My Lady Governess (Zebra Regency Romance) (4 page)

“Well, not precisely a remedy. But I do have suggestions.”

“Somehow I thought you might,” he said, the ease back in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I believe she needs to have her self-confidence bolstered whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

“And...”

“And perhaps something that is hers alone to care for. A pet perhaps? One of the first things Anne ever said to me was that Uncle Adrian was going to allow her to have a pony.”

“Yes. I did promise her that. You truly believe it will help?”

“At the very least, it could do no harm.”

“I will look into it.”

 

 

Adrian set himself to enjoying the few weeks he would have at Whitsun Abbey before government business again dragged him off to London or the Continent. Meanwhile, a courier arrived every few days with dispatches. After each arrival, Adrian retreated to his library for a considerable time to decode and respond to the messages. When the marquis emerged, the courier would be sent on his way again. Occasionally, Thomas Huntington was asked to join him in drafting some document.

One day as the two were working individually in the library, Adrian at his desk, Huntington at a large library table, Adrian seemed to be struggling with a particular message.

“Anything I can help you with?” Huntington asked.

“Eh? ... er ... no.” Adrian seemed to have forgotten he was not alone. “No, thanks. This must be encoded and I am just having a bit of trouble trying to phrase it so that neither the Russians nor the Austrians will misunderstand when it is decoded in Vienna.”

“Teach me the code and I’ll do it for you,” Huntington joked, for both knew the code was known to only seven persons in the government—and two of those were negotiating in Vienna.

“Would that I could! You are often better at turning a phrase than I,” Adrian responded.

“Are the reports we hear and read true regarding the Congress?” Huntington asked, his tone conversational.

“I’m afraid so. The victorious allies are no nearer an agreement on disposition of Napoleon’s empire than they were in April when he was banished to Elba. I would not hold much hope for a timely decision from the group gathering in Vienna.”

“Nobody trusts anybody else, I take it?”

“You have the right of it,” Adrian said. “That—and the French representative, Talleyrand, is turning out to be more clever than anyone expected.”

“Vienna must be the gayest city on the continent these days.” There was a wistful note in Huntington’s voice.

“I am sure it is. Half of Europe’s aristocrats have gathered there for parties and balls and routs. They feed like sharks on tidbits of gossip. Hard to tell where social intrigues end and political intrigues begin. I was damned glad to get away—even before the Congress convened.” Adrian sanded the document and reached for the sealing wax.

“Will you be returning soon?”

“Perhaps ... after the New Year. At least to Paris to confer with our ambassador there.”

“Ah, yes. The inimitable Wellington.”

There was a knock at the door and at Adrian’s call to “Enter,” Miss Palmer did little more than stick her head around the door.

“You asked me to tell you when the children were finished with lessons today, my lord,” she said.

“Yes. We have planned an excursion into the village. Would you please inform Nurse to have them ready in, say, twenty minutes?” Adrian asked with a glance at a clock on the mantel.

“Certainly, my lord.” Her head disappeared.

“Oh, Miss Palmer,” he called. The head reemerged, the eyes questioning. “If you would care to accompany us, you would be most welcome.”

“Thank you, my lord. I should like that very much.”

When the door clicked shut, Adrian found Huntington looking at him with a pronounced grin on his face.

“Getting cozy with the new governess, are we?” the secretary teased.

“I would not think a trip to the village with three chattering youngsters would afford much in the way of ‘coziness,’” Adrian replied, annoyed that he was bothering to explain. That was what came of employing fellows who had known one in short coats.

“You never know,” Huntington said, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously. “She’s not a bad looker, that one.”

“You forget yourself, Huntington. She is also in my employ and will be treated properly,” Adrian said chillingly.

“Yes, my lord!” Huntington’s knowing grin did not sit well with the marquis, but Adrian chose to ignore the other man’s impudence.

Why
had
he asked her to come along?

Because, he answered himself, she has been here for over two weeks and has yet to leave the estate. Even a governess deserves an outing once in a while. And you will not mind in the least being in her company for a couple of hours, now will you? Exuberant children or no.

 

 

Goodness! Elinor told herself, had anyone suggested a few weeks ago she would be excited by the prospect of traipsing about a country village, she would have laughed them quiet. Now, here she was, happy as a frog in a bog, as Peter would say. The question was, was she so happy to have a change in her routine—or was it the idea of spending this time in the company of her employer?

She and Anne were seated in the landau across from the marquis and the twins. The children were, as children are wont to be, uninhibited and full of questions, observations, and not-so-subtle suggestions about what to see and do in the village. Occasionally, the marquis would glance at Miss Palmer to share adult amusement at the antics of the little people. Each time he caught her eyes, Elinor felt a ripple of pleasure sweep through her.

“Papa, may we see the shark? Please?” Geoffrey asked.

“Pooh! Who wants to see that old thing?” Anne objected. “I want to choose some pretty shells at Mr. George’s shop.”

“A shark?” Elinor inquired. “Surely not from these waters?”

“No.” Adrian smiled. “Actually, Geoffrey refers to the skeletal remains of a shark that some ship’s captain brought from the South Seas many years ago.”

“Just some old fish bones.” Anne gave a superior sniff.

“No. ’Tis truly a wonder, Miss Palmer,” Geoffrey said seriously. “Please, Papa.”

“If we are to show Miss Palmer all the sights of our village we shall certainly see the shark, Geoffrey. And, yes, Anne, you may choose some pretty shells. And what do you want to see, poppet?” He directed this last to Bess.

“Toffee.” She giggled.

“I should have known. The sweet tooth in the family,” her father noted.

The village was larger than Elinor had expected and cleaner than she remembered seacoast villages being when she had visited others with her father and brother. She commented on its size.

“West Benton
is
larger than most of its neighbors,” Trenville agreed. “Local farmers trade here and the harbor accommodates small fishing boats nicely. Not to mention the occasional smuggler.” He added the last in a rueful tone.

“The area does seem rich in resources for the table,” Elinor said.

“Ah, here is our first stop—the fish market. Here you will find the venerable bones of one poor old shark.” As he aided in her descent from the carriage and took her elbow to help her over the raised entrance, Elinor felt warmed where he touched her.

The fish market, a large barnlike building, was nearly overwhelming in its impact on the nose, Elinor thought. Inside were several large tables with raised edges at which men and women were working scaling, boning, and filleting fish of varying sizes and species.

Anne wrinkled her nose, but turned down the option of waiting at the door for the others.

“See! There it is!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “Isn’t it just the most fearsome thing?”

Along one wall was displayed the full skeleton of a shark that must have been ten or twelve feet long when it plied the waters of some southern sea.

“Indeed it is,” Miss Palmer agreed. “Those teeth look very sharp.”

“Come ta see me shark again, have ye, me young lord?” An older man addressed Geoffrey. He was a strong-looking fellow with a splotchy white apron wrapped around considerable girth. His round face was clean-shaven except for a grizzled fringe running from ear to ear. His skin, too, looked grizzled—weathered by years of sun and wind. His blue eyes twinkled with welcoming delight. “Yer pa was just as fascinated with that thing as ye be when he were yer age.”

“Don’t you be telling all my secrets now, Jake,” the marquis said with a sheepish smile. He introduced Miss Palmer to the fisherman.

“His lordship used to go out on me boat wi’ us,” the older man told her. “Yuh’d a made a right smart fisherman, my lord.” Jake chortled at his own joke. “Mayhap this young feller would like to go out sometime.”

“Oh, Papa, may I? Please? May I?”

“We will see,” his father said, adopting the tone of parents who, since the beginning of time, have been reluctant to commit themselves on the spot.

The children wandered around among the workers, clearly fascinated by the whole scene, especially when they witnessed the use of large, dangerous-looking knives. Elinor tagged along, keeping an eye to the safety of her charges and ever aware of the man at her side. She noted that Trenville addressed many of the workers by name and they seemed thoroughly at ease with him.

“May we see the fish ponds, Papa? They are just in the back,” Geoffrey said.

“Shark’s teeth are not enough, eh? Miss Palmer would you care to see the fish ponds?” Trenville gave her a look of mock 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.

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, really? The War Office does not waste men of your talents on petty smugglers of the occasional barrel of brandy. Should you not be in Vienna sorting out cloak-and-dagger intrigues?”

Captain Olmstead laughed. “I was trying to establish for the men with me, and for any onlookers, that you and I are relative strangers. Don’t want to compromise your credit with the locals, you know, by having them think you are so intimate with the chief excise man in the area.”

“Why should that matter?” Adrian raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Chief excise man?”

“For the time being. Perhaps it does not matter at all. But I could not be sure, so I chose the way of caution. Take a look at this before we talk any farther.”

Olmstead drew a document out of his packet and handed Adrian a memorandum marked “Urgent and Confidential.”

“Why was this not sent with the regular courier?” Adrian asked as he started to read. Then he turned startled eyes to his visitor. “I see why now. Damn!”

The captain nodded. “Just so. Somehow some very delicate information is still making its way to the French and our negotiators in Vienna are having a devil of a time. That wily Talleyrand always seems to know what he has no business knowing at all.”

“The man is inordinately clever.”

“It has become worse recently, for the sort of information he is obtaining now is more detailed and more accurate.”

“I thought we nipped the problem with the arrest of Henri Pierre. That and changing the code on a frequent basis.” Adrian’s tone was impatient.

“Clever fellow, our Monsieur Pierre, was he not? Unobtrusive little fellow establishes himself as the lover of Lord Farrington’s wife and
voila!
he has an excellent conduit for information from one pillow to another.”

“Are we bringing charges against her?”

“No. Seems not. Canning and Castlereagh would like to do so, mind you. But to prosecute her would bring more information out in the open than anyone deems prudent. Farrington’s career is ruined, of course. He has been advised to take his wife on an extended tour of Italy and then retire to the country.”

“Perhaps that is just punishment for a woman who loved London society as much as she seemed to,” Adrian said. “But, getting back to the current problem ...”

“Yes. Well. Seems Monsieur Pierre was not alone in providing information to his countrymen. He was useful to them—devilishly so, in fact. But either we missed another source at the time, or they have managed to establish a new one in record time.”

“I was so sure we had plugged that leak.”

“We know that the information is not getting out of England by conventional means,” Olmstead continued. “It almost has to be traveling from some small harbor on our coast, probably along avenues established by smugglers. Hence, my presence in your domain. In some cases, locals involved in the ‘free trade’ probably have no idea they are also dealing in espionage.”

“Good grief! That makes looking for a needle in a haystack seem like child’s play.”

“True. But this particular spy appears to be someone close to one of the people presently in England with regular access to information being sent to our team in Vienna.”

“Are you suggesting my courier or someone in my household is passing along information to the French?” Adrian asked flatly.

“Not necessarily. We have narrowed it down to
someone
close to you—or to Dennington, or Morton, or Canning—Castlereagh being out of the country.”

“Narrowed it down?” Adrian’s tone was rich with irony.

“You are right. That is overstating the case mightily. All of you have very large staffs spread over half of England. And two of you, you and Dennington, have major properties right on the coast.”

Adrian sighed. “Dennington and I also both have close contacts with French émigrés. Dennington’s wife is French. My sister-in-law still has relatives in Brittany. Her companion is French, too. So, where do we start
in
sorting this out? I assume you have something in mind or you would not be here in Devon.”

“We start by looking at any new members of your staff. Have you hired new people in the last three or four months?”

“Yes. Several. The London housekeeper is fairly new—had to pension off her predecessor. Also, two of the footmen there as well as an upstairs maid. Perhaps others—the butler usually handles such hiring, you know. My coachman came to me in April. There is a groom in the stables who is new. And the children’s governess came to us only a few weeks ago.” Adrian was not sure why he hesitated slightly in mentioning the governess. “I can have a list drawn up.”

“That would be helpful. As I said, we can start with new staff, but it could just as easily be someone that one of you has known for a long time. Who knows why a person would turn traitor? Greed? Fear? Blackmail?”

“It should be easy enough to rule out some of them. After all, it is highly unlikely this spy could be illiterate. Not many servants read and write.”

“True. And while we are more apt to think of ‘it’ as a man, it could just as easily be a female. What about this new governess?”

“She came to us with excellent references. She is better educated than many a governess and she is exceptionally good with the children. Even my mother says she is a real find.”

“She was with you yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Not bad looking, either.”

For some reason this comment annoyed Adrian, but he remained silent.

Perhaps Nate’s interest in Miss Palmer was not entirely professional. After all, some might consider them a suitable match. She seemed to come from impoverished gentry and, as the third son of a viscount, Nathan Olmstead could not be thought prime goods on the marriage mart—even if he
was
one of those people who move with ease in any social circle. Reasonable as this conjecture seemed, it did not sit well with his lordship, though he would have been at a loss to explain precisely why.

Olmstead had bought his commission soon after he and Trenville came down from Oxford and had quickly proved himself invaluable in gathering intelligence. The two men had seen little of each other in recent years, though their friendship went back to those school days. Their paths had crossed now and then if only via papers, for Adrian’s office often acted upon intelligence gathered by Olmstead and others in the field.

The captain accepted Trenville’s invitation to dinner, but turned down the suggestion that he stay at the Abbey. The pretense of their having only slight acquaintance might yet prove useful.

 

 

Having taken tea with the children, Elinor did not meet Captain Olmstead until she joined the family for dinner that evening. He was very pleasant to her and made every effort to be sure she, too, was included in the conversation. However, it was the beautiful Gabrielle who commanded most of his attention. This came as no surprise to Elinor. After all, she and Madame Giroux were the only other women present and neither of them could claim the degree of regard a member of a marquis’s family could. In all honesty, Elinor admitted to herself, Gabrielle truly was charming as well as beautiful and tonight she seemed to be exerting herself to be all the more charming to a newcomer. It almost seemed an instinctive reaction for her, Elinor mused, unaware that the idea had brought a slight smile to her mouth.

“Are you going to share the fun, Miss Palmer?” the marquis asked.

She started. “I beg your pardon? Oh. I ... I was just thinking of something the children said earlier. It was nothing. Really.” She could not control the faint blush that crept upward.

He gave her an amused glance as much as to say “have it your way” and did not pursue the matter.

Gabrielle appropriated the captain’s arm to take her in to dinner, leaving Adrian to escort the governess with Huntington and the companion close behind. Later, the women retired to the drawing room while the men finished their port and pursued such topics as occupied men at the end of a meal. The marchioness was all that was proper and polite in speaking with her companions, but she quite obviously was less than fully comfortable. She became increasingly impatient for the return of the gentlemen, glancing often at the door through which they would come. When the men did rejoin them, Gabrielle affected surprise that they were so prompt.

As the men took their seats, Huntington turned to the marchioness. “My lady, may we prevail upon you for some music this evening?” he asked.

“I should love to play for you dear gentlemen.” She fairly simpered. “But my daughter tells me that Miss Palmer plays exceptionally well, and I think we should hear for ourselves.”

Elinor was taken aback, for she had not played for the adults in this household. She glanced at the marquis who regarded her with an enigmatic expression. Did he think her out of her element with such a demand? And why was Gabrielle so willing to give up the opportunity to show off her feminine accomplishments? Did she think to show up an impertinent nobody with her own performance later?

“Well, then, Miss Palmer?” Huntington seemed a bit uncertain, but apparently saw no alternative.

“If it is the general wish, of course,” she said, acceding to the situation. She rose and seated herself at the pianoforte.

“The music is under the seat, Miss Palmer,” Gabrielle called.

“Thank you, my lady, but I think I shall not need it.”

She saw Trenville’s eyebrows rise at this. Huntington’s concern that she would embarrass herself was writ plain on his face. Gabrielle exhibited one of her expressive little Gallic shrugs and exchanged a glance with Madame Giroux.

Elinor paused for a moment, thinking what to play. The instrument was placed at an angle in the room that allowed her to see her audience clearly. They waited expectantly.

“Ah. This one seems appropriate for the season,” she said and set her fingers to the keys. As soon as the first chords were struck, any sense of nervousness or apprehension left her and she gave herself up to the music.

Huntington looked at his companions questioningly.

Trenville nodded after a few bars and said, “Of course. Vivaldi’s ‘Autumn.’ Good choice, Miss Palmer.”

She was pleased to see him clearly settle himself to enjoying her presentation. Gabrielle chose to engage the captain in conversation, occasionally drawing Huntington’s attention also. When she finished the piece, Trenville applauded enthusiastically and the others politely echoed his praise.

“Do give us another, Miss Palmer,” Huntington said.

“Something lighter this time,” Gabrielle suggested.

Feeling thoroughly at ease now, Elinor said, “All right. Here is a medley of some of my brother’s favorites.” She proceeded to play several popular Scottish airs, skillfully blending one tune into the next.

Gabrielle had rung for tea before Elinor finished playing, and now as the tray was brought in, Trenville rose to return the governess to her seat.

“Thank you, Miss Palmer. I had no idea we were graced with such talent in our midst. You must play for us again.”

“By all means,” Gabrielle said graciously. “I vow I shall be too embarrassed ever to play again.” She gave a light laugh as though to show she was not serious in this “vow.”

“I am sure the lady exaggerates,” Olmstead said politely.

They each savored the tea and thereafter the group broke up, with the captain having to return to his lodgings. When his horse was brought around, Adrian showed him to the door, the two men murmuring together for a few minutes.

“Does this newfound friendship with the excise man have anything to do with your plans regarding the locals in smuggling?” Huntington asked as Adrian returned to the drawing room.

“Not necessarily,” Adrian replied. “I met the man in London some weeks ago. We attended Oxford at the same time.”

“Old school ties, eh? Knew each other well, did you?”

“Not well.” Adrian sounded indifferent. “I imagine the captain is rather at loose ends in his new position. Now that Bonaparte is safely put away on Elba, the government cannot seem to make up its mind what to do with the militia.”

“He tells me his father is Viscount Hartford,” Gabrielle said.

“Yes. He is the second—no, third—son,” Adrian said with a shrug. “Good family. The father is not very active now, but he was once quite close to Pitt the younger and the Whigs.”

“Becoming an excise man, chasing hooligans through the marshes, has to be quite a comedown for a Peninsula soldier,” Huntington observed.

“I suppose it is,” Adrian said, barely stifling a yawn. “I want to thank you again, Miss Palmer, for providing such enjoyable entertainment.”

“It was my pleasure, my lord,” she murmured, aware that his own pleasure made this more than merely a polite rejoinder.

 

 

The next morning, Adrian was still at breakfast when Miss Palmer came in from her morning walk.

“Good morning, Miss Palmer.”

“And it truly is a good morning, my lord,” she said, her cheeks aglow from the brisk autumn air. “The breeze from the sea is sure to waken all one’s senses!”

“A great day for a gallop along the beach, I daresay,” he responded, admiring what the elements had done to heighten her color. “By the by, do you ride, Miss Palmer?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, my lord, though Anne informs me that riding is not quite the thing for a governess.”

“ ’Tis somewhat unusual for the position. How does it happen that you do so?” He was genuinely curious.