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nurse, Miss Beddoes.” She managed a creditable curtsy.
    “And I am your father, the Earl of Bridgeport,” he replied gravely. “Who is the housekeeper?”
    “Mrs. Burgess.” Wariness crept into Helen’s eyes, causing a strange tightness in Mark’s chest.
    “Good. Tell Burgess to summon a doctor. Then find Mrs. Burgess and ask her to come here. Nana needs more help than I can give her.” As Helen scampered out of the room, he carefully lifted the nurse and carried her into the adjacent room. She was unconscious from the pain by the time he laid her gently on the bed.
    Mark’s head swirled dizzily as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He had not even known his daughter’s name. Shame washed over him. How could he have treated her so shabbily? It was true that he had no particular use for children and that he’d been furious that she was a girl, but that was a selfish reaction to the prospect of doing it all again. It certainly wasn’t the child’s fault.
    Yet in six years he had not even bothered to inquire as to her name.
    His wife had written a month before the birth to say that her own nurse would care for the babe. That was the last time he had even considered arrangements, leaving details of her upbringing to the estate steward. He had known nothing of the nurse’s character or age. She must be nearly eighty and should have been pensioned off years ago. No matter how well behaved Helen might be, it was impossible for this woman to properly care for her. Burgess had hinted that escaping her nurse was a regular occurrence. A maid must immediately be found who could care for the child.
    Nana stirred, opening her eyes. Pain still twisted her face, but she seemed lucid.
    “Lord Bridgeport?” she asked uncertainly.
    “Yes. Have you no one to help care for Helen?”
    “There was adequate staff in Yorkshire, my lord,” she murmured. “Mrs. Burgess promised that Rose would help us as soon as she returns from her mother’s sickbed. There are no others available in so tiny a place as Treselyan.”
    Helen’s return prevented a response. She was accompanied by a bustling woman dressed in black.
    “I fear she has broken a hip,” Mark murmured to the housekeeper.
    “I pray not, for she will never again rise from her bed.”
    He nodded.
    Mrs. Burgess turned to Helen. “You must find Ro— Oh, dear, the lass is still at home with her ailing mother. Perhaps— But no, Cook went into the village to find a better joint for dinner. And Willy is fetching the doctor from Bodmin – but that could easily take three or four hours.”
    “Helen can give me a tour of the house and grounds,” offered Mark with a sigh. “Once the doctor arrives, perhaps you can arrange for the footman to look after her.”
    “Yes, my lord.” She turned to the nurse, who seemed to be drifting somewhere just short of unconsciousness. “Take some of this laudanum, Miss Beddoes. It will be a long wait until the doctor can see you.”
    Mark shook his head and headed for the door.
    “Are you really my papa?” asked Helen when they had left the nursery behind.
    “Yes.”
    “I have always wanted to meet you,” she continued in a rush. “But Nana says you are too busy to travel so far. Are we closer now?”
    “No. This is just as far as Westron, but I have business here.” What was he supposed to say to a child? Guilt was already gnawing at his conscience. How could he explain that he had given her not a single thought in six years? He glanced again at that face so like his own and shivered. “Have you been here long?”
    She glared as if it was a foolish question – which it was, of course. “About a month, I think. At least, that was what Miss Elaine said yesterday.”
    “Who is Miss Elaine?”
    Her face lit up. “My bestest friend. She tells me all about the world and birds and animals. And she taught me how to read books for myself so I do not need to wait for someone to tell me the stories. And she is showing me how to make