The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 14

In which his lordship and our heroine partake of the fresh air

The marquis came to a halt on the top of the steps that led down to a sweeping crescent of lush green turf, fringed by arches dripping with roses and dotted with a little fountain trickling merrily. From up here, the entire garden was in view, an impressive vista of tall trees and a lake crowned by a bridge at the bottom of the incline. Scythe men were on the move, mowing down the tall grass that undulated in the breeze. A bit to their right, a crumbling ruin covered in ivy skillfully draw the gaze. The old stones were surrounded by flower beds where Phlox and yet more roses ruled supreme, their sweet fragrance drifting over the casual scene of pastoral tranquility that must have taken decades to achieve.

"Someone likes their roses."

"Yes, stepmother. She does nothing by halves. Whatever was growing in the beds before, she had uprooted. Only the spring bulbs survived. Oh, and phlox she likes as well. May I?"

He presented his bent elbow, and Corinna found she had no choice to put her hand under his arm and curl her fingers around it. Thus trapped by convention, she was guided down steps she could have well walked alone. There weren't all that many, and they weren't steep.

How odd, though, she should feel safe in the marquis's company rather than being chagrined or concerned. But the man now walking at her side, pointing out the sights in his calm voice, threatened to kill her if she revealed the family's secret.

"I can see you care little for our boxwood maze. Could it be that's because you're a spy?" Demoral said in a conversational tone.

She stopped, tempted to pull back her arm. "You're funning."

He looked down at her and grinned. "I'm not. Every single governess who joined us in the last three years was a spy. They're all sent by this man—what's his name again? Ah, Brewster."

From one second to the next, Corinna's knees trembled like blancmange, and a jumble of thoughts tumbled through her head.

A gentle tug at her arm made her move again, but the fog in her brain refused to lift. It was with difficulty that she found a meaningful question to ask. "What would be the purpose of such an outrageous behavior? Seriously, why should anyone spy on you, let alone me?"

"Oh, there are some people in the government who cannot understand my philanthropic 'nonsense', as they call it. I'm not acting the way they expect me to, so I must be suspicious at all cost."

The brain fog cleared. "Tell me, how is someone like you supposed to act?"

His lips twitched. "Run through the forest in furred form and spook the peasants, I suppose. Instead, I ensure that church towers are maintained, the poor are housed and fed, I care for my tenants, and—most suspiciously—I have gathered all these people under my roof, none of whom is in the usual style."

"How would that lead anyone to take you for a...uh, what is it exactly you are accused of?"

Once more, the smile tugged at his mobile lips. "We're talking treason, as you're well aware, Miss Wolverstoke, since you were sent to find evidence of my black deeds. For the records, this time I approve of Brewster's choice. The previous spies were an insult to my intelligence."

"You seem to have agents on your mind."

"Oh, I do. So do you."

The man was as tenacious as a bloodhound. Someone actually mentioned something along those lines recently, but her confuddled brain refused to remember who on Earth it might have been.

"Such a claim isn't worthy of my comment, my lord. If I understand your butler correctly, there's one person at large you haven't identified yet. You might want to start there rather than with me. Seriously, someone has sneaked into your home, and you're ignorant of that person's identity. How can it be?"