Looking at her, Nanny thought it was very unlikely that anyone who looked as lovely as Ivana would be employed by a woman.
And if a man should do so, it would undoubtedly be dangerous.
“Perhaps,” she said after a moment, “you could be a reader to an elderly lady. After all they needs someone to read to them when they’re gettin’ old and goin’ blind and you have a really lovely reading voice.”
“That is what Mama used to say,” Ivana answered. “I would read the Collects to her on a Sunday and then the poems of Lord Byron. They made her cry because they reminded her of Papa.”
She sighed deeply and recalled how happy she had been reading to her mother before Keith Waring came into her life.
Then, as if forcing herself to be practical, she asked Nanny,
“How can I find out if there is a posi
