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softly, completely unaffected by the stench of the soiled diaper. Almost the second she took possession of Arthur, he’d stopped squalling. A fold here, a twist there, a few pins, and she’d done more for his son than Daniel had managed in the past half hour. In action and in temperament, Miss Fairweather exemplified grace. Popping a fresh gown over his head, she said, “Peek-a-boo!”
    Arthur giggled and grabbed a tendril of her nut brown hair. “Boo!”
    She extricated herself and seated him on the floor. “You sit here for a moment.”
    Arthur clouded up again.
    “Now, now.” Miss Fairweather glanced about, a frown marring her youthful face and darkening the gray-green of her eyes. Obviously not seeing what she needed, she pulled a bracelet from her wrist and gave it to him. “See? Pretty!”
    “Preeee!” Arthur snatched it with glee.
    She turned back, tugged open a few drawers, then found sheets for the drenched baby bed. In a few moments, she’d changed the linen, washed her hands, and started tying a pillow slip into a series of knots.
    Daniel watched her. “What, pray tell, is that?”
    Pulling on two corners with a flourish, she declared, “A bunny rabbit! See, Arthur? This is your new friend. Come play with Bunny while your father and I have a chat.”
    When she took the seat Daniel offered, little Arthur promptly crawled into her lap. Gifting her with an angelic smile, he snuggled the knotted cloth and slumped against her bosom. She smoothed back his damp brown curls, started to rock, and softly hummed.
    “It’s plain to see Mr. Tibbs was correct. You have experience.”
    “I do.”
    “Have you letters of recommendation?”
    “I have one in my baggage. I’ll produce it if you’d like.”
    Brows lowered, he repeated, “One?”
    “My first and only post lasted four years.”
    “Why did you leave?”
    Pain streaked across her features. “My employer decided it was time for his daughters to attend an academy.”
    “You disagreed with his decision?”
    “A father is responsible for making the decisions concerning his children.”
    She was discreet and loyal, handled Arthur with ease. From her speech and carriage, Miss Fairweather was a proper lady—probably one of the unfortunate types whose family money ran out and marriage prospects dwindled so she’d resorted to genteel servitude. She was everything he needed. He studied her. Fairweather wasn’t just her name—it was an apt description. Sunny and breezy, she chased away the cloud of looming problems. All save one enormous predicament: A youthful and comely nanny sleeping in the adjoining room would fan unsavory speculation.
    Why couldn’t she be old and stout as Miss Jenkin had been? The mere thought of the former nanny had him bristling now. She’d been his wife’s nanny, so when he and Henrietta had welcomed Arthur, it seemed comforting to summon Miss Jenkin to take charge of their nursery. All had gone well until Henrietta’s death. Thereafter, Daniel noticed Miss Jenkin was frazzled at times, but he attributed it to her grief. The way she’d flitted off the ship and abandoned Arthur . . . Daniel ground his molars.
    “I presume Arthur is teething?”
    Daniel frowned at the way his son gnawed on Miss Fairweather’s bracelet. “Teeth keep cropping up. Is that why he’s in such a temper?” He attempted to pry away the bracelet.
    Arthur jerked back. “No! Mine!”
    “Arthur.” Daniel gave him a stern look.
    “Good little boys don’t tell their father no.” Miss Fairweather smoothly traded the cloth rabbit for her bracelet. “Bunny is yours, Arthur. As long as you listen to your father and obey him, you may keep the bunny.”
    “My buddy.” Arthur ended the announcement by chomping down on one of the knots.
    “Yes, that’s a good boy.” Miss Fairweather smiled at his son, then looked up at Daniel. “If he’s teething, chewing feels good to him.”
    Guilt swamped Daniel. “I’m not sure he’s had his tea. His nanny