“Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Tasha lifted her gaze from Camille’s tummy up to her eyes.
“No.” Camille shook her head. “I asked the doctor not to tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”
Tasha looked at Julian. “I’ll bet you know what it is, don’t you?”
A chorus of laughter rippled across the archway. Andre poked a finger at his brother. “My wife has your number.”
Julian grinned and nodded his head sheepishly. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping a secret or two from your wife…hey, brother?”
Before Tasha could object or inquire about Julian’s statement, Camille had latched on to her hand, dragged her up the grand entryway, into and through the house. She didn’t stop until they were outside again in the west gardens.
“Shouldn’t you slow down a bit?” Tasha glanced around the patio furniture and claimed the nearest chair. “You really should take it easy.”
“We have so much to catch up on.” Camille sat in the chair kitty-cornered from Tasha. “And I thought you might like a little privacy.”
“What I’d really like is to know what Julian was talking about back there.” Tasha crossed her legs. “What’d he mean about secrets?”
Camille gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, you know Julian.” She giggled and shook her head. “He never likes to be put in his place by anyone, especially his younger brother. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s just Julian being Julian.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SOMETIMES, CAMILLE COULD JUST wring her husband’s neck. She planned to give him a proper scolding later. These days, she could get away with it. Once she had the baby, she had a feeling it’d be back to business as usual. Julian de Laurent was capable of arguing every waking minute of his day. Camille suspected that he sometimes got his way because people got tired of listening to him.
But right now she had Tasha to contend with. From here on out, she’d have to choose her words carefully. Not that she’d ever out-and-out lie to Tasha, but nothing good could come from Tasha finding out about the exact details of Edouard Renault’s will. Knowing Tasha, her pride would get in the way and she’d up and leave.
At that moment, Camille vowed to never let Julian place those kinds of stipulations on her child in order to inherit any part of the de Laurent fortune.
The door opened behind them. Camille glanced over her shoulder. Monique had poked her head in. “Ms. Camille. Your appointment is waiting in the west salon.”
“Very good.” Camille nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
Monique disappeared and the door closed.
“Appointment?” Tasha asked. “It’s not about the baby, is it? Because, you know, I want to help you with the nursery and all.”
Camille shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of decorating the nursery without your input. But this isn’t about the nursery exactly.”
“Then what, pray tell?”
“Julian is insisting that we hire a nanny.” Camille stood. “I agreed, under one condition. I get to hire her.”
Tasha grinned and snorted a devilish laugh. “Yeah. Make sure she knows who’s boss.”
“My goal precisely.” Camille headed for the door but stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You feel like going in to town with me tomorrow? I want to look at wall paper and furniture for the nursery.”
“Sure.” Tasha smiled and nodded.
“Great. It’ll be much more fun if you’re there.”
Camille went back inside the house and traversed the halls until she reached the salon where her applicant was waiting. She opened the door and stepped inside. The woman sitting on the couch looked to be in her mid-forties. Good. Camille wanted someone mature. Someone who was more settled, patient and attentive. Some of the younger girls Camille had interviewed had the attention span of a gnat. She could see them now, walking around in a daze, wondering, “now where’d I put that baby?”
As Camille approached her, the woman stood and pulled a single piece of paper from her attaché. “Mrs. de Laurent, I’m so pleased to meet you.” She offered the paper, her resume, to Camille.
“Likewise. Thank you.” Camille took the resume. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the couch where the woman had been sitting. The woman reclaimed her seat while Camille sat in a nearby chair and began perusing the resume.
Cecily Mason. The name sounded a bit on the familiar side, but after a second or two of not being able to place it, Camille chalked it up to déjà vu. And she’s a nurse. Now that had to be good. Camille liked the idea of having a nurse at her disposal.
Camille lifted her gaze from the resume and settled it on the applicant. “Cecily. May I call you Cecily?” She waited for the woman’s response, a nod, before she continued. “What is your area of practice in the nursing field?”
“I’ve spent the last twenty years at one hospital or another in Avignon. Mostly in the pediatric ward and the newborn nursery.” She fingered the satchel in her lap, but kept her eyes on Camille. “I do so enjoy the children.”
“So you’re presently employed at a hospital?” Camille glanced down at the resume and nodded, seeing the word Hospitalier. She looked back at Cecily. “You’re okay with leaving the hospital?”
“Only if I find something in private service.” She paused a moment, perhaps to catch her breath. “I’ve put in enough service at the hospital to retire. I wouldn’t mind taking care of a child or two in a private setting.” She shrugged. “It would slow the pace a bit, which I wouldn’t find unpleasant. Might be nice for a change.”
“I can see how working as a private nanny could feel like a vacation for someone with your background.”
They chattered and talked for a long time more. All the while, Camille grilled Cecily but with the utmost respect, never once making her feel as if she was being judged. Instead, to get a feel for her capabilities, Camille asked her about her work experiences with the children over the years. Above all else, Camille needed to feel like Cecily would be supportive to her and attentive to her baby’s needs, and would never, ever mistreat the child when she wasn’t around.
Cecily had done a fair job of setting Camille’s mind at ease after a near forty-minute discussion.
“Well…” Camille clapped her hands together. “I think my curiosity is just about satisfied. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”