A Man Of Many Talents Read Online Free PDF Page B

fought with different weapons, but some of their tactics are still used today, I’ll warrant. Can’t say that I see any of the departed fellows here, though.”
    “Perhaps Sir Boundefort doesn’t care for a crowd,” Christian remarked dryly.
    “Nonsense!” the colonel blustered. “A specter that’s afraid of people? Why, I’ve never heard of such a thing!” He paused, his mustaches swaying, then swung his gaze toward Christian as if struck by doubts. “Have you?”
    Christian shrugged. He wasn’t about to admit that he knew nothing whatsoever about hauntings, outside of the counterfeit one at Belles Co rn ers.
    “Still, perhaps we should leave Lord Moreland here to do, uh, whatever he has planned,” Miss Parkinson suggested.
    Christian was amenable to that notion, as long as she stayed behind as well. Solely as a witness, of course. As for his plans…
    Emery sniffed, apparently disgusted by the very idea that any proper ancestral shade could prefer a stranger’s company to that of one of its heirs. “I’m going to study in my room,” he announced, turning on his heel.
    You do that, Christian thought. He half expected the so-called scholar to return draped in bed linen and couldn’t decide if the pleasure he would get from trouncing the boy would compensate for the abrupt end of his little adventure if he did so. Suddenly he wasn’t sure he was ready to unveil the ghost just yet and thus cut short his visit with the intriguing Miss Parkinson.
    “Well, you just shout if you need any help, my lord,” the colonel said. He looked about the room rather apprehensively for someone who didn’t countenance ghosts.
    “Oh, I don’t believe Sir Boundefort would actually harm anyone, do you?” Cousin Mercia asked. “ I think he’s just protecting his home.”
    “Or warning against interlopers,” Emery muttered over his shoulder.
    A rather startled silence followed the young man’s remark, broken only by his retreating footsteps, until the colonel coughed out a nervous-sounding laugh. Christian wasn’t certain whether the ghost or Emery himself was making the old gentleman wary, but he was inclined to dismiss both.
    “Well, I daresay Lord Moreland shall get to the bottom of it all, eh?” the colonel said, now obviously eager to be gone. Cousin Mercia nodded pleasantly in agreement. The Governess, Christian noted, gave no response. She was self- contained, that one. Perhaps that was what drove his curiosity. It certainly wasn’t her scintillating conversation.
    “Let us go so that he can get to work, then,” the colonel said. Waving jauntily, he took Cousin Mercia with him, leaving Christian, much to his delight, alone with his hostess—and any phantoms, of course.
    Christian’s pleasure was short-lived, however, as Miss Parkinson soon turned to depart as well. “I shall leave you to your task, my lord, with my thanks,” she added, a bit grudgingly, in Christian’s opinion.
    His lips quirked as he thought of several witty replies. Instead he found himself saying only, “Stay,” softly, and with more feeling than he intended.
    His hostess, already moving away from him, stopped to stare back at him, wide-eyed. “What?”
    Christian regrouped quickly. “I thought you would want to remain here and see things for yourself,” he said, stepping toward her.
    Miss Parkinson’s startled expression vanished, replaced by one of dismissal. Why did he get the impression that she disapproved of everything he said?
    “Well, you could at least keep me company,” Christian complained. He wondered, with no little amazement, whether he was actually whining. And for what? The society of a governess? His brain must be addled. He took a deep breath but only felt dizzier as he inhaled the scent of lilacs. Lush and heavy and full of promise.
    “I hardly see how that will aid your … efforts,” Miss Parkinson said, sounding as if she didn’t believe he was going to do anything at all. Well, he wasn’t, Christian