The Australian Heiress by Margaret Way Page A

anything to upset Daddy,” Melissa interrupted, suddenly looking worried. “Let them talk. My mother loved me a lot, I know.”
    So engrossed were Camille and Melissa that they failed to see the woman who’d come to the door.
    “So this is where you are, Melissa,” she said, thoroughly startling them.
    The child yelled alarmingly, “Go away! I’m talking to my friend!”
    The woman ignored that and walked into the library. She was fortyish, attractive and competent-looking. “I don’t know where to begin with this child.” She gave Camille a conspiratorial smile. “Forsuch a little girl she certainly makes her presence felt.”
    There must be answers to that, Camille thought. She stood up, drawing Melissa with her. “You must be Miss Larkins. I’m Camille Guilford.”
    “Of course.” The woman shook her head. “I recognized you from your photographs. It’s amazing how Melissa manages to get out of her room.”
    “Surely through the door,” Camille said.
    “She locks me in.” Melissa looked to Camille for support. “I hate getting locked in.”
    “I would jolly well think so,” Camille murmured.
    “It’s only for a short time, Miss Guilford,” the woman said in a brisk don’t-mess-with-me voice. “I don’t think you know just how naughty Melissa can be.”
    And you’re no Mary Poppins, either, Camille thought, but remained silent, unwilling to interfere. It would only confuse and complicate the situation. She was a guest in the house for one evening only. Which was unfortunate in a way, for she and the child had so swiftly found a common chord.
    “Come along, now, dear.” Miss Larkins held out her hand. “It’s past your bedtime.”
    “I want Camille to take me up,” Melissa said rocking back and forth agitatedly on her heels.
    “Say good-night to Miss Guilford, dear.” Miss Larkins became firmer. “She has things to do.”
    “It’s no problem.” Camille tightened her grip on the now trembling child’s hand. “I’d like to see Melissa’s room.”
    “My room— I don’t like it at all.” Melissa lifted her head, brilliant black eyes brimming.
    “Don’t you?” Camille looked down at her in consternation.
    “What did I tell you?” Miss Larkins exclaimed. “Any other little girl would love your bedroom.”
    “I hate it!” Melissa shouted.
    “Let’s go see it, shall we?” Camille said calmly.
    “I really would appreciate it, Miss Guilford, if you didn’t.”
    Camille, her Ice Princess expression firmly in place, turned to the woman. “May I ask why not?”
    “It does the child no good to be indulged,” the woman said.
    “I can’t think for one minute that taking her up to bed falls into that category. I take full responsibility, Miss Larkins.”
    They ran into Nick Lombard in the upper gallery of the house. He had changed his suit for dark gray slacks and a navy blazer with a blue open-necked shirt beneath. He looked younger, almost carefree, his fine head of hair curling crisply from the shower.
    “Ah, so you two have met.” He looked down at his daughter, his face breaking into that beautiful smile. The love and tenderness in his expression quite threw Camille, who hadn’t the slightest wish to soften her opinion of him.
    “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lombard.” Miss Larkins had followed them upstairs and now rushed into an apology. “I turned my back on Melissa for just a moment…”
    “Aren’t you a wicked girl!” Nick Lombard looked unconcerned. He held out his arms, and Melissa ran into them delightedly.
    He scooped her up and held her so protectively italmost stopped Camille’s heart. “It’s all right, Miss Larkins,” he said casually. “I’ll tuck my daughter in. Miss Guilford can help me.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Resentment flickered a moment and was gone. “I’ll say good-night, then. Pleasant dreams, Melissa. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “You don’t need to. It’s Saturday, and Emmy is going to show me how to make brownies.”
    Her