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

by Linfield, Emma

  Someone passed a lead rope attached to a fat-bellied chestnut mare to Lucretia, her equally chestnut baby frolicking in the stableyard. She eyed the mare with some trepidation, but felt reassured when the creature merely stood, patient, at her shoulder.

  “Ready?” John asked, his hand holding the rope of a roan, her udder swinging, as that one’s foal attempted to rear and plant his hooves on his dam’s rump. For his pains, he received a sharp kick from his dam, forcing him into submission with a snort and a rebellious shake of his head. Lucretia grinned.

  “I think so,” she replied, walking forward.

  The mare trod at her side obediently, occasionally snorting nasty stuff on her sleeve. That practice offended her at first, but when she found John’s sleeve damp and her friend not concerned, she decided a sleeve was not worth quarreling with her charge over. Especially when her charge outweighed her by a considerable amount.

  She clicked her tongue. “Behave,” she murmured.

  The path they followed appeared little more than a dirt track, but it was smooth and Lucretia found walking along it easy. Fortunately, the afternoon had not grown hot enough to become uncomfortable, and she watched the young foals frisk and buck as they played while their dams plodded along at a steady pace. The long line of people and horses wound their way into the hills, Lucretia following the horse in front.

  “How are you faring, Luce?” John asked from behind her.

  “Quite well, John, thank you,” she said. “This is something of an adventure for me.”

  “I hope it does not prove to be too arduous for you, though.”

  “How much of Marbridge Castle is still standing?”

  “It is only partly in ruins,” he replied. “The outer walls are intact, as is the main castle itself. But much of the keep and the bailey have fallen stonework in them, blocking entrances. I believe, however, there is enough shelter for these horses to satisfy the Duke.”

  “And the outer walls will protect them.”

  “Yes, indeed. I will not be surprised if the stud farm is attacked this night.”

  Lucretia shivered. “Who do you think is behind all this?”

  “I do not know. I do hope the Duke catches him soon, however.”

  Lucretia’s feet were sore by the time they reached the castle. Horses, carriages, and people were wending their way amid the huge stone blocks cast everywhere on the grounds. The place was massive, set upon a hill, its outer walls ringing its base. The stone walls of the castle itself indicated it was easily twice the size of the Duke’s manor house, and she wondered what it had looked like in its prime.

  James, still on his horse, directed the servants to various places as they led their horses in through the massive gates. Gazing around, Lucretia found grooms rushing to take the Breckenridge horses from the servants, tying them to rusted rings in the walls or placing them in rooms inside the lower level of the castle itself. She suspected the grooms would have a very busy time caring for all of these horses without the convenience of stalls and a stable.

  After her mare and its foal were taken from her by a hurrying groom, Lucretia wondered what she should do. The sun would set within the hour, and she would not arrive back at the house until well after dark. She no longer worried about monsters or wild creatures, but she was concerned about a turned ankle if she tripped on the path. Standing around, gazing at the servants and grooms hurrying amidst this chaos, she considered asking John to walk with her back to the house.

  The sound of hooves behind her made her turn. The Duke rode his grey stallion up to her, his expression grim. She dropped low into a curtsey, then rose as he dismounted. His hair tumbled forward over his brow again and once more her hands itched to rake it back.

  “The grooms will have a hard time for a while,” he said, gazing around. “But the horses are safe, at least. But they cannot stay here more than a few days.”

  “Can I help in some way?” Lucretia asked, observing a carriage filled with servants departing through the gate to return to the house.

  “Here, no,” the Duke replied, also watching the carriage. “But I would like you to return with Mr. Kelley. If my enemy were to learn that Henrietta is unprotected by anything save a door—”

  He did not complete his sentence, but Lucretia knew he did not have to. Even a stoutly bolted door could easily succumb to a blast from a blunderbuss. “I may stay the night here,” the Duke went on, “along with James, the grooms, and some of the footmen. Please, Miss Brent. Protect my sister.”

  Disbelieving that she could ever be so daring, Lucretia took his hand and squeezed it, then let it go before anyone witnessed it. “I will, Your Grace. Trust me for it.”

  He smiled, his expression lightening as though a great weight had been lifted from him. “I feel in my heart I did the right thing by moving the horses,” he said. “If the thief thinks to ride into the stud farm with his henchmen, he will find nothing for his troubles.”

  “How will you catch him, Your Grace?”

  “I do not know. Yet. I do not have men enough to set a trap for him, and I must be here. So must James.”

  “Perhaps if he knows you are prepared for him,” Lucretia said, “he will disappear into another district and leave your horses alone.”

  “That would be good, but catching him would be better.” The Duke blew out a gust of frustrated breath. “But I cannot be in two places at once. Please return to the house and look after Henrietta.”

  “I will.”

  She had no opportunity to curtsey before the Duke wheeled, shouting orders, and vaulted atop his horse. Reining the animal around, he kicked the stallion into a gallop. After she watched him vanish into the crowd of grooms and horses, she turned this way and that, searching for John. “Mr. Kelley,” she called. “Mr. Kelley!”

  “Over here.”

  Turning, she found John ducking around the rear quarters of a mare, her foal trotting away from him. As he walked toward her, she met him halfway. “His Grace wants us to return to the house immediately,” she said.

  He nodded, adjusting his powdered wig, and grimaced at the stains on his once pristine livery. “I expected as much. If we hurry, we might get back before dark.”

  Side by side, they hurried through the broken castle, out through the main gate, following a small stream of servants already walking down the path toward home. They did not speak much, and Lucretia grew increasingly uneasy over Henrietta’s safety. While she did not believe the Duke’s enemy would be so bold as to walk straight into the house with a pistol in order to kill her, she could not truly discount it, either.

  “His Grace was right,” John said, his tone grim. “Look there.”

  As they came out of the hills and neared the stud farm, Lucretia saw five riders galloping away from the group of stables, tiny with the distance. “That cannot be,” she exclaimed. “How can this thief be so audacious as to try to steal the horses in daylight?”

  “I expect that when he discovered he did not steal a Breckenridge earlier in the day, he gathered some friends and thought to grab a bunch of them.”

  Lucretia stared at him. “He tried to steal a horse earlier?”

  “You did not know? Yes, he set a diversionary fire by the stable, then when the grooms ran to put it out, he snatched one of the Duke’s hacks instead of a Breckenridge.”

  “My God,” Lucretia murmured. “Could it be the same person who is trying to kill him and Lady Henrietta?”

  John shook his head. “I do not see the connection. But these days, I feel anything is possible.”

  “It is getting dark,” she said, stepping up her pace. “I want to get to Lady Henrietta as quickly as possible.”

  Full dark had fallen by the same she and John, and many of the other servants, returned to the house. Tired, hungry, her feet hurting so bad she did not think she could remain on them any longer, she headed for the stairs. She planned to look in on Henrietta, then find food, and a hot bath. Thomas watched them enter, his normally placi
d face filled with consternation.

  “Where is His Grace?” he asked.

  Lucretia left John to explain the Duke’s whereabouts, and hurried up the stairs and down the hallways to Henrietta’s suite of rooms. Finding the door locked, she knocked. “Rosemary, it is me. Open the door.”

  Within moments, Rosemary, with Henrietta peeping around her shoulder, opened the door. “Luce. What happened, dear?”

  “It is a bit of a story, Rosemary,” she replied, entering past them. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, we both have.”

  Henrietta wrinkled her nose. “You do not smell very good.”

  “That I do not, sweetling,” she replied, gazing down at the dirt and horse dribbles on her gown. “Rosemary, would you be so good as to have food and a bath brought here?”

  “Of course, love. But first tell us what has been going on.”

  As she stripped out of her shoes and soiled gown, and stood in her shift, Lucretia explained the theft of the horse, and how the Duke suspected someone might try to grab horses from the stud farm. “Thus, we helped His Grace move the horses to the old castle, and sure enough, we saw riders galloping away from the farm. Someone did plan to steal them, but the horses were not there.”

  “Good.”

  Lucretia glanced up at the vehemence she heard in Rosemary’s tone, surprised. The abigail nodded fiercely.

  “No man should be stealing His Grace’s fine horses,” she snapped. “That is not right.”

  Lucretia smiled. “No, it is not.”

  “I will see to food and a bath.”

  Hustling out the door, she closed it behind her. Lucretia did not feel the need to bolt it behind her, and sat gratefully down in an armchair. Henrietta perched on a chair nearby, watching as she rubbed her painful feet with a sigh.

  “Do you have blisters, Luce?”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied, feeling every one of them. “I expect that the next time I go walking over seven miles, I should put better shoes on.”

  “What is the old castle like?”

  “You have never been there?”

  Henrietta shook her head. “My parents would never let me and Sampson is too busy to take me.”

  As she relaxed, waiting for the food to arrive, Lucretia described the ruins. “Will the horses be safe there?” the girl asked when she finished.

  “I think so. His Grace will stay for a while, but the wall will keep anyone out and the gate is still good.”

  “Do you think someone would steal my pony?”

  “No, sweetling. She is still in the stable, very happy.”

  Rosemary returned with a kitchen maid, who carried a huge platter, filled with bread, cheese, roasted chicken, fruit, and hot soup. As the maid brought more than she could eat, Henrietta and Rosemary joined her in a second supper as she waited for the bath water to arrive. The hot bath came as heavenly luxury as Lucretia soaked many of her aches away.

  Thus, exhausted, fed, and bathed, she had no idea she fell asleep in the chair while talking to Rosemary until she was awakened and sent to bed on her pallet. Before succumbing to slumber, Lucretia touched the dragon secreted by her, reassured by its silent presence.

  * * *

  The next few days brought the Duke back but not the horses. Though she did not witness it, John told her that His Grace roared with laughter upon being told thieves were seen riding from the stables mere hours after the stud had been moved to the castle. “The grooms are working day and night to feed and water them up there,” he told Lucretia. “He does not speak of it, but I see he is dreadfully worried about them. They are almost like his children.”

  His Grace rode out, accompanied by James, on a daily basis to the old castle to join his small army of grooms caring for them. From the window in the solar, Lucretia gazed down, observing them ride out. She also noticed the blunderbusses and pistols they both carried. As she had not seen the Duke or James to ask if James found anything significant in the hills during his search, she asked John if he knew.

  Standing in the doorway of the solar, she glanced over at Henrietta speaking French to Rosemary, who nodded as if she understood while darning Henrietta’s dresses. “Did James find anything that day?” she asked John.

  “He found the most likely hill, yes,” John replied, his voice pitched low. “It commands a clear view of the entire property, and, yes, with a spyglass our enemy can and did see straight down into the garden. While the rain washed away any possible tracks, he did find evidence our man brought food with him.”

  “So he did see me find the needle,” she breathed, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Yes, indeed. And he may want you dead simply because you saved Her Ladyship not once, but twice. That may have made him angry enough to kill you, also.”

  That conversation made her wish she could carry the pistol around with her everywhere, for she no longer felt safe anywhere. While she tutored Henrietta on warm afternoons in the garden, she could not help but continually glance up toward the hill. She often shivered, as though feeling his eyes on her. Despite John’s comforting presence, she never truly felt comforted.

  She had not seen the Duke except a few times in passing, and longed for a chance to sit with him, or walk with him in the garden again. Lucretia found herself missing him, and chided herself for it. Yes, he kissed me and held my hand. Does that mean he is falling in love with me? Am I falling in love with him? While she did not know the answer to the former, she did know the answer to the latter.

  Yes, she was falling in love with him.

  Four days after the adventure in moving the horses to the castle, Lucretia watched as Henrietta applied her Latin skills by reading from a book written in the language, one Lucretia found during a day spent in the Duke’s library. They both glanced up at the clatter of hooves on gravel, seeing both the Duke and James ride past the tall shrubs of the garden.

  “I want to see my brother,” Henrietta announced, rising from her chair.

  Knowing the girl had not been able to see the Duke lately, Lucretia allowed it, and followed her out to the front of the house. He smiled as he swung out of his saddle, his arms wide as he embraced his young sister. Lucretia hung back, not wanting to interfere with their reunion, but the Duke beckoned her forward.

  Curtseying to him, she glanced up to find he had a smile for her as well. “I have not seen my ladies in far too long,” he said, his green eyes warm as he gazed at her.

  Lucretia blushed, lowering her face to hide it while shooting lightning glances at the grooms holding the horses’ bridles and toward James. While James’ half-smile and mild expression informed her of his approval, the grooms eyed her sidelong behind the Duke’s back. She could not tell from their neutral expressions if they felt scandalized by his words or if they approved as James did.

  “Sampson, Luce is making me read Latin again.”

  “Well, good for Miss Brent,” he replied easily. “For I certainly cannot teach you Latin. Maybe she should focus on your history lessons instead.”

  Henrietta made a face with her arm wrapped securely around his waist. “History is so boring. And Latin is ever so useless.”

  “Perhaps you can recite some French to me at supper,” he said. “Miss Brent, I would greatly appreciate your presence at supper this evening.”

  “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent. You can inform me as to Lady Henrietta’s progress with her studies.”

  “Of course.”

  “Your Grace,” James said, his eyes on the road behind them. “Riders.”

  The Duke turned, Henrietta still clinging to his waist. “That looks like George and Oliver,” he said. “Seeking to cadge yet another meal off me along with decanters of brandy.”

  Lucretia glanced at his face, wondering if he was annoyed, but his smile never wavered and his words sounded as though he spoke with affection. The two waved as they cantered closer, and grooms ran from the stable to take their horses.

  �
��Ho, Sampson,” Lord Egerton called, swinging down from his saddle. “We heard rumors of troubles here and thought to pay a call.”

  “Yes,” the Duke replied, walking toward them, Henrietta at his hip. “Thieves trying to steal my horses. George, how good to see you again.”

  Still mounted on his tall horse, Lord Gillinghamshire gazed around at the small cluster of people, his handsome face expressionless. “Did you catch these thieves?” he asked.

  “Come on down from there,” the Duke said. “Let us retire to the library for a drink. I expect you also will stay for supper. Come.”