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With the same honest and unflinching stare, Hydee gave him her answer. ‘I love children, sir—Dom Carlos—and I want to work with them. I did say in my letter that at present I’m working in an office; but for some time now I have been considering working with children.’ Her voice, low-toned and musical, was as arresting as her words, and she saw that the marquês’s interest was caught.

  ‘True, you did say in your letter that you were working in an office, but I took it for granted that you’d had at least some experience with children. However, experience, though often desirable, is not always essential, especially in a post of this kind. . . . ’ He allowed his voice to trail off obscurely, just as if, thought Hydee, there was something not quite orthodox about the post he was offering. ‘Senhorita, do you sincerely love children?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered simply, ‘I do, and that’s the reason why I want to work with them.’ She paused a moment, then said, ‘If you would give me a trial, senhor, I am sure you would be more than satisfied with me.’ The low tones had taken on a note of unconscious pleading and the large brown eyes had a limpid quality that seemed to tell the man watching her that tears of sadness often lingered within their depths.

  ‘Are your children here with you?’ ventured Hydee when he remained silent. ‘If . . . if they and I could meet . . . ?’ She stopped as he shook his head.

  ‘I omitted to mention in my letter that my son and daughter are at present staying in Surrey with a friend of my late wife. . . .’ Again his voice trailed off, and this time the fine mouth went tight, the noble jaw flexed. With her quick intelligence, Hydee immediately sensed anger and contempt mingling to form the harsh expression which now marred the good looks which had been the first thing to strike her about the marquês. ‘The confinement of a hotel is not good for boisterous children like mine,’ he added, and now a smile appeared, erasing the displeasure of a moment earlier.

  ‘They’re boisterous?’ Hydee’s voice held surprise. ‘I wouldn’t have expected them . . . ’ She broke off, colouring at the thought of what she had been about to say. The marquês finished the sentence for her, saying that she would not have expected the children of a Portuguese nobleman to be boisterous but, rather, to have their high spirits suppressed by dignity.

  ‘My children, senhorita,’ he continued, his face unsmiling but amusement clearly portrayed in his voice, ‘are in no way inhibited by convention. For the past two years they have known what freedom is.’ He paused, deep in thought. What about the past? wondered Hydee. The past beyond two years ago. She knew instinctively that his wife had been dead for two years; she also felt fairly sure that up till then the children had been far more restricted than they were now. She continued to watch the marquês’s thoughtful face. He seemed almost to have forgotten about the interview he was conducting and, after several more silent moments, she gave a little cough which immediately brought him back. He put more questions to her, learning that she had no parents—no relations whatsoever—that she was sharing a flat with a friend who would shortly be leaving to get married. He probably learned as much from what was left unsaid, thought Hydee, noting his expression as it changed from time to time.

  ‘So you’re totally alone in the world?’ The dark eyes were fixed intently upon her; she turned her head a little, disconcerted by his stare. ‘When this friend leaves you, you’ll have no one at all?’

  She shook her head, unhappily aware that he must be wondering why she had no other friends, and perhaps he was concluding that the fault lay in some aspect of her personality. Like any other person, Hydee hated anyone to think that she was disliked and, accordingly, words rose to her lips that would otherwise never have been voiced. ‘My lack of friends, senhor, is a product of my own desire. I prefer solitude.’

  ‘You prefer solitude?’ The marquês raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll not find much solitude in looking after children.’

  ‘No. . . .’ She knew she had made a mistake, but there was little she could do about it. ‘Children are different,’ she murmured, convinced that the interview was not going in her favour.

  To her surprise, he bypassed this remark, asking her more about herself and her late parents. After three or four minutes he said, ‘Miss Merrill, I’m impressed by all you have told me, and the next thing is for you to meet my children. Can you get time off from work?’

  ‘Yes, if it’s necessary. I haven’t told my employer that I’m looking for another post, but I’m sure he’ll understand when I do tell him, and he’ll let me have a day off.’ She was slightly breathless, the result of excitement. Was the post really hers? It would seem so, and she marvelled that she had managed to impress the aristocratic Marquês Carlos de Alva Manrique, impress him with nothing more than the honest summary of her life history. Of course, the securing of the post ultimately depended on whether she and the children got along together, but in her present state of optimism Hydee envisaged no snags whatever. Always she’d had a way with children, especially young ones, and she had no qualms about the forthcoming meeting with the two, who, she hoped, would soon be given into her charge.

  ‘You will need to ask for more than one day, senhorita. I should like you to stay with my children—whose names, by the way, are Ramos and Luisa—for a few days at least. I must make sure this time. . . .’ He broke off, frowning. The idea that he could be unsure what to say made him seem more human, less exalted than before.

  ‘You’ve had some difficulty with your nannies, senhor?’ she ventured.

  He nodded, the frown deepening. ‘Considerable difficulty, Miss Merrill.’ Brusque the voice now, giving Hydee her first fleeting tinge of anxiety. Was the marquês so hard to please that no nanny had been able to tolerate his interference regarding the children? ‘So much difficulty that I have changed my plans for the children’s future—’ He raised an imperious hand to dismiss the interruption which came to Hydee’s lips. ‘This will not concern you at this stage, senhorita. Meet my children first, and then we can talk of other things.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Other things,’ murmured Ellie, puzzled. ‘What did he mean?’

  ‘I have no idea, but he certainly sounded mysterious.’ Hydee and Ellie were eating their evening meal, Hydee having arrived home from her trip to London in plenty of time to prepare it before Ellie came in from the office. As soon as they sat down, she had begun to relate what had transpired at the interview, ending up just as the marquês had done, by mentioning those ‘other things.’

  ‘If you ask me,’ offered Ellie, ‘there’s more to this job than appears on the surface.’

  ‘But in what way?’ Hydee frowned, wishing she could shake off this tinge of uneasiness concerning the post which she so desperately wanted to obtain. She had set her heart on it. In fact, she’d been unable to think of anything else as she sat in the train coming up from London. Nanny to the children of a marquês! Of course any children would have done, but she was honest enough to admit that the idea of working for such an exalted man held certain attractions, as did the prospect of living in Portugal in what must surely be a mansion, even if only a small one. ‘I’ve racked my brain to find an explanation, but I can’t.’

  ‘He’s had trouble with his previous nannies, you said?’

  ‘Yes. The actual words he used were “considerable difficulty.” ’

  ‘How many nannies has he had altogether in these two years he mentioned?’

  ‘He didn’t say, but I had the impression that he’s had several.’

  ‘Because of what he said about making sure this time?’

  Hydee nodded, trying to throw out the idea that all was not aboveboard, but failing to do so because her logical mind insisted on warning her of a snag.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, glancing across the table at Ellie. ‘It’s because of these troubles he’s had that he insists I stay with the children for a few days.’

  ‘Seems phony to me!’

  ‘It isn’t phony,’ Hydee was swift to contradict. ‘The marquês is cold and a
loof, but his integrity’s not to be questioned.’

  ‘He certainly made a favourable impression on you.’ Ellie’s voice was dry and left Hydee with no illusions regarding her friend’s disapproval. Ellie had not even wanted Hydee to attend the interview, declaring the marquês’s letter to be far too stiff and formal; he would certainly not be a kind, understanding man and, therefore, would obviously be a difficult employer.

  ‘He did indeed.’ Hydee’s tone was reflective. ‘He could have told me to leave once he knew I had no qualifications, but, on the contrary, he wanted to know more about me.’

  ‘Too darned much, if you ask me,’ returned Ellie darkly. ‘Why on earth should he want to know about your parents? Why was he so interested in the fact that you had no relatives? You shouldn’t have been so keen to reveal it to him,’ added Ellie severely. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t have answered all those questions!’

  ‘It’s not unnatural that he should want to learn a little of my background,’ protested Hydee in defence of the marquês. ‘I haven’t any recommendations, remember, so he has to do something to make sure I’m genuine.’

  ‘He’s only to look at you to see that!’

  ‘He isn’t you,’ laughed Hydee. ‘He’s never met me before; he knows nothing about me—’

  ‘He knows just about everything, if you ask me!’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Hydee patiently. ‘Just put yourself in his place for a moment. He’s thinking of employing me to look after his two young children. It’s not unreasonable that he should want to know as much about me as he possibly can.’

  A deep sigh was Ellie’s only answer as she toyed absently with the mixed vegetables on her plate, going over in her mind all that Hydee had told her.

  ‘I don’t like the sound of it,’ she said stubbornly at length. ‘Take my advice, Hydee, and let the matter rest where it is.’

  ‘I can’t do a thing like that! He’s expecting me to telephone him and say when I can go down to Surrey.’

  ‘Why does he need an English nanny anyway?’ pursued Ellie, just as if Hydee had not spoken at all. ‘Were those other nannies English?’

  ‘I can’t say. And as to why he wants an English nanny this time—well, he did mention that his children speak our language.’

  ‘What does that signify? Most foreign kids are taught English as their second language.’

  ‘I expect he’ll explain eventually,’ said Hydee.

  ‘If I were you, I’d telephone him this very evening and tell him the whole thing’s off. It’s far too risky, going over there to his home.’ Ellie shook her head emphatically. ‘You mustn’t do it, Hydee!’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re so troubled, Ellie, and it’s certainly gratifying to know that there’s at least one person in the world who cares what’s to become of me. However, I am old enough to take care of myself, but in any case, we’re travelling a little too fast. I haven’t landed the job yet. The children might not take to me—’

  ‘You know darned well they’ll take to you,’ interrupted her friend impatiently. ‘All kids take to you!’

  Hydee had to smile at Ellie’s anger. Yet, as she had just remarked, it was gratifying to know that there was someone who really cared. It meant a great deal to Hydee to know that if she did take this post abroad, she would at least have a contact with home, for she was sure that she and Ellie would keep up a regular correspondence with one another.

  ‘I want to go to Surrey,’ she said at length, almost apologetically. ‘Please bear with me, Ellie, as I’m really anxious to take the job if it’s offered to me.’

  ‘In spite of the mystery?’

  ‘There won’t be a mystery after I’ve been to Surrey. The marquês did say, remember, that we’d talk about these other things. It’s my opinion that he intends to make some alterations in the way he wants the children brought up.’

  Ellie’s eyes flickered thoughtfully, and when she spoke, her voice was not as sharp as before. ‘That would certainly explain what he said about those “other things” which have been worrying us. In fact, he said he had changed his plans for the children’s future, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Hydee was glad that Ellie seemed a little less hostile towards the marquês, and she hoped to be able to tell her, on her return from Surrey, that everything had been satisfactorily explained and that all her suspicions were unfounded.

  The house in Surrey was far less pretentious than Hydee had expected. It was of a moderate size with no more than an acre of garden surrounding it and a small paddock to one side. The marquês, who had met Hydee at the station in a chauffeur-driven car which bore a silver crest on each of its four doors and flew a pennant above the windscreen, had spoken very little to Hydee after the first rather cool greeting as he met her on the platform, and she was now experiencing a sort of weighty sensation in the pit of her stomach. The marquês’s strange mood affected her in an uncomfortable manner and she even dwelt on the possibility of his having regretted asking her to come to Surrey to meet his children. Perhaps he had now decided he ought to look for a woman with experience. Undoubtedly there were plenty to be had, women whose careers had started with a two-or three-year course in child care, followed by experience gained in the sort of post for which they had trained.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ the marquês said as the big car turned into the short but well-kept drive. ‘You’ll be meeting the children, but they have no idea who you are.’

  She nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said, smiling.

  The chauffeur, whom the marquês called Casco, opened the door for Hydee to alight, then went round the car to do the same for the marquês. Within a few minutes Hydee had met Mrs. Doreen Fitzwarren, who at present had charge of the children.

  A tall, attractive woman of about thirty, she instantly put Hydee at her ease by saying, after the introduction had been made, ‘Carlos was telling me on the phone that you come from Crady-on-Sea. I used to live there myself when I was in my teens. I expect it’s changed since I left more than twelve years ago.’

  ‘It hasn’t changed very much. There are a few more hotels, of course, to deal with the extra holidaymakers who’ve recently been attracted to the resort.’ Her thoughts went quite naturally to Noel, who, as manager of the White Hart, had brought about a threefold increase in profits, gaining promotion for himself as a result.

  Doreen began speaking to the marquês rather quietly, and Hydee, undecided as to whether or not she was meant to overhear, moved towards the open window, where she caught her first glimpse of the children. Ramos and Luisa. . . . Both dark like their father, both extraordinarily good-looking, Ramos in a strong, classical way, with a firm chin even now, and the same jawline as his father. Hydee could not see his eyes but knew instinctively that they were dark brown. Luisa’s prettiness was equally marked, but in a more gentle way. Her delicate little face, with its pointed chin and rosebud mouth, was creased with laughter now as she stood before her brother, who, having come into contact with something sharp, was looking with dismay at the large tear in his denim shorts. Hydee’s mouth curved and her eyes lit with amusement. They were natural, at any rate, just as she had hoped they would be. For she had come with some slight doubts in spite of their father’s assertion that they were in no way inhibited by convention.

  She was still smiling in amusement when, addressed by the marquês, she turned round to face him. She saw his eyes flicker, then move slowly to the scene outside, where his daughter was still laughing and his son just about to give her something which would take the humour from her face. This he did, but playfully, and then they were sparring together; they fell into a flower border, where the struggle continued.

  Ramos cried, ‘Stop biting me!’ in English, and his sister returned, ‘Then you stop punching me! If you’re not careful, you’ll tear your silly old pants even more—and that’ll be funnier than ever because it’ll show your—’

  ‘Luisa! Ramos!’ Their father’s voice brought the children instan
tly to their feet. ‘That’s enough. Come here and meet a friend of mine.’

  Hydee looked swiftly at him, the colour rising to tint her cheeks. So naturally he had referred to her as his friend, yet it was as a servant that she was entering his employ. Her thoughts faded as a wry expression crossed her face. She was taking far too much for granted. She might be a little more then halfway to obtaining the post, but the biggest hurdle had yet to be surmounted.

  Would these lovely children like her? she wondered, apprehension suddenly filling her heart.

  ‘I’ll go and leave you to it, Carlos,’ Doreen said, her glance darting to the French window, which was partly open, and through which the children would come racing in a few seconds. ‘You’ll be staying for dinner, I hope?’ And she was gone without waiting for an answer from the marquês.

  ‘Papa!’ Both children spoke together. ‘You’ve been gone a long time! Where have you been?’ Ramos wanted to know, the words interspersed with great gulps of air. ‘We want to go home!’

  Hydee, a little surprised that they seemed to speak English all the time, looked at the marquês inquiringly.

  ‘Their mother was English,’ he explained without much expression. ‘Ramos, Luisa, meet Miss Merrill. She will be staying here with you for a few days.’

  ‘Oh. . . .’ Both children subjected Hydee to a long and disconcerting scrutiny before Ramos said respectfully, ‘How do you do, Miss Merrill?’

  She smiled, took the hand extended to her, and knew that she and the boy were going to be friends. Luisa, however, was more undecided, her wide hazel eyes fixed on Hydee’s face as if she were unable to take them from it. The moment was tense, with Hydee aware of what lay in the balance. Standing immobile, the marquês watched his daughter intently through partly narrowed eyes.

  ‘Say how do you do to Miss Merrill,’ he ordered when eventually the silence stretched to the point where Hydee was plainly becoming uncomfortable.

  ‘How do you do . . . Miss Merrill?’ A small hand was outstretched obediently. Hydee took it and found it to be cold. This, and the child’s long hesitation, convinced her that the post was lost.