Page 21 of A Winter By the Sea
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Miss Emily Summers.” She bobbed a curtsy. “We live in Sea View, just there. We have a few of your staff staying with us.”
“Ah yes. A pleasure to meet such a charming neighbor.” He bowed his head, then looked from her toward the sea, inhaling a deep breath of icy air. “I like this bracing weather. It’s rather ... Canadian. I was posted there, as you may know.” He reached out and stroked his daughter’s cheek, and the babe kicked her legs in delight.
“Y-yes. I remember reading that somewhere.”
Emily found it difficult to reconcile this doting father with the harsh military leader she had read about.
His attention remained on his daughter, pride evident in his expression. “I am delighted to see my little girl is thriving under the influence of the Devonshire climate.”
“Indeed, sir,” Nurse Brock said. “Yet I confess I grow cold. We were in the garden for some time before I ventured this way. May I take her inside now?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” After a quick kiss to the child’s cheek, he waved the woman on her way. “Take good care of her. She may yet be Queen of England.”
The nurse walked back up Glen Lane. He, however, remained, turning again toward the sea.
Now what did she do?
Emily wondered how to excuse herself. Did one need to back away from royalty, or only from the monarch?
He relieved her uncertainty by smiling and saying, “If youwill excuse me, Miss Summers, I shall continue my walk. I am told the sea air is excellent for one’s health.”
She curtsied again, murmuring, “Your Royal Highness,” and stepped aside. With another small nod of his head, he strolled away.
Emily watched him go, marveling at the encounter. She had often resented her family’s move to Devonshire. Had long wished to return home to May Hill. Yet she was oddly glad to be here now to meet this man and his daughter, one or both of whom might one day sit on England’s throne.
———
After allowing the duke an ample start, Emily walked in the same direction, moving quickly to warm up after standing still too long. She made her way east along the esplanade toward Wallis’s to return the volume of poetry and find a new book to read. After her conversation with Mr. Thomson, she was in the mood for something weightier.
She looked through the library’s frost-framed window and was pleased to see the proprietor himself bent over some pages at his desk. She wondered what he was working on. Perhaps this would be an opportune time to ask if he might allow her to edit or proofread for him.
When the jingling bell announced her presence, he looked up.
“Ah, Miss Summers.” He stood. “Good day.”
She blurted, “Guess who I just spoke to.”
His face wrinkled in thought. “Um ... the vicar?”
“No. His Royal Highness!”
His eyes widened. “Did you indeed?”
She nodded and walked closer. “And I met his daughter. Her nurse was out walking with her.”
“Ah. Others have mentioned seeing a woman airing a child on the esplanade—and sometimes the duchess herself accompanies them.”
“I have not met her yet.”
“But you have seen the little princess. What is she like?”
“Lovely. Rosy and sweet with blue eyes.”
“Did the duke happen to mention my library? His patronage?”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “I am afraid not.”
Mr. Wallis sighed. “I have been appointed bookseller to Their Royal Highnesses, as you know, and yet they have not called in. I am most disappointed, I don’t mind telling you.”
