The Game and the Governess by Kate Noble Read Free Book Online

serene—however, inside her stomach was flipping over on itself, and she wished fervently she could give in to the apparently hereditary urge to flutter.
    No. To appear nervous would undo everything. It would weaken her.
    Leticia pulled herself up by an invisible string connected to the top of her spine, rolling her shoulders straight. Then she went over to the polished looking-glass that hung above the buffet, and took stock. Her hair benefited from her being back in the country—the sunshine gave it warmth, turning it from its regular dark brown to a rich mahogany. Her skin still maintained its pale, creamy complexion, her dark eyes their luminosity. And if there was a hint of crow’s-feet at the corner of her eyes when she smiled too widely . . . well, there was an easy enough solution. She would simply not smile with abandon. There would likely be little call for it anyway.
    All in all, for a widow crossing the border from nine-and-twenty into thirty (she would never admit that border had been crossed last year and she was edging her way past one-and-thirty), Leticia could be satisfied that her appearance conveyed neither the grief of widowhood nor the ravages of age.
    She was still beautiful. She was still somewhat young. And she was still cunning.
    For while Leticia was not above using her good looks to her advantage, she lived by her wits.
    It was her wits that had convinced her father, their only surviving parent, to allow her at fourteen to come and live with Fanny when she married her Sir Nathan. Thus Leticia received the genteel benefits of growing up in a landed house in the country—and not above their father’s lumber mill in Manchester.
    It was also Leticia’s wits that wheedled a season out of her father and brother-in-law when she turned eighteen. And it was her wits that leveraged her one season into marriage to Count Churzy, an Austrian with a crumbling castle, an unfortunate predilection for horse races, and a family history of heart seizures.
    Now, as long as Fanny managed to play her part and all of Leticia’s carefully laid pieces fell into place, it was her wits that would have her capturing the attentions of the Earl of Ashby.
    Whether he wanted to be captured or not.
    With one last look at herself in the mirror, Leticia pulled her face into a gentle smile (careful to avoid the crow’s-feet) and let her eyes soften. She was feminine, alluring, and just a touch mysterious.
    This was going to go absolutely swimmingly.

    THE FIRST THING NED noticed as he and Turner approached the Widcoates’ residence was just how small the house was.
    When he had been a boy, Puffington Arms was the largest house in the county—certainly much bigger than his mother’s cottage in Hollyhock. They were invited there only on rare special occasions. A place that required him to dress up in his best church clothes that scratched at his neck. But now the house seemed so squat and . . . ornate .
    In one of the few of his mother’s letters he was allowed, he vaguely remembered that she mentioned the young Lady Widcoate had discovered a passion for decoration, and the foolish Sir Nathan was willing to oblige her.
    “Passion” might have been an understatement. As was “decoration.” There were columns he didn’t remember being there before. Balustrades and cornices on every available surface. There were turrets, for God’s sake!
    And where had all the statuary come from?
    The house of his memory had been imposing because of its importance in the neighborhood. Now it was ridiculous in its cries for attention, showing little taste and absolutely no restraint.
    It was to be expected. Since his life was so large now, the pretense of Puffington Arms could not help but be easily spotted and suffer by comparison. He doubted much in Hollyhock would measure up.
    The second thing Ned noticed was the number of women gathering at the front of the house.
    A lot of women .
    And absolutely no men.
    No footmen, no butlers.