Free Virtue of a Governess by Anne Brear Page A

frustration. Hanging around would only be asking for trouble. Already he was sensing a change in the atmosphere. He kept his head down but managed to glance around, taking in the situation. Mr Kent was arguing in the corner with five men, all baying for blood. They’d lost heavily by the looks of it. Shrugging on his jacket, Nat walked backwards a bit, heading towards the barn doors and the alley beyond. Damn Tristan, where was he?
    “Mr West!”
    Nat swung around and waited for Kent to wield a path through the thick of the crowd towards him. “I’ve an appointment, Kent, got to go.”
    “Can I book you in for another fight next month?”
    “No, not this time.” He wasn’t stupid. Kent had scored a high profit today.
    Tristan joined them, hurriedly stashing coins into his bulging pockets like a child stealing sweets. “Nice afternoon’s entertainment,” he said with a grin.
    “Let us go.” Nat made for the door, glaring at any man who made eye contact with him. Lord, he was stupid to risk his neck at these back alley fights. If anything happened to him, Frances would be alone.
    Once clear of the old barn, he squinted in the harsh sunlight. The squeal of pigs came from the slaughterhouse on the right. He shivered, despite the mild spring warmth of the September day.
    “Shall we have a drink at the club?” Tristan replaced his hat as they headed left.
    “I don’t particularly care. I just want to be clear of that lot in there.”
    “You think it could have turned ugly?”
    “I’m sure of it. Too much money changed hands. Kent has pulled a fast one I think. He’s seen me fight before but that was a new crowd.” As if to justify his words, a shout came from behind them. When Nat turned and saw the dozen or so men spilling out of the barn, yelling fit to be tied, his guts squeezed dread. He turned to Tristan and had to smile at the shock on his face. “Well, friend, I hope you can run fast.”

    * * * 

    “I think you should reconsider.” Meg stood by the kitchen door, hands on hips.
    Pushing a strand of hair back from her face, Nicola paused in listing the food in the larder. “How could I? The income is needed.”
    “But to run this place?” Meg’s eyebrows shot up. “To be at the beck and call of the likes of Burstall?”
    “Is that so different than answering to a mistress of a family? I think not.”
    “But as a governess you have some independence and superiority and respect. Who will respect you now?”
    Fed up with Meg’s argument, Nicola turned her back on her. “I’m sorry Meg, I’m too busy to discuss this.”
    “See, that’s exactly what I mean. From now on you’ll be harassed at every opportunity. Miss Douglas, the breakfast is late. Miss Douglas, I need clean linen. Miss Douglas, must we have mutton for dinner again . On and on it will be.”
    “Like you!” Nicola snapped. Then at the hurt expression Meg wore, she felt instantly guilty. “I’m sorry, Meg.”
    Pulling out a chair, Meg sat at the table. “I’m only thinking of you, Nicola. You are dear to me.”
    “I know, and I thank you for your concern. However, I have made my decision. Mr Belfroy needed someone to carry on the good work he is doing by helping women in less fortunate circumstances. Running this place will be no less hard work than what I did at home, where I oversaw the house and helped my father in the school. I like being busy.”
    “Very well, I’ll say no more on the matter.” Meg toyed with the salt dispenser. “I heard Emily being sick again this morning. She can keep nothing down for long.”
    “I feel so bad for her.” Nicola paused again from counting the jars of chutney as knocking sounded on the door. “Can you answer that please, Meg. If it is anyone for Mrs Eldersley, politely send them away, I don’t want her disturbed.”
    Meg left the kitchen and Nicola once more concentrated on the food stocks. She’d been in charge of the house for only a week and yet the ease in which she