Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Mission, Temptation, 18th Century, enchanted, american revolution, Embrace, Deceased, englishman, Colonies, Patriotic, LAVENDER LIES, Jail Cell, Brother's Disgrace, Colonial Wench, Female Spy, Rendezvous, American Agent, Code Name, Swallow
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4
In the distance, dark storm clouds boiled and rumbled, promising rain before evening. Even the threatening storm did not prod the four spiritless horses pulling the coach that pitched and rolled over the road to Williamsburg. It was unbearably hot and dusty for the passengers, and the driver seemed to hit every rut and bump, making their plight even more miserable.
His Grace, the Duke of Mannington, shifted his weight, trying to find room for his long legs in the cramped space the coach allotted him. Accustomed to his own coaches that provided him with every comfort, he was in an ill humor because of the inconvenience of the public conveyance. This was also the first time he had traveled without Hendrick, and he was now sorry he had decided to leave his valet behind.
Hell and damnation, he thought to himself. If this was what it was like to travel by public transportation, he could well do without it. Beside him, a portly man snored in his sleep and was beginning to irritate Julian. Across from him sat a matronly woman with several caged chickens in her lap. If matters were not bad enough, at the last stop a woman and her two unruly sons had come aboard. The older boy had an irritating habit of pinching his young brother when their mother wasn't looking, causing the child to howl with pain.
Julian tried to push his annoyance to the back of his mind by staring out the window at the passing countryside. The dense woods were plagued with wild undergrowth stretching as far as the eye could see. As time passed, the wilderness slowly gave way to small settlements and villages. Split rail fences snaked their way across green meadows, reminding Julian of the wild and unpredictable Scottish Highlands. There was a certain beauty about this country, he grudgingly admitted.
Julian glanced down at his plain gray attire, hoping he would blend in with the locals. The role he had adopted was that of an artist, Julian West from Georgia, which forced him to imitate the southern mode of dress. He was not overly concerned about his manner of speech, since the southerners spoke very like his native countrymen, especially the wealthy landowners, since many of their sons and daughters were educated in England.
He flicked dust from his coat sleeve, thinking how his talent for painting would now stand him in good stead. His grandmother had always urged him to do something with his talent; he wondered what the dowager duchess would think if she knew she was about to get her wish.
Julian did not realize he could not throw off his identity by merely changing his wardrobe. He had not hidden his imperious manner beneath humble clothing. He did not guess that the reason the passengers avoided meeting his eyes was because he made them feel uncomfortable when he turned his lordly glance on them.
Julian smothered an oath as the elder of the two boys pushed his brother off the seat and the child landed atop Julian. "Madame," Julian remarked, glancing at the mother with annoyance written on his face. "Would you kindly remove your child from my lap."
The flustered woman pulled her now screaming child back onto the seat and tried to quell his outburst. "I am truly sorry, but I can do nothing with the two of them, sir," the woman said as way of apologizing. "They are a handful, even when their father is present."
The matronly woman addressed her sympathy to the young mother's plight. "Some people could be more tolerant where children are concerned." Her heated rebuke was for Julian. "Do you not like children, sir?"
Julian glanced at the two children, who were now exchanging blows despite their mother's attempts to intervene. "I have no trouble tolerating well-behaved children, madame" came his supercilious reply.
"I agree with you, sir," the gentleman at Julian's side said, coming full awake and speaking for the first time since coming aboard. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am George Groves, and I was headmaster at a boys'
4
In the distance, dark storm clouds boiled and rumbled, promising rain before evening. Even the threatening storm did not prod the four spiritless horses pulling the coach that pitched and rolled over the road to Williamsburg. It was unbearably hot and dusty for the passengers, and the driver seemed to hit every rut and bump, making their plight even more miserable.
His Grace, the Duke of Mannington, shifted his weight, trying to find room for his long legs in the cramped space the coach allotted him. Accustomed to his own coaches that provided him with every comfort, he was in an ill humor because of the inconvenience of the public conveyance. This was also the first time he had traveled without Hendrick, and he was now sorry he had decided to leave his valet behind.
Hell and damnation, he thought to himself. If this was what it was like to travel by public transportation, he could well do without it. Beside him, a portly man snored in his sleep and was beginning to irritate Julian. Across from him sat a matronly woman with several caged chickens in her lap. If matters were not bad enough, at the last stop a woman and her two unruly sons had come aboard. The older boy had an irritating habit of pinching his young brother when their mother wasn't looking, causing the child to howl with pain.
Julian tried to push his annoyance to the back of his mind by staring out the window at the passing countryside. The dense woods were plagued with wild undergrowth stretching as far as the eye could see. As time passed, the wilderness slowly gave way to small settlements and villages. Split rail fences snaked their way across green meadows, reminding Julian of the wild and unpredictable Scottish Highlands. There was a certain beauty about this country, he grudgingly admitted.
Julian glanced down at his plain gray attire, hoping he would blend in with the locals. The role he had adopted was that of an artist, Julian West from Georgia, which forced him to imitate the southern mode of dress. He was not overly concerned about his manner of speech, since the southerners spoke very like his native countrymen, especially the wealthy landowners, since many of their sons and daughters were educated in England.
He flicked dust from his coat sleeve, thinking how his talent for painting would now stand him in good stead. His grandmother had always urged him to do something with his talent; he wondered what the dowager duchess would think if she knew she was about to get her wish.
Julian did not realize he could not throw off his identity by merely changing his wardrobe. He had not hidden his imperious manner beneath humble clothing. He did not guess that the reason the passengers avoided meeting his eyes was because he made them feel uncomfortable when he turned his lordly glance on them.
Julian smothered an oath as the elder of the two boys pushed his brother off the seat and the child landed atop Julian. "Madame," Julian remarked, glancing at the mother with annoyance written on his face. "Would you kindly remove your child from my lap."
The flustered woman pulled her now screaming child back onto the seat and tried to quell his outburst. "I am truly sorry, but I can do nothing with the two of them, sir," the woman said as way of apologizing. "They are a handful, even when their father is present."
The matronly woman addressed her sympathy to the young mother's plight. "Some people could be more tolerant where children are concerned." Her heated rebuke was for Julian. "Do you not like children, sir?"
Julian glanced at the two children, who were now exchanging blows despite their mother's attempts to intervene. "I have no trouble tolerating well-behaved children, madame" came his supercilious reply.
"I agree with you, sir," the gentleman at Julian's side said, coming full awake and speaking for the first time since coming aboard. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am George Groves, and I was headmaster at a boys'
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