My Lady Governess (Zebra Regency Romance) by Wilma Counts Read Free Book Online Page A

conspiracy.
    “Well ... since we are here.” She pretended reluctance and winked at Geoffrey who grinned back at her.
    The ponds were set some distance from the main building. Elinor welcomed the relatively fresher air as they walked out to them.
    “See how big these fishes are?” Geoffrey’s excitement was hard to contain.
    “What kind of fish are these, Geoffrey?” Elinor asked, knowing full well what they were, but wanting to give the little boy his moment of importance.
    “In this pond are trout, and in that one over there are carp. Our village has both freshwater and ocean fish,” he said. It seemed to Elinor that he probably echoed some grown-up. She smiled indulgently and again caught her employer’s eye.
    “Come, now,” the marquis said. “Let us be about finding those shells and some toffee.”
    As the children skipped ahead, Trenville turned to her.
    “Thank you,” he said. When she looked at him inquiringly, he went on, “For allowing him to demonstrate his vastly superior knowledge.”
    “Of course,” she murmured, pleased that he had noticed. “Geoffrey wanted to feel grown up.”
    In the end, each of the children was accorded a chance to feel important. Anne spent some time choosing just the right pretty shells for a necklace—or perhaps they were for a seashore picture—or perhaps she would just keep them in her treasure box. Then it was on to the bakery, which carried an enticing assortment of candies. By then, of course, Bess was not alone in seeking to satisfy a sweet tooth.
    The wind picked up as the afternoon wore on, but there were a good many people about the street. Some had the look of purposeful intent signaling “important business” and others appeared to share the leisure of the marquis and his small ensemble, looking in windows, eyeing wares displayed outside doorways on tables, and stopping to share gossip now and then. Elinor drew her shawl more closely around her and thought nostalgically of her own village in Lincolnshire.
    As the five of them returned to the carriage, several red-coated militia men trotted their horses down the street. Adrian swept his daughter into his arms and Elinor grabbed a hand of each of the others to hurry them out of the traffic. The militia men were nearly upon them when the leader of the group, sporting a captain’s insignia, called out.
    “Trenville? It is you.” The captain halted his horse, dismounted, and offered Adrian his hand. “Nathan Olmstead. We met some weeks ago at Whitehall. This is a fortuitous meeting. I have orders to contact you.”
    Adrian looked at the man quizzically a moment, then took his hand and said, “Yes, of course. I recall the meeting.”
    “We are assigned to the barracks in Torquay.” The captain included the other riders in a gesture. “Since Bonaparte no longer poses a threat, the militia is charged with the task of trying to control smuggling.”
    “That is likely to prove a rather daunting task,” Adrian observed dryly.
    “Without a doubt. But we are to make a preliminary investigation of all the villages in this area, especially those with harbors and inlets—and to contact the principal landowners to seek their cooperation.”
    “Perhaps you could come to the Abbey tomorrow to discuss this business,” Adrian suggested. “I must return these children and their governess home now.”
    “I understand, my lord. Tomorrow, then.”
    As Adrian gave the captain directions to the Abbey, Elinor assisted the children into the carriage. The captain waved a farewell salute and they were off.

Four
    The next day Captain Olmstead was shown into the library just as Adrian finished meeting with his steward. Olmstead was a tall man with black hair and gray eyes. He had even, pleasant features that narrowly missed being downright handsome. He held a packet in his hand as he took the seat offered.
    “Well, Nate,” the marquis said, “what was all that pretense about yesterday? What are you doing here,