The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 9

In which her ladyship shows on the scene

In a rustle of silken skirts, a petite female entered. She wore her iron gray hair in long curls that tumbled from a fetching lace cap, in the fashion of the last century. Her dress was of the same style. Severely corseted at the top, it sported a small bustle behind and a bust cut rather too deep for her age.

Her smile, however, was genuine, and there was an amused gleam in her eyes that reminded Corinna a lot of her son.

Stepson, she corrected herself, as she rose from her seat while the marquis followed her lead.

"My lady." Corinna inclined her head.

"Ah," Lady Demoral said. "Miss Wolverstoke, I presume. So good of you to come at such short notice. We shall have need of you soon, though right now you had better not visit my granddaughter." She sank into the nearest chair.

If they meant to frighten her, congratulations, the inhabitants of Demoral Park were succeeding only too well.

Corinna waited until both my lady and my lord were seated until she allowed herself to sink back onto the chair.

"Are there no croissants?" Lady Demoral asked. "I need croissants to fortify myself. Haversack, why are there no croissants?"

"I shall arrange for them presently." The butler glided out of the room.

Corinna caught the marquis's gaze. His eyes truly twinkled in the most outrageous fashion, and a smile tugged at his lips. She caught herself responding and focused her gaze back on the lady in a hurry.

"May I ask what is amiss with your grandchild?" she asked.

"Have a beignet. They are fantastic. Cook is French. She does things you couldn't dream of."

Lady Demoral kissed the tips of her gloved fingers, and Corinna wrestled with a bout of severely inappropriate laughter. The French were renowned for doing things other people wouldn't dream of, but such indulgence wasn't a suitable topic for the tea table.

Then she sobered. Would Cook prove to be the French connection Brewster had on his mind? But surely the French intelligence service wouldn't send a woman?

Well, Brewster had sent her.

"What Mother meant was, she is a talented artist in the kitchen," Lord Demoral said in a deadpan voice.

Corinna looked up. When he winked, her cheeks filled with heat.

This conversation was going entirely the wrong way.

Lady Demoral placed a beignet on Corinna's plate and patted her hand.

His lordship cleared his throat. "What Mother should have told you instead of changing the topic--which could lead to misunderstandings on way too many levels--is that Amanda has caught...eh, the mumps."

How to respond to that? Mrs. MacGregor had been adamant she shouldn't mention his illness because it wouldn't be taken kindly.

"That is unfortunate for sure," Corinna said. "I trust the doctor is looking after her well."

"Of course, of course." Lady Demoral bit into her beignet. She swallowed and reached for the teacup. "It's a mild case. She'll be over it soon. Not like poor Eugene here at all."

"Mother..."

"In the end, he was so weak, I was forced to take him back home in a rush. Those London quacks have no idea how to treat a patient right."

"Mother..." All amusement had gone from the marquis's eyes, glowing with an otherwordly fire.

Silly, it's only a reflection of the sunlight.

"And can you imagine? The long beam of our traveling coach broke just as we set out, so we had to hire a chaise. As if that wasn't enough, we were held up on the road. Highwaymen! What is this world coming to?"

"Mother, will you be quiet?" The words lashed out, and the Lady Sophronia finally ceased her babble.

"How horrid, especially the highwaymen," Corinna said.

"It was only one and a spindly wimp of a young man to boot. If he hadn't been armed and my lady with me..." Lord Demoral scowled at his tea.

A spindly wimp she was not, but it was good to hear the marquis hadn't discovered her true sex. Excellent.

Corinna bit into the beignet's fluffy sweetness.

"Fiddlesticks, my dear boy," Lady Demoral said. "You weren't yourself, you wouldn't have achieved anything. But I put on a fine performance of a raving lunatic, didn't I? Anyway, the jewels were paste, so that vermin won't enjoy his ill-begotten loot."

"Will you stop talking about my wretched enfeeblement? Otherwise, I have given out a warning and promised a goodly fee. As soon as the rogue seeks out a fence, a message will be brought to me. And then..." Demoral dug his even white teeth into a piece of fruitcake.

Sudden hardness in Corinna's chest made breathing difficult.

Horror in a hand basket. She'd courted disaster, and Brewster unknowingly had saved her hide. Not that she would ever tell him.

Time to change the topic.

"You have an impressive library here. May I serve myself when I wish to plan my lessons?"

Lady Demoral flapped her free hand at the books. "Of course. Feel free to help yourself."

"Miss Wolverstoke, how about if I show you the estate while you are waiting for your charge to recover?" the marquis asked. "Do you ride?"

Did she ever. However, he would expect to see her in a side saddle, which not only she didn't own but also wouldn't enjoy. "Occasionally I do."

"If you own a horse, we can stable it here."

She pressed her lips together. No doubt, the marquis would be an excellent judge of horseflesh. If he ever got to see Nell, he would recognize the "highwayman's" horse. Confound it, why did the man have to be so helpful?

He tilted his head. "Is anything the matter? You went quite white in the face just now."

"It's most kind of you to offer, my lord. The thought of...taking a fall makes me quake. Frankly speaking, I'm not really a competent horsewoman. " Well, in a side saddle she wasn't.

Haversack returned with the croissants. Somehow, Corinna wasn't hungry anymore, but since the other two gave no sign of flagging, she allowed the butler to place a flaky crescent on her plate.

During the next half hour, she fielded a broadside of curious questions from my lady about her family--as kind as she might be, the woman had little tact--and fenced off another attempt by the marquis to join him on a tour of the estate, this time on foot.

Why this interest in a mere governess? Or did his lordship make a point of rambling the countryside with others in his employ? Surely, he wouldn't go riding with Haversack? In any case, her employer and his stepmother seemed to be quite the eccentrics. Would they also be traitors?

Only time would tell.

"But this will have to wait another day," the marquis said. "You must be tired after your journey."

He rose, and she followed his example, suppressing a sigh of relief. Finally, after an hour of walking on egg shells, she would get some rest.

But not for too long. Shestill needed to find a hiding place for those dratted jewels.

1188 words

This chappie is dedicated to the lovely EvelynHail (who would also call it exactly that). She participates with a teenage story "Dana Ilic and the Shadow Door". She'd done the cover herself. No, not with Canva. It's designed and created all by her own hand.