The Extraordinary Tale of the Rebellious Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  The corridors and hallways of the massive house were mostly empty as Lucretia and the Duke walked through them to Henrietta’s apartments. His Grace’s words to her impacted her more than she was willing to admit, and she realized that she felt better after hearing them. Her nerve endings shivered in delight as he bowed over her hand like a courtier, and his lips as he kissed it almost made her swoon.

  He smiled at her. “Until tomorrow, Miss Brent.”

  Lucretia bent low. “Until tomorrow, Your Grace.”

  * * *

  As the Duke did not seem to mind, Lucretia continued to spend an hour in the orchard every afternoon. It had become a pleasant habit that she looked forward to, and Henrietta spent her time playing in the garden under Rosemary’s watchful eye. In the three days since the capture of Isaac Bloom, she had seen the Duke only in passing, and had not the opportunity to speak with him.

  Leaning against a tree, Lucretia found a footman, in his formal livery and powdered wig, crossing from the house toward her. As he drew closer, she discovered it was John Kelley. He smiled as he approached and gave her a small bow.

  “Greetings, Miss Brent,” he said.

  “Mr. Kelley,” she replied, smiling, “how good to see you again. His Grace recalled you?”

  “Yes, indeed, he has. I have been ‘reinstated’ as far as the rest of the staff is concerned, and have returned to my normal duties.”

  “With Isaac Bloom captured, I expect there is no further need of you to continue searching for him in taverns.”

  “Quite right. His Grace sent me to find you, Miss Brent. He wishes you to meet with him in his study. As he asked for me as well, I will walk with you, with your permission.”

  “Of course, Mr. Kelley.”

  As they walked toward the house, the footman said, “I must compliment you on your victory over Bloom.”

  Lucretia flushed pink. “Hardly a victory, Mr. Kelley. I merely moved faster than he did. And luck was on my side.”

  “Nonetheless, you have my admiration. Not many women would have the courage to set themselves up as bait for a killer, much less overpower one.”

  Upon reaching the house, Lucretia shifted the conversation away from Bloom. “How did you enjoy your stay in Tewksbury?”

  Mr. Kelley grimaced. “It is a nice enough town, I imagine. The people, however, can be ever so rude. I am quite relieved to be back in civilization.”

  She chuckled. “I am sure His Grace is also happy to have you back. Have you any idea why we have been summoned?”

  Mr. Kelley glanced casually around, as housemaids and footmen walked the halls as they did, eyeing them curiously. “I believe it has to do with your friend.”

  “Perhaps he has offered up the name of his employer.”

  He shook his head. “I do not believe that is the case.”

  They fell silent as they finished walking the rest of the way to the Duke’s study. John Kelley knocked on the door, then opened it at the called invitation to enter. Lucretia curtseyed to the Duke as once more he sat behind his desk. Mr. Kelley closed the door, and bowed low. James leaned an elbow against the book case, and offered Lucretia a warm smile.

  “Come in, Miss Brent,” the Duke said, standing. “Have a seat, please. Mr. Kelley, I have not had the chance to thank you for your extraordinary service these past weeks.”

  “It is my pleasure to serve, Your Grace.”

  “Now I believe I am going to ask another task of you.” Pacing, the Duke shook his head. “Both James and I have questioned Bloom over and over to get the name of his employer from him. Once he realized I only used the threat of torture and not the torture itself, he refused to talk. He even ceased with his infernal cursing.”

  “His Grace offered to pay him for the information,” James added, coming off the bookcase. “That did not sway him, either.”

  “What now, Your Grace?” Lucretia asked. “Will this enemy find a new assassin?”

  “That I do not know, Miss Brent. Perhaps with his lack of success and the disappearance of his man, he may grow desperate.”

  “Desperate men make mistakes,” James said. “With no rumors of the attacks on your lives, he may be growing angry, as well. That is to our advantage.”

  “So what will you do with Bloom?” she asked.

  The Duke gestured toward Mr. Kelley. “As I cannot keep a criminal in my cellar forever, I am sending him to London with Mr. Kelley. You will leave before dawn tomorrow, Mr. Kelley, and take him to the chief constable. I will send a letter with you, under my seal, so that he will be properly disposed of.”

  “Very good, Your Grace. I will make certain he does not escape along the way.”

  “You will make better time riding than in a carriage, Mr. Kelley,” the Duke said. “We will put Bloom on a horse, but he will remain bound and gagged.”

  Mr. Kelley bowed. “It will be as you say, Your Grace.”

  “We all must remain on alert,” His Grace said, glancing at everyone in the room. “This man, whoever he is, has gone to too much trouble already to stop now. He will try again, and I fear it will be soon.”

  “While I may act as your bodyguard, Your Grace,” James said, “Miss Brent has none.”

  Lucretia opened her mouth to protest, but the Duke cut her off before she could speak. “I realize this and it bothers me to no good end. If I assign someone to follow her everywhere, it will be remarked upon.”

  The Duke leaned against his desk, folding his arms, and stared at Lucretia. “Thus I am forced to confine you and Lady Henrietta to the house, Miss Brent. No more time in the orchard or the garden until this has been resolved.”

  Lucretia bowed her head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  “If I may suggest, Your Grace,” Mr. Kelley said.

  “Yes? Go on, speak freely.”

  “Once I return from London, perhaps I may be of service as Miss Brent’s and Lady Henrietta’s guard.”

  The Duke frowned thoughtfully. “Go on.”

  “As a footman in your service, in my livery,” Mr. Kelley said, “I can feign duties near them. None of the household will question my working near the solar, or carrying things for Her Ladyship.”

  “Perhaps if I increase the number of books I need for tutoring Lady Henrietta, Your Grace,” Lucretia said, “Mr. Kelley can be seen carrying them for us. And while we are inside the solar, he can linger nearby, as we might need him to run errands.”

  “That would not incite comment, Your Grace,” James said.

  “Very well, then,” the Duke said. “It shall be as you say. Mr. Kelley, you may return to your duties.”

  He bowed low and left the study on quiet feet. The Duke smiled at Lucretia and would have spoken, but a footman entered the room before Mr. Kelley had a chance to close the door. The man bowed low.

  “Your Grace,” he said. “I was sent to inform you that Lady Henrietta has fallen ill.”

  Chapter 26

  Followed by Miss Brent and James, Sampson rushed out of his study, asking the footman, “Where is she?”

  “In the kitchen, Your Grace. She had been in the garden when she complained of nausea.”

  “Go find Mr. Kirkwood and bring him to the kitchen.”

  “Right away, Your Grace.”

  Fearing that Henrietta’s sudden illness was not caused by innocent means, he glanced over his shoulder at Miss Brent. “You were with her earlier. How was she then?”

  “She appeared fine, Your Grace,” Miss Brent answered. “Although she did complain that she felt tired.”

  “This is most likely a product of eating something her stomach did not like,” James said.

  “I hope so,” Sampson said, trying to keep the worry from his voice. “These days, I am jumping at shadows, fearing the most innocuous occurrences are the work of our enemy.”

  “Mr. Kelley still believes none of the staff would willingly harm you or Her Ladyship, Your Grace. Or spy for this man.”

  “That does not make me feel any better, James.
”

  Henrietta sat in a chair in the kitchen, surrounded by the staff, Rosemary sitting beside her when Sampson entered. They moved away hastily, bowing or offering curtsies, then returned to their duties. Henrietta sipped hot tea, her face pale, but looked up and smiled as Sampson, Miss Brent, and James entered.

  “You are ill, Henrietta?” he asked, crouching beside her chair and stroking his hand down her cheek and across her brow. “You do not feel feverish.”

  “My stomach is bothering me,” she said. “I do not feel very good.”

  “Then you should go to your rooms and lie down,” he said, caressing her hair. “Sister, did you eat something that might have caused this?”

  Henrietta stared at her cup, then slowly nodded.

  Sampson exchanged a quick glance at Miss Brent and James, who breathed a deep sigh. “What did you eat, sweetheart?”

  “It is not her fault, Sampson,” Henrietta cried. “Please do not punish her. I ordered her to do it.”

  “Punish who, Henrietta? What did you order her to do?”

  “Rosemary,” Henrietta said. “I wanted some apples off the trees in the orchard. I ordered her to go out last night and get me some.”

  “Henrietta, you know those are not ripe enough to eat yet.” Sampson glanced at Rosemary, who stared at her hands, trembling.

  “I did not think she would eat so many, Your Grace,” she said, her voice near tears. “I thought one would not hurt her. But during the night, she ate three.”

  “It is not your fault, Rosemary,” Sampson said, “you only did what you were ordered to do. Henrietta, how many times must I tell you to not order the staff to do something you know is wrong?”

  “I am sorry, Sampson. I will not do it again.”

  He sighed. “That is what you told me the last time you ordered Rosemary to commit a wrong. Now, I hope that your painful stomach is a fitting punishment for your crime. You will also be confined to your rooms, Henrietta.”

  “For how long?”

  He scowled. “Until I say otherwise. Rosemary, take her to her chambers and put her into bed. Miss Brent, I expect that you will have to tutor your charge in there for a while.”

  Miss Brent curtsied. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  As Rosemary herded a pouting Henrietta before her from the kitchen, Sampson sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Well, at least this was not very serious. I feared it would be far worse.”

  “Rosemary should know better than to give in to her like that, Your Grace,” James commented, his tone dry. “She is too kind, and sometimes a little too obedient.”

  “I cannot fault her, James,” Sampson said, walking from the kitchen. “She knows she has to do what her superiors order her to do, and Henrietta is her superior.”

  “Your Grace, with your leave, I will also attend Lady Henrietta,” Miss Brent said.

  “Yes, of course, Miss Brent.”

  Sampson watched as she bobbed her respectful curtsey, then hurried to follow after Henrietta and Rosemary.

  “Can you see Miss Brent caving into Her Ladyship’s every whim?” James asked. “I do not.”

  “But Miss Brent is made of sterner stuff, too, James,” Sampson replied, grinning. “She might be a servant as well, yet she has more sense than Rosemary, and the backbone to deny Henrietta anything she knows to be wrong. Come, let us try one more time to convince our guest to talk before he heads back to London.”

  Returning to the kitchen, Sampson pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the trapdoor to the cellar. Under the curious stares of the staff, he and James went down the steep steps to the dirt floor. Bloom sat with his back against the wall, his hands still bound behind him, his ankles tied together. Though James volunteered, not wanting a servant in with Bloom, to keep the cellar clean of their prisoner’s waste, it still held a nasty stench.

  Sampson removed the gag from Bloom’s mouth. “Have you decided you want to share some things with me? A name perhaps?”

  Bloom worked his mouth in relief of having the gag gone, but stared sullenly at Sampson. He said nothing.

  “I want to offer you something,” Sampson said. “I will pay you one hundred guineas and your passage to France if you simply give me his name.”

  Bloom spat to the side, and continued to stare, silent.

  “Then consider this, Bloom,” Sampson went on. “Weigh one hundred guineas and passage from England against spending the rest of your life in gaol. For if you do not tell me your master’s name, tomorrow you will go to London and be turned over to the chief constable.”

  Bloom closed his eyes, leaning his head against the dirt wall. “I cannae tell ye ‘is name, fer I dinnae ken it.”

  Sampson gaped. “Then how did you meet with him? How did he find you?”

  “’E done sent ‘is man to London ‘t hire me, ‘e did. I meets ‘im in Tewkesbury, but ‘e wears a hood, see? I dinnae see ‘is face, an’ ‘e pays me good gold, ‘e did.”

  “And you could not have told us this before?” James asked.

  “It makes no bleedin’ diff’rence, now do it? Either ways I be a dead man.”

  Sampson stood, and jerked his head for James to follow him. Walking out of earshot of Bloom, Sampson lowered his voice. “Do you believe him?”

  James sighed. “Unfortunately, I do. It makes perfect sense that our enemy would hide his face, for just such a situation as this. If he is captured, he cannot reveal his master. I fear I should have thought of this before.”

  “I expect I should have, as well,” Sampson admitted. “I am not very good with this sort of thing.”

  “No one is, lad. Except perhaps the one who paid Bloom.”

  “He is still going to London on the morrow,” Sampson said, watching Bloom. “I cannot have him romping through the countryside, returning to his master and once more trying to kill us.”

  “Of course, you cannot. He has committed crimes against you, and he should be turned over to the constables.”

  “I expect we are finished here, then.”

  Sampson returned to Bloom, and once more set the gag in place. He gazed into Bloom’s mean eyes and said, “I am still sending you to London, Bloom. I think you will be spending a great deal of time regretting the choices you made.”

  * * *

  In his study with James and Roderick, Sampson listened to his secretary’s droning voice, altogether quite bored. His thoughts often drifted off topic, ranging from the mystery as to who wanted him dead to Miss Brent’s fascinating beauty to wondering how soon he might extricate himself from the task at hand. Though he knew it was his duty to look at the reports of household expenses, tenants’ rents, and the King’s taxes, he never truly enjoyed this aspect of his position.

  Thus, when Thomas knocked on the door to announce that his friend, George, had arrived, Sampson drew in a deep gust of relief.

  “Show him to the library, Thomas,” Sampson said. “I will be there directly.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.”

  When he stood and stretched, James eyed him with disillusion. “We are not yet finished discussing the crop rotation for the next season.”

  Sampson grinned. “I am quite certain whatever decision you make will be the right one.”

  Leaving James to shake his head and Roderick to fetch a deep sigh, Sampson left his study and happily made his way up to the next floor where his library was. A Duke’s prerogative – work when I want to, play when I want to. He wondered absently if George had come to discuss buying the black geldings he had admired so much.

  George, the Baron of Gillinghamshire, stood gazing at a book in his hand with a snifter of brandy in the other. He glanced up as Sampson entered, and grinned. “Did I tear you away from something important?” he asked.

  “Important but terribly dull. You are a welcome distraction. How do you fare, my friend?”

  “Well enough, I suppose. I fear I grew bored at home myself, and thought to return here and discuss the price of those horses with you.”<
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  Sampson smiled as he poured himself a brandy, and invited George to sit with him. “Certainly, if that is your wish. After we have a drink, we can go out to the stable and have another look at them.”

  “In the meantime, old friend, how are things here at the Breckenridge estate?”

  Sampson made a face. “Frightfully boring, quite honestly. At times I think I should take a trip to London to break up the monotony.”

  George’s eyes gleamed over his brandy. “How is your sister’s governess? She is quite the beauty, eh? I expect she has the intelligence to go along with it?”