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eight should be able to read and write. She should know something of England and the world, and have the ability to pursue her talents.”
    “Her talents?”
    Miss Franklin nodded. “We all have talents, do we not?”
    “She is but a child, Miss Franklin.”
    “Even children have certain aptitudes, my lord.”
    Nash remembered having had a noteworthy talent for climbing. Trees, cottage roofs, the gabled roof and high turrets of Ashby Hall. He’d loved looking at the world from a perch far above where he could see for miles. He was lucky these days if he could see his own boots.
    “What is your particular aptitude, Miss Franklin?”
    She hesitated for a moment. “Plants, my lord.”
    “Plants?”
    “Yes, plants. And insects, of course. I have an interest in botany, therefore, I’ve made a point to learn all I can on the subject.”
    “And insects?”
    “They often have an intimate relationship with plants. And honey bees are quite essential.”
    Nash felt heat rise on the back of his neck as he watched Miss Franklin’s lips form the words. Intimate relationship, indeed.
    The door opened and Emmaline came into the library, followed by Mr. Lowell.
    Nash had seen the child at least once daily since his return to Ashby Hall the previous month, out of guilt more than anything. He did not care to form a bond with the girl—or with anyone. The losses of the past few years had taught him the folly of trusting his heart to the whims of fate.
    Fortunately, Emmaline was not particularly charmed by her unsightly uncle who knew more about swordplay and artillery fire than dolls and tea parties. Still, he had a responsibility to his orphaned niece. In the absence of a nurse, Miss Franklin would do.
    Emmaline came into the room, looking slightly disheveled and more than a little uncertain, and Nash realized how dreadful the situation had gotten. It wasn’t that Roarke and Blue were bad fellows, but they were not nursemaids.
    Emmaline’s light blond hair was loose and uncombed, but at least her face was clean today. Nash did not go to her, for she would just cringe away from his touch. And besides, she appeared so fragile, he was a bit afraid to lay his big hands upon her, for fear she might break.
    “Emmaline, this is Miss Franklin, who is to be your governess.” He was certain Emmaline had not cared much for Butterfield, the nurse he’d dismissed. Lowell and the ancient butler, Grainger, had told him the woman had been engaged by Arthur’s wife. And Georgia had been far more interested in becoming a grande dame of society than a child’s guardian.
    Georgia had kept a haughty housekeeper as well, and the woman had resigned the day after Nash sacked the nurse. She’d called his men “barbarians and plunderers,” and Nash had not been sorry to see the back of her, either.
    To be sure, it was unconventional to staff a noble household with former military men, but the group of men Nash had brought to Ashby had nowhere else to go and were willing to work for their keep. They only needed some direction, not that Nash knew how to run a household, much less an estate.
    Or a child. Emmaline stood still, her pale eyes turned to the direction of the fire. And Nash was reminded again of his unsightly injury. He couldn’t very well blame Emmaline for not wanting to look at him.
    “How do you do, Lady Emmaline?” Miss Franklin said, coming to stand before the child. She suddenly dropped down to one knee and took the girl’s hand. “I am very pleased to meet you, finally.”
    Emmaline’s eyes flickered away from the fire and came to rest upon the hand Miss Franklin held. “Hello,” she said in such a quiet tone Nash could barely hear her.
    “Would you like to show me the nursery?”
    Emmaline appeared uncertain, but her throat moved as she swallowed and gave a slow, tentative nod.
    “Good,” said Miss Franklin, rising to her feet. She kept Emmaline’s hand in her own and flashed a quick look at Nash. “If that is all, my