The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 2

In which our heroine is held up herself

Tucked away almost shamefully among the rhododendrons, the little white dower house dreamed away a lazy afternoon. Its red roof was still touched by stray rays of sunshine, but the lower part already lay in shadow. That wasn't unusual. Only in early hours of the morning did sunlight reach the gray facade, its slit-like arched windows more suited to a church or a castle keep. Their panes glittered brightly, cheerfully, which told Corinna that Mother and Mrs. Tuckles, her old nurse and now the Dowager Lady Wolverstoke's maid, cook, and housekeeper all thrown into one, had been busy cleaning again.

"One of these days, they'll wear the linen to shreds." A fond smile on her lips, Corinna led Nell to the old potting shed that served as stables. Fortunately, it was still on dower house grounds and even more fortunately father deeded the mare to her in his will, otherwise the horse too would have vanished like mother's portion and the jewels she brought into the marriage.

Jewels.

The specter of Corinna's afternoon raised its ugly head. How stupid could she be to hold up the coach of one of the richest noblemen in the country, private advisor to the Prince Regent, and snobbish, haughty, and vengeful into the bargain? Though quite honestly, how was she to know a vehicle without even a coat of arms on the panels would carry such a lofty personage.

What on earth was wrong with the man?

"Oh, drat it." Corinna raised a booted leg to kick the wall of the shed. Then she put it down again. She might never be a lady, but she had enjoyed a genteel upbringing. This sort of hoydenish behavior would not do.

For one thing, Mrs. Tuckles would be ever so upset.

Nell snorted her warm, sweet horse breath into Corinna's ear.

"Sorry, love, I'm woolgathering again." She unclasped the knapsack from the saddle, Lord Demoral's jewels weighing heavy in her hands.

She should have turned and run. Now, she would have to run anyway, with him breathing down her neck.

The tack removed, she rubbed the horse down with straw.

He would find her as well. It was only a question of time.

"They say he's like a bloodhound."

Nell snickered, and placed her soft muzzle into the hay trough.

"Oh, why did it have to be him." It was all too much. The shed's wooden planks reverberated with a powerful kick that sent Nell backing away, her ears flattened against her head.

"Sorry, my darling. But that man is a fiend."

What was worse, he even looked like one.

"That face, Nell. For sure, I'll see it in my dreams." Not that there would be much time for dreaming.

"How am I going to explain to Mother that I have to leave, eh? And where do I find a trustworthy fence before I do that? Whereby, that sounds like an oxymoron to me."

Mother's and Mrs. Tuckles' biggest concern had been her becoming a bluestocking.

"For sure, they have no idea. Oh Nell, what to do? Where to go?"

London was the obvious answer. With Demoral headed for the countryside, most likely his home in the Cotswolds, she'd be safest in the capital. She would need to find suitable employment, though.

She fondled the mare's silky ear and sighed. "Hah, that didn't go so well the last time I tried. I'm not cut out to be a governess. A position as companion 'twill have to be. Perhaps, Agatha knows of a bluestocking friend of hers who needs someone. Yes, that would be best. But I doubt fate will favour me a second time. I was very lucky to find her."

Shortly after the death of her father and brother, Corinna had scoured the advertisements in the Gazette for a position that would maintain her mother, Mrs. Tuckles, and her horse. A solution had presented itself in the form of an advert placed by Miss Agatha de Langtry, a spinster on the wrong side of thirty who had been looking for an educated young female to join her household as companion. Corinna had applied, was accepted—and found a friend in her employer.

She would have gladly joined Agatha when she—unconventional woman that she was—embarked on a grand tour of Europe—but Mother had been horrified.

"Unbecoming for a female" and "What am I going to do without you by my side" reinforced with hot tears and frantic hugs to Mother's heaving bosom had convinced her that leaving was simply not on the cards.

These days, Agatha seemed to have taken up permanent residence in Paris, safe again now Napoleon was gone for good. At least, that meant a letter wouldn't take too long.

Corinna gave Nell a final pat. It was time hight time to rid herself of the highwayman's garb and return to the Dower House, otherwise Mother would fret over her whereabouts.

The duties of a daughter never ended.

The tricorn, bandanna and mask she had already stuffed into the pockets of her jacket. She pushed aside the panel that concealed the narrow compartment behind Nell's trough from prying eyes. What the nook's purpose might have been in times yore, she didn't know. It was there, one day Robin had found it, and now it was the place where she stored her gear.

Corinna reached over to fetch the boot jack and removed her footwear. The breeches came next. The shed was moldy and damp, and she shivered in her shift, rumpled from where she had stuffed it into her breeches. The cloth confining what Agatha had called the finest bust on the British Isles got slung over the peg that had held the old round gown she claimed she wore for her country rambles.

"Fine rambles they are. On horseback, with pistols. If only they knew."

Corinna winced. No, they had better remain ignorant of her shenanigans.

She shrugged into the gown and glanced at the fly-specked mirror placed next to a gap in the shed's wall. It dutifully reflected a flushed face, damp blonde curls plastered across her forehead, and guileless eyes the color of forget-me-nots framed by lashes so black, the squire's beastly daughter once insinuated Corinna dyed them.

Not exactly presentable, but it would do. She'd wash up in her room later. One might be a female highwayman, but one had certain standards to maintain, which didn't include ablutions al fresco.

Imagine the fright she would cause should she ever be caught in the corridors of the dower house wearing her full getup

A soft giggle escaped. No, she wouldn't let that happen either. The shed was drafty but safe—

The horse shifted in her stall and a high-pitched whinny rang through the structure. The sound wasn't loud enough to cover the stealthy approach of a large creature.

The only predators in these parts were human.

A twig crunched, and an ice-cold finger traced the length of Corinna's spine.

She reached for her pistols and listened into the garden, peaceful no longer, filled with menace instead.

"I know you are out there. Show your face."

Silence was her only response.

1194 words/3468 TOTAL wordcount so far

This chapter is dedicated to elveloy, who also has a Paranormal Regency Romance, complete with a spooky attic.