was not dignified and he did not care.
He could hear her before he reached the landing. Anne’s voice carried the way church bells carried— with eagerness, conviction, and no regard for volume.
“Butwhydoes the rain come down sideways, Alice?”
“It just does, Miss Darcy.”
“Butwhy?”
“Because God made it that way.”
“But why did He make itthatway?”
After a short pause, Alice’s voice came, strained with exhaustion. She had probably been answering the same question for three consecutive hours. “Perhaps you might ask your Papa when he returns, Miss Darcy.”
Darcy pushed the door open. Alice was young, freckled, and endlessly good-natured. The moment she saw him, she sagged with relief so visible it made him chuckle. She bobbed a curtsy and mouthedthank you, sirover Anne’s head with the fervour of a prisoner granted pardon. She then started tidying up the scattered toys.
Anne launched herself across the floor. She collided with him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and tilted her face up.
“Papa! Alice does not know why rain goes down.”
“A grievous gap in her education.” He bent and scooped her up. She was heavier than she had been last month. She was growing fast, solid and warm, her blonde curls tickling his jaw as she settled against his shoulder. Muffin, her wooden horse, was clutched in her right fist. Muffin went everywhere she went. This was not negotiable.
“I have news,” he said.
Anne pulled back to study his face. Her blue eyes—so unlike his own—were enormous and serious. “Good news or bad news, Papa?”
“Good news.”
“How good?”
“Very good. I have found a lady who is going to be your new governess.”
Anne considered this. Her brow furrowed. She tapped Muffin against his collarbone—a habit she had when thinking, and one that left small bruises he never mentioned.
“Is she nice?”
“Very.”
“Is she pretty?”
His heart performed a small jig he chose to ignore. “Yes.”
“Prettier than Alice?”
Alice, who had been gathering blocks from the carpet, turned a shade of pink that clashed magnificently with her freckles.