The Nanny's Little Matchmakers. Danica Favorite

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      “Papa!” five voices chorused as they all jumped from the table and wrapped their arms around him.

      As much as she wanted to hold Mitch’s inability to be forthcoming against him, and wanted to stay angry with him, she found that as she watched the loving interaction between father and children, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. For the first time since he’d gone away, Louisa was actually smiling.

      “I see Polly still has all her hair,” Mitch said, looking up at her and smiling. “I hope that means you were all well behaved.”

      The cross expression returned to Louisa’s face as she made a noise. “Well, she wasn’t as horrid as Mrs. Abernathy, but we would have done just fine without her.”

      As the younger girl wound herself up for what Polly imagined was yet another argument for why she should be allowed to take care of her siblings, Mitch seemed to sense the direction Louisa was taking as well.

      “I don’t want to hear it,” he said, shaking his head. “I need an adult taking care of you, and Polly is doing a wonderful job.”

      “How would you know? You’ve been gone.” Louisa’s dark eyes flashed, and she stepped away from her father, crossing her arms over her chest.

      Polly turned to help Isabella get back in her chair, but not before she caught the reciprocal flash in Mitch’s eyes.

      “It couldn’t be helped,” he said, his voice quiet, yet with an undercurrent of tension that made Polly’s heart ache.

      She supposed he couldn’t be forthcoming with the children; after all, having their father be accused of killing their mother was a tragedy no child should have to experience. Losing their mother was bad enough, but to have to face the potential involvement of their father...

      Polly took a deep breath. She’d been judging Mitch harshly, when he’d simply been doing the best he could do.

      “Would you like some breakfast?” she said, straightening as she smiled at him. “Your brother thoughtfully provided a housekeeper to help with the cooking and such since apparently you hadn’t had time to engage one. Lucy has just gone down to get some more milk, but I think you’ll be pleased with her.”

      Mitch nodded slowly, then sat at the head of the table. “Thank you. I guess I hadn’t realized what a mess I’d left behind.”

      He spoke slowly, as though the remorse for the difficult position he’d left everyone in had finally dawned on him.

      “We made it through just fine,” Polly said, handing him a plate. “Now we need to move forward as best as we can.”

      She’d have liked to have told him that she was sorry for her accusations the previous night. The five accusing glances, even from little Isabella, must have weighed incredibly heavily on him. He didn’t need the additional pressure from her.

      The back door opened, and Lucy bustled in. “There’s a crowd gathered out front, and they were asking me all sorts of questions.”

      Mitch had just raised a forkful of eggs to his lips but hadn’t taken a bite yet. The fork clattered to the table as he jumped up and went to the front window.

      He muttered something indistinguishable as he turned back toward the kitchen area. “Reporters.”

      “Like when Mummy has a show?” Clara asked, her eyes lighting up momentarily, then dimming. “They don’t know she is gone?”

      “No, you dolt. It’s because Mummy is dead. They all want to know how we feel about losing her.” Louisa’s face darkened, but fire filled her eyes. “Why won’t they leave us alone?”

      Mitch looked over at Polly, his eyes locking with hers. A silent reminder that the children didn’t know the circumstances that hung over him.

      How were they supposed to carry on with their lives with the reporters hanging about? One ill-placed question, and Mitch would have a great deal of explaining to do.

      “Let’s forget about them and enjoy our breakfasts, shall we?” Polly tried to sound cheerful, but as the sullen children stared at their congealing eggs, she found she didn’t have much of an appetite either.

      Isabella, however, was too innocent to understand the darkness surrounding her family, and she devoured her meal. At least one of her charges was eating.

      Mitch made a show of finishing his breakfast. “It was delicious. Thank you, Lucy.”

      He acknowledged their housekeeper with a smile, but his eyes weren’t in it.

      How had Polly come to take such an interest in him? To notice his moods and his features? She shook her head. Just part of the job. Of course she had to be sensitive to Mitch’s moods—for the children’s sakes.

      “I suppose we could start our lessons.” Once again, Polly tried to sound cheerful, but she was met with dull expressions. Typically, the suggestion of lessons would have elicited a few groans, or some argument. But with the mention of their beloved mummy, their grief came back up again, swallowing them into a pit of mourning that left them incapable of feeling anything else.

      “Or, I was thinking, we could go to the parsonage and take our lessons with the children there today.”

      “Wif Nugget?” Isabella’s big dark eyes brightened as she hopped off her chair and bounded toward Polly.

      In the days Mitch had been gone, the children had spent a good deal of time with the parsonage children. Partially because it was easier than keeping them cooped up in the tiny apartment when they were clearly used to living in a larger home. But also because Polly had seen how much the children needed to be around others their own age. Nugget had taken a shine to Isabella and relished finally having a child younger than herself to mother.

      Oddly enough, Isabella seemed to relish the attention just as much.

      “Yes, my sweet. With Nugget.” She ruffled the little girl’s hair, then looked over at Mitch. “With your father’s approval, of course. It might provide a nice distraction.”

      Mitch gave her a warm smile. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.” Then he looked over at Lucy. “Had anyone followed you to the back?”

      “No, sir. It’s not a well-used entrance, and the only reason I knew of it was because the other Mr. Taylor suggested it to avoid the reporters.”

      Then he turned his attention to Polly. “Let’s go now, before anyone discovers it.”

      * * *

      Madness. That’s what the whole situation was. He would take the children out of the apartment now, so they wouldn’t see the people standing in front of the building holding signs that said Murderer, but what then? Eventually, they’d have to come home, and those people, as well as the reporters, would still be there.

      Everyone thought he’d killed Hattie. The newspapers in Denver already blasted the headline that he’d killed her in a fit of passion. Passion. Ha! He hadn’t experienced passion toward Hattie in so long, he couldn’t even remember what it felt like. But the sensational headlines sold papers, and convicting him of Hattie’s murder would СКАЧАТЬ