The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 7

In which our heroine takes to the road

Two days spent rattling all over the countryside in ill-sprung coaches, thigh to thigh with her fellow passengers, left Corinna with a pounding headache and a surly mood. The breaks at the posting inns inevitably were too short to not only seek relief but also grab some nourishment, so she made her choice, spent the break time in the lavatory queue, and otherwise made do with Mrs. Tuckles' hamper.

Brewster's arrangements had extended as far as private bedrooms in each of the posting inns, and she mentally thanked him for that. However, since the saggy mattresses tortured her back, and the sheets weren't aired, she slept poorly.

The crotchety groom in the ramshackle gig sent to pick her up in Stow-on-the-Wold did nothing to improve her mood.

Brewster's intelligence laid out in the scroll wasn't helpful either. Mrs. Tuckles had missed her mark when she mentioned changelings. Instead, there was suspicion of treason. As to the details, the papers contained in the scroll were vague. There were long lists of people he had talked to, most of them French, and tables that mapped exactly when and where he talked to them, which made Corinna believe the man was suspected to be a French agent.

Surely, the war was over? How the deuce she was supposed to prove such an accusation on such flimsy evidence was beyond her. In fact, some of the papers mentioned "his lordship's odd ways", whatever those might be.

The man seemed to have a lot of enemies.

As if that weren't enough, the jewels weighed heavy on her mind. Whatever she did, she would have to find a way of returning them first. Unthinkable that somebody should find them on her person. The sheer thought of that calamity happening made the sweat steam from her pores.

On a second thought, the sun burning down from a metal-blue sky didn't help.

Since her wardrobe didn't contain enough sober-hued dresses fit for a governess, Corinna, who was much the same height and built as her parent, had to dive into the widow's extensive wardrobe. She, forever being chilled to the marrow, preferred wool and other warming fabrics to the muslins more suited to the current heatwave. The straw poke bonnet was Corinna's, the only thing on the gig to provide some shade to her flushed face.

"How much farther is it? We've been going for hours."

The groom slapped the reins on the back of the stout brown cob, trotting along at a steady but unexciting pace. "To Delmoral Park?"

No, to Gretna Green, you numbwit.

"It's all of twenty miles, Miss. It takes a while."

From behind sounded an imperial bugle from a post horn and the rapid rumble of wheels.

The groom slowly rotated in his seat--and sprang into sudden action.

"Hoh." He slowed their chubby steed and steered the conveyance to the side of the road.

The next instant, a sporting vehicle flashed by in a blur of yellow wheels and the thunder from the hooves of a black team of four. Dust filled the air and gritted Corinna's teeth.

"That'll be her ladyship." The groom flapped his whip hand at the dust cloud and spat. "She always drives to an inch."

Her ladyship? Oh, the marquis's temperamental stepmother. She expected him to make a derisory remark about the good lady, but there was pride in the man's voice, telling her the Dowager Marchioness seemed to be liked by her servants. Given her outburst on the road, this sounded improbable, but perhaps the woman had been in a fidget because she traveled just as badly as Corinna did.