from Twinkle’s claws. At least his coat was red.
Nanny looked at Miss Wilcox. “And your brother, Miss Felicity! What a scrape he’s gotten into now!”
Miss Wilcox reddened and brushed impatiently at a strand of hair that had come loose from the bun at her pretty nape. James watched her, thinking that since he’d met her she’d continually been the classic damsel in distress—the fall in the stream, the plummeting family fortunes. While she was obviously very capable, what she really needed was a good man. As pretty as she was, why wasn’t she married?
“I’m sure we needn’t—” Miss Wilcox began. But her old nanny was not deterred.
“That prank with the horse. What a fool idea.”
“I don’t see how you could have heard—”
“Timothy Brooke’s mother told me.” Nanny shook her head. “Whoever thought some old farm horse would be worth thirty pounds?”
Ah. The reason why Miss Wilcox had changed her mind about helping him with the orchard.
Nanny continued. “I won’t say I’m not worried about you in all this, Miss Felicity. Your mother always carried more than her share of the Wilcox family’s responsibilities, with your father off forever in his study, and I can see that’s what will happen to you.”
Miss Wilcox glanced sideways at James, clearly not happy to have the family business aired. “Nanny,” she said warningly.
Nanny ignored her. “Your father’s too dreamy to say anything, but I’m not. You need a husband. Preferably a rich one. That would resolve so much.”
Miss Wilcox gasped. “Nanny!”
The old troll was completely unbothered by Miss Wilcox’s dismay, and James quite liked her for it. “It’s always ‘Oh, Nanny, don’t bring that up.’ As if the idea of your marrying were preposterous.”
“Nanny,” Miss Wilcox’s voice was steely, “we are fine. Father’s poetry sells well, and…” her eyes drifted toward him, and she dropped whatever she was going to say. “You needn’t worry about any of us.” For being a young, slim, and pretty señorita, there was something surprisingly commanding about her.
Nanny pressed her lips with displeasure. “Things have come to a sad state since I was nanny for the Beresfords, that’s all I’ll say.”
Miss Wilcox closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “We have to be going now. I promised Crispin I would attend the church garden party.”
“Dear Crispin,” Nanny said, glee lighting her face. “Now there’s a fine young man. And he’s more than fond of you.”
But here Miss Wilcox cut her off by leaning in for a parting kiss. “Good-bye, dear. I will stop in again soon.”
Nanny enveloped Miss Wilcox in what looked like a crushing hug.
“Good-bye, Nanny Rollins,” James said with a grin. Her eyes widened as if she sensed he was being saucy. He was, but fortunately he was no longer in short pants.
They returned to the carriage, James wondering just how many family responsibilities Miss Wilcox carried.
“So, the infamous Reverend Markham,” he said, once they were seated. “A suitor?” he asked, not wanting to notice that he felt a particular interest in her answer.
“No,” she said in the general direction of the puffy clouds beyond his shoulder.
“Nanny seems to think so.”
“Nanny, God bless her, has opinions on everything.”
He chuckled in agreement.
***
Felicity couldn’t wait to get to the garden party, simply because she was itching to get away from Mr. Collington. She should have known Nanny would say whatever she was thinking. She always had. But did she really have to say all that in front of Mr. Collington?
He had behaved admirably with Nanny, despite her rudeness, and between that and his general surfeit of manliness, she could feel herself being pulled toward him. She had already had to spend an effort resisting the dreamy thought of what it might have felt like if he’d kissed her when he helped her down from the carriage.
The party was being held, as it was