Free Fencing for Ladies (The Archer Family Regency Romances #5) by Amy Corwin Page A

sigh. The first class was scheduled to have begun a half hour ago, if there had been any students to attend.
    “ Muy bien ,” he said, congratulating her with a small smile.
    She smiled in return and studied him, sensing sarcasm and not completely trusting his benign expression. He was far too fond of irony and too keen on testing her mettle, as if he were always engaged in a subtle duel with her.
    At least he would never kill her with kindness, she thought, suppressing a long sigh.
    Another soft knock interrupted them. “I beg your pardon, Lady Olivia,” Latimore said from the doorway. He bowed, and when he straightened, his face was set in grave lines. “There are two gentlemen asking for you.” His voice, when he intoned “gentlemen,” indicated that in his opinion, the visitors were anything but gentlemen. His mouth thinned into a narrow line.
    Olivia exchanged glances with Lord Milbourn. He remained relaxed on the couch, a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes, completely unhelpful.
    “I will see them here, Latimore.”
    The butler disappeared and a few minutes later returned with two men. One man lagged behind the other, and Olivia immediately recognized the stout, bull-necked man as Constable Cooke.
    “Mr. Matthew Greenfield, inquiry agent, and Constable Frederick Cooke, Lady Olivia,” Latimore announced sonorously, his head tilted slightly up with silent disapproval.
    Olivia nodded. “Lord Milbourn, may I introduce Mr. Greenfield and Constable Cooke?” She performed the introductions mechanically, her hands already turning cold with anxiety.
    “My lady,” Mr. Greenfield bowed. “I hope we have not intruded at an inopportune time.”
    “Not at all,” Olivia answered.
    At first, Mr. Greenfield’s wizened appearance made Olivia think he was quite elderly, until she caught the bright, inquisitive light in his blue eyes. He was small, particularly in comparison to his stocky companion, and his drab, dark green jacket with frayed cuffs and worn black trousers added to his well-aged air. His sparse gray hair fluffed around his narrow head like the downy feathers of a newly hatched chick, and his lined, gray-tinged skin wrinkled even more deeply when he smiled at her.
    He bowed again, making him seem even more birdlike than ever. “The coroner’s inquest is tomorrow, my lady.” He glanced over his shoulder at Constable Cooke.
    Cooke shifted from one foot to the other, frowning and staring at the back of his associate’s head.
    “It would be kind of you to attend,” Mr. Greenfield continued. “The coroner would be most grateful for your statement.”
    Olivia stiffened. The last thing she wanted to do was to relive her experiences at the academy. However, she knew her duty. “Certainly,” she said at last. “Give the information concerning the inquest to Latimore. He shall ensure I arrive at the appropriate time. Is that all?”
    Mr. Greenfield tilted his head to the left. “How is it you arrived at the Cavendish Square townhouse when you did? It did not appear much used when I examined the premises.”
    “I am opening an academy at that location. I wanted to make sure it was prepared for students.” Her throat tightened, and she paused. “It was purely by chance my brother and I arrived when we did.” She stared at Constable Cooke’s broad face. A smear of some greasy substance shone at the left corner of his plump mouth. Something about it made her suddenly feel queasy. “I believe I went over this already with Constable Cooke.”
    The constable kept his gaze fixed on the back of Mr. Greenfield’s thin neck.
    Mr. Greenfield didn’t turn to look at him. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, certainly. If you don’t mind a few more questions, my lady?”
    “I thought these matters would be covered at the inquest.” Olivia locked her hands together in her lap. The couch’s back pressed against her, trapping her between the armrests. She moved restlessly and sat forward a fraction. When she