The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 15

In which our heroine misses most of the ball

She shouldn't be wearing the one good dress she brought with her, she really shouldn't. But some idiotic little voice whispered insistently, telling her she must look her best for his lordship.

How pathetic.

This was fairy tale nonsense. The ugly duckling coming to the ball dressed as a princess, losing a slipper, and not catching her prince.

Corinna giggled. Something wasn't quite right with that picture, but then she had never been keen on fairy tales. Instead she liked her history books and the tales of journeys to foreign lands so much better.

"Be honest with yourself," she said to her image in the speckled mirror. "You're enjoying the danger."

Perish the thought a certain someone with a roguish smile and moss-green eyes had anything to do with her enjoyment.

Corinna pirouetted once, and the gold tulle sprinkled with glitter swirled and winked in the soft light of the candles she'd placed on the table. The tulle over-dress went well with a deceptively simple gown of amber silk, puffed at the sleeves. A glittering shawl, an amber head band made of velvet, and grandmother's earrings of ancient gold completed the outfit. They were only still in her possession because she'd hid them in her bodice when the new Lord Wolverstoke had hers and Mother's bedrooms searched for valuables before they were banned to the Dower House.

Speaking of valuables...

The wretched jewels were still dangling inside the fireplace. Perhaps, she should hide those on her person as well. But the ball dress was rather low cut, and the corset fitting so tight any extra baggage would pinch. Nor did she dare to stuff the baubles into her reticule. If she dropped it and the thing spilled its contents, there would be an unbelievable hue and cry.

No, the jewels would have to stay where they were. With all the servants engaged in a jolly, surely no one would search her bedroom.

Corinna fixed the garters on her silk stockings, the only pair she had left.

Finding a traitor for his lordship would not be such an easy feat, hedge witch or not. It wasn't so much the mind-travel; she was accustomed to using her skylles that way. However, it was of the first importance that she had a clear picture of where to send them. Just spilling herself into what would be a large crowd would only give her a headache, without yielding the desired result.

Surely Demoral knew that? If he didn't she would tell him. The man was well-versed in the rules of unusual powers, let him come up with a suggestion. Beyond that she couldn't, wouldn't plan.

Some solution would present itself, it always did.

Corinna rose, straightened her skirts and proceeded down the steps, drawn by the weeping strains of a violin, the clinking of glasses, and laughter.

***

The ballroom brimmed with people in their finery, just as if this were yet another squeeze of many thrown throughout the London season.

At a second glance, however, certain oddities showed. Not only did the violinists wear livery, but the woman whose fingers danced over the keyboard of the piano was no other than her ladyship decked out in a brocade hooped ballgown of a deep burgundy shade. Nobody was serving, instead a buffet had been set up on the long side of the ball room.

What an outrageous idea, and yet so innovative and clever.

To top it all, the door to the terrace stood open—was no one afraid of drafts in this place?—and a marquee sheltered many tables and chairs, not all of them matching.