Read Online A Man Of Many Talents by Deborah Simmons - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Deborah Simmons
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Christian found the work tedious and didn’t complain when, with a sound of exasperation, the Governess began shooing the two men from the roo m, insisting that she would com plete the task herself.
The colonel seemed as relieved as Christian and shrugged away any concern about the aborted mission. “Can’t think that anything’s behind those doors anyway,” he said, with a chuckle that might have been hearty or nervous. Christian couldn’t decide which.
But Christian wasn’t about to dismiss the closed-off areas as easily. After all, that was why he was here, wasn’t it, to investigate? He wondered whether he ought to pick the locks or even break down the doors, if things came to that .
It seemed like a lot of effort for what should have been a lark, but nothing about Sibel Hall was turning out to be easy. With another glance in his hostess’s direction, Christian considered lingering behind and consulting privately with her on the matter, but she appeared to be in a hurry to be rid of him.
He cocked a brow at that. His suspicious nature made him wonder what the devil she was up to, summoning him here and then avoiding him. After all, she was his employer, he thought, pausing momentarily at the singular notion. He had never been employed in his life, let alone at the beck and call of a woman. Normally, he would have rejected the very idea, but there was something about the Governess that made it rather titillating.
Christian shook his head at his own perversity. Next he'd be wanting her to rap his knuckles. And she looked inclined to oblige when she caught him eyeing her. Frowning, she moved to shut the door behind him, sending the dizzying scent of lilacs his way, and Christian leaned against the jamb, rather like a boy heady from his first flirtation. Perhaps it was his pirate blood, stirred to life by a female’s seeming disdain, but Christian felt positively invigorated.
Drawing a deep breath, he straightened and pushed away from the jamb with new resolve. He might have to go out and swash some buckles … or at least rout a ghost.
T he euphoria that sent Christian charging back to the great hall with eagerness gradually dissipated in the absence of either the specter or his hostess, and he was soon kicking his heels, bored beyond reason by the colonel’s military tales. When the dinner hour arrived, he felt like a condemned man granted a reprieve, but the somber atmosphere, the bizarre company, and the poor provisions turned his mood once again.
Christian wondered if he might find sustenance in a village nearby. Surely there was an inn or tavern of some sort that provided food. If so, he was determined to escape there on the morrow for luncheon—or perhaps for every single meal from now on. That he would still be staying at Sibel Hall was not in doubt at this point. His mission was clearly going to take a lot longer than he had anticipated.
Not even the sight of his hostess did much to cheer Christian, for she greeted him with her usual lack of enthusiasm. Not close enough to smell her perfume or to receive a rap on the knuckles, he felt a kind of restless frustration at her aloofness. And the desultory conversation at the table did nothing to enliven the gloomy gathering.
“Did you find the keys?” Christian finally asked, since the Governess had made no mention of them. Had she even looked for them? Were they in her pocket all along? Perhaps a searc h of her person was in order…
“No, I did not,” she answered in clipped tones, as if the question annoyed her, and Christian decided the cousins were just as weary of him as he was of them. Miss Parkinson seemed displeased by the very sight of him, and even the colonel was less voluble than usual. Having set aside his vaunted studies long enough to eat, Emery had joined them, but he continued to glare at Christian with no little enmity.
Christian smiled evilly in return. “Perhaps Emery can put his considerable intellect to the
The colonel seemed as relieved as Christian and shrugged away any concern about the aborted mission. “Can’t think that anything’s behind those doors anyway,” he said, with a chuckle that might have been hearty or nervous. Christian couldn’t decide which.
But Christian wasn’t about to dismiss the closed-off areas as easily. After all, that was why he was here, wasn’t it, to investigate? He wondered whether he ought to pick the locks or even break down the doors, if things came to that .
It seemed like a lot of effort for what should have been a lark, but nothing about Sibel Hall was turning out to be easy. With another glance in his hostess’s direction, Christian considered lingering behind and consulting privately with her on the matter, but she appeared to be in a hurry to be rid of him.
He cocked a brow at that. His suspicious nature made him wonder what the devil she was up to, summoning him here and then avoiding him. After all, she was his employer, he thought, pausing momentarily at the singular notion. He had never been employed in his life, let alone at the beck and call of a woman. Normally, he would have rejected the very idea, but there was something about the Governess that made it rather titillating.
Christian shook his head at his own perversity. Next he'd be wanting her to rap his knuckles. And she looked inclined to oblige when she caught him eyeing her. Frowning, she moved to shut the door behind him, sending the dizzying scent of lilacs his way, and Christian leaned against the jamb, rather like a boy heady from his first flirtation. Perhaps it was his pirate blood, stirred to life by a female’s seeming disdain, but Christian felt positively invigorated.
Drawing a deep breath, he straightened and pushed away from the jamb with new resolve. He might have to go out and swash some buckles … or at least rout a ghost.
T he euphoria that sent Christian charging back to the great hall with eagerness gradually dissipated in the absence of either the specter or his hostess, and he was soon kicking his heels, bored beyond reason by the colonel’s military tales. When the dinner hour arrived, he felt like a condemned man granted a reprieve, but the somber atmosphere, the bizarre company, and the poor provisions turned his mood once again.
Christian wondered if he might find sustenance in a village nearby. Surely there was an inn or tavern of some sort that provided food. If so, he was determined to escape there on the morrow for luncheon—or perhaps for every single meal from now on. That he would still be staying at Sibel Hall was not in doubt at this point. His mission was clearly going to take a lot longer than he had anticipated.
Not even the sight of his hostess did much to cheer Christian, for she greeted him with her usual lack of enthusiasm. Not close enough to smell her perfume or to receive a rap on the knuckles, he felt a kind of restless frustration at her aloofness. And the desultory conversation at the table did nothing to enliven the gloomy gathering.
“Did you find the keys?” Christian finally asked, since the Governess had made no mention of them. Had she even looked for them? Were they in her pocket all along? Perhaps a searc h of her person was in order…
“No, I did not,” she answered in clipped tones, as if the question annoyed her, and Christian decided the cousins were just as weary of him as he was of them. Miss Parkinson seemed displeased by the very sight of him, and even the colonel was less voluble than usual. Having set aside his vaunted studies long enough to eat, Emery had joined them, but he continued to glare at Christian with no little enmity.
Christian smiled evilly in return. “Perhaps Emery can put his considerable intellect to the
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