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other nursing duties for the young gentleman. That is, his lordship intimated that you will be here for some time.” Her voice lifted questioningly.
    "Yes, I expect we will, Mrs. Hobart,” replied Helen easily. She began to remove his clothing, ignoring the infant's vociferous protest at this invasion of his person. “Oh, dear, he's soaked all the way up to his eyebrows.” She wrinkled her nose. “And not just that. I fear he's going to require a complete sluicing to make him anywhere near socially acceptable."
    At this moment, a young woman rushed into the room. She was garbed in a plain, dark round gown covered with a crisp white apron. On a tightly bound mop of naming red hair perched a demure cap. She bobbed a curtsy first to Mrs. Hobart, then to Helen, and, as she noticed Miss Barnstaple, added one more for good measure.
    "You wanted me, ma'am?” she asked Mrs. Hobart.
    The housekeeper nodded before turning to Helen. “This is Finch, Miss. She is quite reliable and the eldest of a large family. I'm sure she will do for the young gentleman."
    Helen informed Finch of William's current unsavory situation, which, she admitted ruefully, under the circumstances was scarcely necessary. The young master had by now worked himself up to a fit of screaming outrage, and Finch hastened to remove him from Helen's arms. This accomplished, Mrs. Hobart beckoned to Helen and Miss Barnstaple.
    "I'll show you to your chambers now. Miss."
    "Oh, no!” cried Helen, putting up a hand in protest. “I would rather stay here. That is, surely there are beds here . . ."
    Mrs. Hobart's not inconsiderable brows lifted in surprise. “Well, yes, of course there are, Miss, but they are for the accommodation of the nurse and her staff. Surely—"
    "Come along, Helen,” said Miss Barnstaple abruptly. “You didn't sleep in William's room at home, and I do not believe you are required to do so here. I'm quite confident that, er, Finch, here, will look after the little tyke admirably."
    "Oh, yes, mum,” breathed the little maid fervently.
    "You see?” said Miss Barnstaple with a smile. She added in a gentle aside, “You have nothing to fear."
    "No, of course not,” Helen replied hastily, aware that she did indeed fear for William. How could she leave him unattended to face the far-from-tender mercies of the man who must consider him a threat of the first order? On the other hand, it would present a decidedly odd appearance if she were to insist on continually hovering over the child. She certainly did not wish to betray her extreme distrust of Lord Cam—that is, Mr. Beresford. She feared she had already raised his suspicions.
    Pressing her lips tightly together, she followed Mrs. Hobart from the room. They returned to a lower floor.
    "Oh, my!” exclaimed Miss Barnstaple upon entering the chamber opened to them by the housekeeper. Helen echoed Barney's sentiment silently, for the room was elegant and utterly charming. “I hope you will find this satisfactory, Miss?” asked Mrs. Hobart, turning to Helen.
    Helen could only nod bemusedly.
    "Very good, then. Mr. Stebbings will have your luggage brought up in a moment. You will no doubt wish to rest now after your journey. A light luncheon is usually served in the Breakfast Room at about one. If you wish to go downstairs before then, your maid will take you to Lord Camberwell, who has expressed his intention of showing you about the house when you are ready. In the meantime"—she gestured to Miss Barnstaple—"if you will follow me, ma'am ...” She turned and whisked the speechless spinster down the corridor.
    Helen had barely time to absorb the elegance of the sitting room's furnishings, which included several Louis Quatorze chairs, a small writing desk and an ornately carved cupboard, when a scratch at the door heralded the arrival of a footman and a serving girl. The former bore Helen's two portmanteaux and her dressing case. The serving girl announced that she would be acting as Miss's