Free The Governess Club: Louisa by Ellie Macdonald Page B

inquiries we made.”
    He led her into the drawing room to join their friends.
    “P ull your hat down more,” Louisa whispered. “We don’t want to be recognized.”
    “I would think my size is revealing enough,” John muttered, obediently tugging his brown cap down as much as possible to hide his bald head. The fake mustache she gave him itched like the devil, but he was glad to have won in not wearing a wig to match it.
    She adjusted his clothing, standing so close to him that he could smell the soap she used. Lemon. Tart, just like her, but able to be sweetened with the right ingredients. She said, “I ensured the clothing was purposely large, even on you, to give the impression that you are smaller than you actually are. As I am dressed as your ladybird, I think our disguises are foolproof.”
    He glanced down her body. “Your right breast is falling down.”
    “Oh good Lord.” He watched in fascination as her hand disappeared down into her bosom to adjust whatever it was she put in her dress to increase the size. The dress itself was a dark blue with lace trim along the hems and bosom and clung to her curves. Her blond hair was arranged in artful disarray, giving the impression of just rising from bed—or coming from a back-alley tup. Her face was heavily adorned with rouge and other coloring, a mole patch placed jauntily below one of her eyes. Seeing her display herself in such a manner, John had to fight the urge to hide her under his coat or, better yet, drag her back to the cart and return to the Beefy Buzzard.
    “I thought we were supposed to be making ourselves unremarkable. That”—he indicated her bosom—“is guaranteed to catch every man’s interest.”
    Louisa rolled her eyes. “Yes, but they will not be looking at my face, will they?”
    He had to give her that. “Yea gods, she will be the death of me,” he said under his breath. Louder, “Remind me again why we can’t just go into the Rose and Crown all normal like.”
    She gave an impatient huff. “They are our closest competition for a pub. They don’t offer rooms, so we have the advantage there. But from what I have heard, their ale is superior. I want to find out what they serve. I told you I suspect our brewer is cheating us. Perhaps we can discover something here.”
    “But why must we resort to subterfuge? Why can we not just go in as though we are ordinary customers?”
    “Because,” she said, as though he were a young child, “we are not ordinary customers. What do you think would happen if word got out that the proprietors of the Beefy Buzzard were frequenting another pub?”
    “That we needed a diversion?”
    “No, that the quality of our inn is so low we won’t even partake there.”
    He frowned. “You don’t drink ale. How do you know it’s bad?”
    “Because I serve it. I hear the men making comments about it. And they drink it more slowly the more sober they are.”
    “Every man drinks more slowly when he is sober, regardless of the drink.”
    “And I see you grimace into your pint every time.”
    True, he did that. John heaved a big sigh. “Let’s get this over with then.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close, enjoying the feeling of her soft curves molding into his side.
    “I think this part is unnecessary,” she protested.
    “No one will believe you are my ladybird if I don’t hold you like this,” he pointed out. “You are too beautiful not to be touched.”
    She fought to ignore the blossom of pleasure in her chest at his compliment. “Remember to hunch, make yourself shorter.”
    If she didn’t know better, Louisa would have sworn he just huffed like a little girl. They approached The Rose and Crown, the chatter and laughter already spilling out into the street. John swung open the door and led her in, quickly scanning for a table where they could sit as unobtrusively as possible. Finding one, he pushed through the crowd, holding her close to his side. He told himself it