By the time they’d finished the third interview, Jo had a clear favorite, but she had no idea what Lord Knighton was thinking. He’d been thorough in his questioning, if a bit monotone. If she’d had to guess, she would say he hadn’t cared for any of them. Which she supposed was possible.

She opened her mouth to speak and promptly froze. But just for a moment. Then her jaw dropped as he untied his cravat, pulling the fabric loose until it hung down his front in two snowy white swaths. The top of his shirt gapped open, revealing a triangle of bronze flesh.

“What are you doing?” She blurted the question before she could censor herself.

“Removing this bloody nuisance.” He tugged the cravat from around his neck and tossed it atop the desk. He pulled at his collar, which widened the gap in the top of his shirt, which in turn exposed more of his bronzed flesh.

Jo realized she was staring and abruptly looked away. “Er…” She struggled to find the right words. Were there wrong words in this instance? “I don’t know what you’re used to in Barbados, but in England, it’s improper for a gentleman to disrobe in front of a lady.”

“Hell,” he muttered. “I hadn’t considered this disrobing. Things were different at home.” He scowled. “I beg your pardon, but I can only wear the troublesome garment for short periods at a time. Though it will likely offend you horribly, I can’t put it back on.”

Would it offend her? It most certainly should, but so far she found the earl’s eccentricities curious. Plus, he’d used the word “can’t,” not “won’t.” “Why does it bother you? If I may ask.”

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, perhaps weighing how to respond. “It’s constricting. I start to itch.”

She could understand that. Sometimes her corset was extremely unpleasant. She’d never remove it in an instance such as this, of course. But then taking off her corset wasn’t as simple as removing a cravat. Why were things always easier for men?

Before she could respond to that, Evie ran into the room, her blue-green eyes wide and her hair a mess of straggly curls. “Papa! Papa!” The girl stopped short at seeing Jo. “It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Evie turned from her and went to her father’s chair. The earl pivoted and leaned forward, putting his face near to hers. “What is it, my sweetling?”

“I’ve hurt my finger.” She held up her index finger and practically jabbed him in the eye.

“Let me see.” He clasped it gently around the knuckle and frowned at the digit. “This little cut at the top?”

She nodded. “The parchment wounded me.” She sounded as if she wanted to challenge the paper to a duel.

The earl’s brows pitched low over his eyes. “Nasty parchment. Tell me where it is, and I’ll toss it into the fireplace.”

“Oh no, Papa. I’m angry with it, but you mustn’t burn it. I was drawing our ship, and it’s quite good.”

“I see. Then it has won a reprieve. What shall we do with your wound?”

She shrugged. “Foster didn’t know what to do. She said I should go see Cook. I came here instead.”

Knighton looked over at Jo briefly, his gaze searching. Did he want help?

“May I see it?” Jo asked.

Evie hesitated a moment, but when her father gave her a slight nod, she rounded the desk and came to stand before Jo. She stuck her finger beneath Jo’s nose. “See?”

Jo focused on the pad of the girl’s digit and saw the reddened cut. “Did it bleed?”

“A little. I wiped it on my petticoat.” She lifted the edge of her dress to show the small red-brown streak at the hem of her undergarment. “Foster said I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, what should you have done?” Jo asked, glancing over at the girl’s father who was watching the exchange with interest. Again, she caught herself staring at his exposed flesh, and again, she jerked her gaze away.

“Foster said I should have sucked on it until it stopped bleeding.” Evie made a face, her tongue poking out of her mouth. “But that’s disgusting.”

“I agree. I think you did the only reasonable thing. Does it hurt?”

Evie nodded. “Not as much as it did at first, but it stings.”

“Do you know what my mother used to do for me when I had a cut?” Jo didn’t actually remember her mother doing it, but Nora had told her about it, so of course it was true. Nora, being two years older, remembered more about her than Jo did.

Evie shook her head, her gaze intent.

“She would blow on it and then seal it with a kiss.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “The kiss would close the cut?”

Jo chuckled softly. “No, but that would have been lovely, wouldn’t it? Perhaps that wasn’t the right way to say it. She would press a kiss to the wound, and it would instantly feel better.”

Evie looked skeptical.

“Would you like me to try? I promise it won’t make it worse.”

With a nod, Evie thrust her finger forward once more, until it was mere inches from Jo’s mouth. Jo lightly blew on the pad for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to the girl’s digit.

Evie slowly withdrew her hand, staring at her finger. She turned her hand this way and that, her expression one of bemusement. Then her lips spread into a wide smile, and she ran back around the desk to her father’s chair. “Papa! It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She looked over at Jo, her grin exposing the gap in her bottom teeth. “Mrs. Shaw is magic.”

“Magic,” he murmured, his dark gaze settling on Jo.

Something about the way he uttered the word sent a shiver along Jo’s arms. She covered a twitch by rolling her shoulders and straightening in the chair.

Knighton turned his attention back to his daughter. “Are you sufficiently recovered to return upstairs while I finish with Mrs. Shaw? We must decide on which nurse to hire.”

“Oh yes, you met with some today.” She looked from the earl to Jo and back again. “Were they nice?”

“Quite,” Knighton answered.

“However will you choose?” Evie asked.

“I’m not certain, which is why I need to discuss it with Mrs. Shaw.”

“All right.” She turned and walked toward the door, pivoting at the threshold to regard them both with a serious stare. “Choose wisely. My happiness depends on it.” She spun about and skipped from the room.

Laughter escaped Jo as she blinked after the girl. Quickly, Jo coughed to hide her reaction.

“I vaguely recall my younger sister uttering such dramatic nonsense,” Knighton said. “Is it thus with all girls?”

Jo caught the barest twinkle in his eye. “I’m afraid so. Nora and I were quite dramatic. Everything is Vitally Important when you’re nearly six years old.”

It had certainly seemed that way for Jo, especially in the wake of her mother’s death when Jo had been five. She recalled a deep and pervasive sadness and her sister trying very hard to make her smile at every possible opportunity. Nora would concoct elaborate schemes to amuse them so that they wouldn’t be sad.

The earl was staring at the corner, his eyes glazed, as if he’d fallen into a trance.

“My lord?” she prompted.

He shook his head and blinked. “Yes, vitally important. Shall we discuss the candidates?”

Jo had the sense he’d gotten lost in his own memories. Were they sad like hers or something else entirely? She doubted she’d ever find out. “I liked the last one, Mrs. Poole.”

He leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbow on his desk. His shirt shifted, allowing a greater exposure of flesh. Jo vowed to ignore it. “What did you like about her?” he asked.

“She—” The word came out scratchy so Jo coughed delicately. “She was the most knowledgeable, I think, having reared her own children.”

“You think that carries more weight than the other two who’ve several decades of employment in exemplary households between them?”

“I do. Mrs. Poole has a warmth that’s important for Evie, I think.” Jo could see that Evie craved a female connection. “She misses her old nurse a great deal, doesn’t she?”

Jo had noticed that the earl had mentioned the woman several times during the interviews. He’d made comments about their former nurse doing something and then asked the candidate if she could do the same, such as sing. Apparently, Evie liked to be sung to. Mrs. Poole had promptly rewarded them with a lullaby delivered in a soft, pleasant tone.

“Yes, she does.” He pulled his coat off and set it on the edge of his desk. As soon as he did it, his gaze darted to hers. “This is also unseemly, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Oh, but he looked divine, the sleeves of his shirt billowing out from the armholes of his dark blue waistcoat. “You’re not going to remove anything else, are you?”

He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. “Perhaps. But I’ll try not to. I do apologize, but I… It’s necessary.”

Because he felt itchy. She wondered how he was going to sit through a session in the House of Lords. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. For all she knew, they sat around in shirtsleeves. “Which candidate did you prefer?”

“They were all qualified. The first one, Miss Chambers, certainly possessed the best recommendations.”

She’d been Jo’s least favorite. Approximately fifty, with dark, knowing eyes, she’d given Jo the sense that she saw everything. And judged. “Yes, but… Ugh.”

Knighton’s eyes widened the slightest bit. Then he let out a sharp laugh. “Ugh?”

Jo felt heat rise up her neck but held his gaze. “She seemed a bit…unctuous.”

“That’s an interesting description. She did have an air of superiority about her, and for that reason, I agree with your choice of Mrs. Poole.”

“You do?” Jo was relieved. “I think she’ll be an excellent addition to your household. She meets all your requirements and she’s charming. Most importantly, she’s someone Evie could love.” Jo added the last softly, her throat tightening as she thought of the children she’d never have. Perhaps she ought to consider a career as a nurse or a governess.

“I think she’ll be the most flexible and understanding of our peccadilloes.”

“You’re referring to your distaste for cravats, I presume. But you used a plural. Are there more…peccadilloes?”

“Yes, the cravats and too much clothing in general. I’m afraid I walk about the house like this most of the time. Some of the current staff clearly do not approve. Evie likes to run around barefoot, though she does it less here since it’s not as warm as at home.” He pushed his hand through his hair, making the brown locks stand practically on end. It was a bit long anyway, and tousled, it gave him a wild, reckless look, especially in his current state of undress. “I have to stop thinking of that as home,” he muttered.

“I can’t imagine how difficult a transition this must be.”

His mouth ticked up in a brief, wry smile. “It was a shock.”

Jo tried not to think of how shocking this would be if anyone saw them. Wait, would it be? She was a widow. Wasn’t she allowed certain behaviors an unmarried woman wasn’t? Not that it mattered since there was absolutely no reason to preserve her reputation. Except as it pertained to her sister. She’d never want to bring scandal to Nora or her family. Especially not after the scandal Nora had already endured as a young debutante during her second Season.

Forcing herself to recall their conversation and stop woolgathering about the condition of his hair and how attractive it made him look, Jo looked at the window instead of at him. “Does that mean you’re going to hire Mrs. Poole?”

“Yes. You’re right that Evie needs someone who will be patient and understand that her life has been upended.” He frowned slightly. “Mrs. Poole is the only one who asked how Evie was faring.”

That was true. She’d also seemed unconcerned about Evie’s eating habits, something Lord Knighton had discussed with each of them. She was particular about her food, and while the other two candidates had vowed to ensure she overcame that problem, Mrs. Poole had chuckled and said that all children were particular about one thing or another. Yes, there were peccadilloes plural.

He folded his hands together on the desktop. “I suppose that concludes our business, then.”

Jo felt a pang of disappointment. Today had been the most useful she’d felt since Matthias had died. Not that she wasn’t helpful to Nora or that she didn’t enjoy being with her and her family. But Jo was the sister, the aunt. Here, today, she’d just been Jo.

A thought came to her. “Yes, it does. However, you should probably hire a governess as well. I’m not sure Mrs. Poole would be able to add lessons to her responsibilities. Besides, you’ll want someone who can educate Evie in the ways of Society. She is an earl’s daughter after all.”

He winced. “Isn’t she a bit young to worry about that?”

Jo shook her head. “My sister plans to hire one soon, and the girls are the same age.”

“Can’t I just send Evie over to their house a few times a week?”

Jo heard the exasperation in his tone and didn’t wish to overwhelm him. “Is there a reason you don’t want to hire a governess?”

“Not a governess in particular, no. I prefer a simpler household. There are too many retainers here.” He laid his palms flat as he cocked his head to the right and then to the left. He seemed uncomfortable.

“You’re the earl. You can decide how many retainers you need. There’s no reason you can’t decrease your staff.”

“Yes. I may do that.” His gaze found hers. “But I need a governess, you say?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He exhaled as he leaned back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling for a moment. When he looked back at her, his dark eyes gleamed with intensity. “Then you shall help me.”

A jolt of surprise quickened her pulse. “Me? Wouldn’t you prefer my sister?”

He pulled a sheaf of parchment from the top drawer of his desk. “No. I’m more than satisfied with you.” It was hardly a resounding endorsement.

“I’m glad I could pass muster.”

He looked up from the paper he’d laid in front of him. “Did I misspeak again?”

“Not terribly. I’m teasing you a bit. My apologies.”

“I see. Teasing. I didn’t realize people did that here.” He kept drawing comparisons, which she supposed made sense.

“Did they in Barbados?”

“Yes.”

“You think England is so very different?” she asked.

He nodded once. “In my experience.”

And she’d be willing to wager the difference favored Barbados—in every way. “You don’t like it here.”

He shrugged, but there was a tightness in his jaw that told her he was not apathetic. “It is not where I saw myself.”

She was suddenly quite eager to learn his story. Why, she didn’t know. “You left many years ago, did you not?”

“Fifteen.”

“I heard you never meant to return.” When he didn’t respond, she realized she’d overstepped. She stood abruptly. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He unfolded himself from the chair, rising to his full height, which had to be a good six or eight inches over her five feet six. He made her feel rather diminutive. It was an odd sensation after being married to Matthias for eight years. He’d had barely an inch on her.

“You aren’t being intrusive. I didn’t plan to ever live here again, no. That doesn’t mean I hadn’t planned to visit.”

“So you had?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’d never thought about it? I’d neither planned for it nor discounted it. I simply hadn’t considered it.” He shrugged. “I will say that when I left, I didn’t go with the thought that I’d never see my father or brothers again.”

She caught the barest tinge of regret in his tone. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but let me also clarify that while I might’ve expected to see them again, I didn’t particularly want to. At least not at the time of the departure.”

His revelation surprised her. What had happened that he didn’t care for his family?

He moved around the desk and paused at the corner. “I’ll have my secretary look into governesses.”

“Would you like me to ask Nora for recommendations?”

“Will she share them? We’ll be competing for the best candidate.”

Jo laughed softly. “I suppose you will. Although, I’d argue you aren’t looking for the same person. Nora needs someone who will be able to manage multiple children. At least in the future—Christopher has a few years before he’s ready to begin studies. I do know they want the governess to teach all their children until they reach a certain age.”

“That makes sense; however, I’ll be looking for the same.”

Jo was momentarily confused. “Do you have other children?”

“Not yet. But I will marry and have more, I hope. It’s apparently up to me to provide an heir to the earldom.”

Yes, of course. Jo thought of Becky’s suggestion that he marry her. Only Jo couldn’t have children. That would absolutely preclude her from being his countess. As if he would actually consider the recommendation of a child about a woman he barely knew. Nevertheless, Jo realized the moment he’d removed his cravat, she’d begun thinking of him in a different way. And that wouldn’t do.

She clutched her reticule. “I’ll ask Nora for her recommendations, and if you decide you’d rather work with her, I’ll understand.” She started toward the door, and he joined her.

“I said I wanted you to help me. Are you trying to shirk the task? Perhaps you have something better to do.” His gaze lingered on her, suffusing her with a touch of heat. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I’m not trying to shirk anything. And as it happens, I don’t have anything better to do.” She winced inwardly at how pathetic that sounded. She’d been far too idle since Matthias’s death. Perhaps she did need something to do. She suddenly thought that she could be his governess. Evie was an adorable child…

“Good. I’ll see you soon, then.” He gestured for her to precede him from the office and then followed her a short way until the butler met them and offered to show her out.

Jo turned to say goodbye to the earl, but he was already walking back to his office. His waistcoat was superbly fitted, hugging the muscles of his back and leaving no question as to his fitness. She’d never seen a naked male back—Matthias had always left his shirt on when he’d joined her in the bedchamber.

As she left Knighton’s town house, she realized she would likely never see a nude male back, unless she had an affair or married someone who didn’t want children or already had an heir. She wouldn’t count on either of those things happening, however. She’d learned at an early age that life was full of disappointments. She wouldn’t expect things to change now.