The Royal Nanny Read Free Page B

appeared the little lads had been crying as she washed their faces none too gently. Both tried to flinch away, though she held their chins firmly and scrubbed at their already rosy cheeks.
    â€œMy dears,” she told them, still not looking my way, “this is my new helper, Charlotte. Say hello to Charlotte, David and Bertie. Char-lotte.”
    â€œMiss or Mrs.?” David asked.
    â€œJust Charlotte,” Mrs. Peters said.
    â€œGood day, Charlotte,” he said with a nod but not a smile.
    â€œLala,” said little Bertie. “She Lala.”
    â€œWell, we’ll have to work on that,” Mrs. Peters said, tossing her washcloth in the basin.
    Despite still wearing my walking suit, I went down on my knees to greet the boys.
    â€œYou needn’t kneel to them—not here!”
    â€œI’m only making their acquaintance on their level,” I told her, smiling at them, for it seemed smiles were in short supply. “I know a new person can be daunting to little ones at first. Hello, David, and hello, Bertie. We’re are going to be friends and have lots of fun.”
    Mrs. Peters snorted so hard I thought she was going to sneeze. “You, just like me, had best follow orders here about, Their Graces’ wishes and mine, and that doesn’t mean games.”
    â€œOf course, I will follow orders and help you,” I promised as I shook hands with these two solemn, little boys, though I yearned to hug them. They kept looking nervously at each other and then up at their nurse, so I got to my feet and decided to bide my time for full introductions. The little poppets were blondbeauties, and I was sure their parents would be even more handsome than the drawings I’d seen of them in the gazettes at the Lockwood house.
    â€œI always take the heir,” Mrs. Peters told me and lifted David into her sturdy arms. “You bring Bertie.” Strangely, David looked upset, when most little ones loved to be cuddled and petted. Nurse Peters was rubbing his back and arms, patting him on his bum.
    Though Bertie was walking well, even with his soft leather shoes, petticoats, and skirts—for he had edged away from me—I picked him up, bounced him once and held him close. To my surprise, under all that fancy fabric, the boy seemed thin, almost bony. We went out, down the hall, and through the padded, green baize door. I followed Mrs. Peters with David looking back at Bertie and me. Bertie put his arms around my neck and clung close.
    David stretched one hand back toward us, probably trying to reach out to his younger brother. Or to me?
    â€œYou wait right there ’til summoned,” Nurse Peters told me at a turn of the hall and carted a wide-eyed David around the corner where I couldn’t see them.
    â€œI hungry,” Bertie told me. “Lala, I hungry.”
    â€œI’m sure there will be something good when you see Mama and Papa,” I told him. He stayed solemn, even as he held harder to me, seeming to stiffen as if waiting for something.
    From down the hall came a high-pitched shriek. Good gracious, could she have dropped David? Though I’d been told to wait there, holding Bertie to me who clung so hard he almost cut off my air, I rushed around the corner and down the hall. David was crying and evidently Mrs. Peters was shaking him. I hurried to her and started making funny faces and meowing and chirping to distract the child, but he still cried. Oh, this was going to makea terrible impression on his parents and on my first meeting with them!
    I heard a loud male voice on the other side of the door bellow, in a voice that carried over David’s wails, “Not again! What is wrong with that boy? Must he always be caterwauling?”
    I was thankful that made David’s cries subside to sniffles. Whatever had set him off like that? Just being momentarily separated from Bertie? Fear of his father’s booming voice?
    A woman’s tense tones