The Nanny's Little Matchmakers. Danica Favorite

in Mitch’s body burned. But as he thought of the only answer he had, he suddenly went cold. “I shouldn’t have to.”

      He walked toward the fireplace, putting his hands out for the dying embers to give him some warmth. Something to chase away the ice that had seized his heart. “I’ve never been anything but honorable in all of my dealings. In how I treated Hattie and the children. How could anyone think...”

      Memories washed over him. All the times he and Hattie fought, with Hattie storming out and him not hearing from her for months. The scandals Hattie always found herself in, and him, stoically standing by, saying nothing, because he didn’t want the children to think ill of their mother.

      No, he had never said anything. The papers had always said enough, and regardless of whether or not their stories were true, they said it anyway. What was there for him to say?

      Mitch turned back toward Polly. “I didn’t kill Hattie,” he said quietly. “I hope that satisfies you. But that is all I will say on the matter, and should you require any more information, I suggest you find other employment. For I will not speak of it.”

      His threat, as much as he’d like it to have more power, floated on the air. Losing someone who cared for his children as much as Polly would be a blow. But already the rumors and innuendos swirling about were too much for Mitch to handle. All were complete lies, of course, but he’d seen how good friends had already closed their doors to him, not wanting to be involved with something so scandalous. And with the way the investigators had already twisted his words and actions, his lawyer had told him that the less he said to anyone, the better. One of the “witnesses” was Mitch’s former housekeeper, who’d told the investigators about the violent last argument he’d had with Hattie.

      The argument had been violent. But it had been Hattie who’d thrown the lamp at him. Hattie who’d screamed obscenities. Hattie who’d slapped him so soundly it had made his cheek bleed from where her nails had scratched him. She’d stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and he hadn’t heard from her since.

      Absently, he rubbed the spot on his cheek. The scratches had faded, leaving only invisible scars that left him wondering how he’d gotten caught up in the madness in the first place.

      Polly remained standing where she’d been, the shadows too dark for him to see her eyes, and he was glad. He’d just begun to get to know her, just gotten to like her, and now he was driving her away.

      Mitch cleared his throat. “I’d also like to make it clear that I won’t have you gossiping about my family. If anyone asks, a reporter shows up or anything of the like, you will say nothing. I was arrested based on rumor, and I will not have anyone in my employ who is prone to idle talk.”

      “I would never gossip about anyone,” Polly said quietly.

      “Perhaps,” Mitch said slowly. “But just as you needed to hear that I didn’t kill my wife, I need to hear that you won’t be talking to anyone about my family.”

      Polly nodded. “You have my word.” Then she hesitated. “But...my family...”

      “I would rather you not share with them.” Who knew what, even in innocence, might be shared. And, with all the comings and goings in the parsonage, what would be overheard and misconstrued.

      She didn’t say anything, but instead, walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. Then, with those eyes that seemed to probe deeper into his soul than he was comfortable with, she spoke softly.

      “It must be incredibly lonely keeping yourself so closed off. As much as they make me crazy sometimes, I don’t know what I would do without my family to talk to. I understand that it must be difficult to talk to someone you barely know, but I hope you know that you don’t have to go through this alone.”

      Mitch’s throat clogged with anything he might have said in response. What did Polly know of his life? Of the difficulties he could not, would not, share?

      Then she squeezed his arm, sending a current through him that seized his heart. “Even if you reject my friendship, please at least consider opening up to your brother. He cares for you deeply, and I know he wants to help even more than he has.”

      He closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe. Andrew was the last person he’d confide in. Yes, he loved his brother, but how could he let his brother know just how bad things were? How could he disappoint him so?

      Polly’s soft lilac scent filled his nostrils. She was the one he wanted to confide in. Wanted to wrap his arms around her, and have her tell him it was going to be all right. But then he would have to admit to feelings that he didn’t have the right to have.

      Mitch took another deep breath. “I have everything under control,” he said, pulling away. “We should both turn in for the night. Morning will be here before you know it, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the children are early risers.”

      “Of course,” Polly said, bowing her head. She seemed to understand without him having to tell her that theirs needed to be a more formal relationship. There would be no confidences shared, no...none of the things that sometimes crossed his mind. He couldn’t afford to have his heart so ensnared again.

      He started for his bedroom, but Polly stopped him. “If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ve been sleeping in there with Isabella. It seemed easier to be closer to the children.”

      “It’s all right. I’ll take the other bedroom. After the nights I’ve spent in a cell, any bed has to be more comfortable.”

      Another dip of the head. “As you wish.”

      No, nothing was as he wished. But as he watched Polly retreat back into the bedroom, he knew it was the only way to keep his heart safe.