Regina Scott by The Courting Campaign

rose.
    “Now, now,” Nick said with a smile. “That is most unsporting, Miss Pyrmont. How can we determine the proper shade if you keep changing it?”
    A chuckle escaped her. “How very inconvenient of me.”
    “I know!” Alice cried, and she went dashing to her dollhouse.
    “There must be some point to all this,” Miss Pyrmont said.
    “There is a point to everything I do,” Nick replied. He eyed the doll dress Alice had brought back. The bodice was a light shade of pink, the skirt darker. “Well done, Alice. Now that we have the right materials, let us conduct our experiment.” Remembering his mistake earlier, he inclined his head toward the doll. “Lady Chamomile, might I prevail upon you to allow Alice to sit next to her nanny?”
    “She says she is delighted to assist,” Alice reported, picking up her doll and dumping her unceremoniously in another chair. She wiggled into the empty seat and looked up at him. “What now, Papa?”
    “Pick up the saucer and hold it up to Miss Pyrmont’s face,” Nick instructed.
    “Oh, I say,” Miss Pyrmont started, but she blinked as Alice held the piece of blue china next to her nose.
    “There, you see?” Nick proclaimed, leaning closer. “Her eyes look blue, and her skin becomes the color of your mother’s pearls. Try the slipper.”
    Alice nodded eagerly, set down the china plate and reached for the slipper. But when she held up the yellow, she frowned. “She’s turning color again. It’s not so nice.”
    “Well, I’m very sorry,” Miss Pyrmont said, with a bit more asperity this time, “but it’s a little difficult to control the shade of one’s skin.”
    Nick nodded. “Quite true. But even if she wasn’t turning color, Alice, I think you can see that the yellow doesn’t have nearly so pleasing an effect.” He reached for the doll dress and held the satin up to Miss Pyrmont’s face. As he had conjectured, the pink very nearly matched the color of her cheeks, and he thought perhaps the feel of her skin might approximate the softness of the material.
    Where had that thought come from? Indeed, where had any of this come from? He’d merely been attempting to teach Alice the rudiments of experimentation. He had no business building an hypothesis of the feel of Miss Pyrmont’s skin.
    He dropped the gown to the table and stood, focusing his gaze on his daughter. “Well, Alice, what do you conclude from our experiment on color?”
    “Blue,” Alice said. “Nanny looks best in blue.”
    “I concur,” Nick said. “You might mention that to your aunt. I believe she’s planning on purchasing new gowns for Miss Pyrmont.”
    “New gowns,” he heard Miss Pyrmont say, and he thought the words held confusion. “Why?”
    “Because you and Alice will be joining us for dinner again very soon,” he said.
    He had hoped for a good reaction, and certainly Alice’s applause was gratifying. But he couldn’t help glancing at Miss Pyrmont to see how she would take his decision. Her grin seemed to make the room brighter, his efforts more laudable. Meeting his gaze, her smile only grew.
    As if she saw that his smile answered hers, she quickly bent to gather up the empty plates and stack them on the tray to return to the kitchen.
    “And can I help you with your experiments?” Alice asked.
    How well she pronounced the word this time. “I’m afraid not, Alice. Mine are not nearly so pleasant as this one. You see, I am attempting to develop a special lamp that boys can carry into the ground so they can see their way.”
    Miss Pyrmont gasped. He hadn’t thought anyone outside the sphere of the mining community would be so fascinated by his work to warrant that sort of reaction, but when he glanced her way again, he saw that she had paled.
    “Is something wrong, Miss Pyrmont?” he asked.
    “No, nothing,” she said, much more quickly than she had said anything else to him. “I simply find it commendable that you would develop a safety lamp. The coal miners