The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 17

In which our heroine and his lordship are at odds

Unsure whether her queasiness resulted from the batteringher consciousness had taken, or the disconcerting emotions projected by Lady Demoral, Corinna withdrew into herself. She wasn't looking forward to telling his lordship about her discovery. Even if she had no clue what exactly was going on, it no doubt spelled Trouble with a capital T.

Trouble she was experiencing in spades already, no need for more.

Theoretically, domestic strife at Demoral Park wasn't her concern. Let the marquis untangle the knots of which there seemed to be aplenty, his shoulders were broad enough to carry the weight.

On the other hand, simply fleeing the hall and its exotic occupants wasn't on the cards either.

First of all, Brewster would expect insight, and so far there was nothing she was willing to give him. Amanda's secret—if it was a secret to Brewster—would not get the wretched man off her back. He wanted dirt on my lord. And said nobleman wouldn't let her slip the leash so easily either.

Oh, what a muddle.

Corinna rubbed her aching temples. With her mind swimming like it did, she stood no chance of forming plans. She'd eat something, and then retire to her room, ball or no ball.

She rucked up her skirts and slipped from behind the curtain into the corridor.

"Not so fast."

Haversack stepped into her peripheral vision. There was an expression on his smooth face she couldn't read, but if pressed, she'd say contempt seemed to be the correct word for what she beheld.

Contempt for what? She hadn't even reported anything yet.

"Miss Wolverstoke, his lordship will see you in the green salon. Now."

"Yes, there's something he must know."

Haversack quirked a brow. "I'd rather say, there's something he does know, and it makes him mightily upset. But this is between you and him, I daresay." His gaze found hers. "I'd like you to know, Miss Wolverstoke, that I am disappointed myself. Very disappointed. I hadn't thought this of you."

What the...? The man had no right to talk to her like that. He came across as a decent person, and if she didn't like him outright, she at least respected him. But he was a servant, and servants—unless they knew one from infanthood like Mrs. Tuckles did—weren't in a position to speak of their betters in such a fashion.

You're a servant yourself.

Fuming, she bit back the retort prickling on her tongue, and followed her tormentor's solid form to the room she had left not so long ago.

As if reading her thoughts, the big grandfather clock at the other end of the corridor struck two.

That late? Mental espionage appeared to be rather time-consuming. Uneasiness took Corinna's throat in a good grip. Heavens, what happened while she was busy reading people in the ballroom? Had this all been a ruse to get her out of the way?

Haversack raised his chin at the door. "He's waiting for you inside. I hope you have a good explanation, otherwise..." He shook his head.

"You seem to enjoy playing the mystery man."

"Says the mystery woman. Lord Demoral was willing to trust you. He thought highly of you. But this?"

"That is quite enough, Haversack. You're presence isn't needed anymore." Corinna turned her back on the butler, raised first her chin and then the train of her dress, and entered the green salon with somewhat shaky knees. Nor could she do anything about the sense of dread feathering her throat when the atmosphere of the place tugged at her mind.