His Bewitching Jewel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 7) by Marly Mathews Page A

good heart, and he usually stuck up for Mrs. Teague when he should not. They had both been employed for a relatively short amount of time, as he had taken them into service after he had returned from London. The servants he had found at Penryn House, hadn’t been suitable, and so he had dismissed them without delay.
    Mrs. Teague knew that when it came right down to it, Mr. Chegwin was above her in authority, and it was a good thing, too, because he kept her from doing things that Finn knew he wouldn’t approve of, and it was Mr. Chegwin’s efforts that usually kept Mrs. Teague employed. Should he decide to stop interceding on her behalf, Finn would have cause to dismiss the woman.
    He walked slowly toward the staircase. He was so tempted to go and knock on Miss Massey’s bedchamber door and invite her to dinner. He couldn’t do that. That wasn’t proper, and now, now, he was a proper gentleman and so he had to act the part.
    He was the Duke of Camblesforth, and it was about time he started acting like it. He was no longer a libertine. He was a reformed rake, and his life here had to remain untouched by scandal.
    He groaned, as longing swept through him. He took a shaky breath, and instead decided to go up and check on Miranda and Cordelia in the nursery.
    He quietly opened the door, without gaining anyone’s attention, and found them ready for bed. One of the nursemaids had just slipped the warming pan under Miranda’s bedclothes, to warm her bed up. Once she was satisfied the bed was no longer damp, she took the bed warmer out, and handed it back to a waiting maid who hurried away with it.
    As the woman’s back was to him, she left Miranda’s side, and walked back over to a waiting chair. Settling herself with a contented sigh, she reached for her sewing. The two women that were their nannies seemed to be good women, and they had a few maids that worked beneath them to facilitate them with their care of their charges. That was one thing about Finn. He could go easily undetected whenever he wished. So far, none in the room had noticed his arrival—or they were pretending not to notice his arrival.
    Miranda hadn’t crawled into her bed yet, but Cordelia was already under her bedclothes, and when she caught sight of him standing in the doorway, she let out a terrified little yelp, and shrunk under the bedclothes so her head was concealed from him.
    Miranda groaned, looking to see what or who had upset her sister. She held the kitten they had named Joan her arms. When her perceptively astute blue gaze settled on him, she sighed. “Cordelia that is simply no way to behave around Uncle, he has only come to bid us goodnight.”
    The nursemaids sat opposite their beds, and from what he could see, one was knitting, and the other one seemed to be darning socks. They slept in an adjoining room, and were meant to be on hand, in case the children needed them during the night. 
    The nursemaids stiffened, as they finally noticed him, and jumped up to give him a quick curtsy.
    “That isn’t necessary. Go about your business as if I wasn’t here,” he murmured. “Would one of you two little pixies like a bedtime story?”
    He could see the covered lump that was Cordelia twitch ever so slightly. She must have been intrigued by his offer, but she couldn’t muster the courage to reveal herself and ask for a story.
    Miranda crawled under her bedclothes, and put the kitten at the end of her bed, then, she propped her pillows up, so she could sit up and lean against them. Folding her hands over the top of her sheet, she settled her uniquely intelligent gaze on him.
    “I would like a story, Uncle. I want one with pixie or a ghost in it. I want a spooky story befitting this splendid time of year.”
    He sighed. “It might give your sister nightmares, Miranda.”
    “Oh, no,” Miranda contradicted. “Not if it has a friendly ghost in it. We aren’t afraid of friendly ghosts, are we, Cordelia?”
    Cordelia hesitantly peeked her