Page 72 of Dearest Beast
Baby, she might have muttered under her breath. Her younger brother’s eyes watered.
Miss Adler made a small noise of disapproval as she helped herself to a boiled egg and a touch of quince jam.
“That’s true,” Roger said, making his tone both thoughtful and, more importantly, calm. He turned to his daughter. “But perhaps we can inform your brother of that in a kinder manner.” She should learn this lesson now, lest she attempt to use such a tone outside the house, for which they’d all pay a price. A twinge of guilt rippled through him as he recalled some of his more recent comments to Miss Alder. He should apologize.
If it wouldn’t irritate her, which he could not guarantee.
“It’s a prayer. It should be done correctly,” the girl argued, pulling him back into the present.
“True,” he agreed again. “But criticism can be conveyed constructively.” It should be in most circumstances. After all, one received a great deal more with honey than vinegar, or whatever they said.
Unfortunately, this did not convince Fannie, as she folded her arms across her chest and glared.
“But let’s not quarrel,” he said, preempting god only knew what his daughter was fixing to retort, while studiously ignoring her expression. He cleared his throat. “Let’s just have a pleasant morning.” He took a few bites of rice porridge then made the mistake of glancing at Miss Adler from the corner of his eye.
She’d managed to spill her teacup, something that merely a few weeks ago would’ve disgusted him, or at least made him mentally remark on her lack of grace. Instead, he sat mesmerized for a moment as she dabbed a handkerchief along her perfect, pert—
Zut alors.
As quickly as he could, he turned back to the children and to important, necessary topics.
“Unfortunately, Miss Pardo shall no longer be part of this household,” he informed them. “But don’t fear. I shall be endeavoring to hire a new governess as well as a nurse as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Papa,” the children said in unison. Michael stuffed a sweet bun into his mouth. He was going to have to speak to his new hire regarding his son’s table manners.
Fannie, for her part, ate properly, though he could not help but notice that she stirred food on her plate more than ate. Was she ill? Her eyes were focused, and she didn’t appear feverish.
“I changed Miss Fannie’s dressing this morning,” Miss Adler affirmed, as if she could read his mind. “And Dr. Maduro is coming to check us both this afternoon.”
Roger blinked at the woman in surprise. That was… well, above and beyond anything required of her.
Admirable to say the least. And thoughtful. Not that Miss Adler did not think well, but he’d never expected her to consider such things, especially in regard to him.
“Thank you,” he told the woman taking a fortifying sip of spiced chocolate. “Thank you so much for all your help.” He turned back to his daughter. “Does your arm hurt, Fannie?”
The child shook her head. “No.”
“What happened?” Michael piped up, the sound slightly muffled as his mouth was still filled with food. Roger resisted a sigh.
“That’s not your concern,” Fannie snapped, anger marring her small face once more.
Mercy, her moods were most certainly mercurial, weren’t they? Perhaps Miss Adler was right. He should broach the future sooner rather than later.
He cleared his throat. “In addition to a governess and a nurse, the household might acquire another member,” he told his children.
“Who?” Fannie asked, setting down her utensil. Michael continued to chew on a bun.
Roger searched his mind for the best way to bring up his potential betrothed. “Her name is Leone Teres. Her father is an acquaintance of your Uncle David. She’s a little younger than your cousin Sofia. You might have seen them together.” He glanced between his children for a glimmer of recognition but received nothing.
Why did this need to be so difficult? It shouldn’t be. People remarried frequently. Especially when it bettered their family, like this would. He forged ahead. “She might come to live with us.” The children blinked at him. Well, Fannie did. Michael merely continued to eat.
“She’s a bright, vivacious woman,” Roger explained, using the most appealing descriptors he could think of. “Quite fashionable as well.”
“I thought Rachel helped me dress,” Fannie returned, frowning again.
Definitely not his morning.
“She’s not coming to work but to be a member of the family,” Roger explained, searching his children’s faces once more. “How would you like that?”
