“My lord?” Jacob turned to him, a slight frown on his face.

“I highly doubt she sleeps in her own bedchamber.” He clarified.

“I am not privileged with that information, my lord. But if it bothers you, I shall find out.”

It did, for some strange reason, it bothered Ethan.

Nodding his head, he gave Jacob the orders to find out whether or not Gretchen slept in her own room because deep down, Ethan knew that the truth was capable of changing everything.

**

“MISS RIVERSIDE,”

Gretchen turned slightly from playing with Ellie to the voice that beckoned her; a maid stood by the door.

“Come in.” She offered a smile to the maid who made her way into the nursery.

“Lord Williams requests your presence, miss. I am to see to Miss Elizabeth's care until you return.”

A frown immediately settled on Gretchen's face at the maid's announcement —she didn't want to see Ethan. She hated how awkward she felt every time they were in the same room together, or the way his gaze seemed to linger on her as if in anticipation that she would make a terrible mistake which would inevitably lead to her dismissal from the job.

Groaning inwardly, she rose to her feet; she couldn't ignore Lord Williams' summons.

“Very well,” she said, turning to face the door.

She had barely closed the door behind her when Ellie's loud cries began to filter back to her.

Pausing in her tracks, she fought against the urge to hurry back to Ellie. She hated having to leave the infant's side, for just as Ellie had become attached to her, she was attached to Ellie as well. Two months caring for Ellie and she couldn't help but feel like the child's mother. It also didn't help matters that once in a while, Ellie called Gretchen 'Mama'; something she had finally given up on trying to correct.

She reached Ethan's study and waited for Jacob to announce her presence. Once she entered the room, Ethan rose to his feet.

“Lord Williams, you sent for me?” She paused by the door.

“Please,” he said, walking around the massive desk and pulling out a seat for her.

Clasping her hands before her, she crossed the room slowly and settled on the seat. She was nervous, her hands trembling where they sat on her knees.

“Would you like a drink?” Ethan released his hold on her chair, her gaze following his movements to the fireplace where several bottles of wine sat on the mantle. She watched him uncork a decanter of red liquid, and serve two glasses. He turned from the fireplace and crossed the room, holding a glass to her.

Shifting nervously in her chair, she unfolded her hands and took the glass. “Thank you,” she held it, her thumb tapping on the glass nervously, for she knew she was incapable of stomaching wine.

“I would like to begin by thanking you. Elizabeth's a lot healthier now and I know it is as a result of your presence.” He said. Unsure of how to respond, she sat still before him. “Tell me, Miss Riverside,” he placed himself on his desk before her. She knew he probably meant nothing by it, but she didn't like the sudden wave of emotion that washed over her at his closeness. “Do you find your present accommodation to be below standard, or do you simply prefer the feeling of a carpet against your back, while a baby lies cradled in your arms?”