What a Lady Craves by Ashlyn Macnamara

governess. She’d written the notion off until she became truly desperate.
    “You cannot expect Albemarle to take them on or me to do it at my age.” Lady Epperley grasped at her bodice for emphasis. “It’s very easy. You keep them quiet and out from underfoot. And you’re perfectly situated. Your bedchamber is right next to the nursery. No, my mind is made up. You will take these girls in hand. Make sure you keep them away from Albemarle. I will not have him disturbed.”
    Lady Epperley sailed off before Henrietta had a chance to object. Alexander stepped forward, one arm outstretched. Thank goodness, he pulled it back before he laid it on her.
    “Satya can look after them. You needn’t concern yourself—” He broke off as the younger girl tugged once more at his coat. “What is it?”
    “Is her name really George?”
    “Of course it isn’t. It’s Henrietta.”
    “Then why did that lady call her George?”
    Henrietta couldn’t resist a smile. She crouched until she was at the girl’s level. “Because she’s old and a little odd.”
    “She’s mean.”
    “She only wants you to think that.” Henrietta worked to keep the cheer in her voice. Her throat was still oddly tight, and she couldn’t chase a certain echo from her mind.
These could have been your girls.
“She likes putting people off their guard. What do you want to wager, the next time you see her, she’ll offer you jam tarts and tea?”
    The girl blinked at her, as if she couldn’t imagine anything more outlandish. “Is she your aunt, too?”
    “No, she’s my employer. She hired me to be her companion and keep her entertained. Perhaps she scared off all her friends,” Henrietta couldn’t resist adding. “Now, what do you suppose you tell me your name, since you know mine?”
    “It’s Francesca.”
    “I’m very pleased to meet you, Francesca.” Henrietta turned to the sister. “And what’s your name?”
    The dark-haired girl regarded her soberly. “Helena.”
    “And how old are you?” Henrietta couldn’t resist asking. Best to confirm her suspicionsnow.
    “I’m six.”
    “You are not,” Francesca chimed in. “You’re still five.”
    Helena scowled at her sister. “I’m
almost
six.”
    Almost six. And hadn’t it been about six years ago that Henrietta began hearing the rumors of Alexander’s sudden marriage? Given the time required for the news to cross the ocean, her suspicion that the wedding had been hasty stood on a firmer base.
    With a grin, Francesca swung her arms. “Then I’m almost four.”
    “Wonderful.” Henrietta intervened before an outright quarrel could break out. “And now that we’ve been properly introduced, perhaps you can tell me what you like to do.”
    The rasp of a throat clearing caused her to look up. Alexander. She’d almost forgotten he was there. And she wasn’t quite sure she liked the way he was watching her. In his gaze mingled assessment, amusement, and something else she couldn’t quite identify but which warmed her through. For some reason, her mind fled back to the kiss they’d shared in the upstairs corridor—right outside the nursery. Right where she’d have to take these girls before too long and settle them in.
    She shook her head. His girls needed a mother. If she wasn’t careful—if she did her job too well—he might just become more persistent in his pursuit.
    “For someone who hasn’t the slightest idea what to do with young children, you’re swimming along rather nicely,” he said.
    “Good heavens.” She forced her smile a notch broader. “This kind of thing doesn’t take any effort.”
    “Keep on as you are, and you’ll be just fine.”
    God willing, this job would remain temporary. On the other hand, Mary Wollstonecraft had worked as a governess, and she’d even managed to inspire her charges. Right. Henrietta could take these girls in hand and start them on a proper education, one that involved improving their minds rather than stuffing their