The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

“That’s right,” the earl agreed very quickly. “Now, what do you really think of Maggie and her talents?”

“Maggie said I looked splendid.” There was such disbelief, such utter bewilderment in her voice, that both the earl and the Duchess laughed.

“You do,” the earl said. “Try the trout a` la Genevese. You also look splendid in the Duchess’s gown. It has always made her look sallow, what with that dull black hair of hers and that washed-out complexion. Yes, that emerald green is becoming on you. I’m just surprised it wasn’t in Maggie’s armoire.”

“Maggie decided to allow Jessie to try it,” the Duchess said. “She did say, though, that if Jessie didn’t do it justice then she’d remove it while Jessie slept and wear it herself since it was a rather acceptable gown and deserved to be shown off. Did Maggie believe it became you, Jessie?”

“She just looked me up and down and hummed.”

“An excellent sign,” the earl said. “You mentioned that you were a jockey.”

“Yes, I’ll admit it since I’ve already spit it out. I know you probably have some very proficient jockeys here who are of the right sex.”

“Becoming a nanny is very different from being a jockey,” the Duchess said. “Are you certain you wish to deal with Charles?”

“He drools a lot, Jessie,” the earl said. “Except with Spears. He never drools on Spears. It isn’t fair. He looks at me, grins, gets this evil look in his eye, and waters from the mouth the moment he’s in my arms. He’s teething right now as well as drooling. He likes to bite my chin.”

“He bites anything that doesn’t move quickly enough.”

“I look forward to meeting him. I’m sorry, but the fact of the matter is I’ve never been around babies all that much, but you see, I love the new foals. I play with them and brush them and speak to them and—”

“Well, that’s a relief. It’s very nearly the same thing, isn’t it, Duchess?”

“Almost exactly,” the Duchess said. “I must also warn you, Jessie. Charles’s brother, Anthony, just turned six years old. He’ll be jealous that Charles has you. Thus you’ll have the two of them hanging onto your skirts.”

Jessie’s eyes lit up. “Anthony rides?”

“Like a little centaur,” the Duchess said fondly. “ Perhaps you can be his horse nanny.”

“Yes,” the earl said. “You could teach him all about the fact that most horses are Barbs imported via France from northern Africa.”

“Oh yes,” Jessie said, forgetting her delicious dinner, forgetting the exquisite Aubusson carpet upon which her cheaply shod feet rested, forgetting that she was a Colonial in the presence of near-royalty. “That would be wonderful. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” the earl said. “Ah, here’s Badger, come to be praised. Badger, this is Jessie Warfield, come to us from the Colonies. She’s a friend of James’s.”

He was ugly and big, with huge fists, a full head of white hair, and a big smile. He was dressed like a gentleman who’d just chanced upon a huge white apron and tied it around his middle.

“You’re Badger?”

“Aye, that I am. You liked the Julienne soup?”

“Oh yes.”

“And the boiled leg of lamb and white sauce?”

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“She did her duty by every dish, Badger. Now, what have you there?”

“Nesselrode pudding, my lord.”

He served the pudding as three footmen deftly and silently removed the plates and set down new ones, these with just as much gold as the others.

When he finished, he nodded to Sampson, motioned to the footmen, and said, “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Miss Jessie. You rest well tonight. Master Anthony will be so excited to meet you, he’s liable to roar into your bedchamber and jump up and down on you. It’s because you’re an American, of course. He’ll look closely to make certain you don’t have an extra finger or an extra ear. Good night, my lord, Duchess.”

He was gone. As were the footmen. Sampson said, “Good night. Mind what Mr. Badger said, Miss Jessie. That Master Anthony is a wild monkey.”

“I’ll mind,” Jessie said, and watched Sampson leave the small informal dining room that had, she was certain, an echo.