Regina Scott by The Courting Campaign Page A

certainly need it by all accounts.”
    She knew the name of the device without an explanation. Interesting. Though the explosions at the mines were well reported across England—the public having an insatiable desire to read of disasters, it seemed—he did not think the work to solve the problem nearly so well presented. How had a nanny learned of it?
    Before he could ask, she rose. “I should return the tray to the kitchen. I’ll leave you and Alice to chat and be right back.”
    He didn’t even have a chance to protest before she’d fled the room.
    “Odd,” he said aloud in the wake.
    “She will return,” Alice promised him as if she thought he doubted. She came around the table to lean against his arm. “Let’s do another experiment.”
    He smiled at her eagerness. “Like experiments, do you?”
    “Oh, yes, Papa. Don’t you?”
    “Very much,” he assured her. “But sometimes we must ask a number of questions before we can start the experiment. Let me ask you some. Do you like your nursery?”
    She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
    “And your lessons?”
    Another nod.
    “And your nanny?”
    Alice squeezed his arm. “Oh, yes, Papa. Nanny is the best nanny ever.”
    She was so certain, her violet eyes wide. She had only one other nanny for comparison. He had had two—Alice’s previous lady and his own. Though he seemed to remember a fondness for his nanny, he did not think he would have been as certain of her place in his affections. Of course, that could have been his failing, not hers. He had ample proof that he was not skilled in matters of the heart.
    “I’m very glad to hear that,” he told his daughter. “Such a remarkable nanny deserves our thanks.”
    Alice nodded, releasing her hold. “You should get her a present.”
    Nick regarded her. “What an excellent suggestion, Alice. I will see to it. Now, let’s see what your maid is up to in your bedchamber. I have a question for her, as well.”

Chapter Seven
    E mma flew down the stairs, heavy tray and all, and pulled herself to a stop at the bottom to catch her breath. That’s why Sir Nicholas kept starting fires! He was trying to develop a material that wouldn’t react with firedamp.
    She knew all the theories—the segregation of oxygen from the more flammable air, the lower-heat possibilities of various materials, the properties of tallow and whale oil. This was the same research her foster father had been conducting. She’d thought he and Sir Nicholas might know each other from the Royal Society, but she’d never thought they might be collaborators!
    The china was rattling on the tray. She forced her hands to still. Firedamp might react to heat, but at the moment she was reacting from fear. She refused to give in to it. Much as she hated the unwavering logic of these natural philosophers, she had to agree with them that emotions had their place, and not when she was trying to make a sound decision.
    Still, her first thought was to run away again, leave before her foster father showed up at the door. But she wasn’t entirely certain he cared that she’d gone or would seek her return. One thing she did know: she mustn’t allow fear to ruin what had been a wonderful position for her.
    Even if her foster father still wanted to control her, she had no real reason to suspect that he knew where she was. Despite the fact that he and Sir Nicholas were studying the same problem, she also had no evidence they were collaborating. The colliers around the country had reached out to several noted philosophers, she knew—her foster father, Samuel Fredericks, and the chemist Sir Humphry Davy among them. The owners of the coal mines could easily have sought Sir Nicholas’s help as well, particularly as he had a coal mine on his property, she’d been told.
    Of course, her foster father frequently partnered with other philosophers to solve some problem. Sometimes they even competed with each other to be the first to discover the answer. This business of