The Royal Nanny Read Online Free

wafted through the door. “Let’s bring them in and feed them. After all, it’s their last meal of the day.”
    â€œAt least my stamp collection doesn’t shriek. Even my hunt dogs don’t bark like that. We’ll never make a man of him.”
    â€œMy dearest, he’s not even four. I can’t take it either, not with this wretched state I’m in. I just want it to be all over, this waiting, this birth.”
    I was tempted to take Bertie and flee, but Mrs. Peters rapped on the door, then opened it herself. In she swept with David starting to cry again. Could he indeed be afraid of his father? I did not know whether to wait until summoned, but I went in too, following Mrs. Peters’s lead to curtsy. When I tried to put Bertie down, he clung so hard I kept him in my arms.
    The room was exquisite with satin draperies in pale greens that matched the full, embroidered robe the duchess wore over her form in her delicate condition, en negligee, Dr. Lockwood’s new wife had called that style. No corsets, no petticoats beneath. All sorts of photographs and bric-a-brac clustered on tables. May of Teck, the Duchess of York, had dark hair swept up beautifully and a regal bearing despite her big belly.
    I was surprised that the duke was my height at five feet and a half. He had a brown beard clipped tight and stood ramrodstraight with his teacup in one hand and cigar in the other. Could the strong smoke from that be something the children disliked, and so they protested these visits? It did rather sting one’s eyes.
    â€œIf that boy can’t be quiet, take him out, Mrs. Peters,” the duke said over David’s renewed sobs. His voice cut right through one, as if he were speaking to an entire shipload of men, for I’d heard he still considered himself a Royal Navy man. “How you manage him, I don’t know. Her Grace doesn’t need to be upset now.”
    To my horror, Mrs. Peters curtsied and carried David right out, leaving me with Bertie facing my new royal employers. I bobbed another curtsy and put Bertie down, hoping he would go to his mother, which, thank the Lord on high, he did.
    With a weary smile, the duchess said, “My friend Lady Dugdale and her London doctor recommended you highly. We hope you will be happy here. As you must know, there will be a third child soon.” She had a unique way of pronouncing her words, sharp with rolled r ’s, which I learned later were traces of her German accent.
    â€œYes, Your Grace. I’m honored to serve here, and I love children.”
    â€œWell, good,” the duke chimed in, “because these two are hard to love at times. Not since they’ve been babies, when we doted on them. I will leave all this to you, dearest,” he said to his wife, “and be in my library with my stamps.”
    He made a hasty retreat. I didn’t hear David’s cries anymore so I hoped Mrs. Peters would bring him back in, but perhaps she had fled. To hear this had happened before was most unsettling.
    â€œExcuse me, milady,” I ventured, “but Bertie said he’s hungry.” The moment that was out of my mouth, I was appalled. I hadn’t been spoken to first. And had I just indirectly criticized Mrs. Peters or demanded something?
    â€œHe’s always hungry yet doesn’t seem to grow. So what do we have for you here, eh, sweeting?” she asked the child, and his face lit. “Why don’t you sit on this stool and put him on your lap,” she said to me. “I don’t have a lap right now to hold him right, and he can have some grapes, muffins with jam, and milk. Ah—what is it you will be called by here, Miss Bill? Not Mrs. Bill, I’m sure since you aren’t the head nurse, and I believe Mrs. Peters didn’t want to use Bill at all. I recall that her husband who died years ago was Bill.”
    â€œCharlotte, she decided, milady.” I had been told by Lady