Anthony Westbrook sat at his mahogany desk, a glass of wine untouched before him. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room as his fingers absently tapped the rim of the glass. His thoughts, however, were far from the legal documents spread out before him. Instead, they lingered on his daughters.

Isabella, the eldest, carried a heavy load of responsibility beyond her years. Jemima, ever defiant, was a constant challenge to his patience. Katherine, his youngest, was a whirlwind of curiosity, always craving attention.

He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting to the portraits of his late wife. Her absence had left a void, one he could not fill with another woman. The idea of remarriage seemed unbearable. But his daughters... they needed a woman's guidance.

He leaned back in his chair, the decision slowly solidifying in his mind. A governess, though not a replacement for his wife, could provide the nurturing his daughters required. He was no longer willing to delay it.

With a final, resigned breath, he reached for the wine, the warmth of the liquid offering a fleeting comfort. The decision had been made.

In the drawing room, Isabella played a soft melody on the piano, her fingers moving with practiced grace. Jemima sat on the arm of a chair, absently flipping through a book, her eyes clearly not on the pages. Katherine, the youngest, spun in circles, nearly knocking over a vase with her enthusiasm.

Anthony sat by the window, gazing out, his thoughts a thousand miles away. The peaceful scene was disrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall. A moment later, the door swung open, and the footman appeared, ushering in a woman who looked like she'd just walked out of a portrait.

"Miss, my lord, my ladies," he announced with a flourish.

Anthony didn't bother looking up right away, but Isabella's fingers stilled on the piano keys, and Jemima glanced over the top of her book with a raised eyebrow. Katherine stopped mid-spin and tilted her head in curiosity.

She entered, standing tall with an air of quiet authority. Anthony finally glanced up, sizing her up with a look that seemed to say, Well, here we are. "Ah," Anthony said, his voice dry. "Welcome to our home. I trust the journey was... uneventful?"