Plain and Proper by M J Marlow (beach read TXT) 📕

is actually quite taken by you. That means, Marianne, dear,” he said nastily, “that you can say goodbye to the Tremayne boys. As an engaged woman, you will have no time for them.”
“They are my friends!” Marianne cried out in protest. “You can’t forbid me to see them. They’re like brothers to me.”
“You will be far too occupied with your future husband,” Andrew told her, “to play with your childhood companions.”
“I won’t listen to this!” Marianne snapped. She headed for the door. “Where is Aunt Eustacia?
“Your aunt is an old woman who needs her rest,” Andrew replied as he caught her arm and shoved her back into the room. “You will not disturb her.” He frowned as he saw her outraged expression. “Good night, Marianne.”
He left the room and locked the door. He heard the door handle jiggle and then her cry of outrage as she realized he had locked her in. She beat on the door a moment and then ran for the windows. She saw armed men patrolling the grounds and she began to grow frightened. Why was their home an armed camp? Something bad was happening here and she did not like it one bit. She would have been more terrified if she had overheard the conversation now going on between her relatives and Gerard. They were in Eustacia’s sitting room and Andrew was standing at the windows watching his men. Gerard was pouring out some tea for the Baroness and looking like a bludgeon had struck him.
“She is not an idiot, Andrew,” Eustacia argued with him. “You could tell her the truth, you know. This engagement of yours,” she looked briefly at Gerard, “is not a wise idea.”
“She is a child, Eustacia,” Andrew replied. “And she needs to be protected. Gerard is the best man for this task and an engagement explains why he is constantly in her company.” He sighed in frustration. “My father was a sentimental old fool leaving that property to her. It has always been a haven for smugglers and spies and the French obviously think a child of seventeen an easy mark.”
“They wouldn’t think that if they’d been at the tail end of her temper,” Gerard laughed as he set down the teapot. “She’s her mother all over again.”
“She’s a darling girl for all she has a quick temper,” Eustacia defended her charge. She adored her brother’s child and looked on her as her own. “How do you know she wouldn’t have been safer if you had not come here?”
“Because we have it directly from one of our agents in Napoleon’s court,” Andrew told her bluntly, knowing she would accept nothing less than the outright truth, “that the French bastard has issued an order in regards to her and her property. He will have her under French control or in the hands of one of his English agents.” He watched the woman pale. “ Now you take me seriously?”
“You could be a little less heavy-handed with her, Andrew,” Eustacia recommended. “She will rebel against such tactics, just as her mother did.” She saw his frown, so like his sister’s and his niece’s, and shook her head. “Stubborn is a family trait, I see.” She finished her tea and set the cup down. “It is late, gentlemen, and I will retire now. Good night, Andrew. Lord Travers.”
“Good night, Eustacia.”
“Good night, Baroness,” Gerard bowed his head. He went to open the door for his superior officer and friend.
The men headed out of the room and heard a thud from inside the girl’s rooms. Andrew sent Gerard outside as he unlocked the door and he found her leaning out over her balcony reaching for the drainpipe. He yanked her back inside and locked the balcony doors. Then he turned to see something flying at him. He ducked and the vase shattered against the wall. He looked at the shards of porcelain on the floor and shook his head.
“Was that completely necessary, child?” Andrew sighed as he met her mutinous gaze. He was seeing his sister all over again. Everything from the mulish tilt of her chin, the snapping fire in her eyes, and her hands on her hips, was Angharad once again. “You’re not going to let this go until I tell you the truth, are you Marianne?”
“Would you?” Marianne asked him coldly. “If you were in this same situation?”
“No,” Andrew replied. “You are more Macalester than is good for you, child.” He pulled a chair up and sat down. “It is not a pleasant tale, Marianne.” Marianne nodded to him to continue and he was impressed. She was no coward this niece of his. “Very well, Marianne.” She looked up at him shaken but angry as he finished twenty minutes later. “And that is why there are armed men, your stern uncle, and an affianced bodyguard here at Pumphrey Manor until we go to London where you will be safe.”
“But why can’t I see the Tremayne boys while we are here, Uncle?” Marianne asked him a question completely out of left field. “You can’t possibly suspect their family of being French spies, can you?”
“Until I know for certain,” Andrew told her, “I would prefer you be cautious.” He saw that stubborn tilt to her chin. “I will make a compromise with you,” she was all ears. “If you promise me that you will keep Travers at your side, and do not leave the house without telling myself or your aunt where you are going, then you may continue to number them among your friends.”
“I always tell Aunt where I am going,” Marianne assured him. “It is one of her hard and fast rules.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Always tell Aunt where you are going. Always finish any task assigned to you. Always endeavor to look and act like a proper young lady. Never lose your temper with your elders.” She blushed as she met Andrew’s look of amusement. “She meant the Vicar, Uncle. He is always annoying me with some little critique on my appearance or deportment.” She puffed out her chest and pretended to stroke a beard. “Lady Marianne, must you appear in church with your hair ribbons in disarray? Lady Marianne, why can’t you enter a room at a walk?” She giggled and put on a long-suffering look. “Honesty, Lady Marianne; that is hardly a proper thing for a young woman to say, even if it is in flawless Latin. That kind of thing.”
“He has a point,” Andrew laughed; quite delighted with the girl. “You are your mother all over again, girl. We are going to have to come to agreement on matters of importance.” She nodded. “If any of my men tell you to hide, run, or freeze, you are to do it without question. They are here to protect you and they know what they are doing.” She nodded and he ruffled her hair. “Good girl. I’ll introduce you to them in the morning.”


Morning came and Marianne bounced down to the breakfast tale with her hair ribbons rebelling against the braid Estelle had tried to force her unruly hair into. She froze at the threshold of the room as seven men rose to their feet. The bowed to her and she curtsied and made her way to her place at the table. Gerard was there to pull her chair out for her. He was smiling at her in a way that left her feeling quite confused. She looked to her uncle, for the newcomers most assuredly had to belong to him, and he smiled at her.
“Good morning, niece,” he said with amusement in his voice. “I see your hair ribbons are declaring a mutiny already.” He nodded to the men. “I promised to introduce you to some of the men. These are the Sergeants of the five squads: Bradley, Cameron, Moody, Percy and Quinlan. They each have five men under them and will introduce you to them as time permits.”
The five sergeants were as different from each other as it was possible to be. Bradley was a short round man with a round face and ready smile. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore a goatee. His blue eyes sparkled with pleasure at being introduced to her. She liked him immediately. Quinlan was a tall, lanky man with curly red hair and an apparently lazy manner whose deep green eyes watched her like a hawk. He made her very nervous. She felt like he was issuing a challenge and her chin went up. He smiled at her then and the nervousness faded in the sunlight of his smile. Cameron was tall, broad-chested, and built like a barrel. His brown eyes were filled with annoyance at being asked to baby sit a child. She had a feeling he was hiding any regard for her underneath the stiff exterior. Percy was shorter than the lot, and wiry where they were lean; the sandy-haired man seemed to be holding back on his movements as if he would spin off into space if he did not keep a leash on his actions. Moody, blond as a Viking and blue eyed, was equally as tall as Cameron but he was built like a man who had seen hard work his entire life. He was stern and no nonsense but he managed a brief smile for her before he turned to Cameron and said something to him in Gaelic. They looked at her again and they seemed to be sharing a memory as they smiled at her more warmly.
“You look like your mother, lady Marianne,” Cameron said first.
“We hear you have her temper,” Moody laughed. He winked at Andrew. “You’re going to need reinforcements if she takes it into her head to disobey you.”
“We came to an agreement of sorts,” Andrew said as he looked at his niece. She was surprised that these men knew her mother. Andrew looked over at Eustacia. Had the woman told this child nothing? “Didn’t we, Marianne?”
“Of sorts,” Marianne nodded. She finished her breakfast and went to kiss Eustacia’s cheek. “I’ll be back in two hours, Aunt.” She looked at Andrew. She ignored Gerard as he rose with her. “The Tremayne children and I spend the two hours after breakfast each Saturday in the village school, helping the Widow Larchmont with her lesson plans for the week.”
“Don’t be late, Marianne,” Eustacia called after her. “The Duke of Ravenhold is holding a small party to welcome your uncle and his men to the county.”
“Oh Aunt!” Marianne pouted prettily. “I hate his parties. He frowns at everything…”
She saw Eustacia’s look and sighed. “I’m certain Lord Travers will make certain I remember.” She looked at the man in question. “If you’re coming, sir.”
“She’s Angharad all over again, Captain,” Quinlan remarked the moment Marianne and Gerard were gone. “Are you certain twenty-five is enough to keep that one safe?”
Marianne went to the stables and led her mare out to the corral. She had gone into the tack room to get the sugar cubes she always carried for the mare when someone stepped up behind her and put his hand over her mouth. She squeaked in protest and stamped down hard on the person’s foot. She turned to see Samuel behind her, scowling.
“Did you have to stomp so hard, Mari?” he asked in a wounded manner. “You could break a man’s foot doing something like that.”
“Then perhaps next time you will announce yourself to her, boy?” They turned to see Moody standing in the doorway. He looked at Marianne with respect. “Good call, girl. When we have time, your fiancé,” he winked at Gerard, who was out near the corral speaking to Robert; and was delighted when the young man scowled at him darkly, “will have to teach