Chapter 20

Selina had scandalized Mr. Beveridge by asking for a pair of breeches if one could be spared by any of the male servants. He seemed torn between obedience to the woman who was soon to be Duchess and complying with such an outrageous command. He had completed his mission and had shown no sign that he had found anything amiss in his office. A pair of servant's breeches had duly been delivered which Gracie was able to modify to fit Selina. The urge to ride out into the expanse of the South Downs had become overwhelming for Selina. All night she had worried at the problem of the cryptic lines she had found in Mr. Beveridge's journal, the evidence of a journey from the far north of England, the abbreviations of names. Sleep had come only in fits and starts. By the morning, she had no appetite for breakfast, but the sight of the cloud-spotted blue sky above the purple hills set in her a desire to be free.

By midday, she had taken Wind out of the stables and set her to a gallop towards those hills. With a breeze combing through her hair and the feel of the horse beneath her, Selina felt for a while as though she had outrun her worries. She knew that they were all still there, behind her. But, the cool, crisp air of the downs sluiced them from the forefront of her mind. Part of her desire to ride was a hope that she would see Dai again. Though he was a stranger, his candor was appealing. Instinctively, she felt that she could trust him. At least he had no agenda which was contrary to her interests. No agenda at all. He seemed a simple man who had found himself a comfortable niche in the world. Such a man could surely be trusted to give honest opinions. Then there was his view of Arthur. Dai had told her that the Duke was a good man. As had Gracie.

She clung to that view.

Arthur is a good man. Even if he is not Arthur…he is still a good man and will have his reasons for the deception.

Heather and long grass passed smoothly beneath her as she allowed Wind to a trot along a grassy track that wound across the hillside. There had been no sign of Dai. Frustratingly, she couldn't remember how to find the secret dell that she and Arthur had spent so much time together in. It made her feel that she had imagined it, or dreamed it, which was a disturbing notion. Selina took a deep breath, filling her lungs with clear, hillside air. To her right, there was a narrow valley, a bustling stream making its busy way along the bottom. To her left was a sea of rolling hills, stretching into a hazy distance. On an impulse, as she approached a crossing in the track she followed, she turned Wind to the left. Presently the track wound down the hillside and over a stone, humpbacked bridge.

I remember the bridge. I have been here before.

Encouraged, she continued to descend, taking another turn with what felt like an entirely random choice. A grove of oaks appeared beside the track which was now composed of bare earth. Again, Selina felt a tang of familiarity.

Another sign from my past. Perhaps I was not choosing this path at random but according to the whims of memories I did not even know I had.

The trail leveled off, hills looming to either side, and curved around the oaks, from which a wide, shallow stream emerged. Another bridge carried her across the stream and past a farmhouse whose chimney emitted a spire of twisting smoke. Selina couldn't remember the name of the farm but she could picture its owner. Becoming excited that perhaps she was on the trail of the magical dell that she and Arthur had made their own, she urged Wind to a canter. The landscape swam by as the horse stretched its legs. She let her run, going to a full gallop. The way was clear ahead, flat, and with no dangers that she could see. They reached a pass, with hills to either side, opening out to a patchwork of fields and meadows. In the distance was a cluster of buildings, centered around a church steeple.

A road of hard-packed clay intersected the trail, running between high hedges and dry stone walls. She brought Wind to a halt. They were higher than the village in the distance, at the mouth of the hill valley that she had crossed into from the high downs.

That is surely Folkington. My, I have got myself turned around. I did not know that I had come in this direction. In my mind, I was heading into the Downs, losing myself in wilderness.

She drew Wind to a halt and looped her reins around a nearby gate, allowing her to graze on grass while she strode to the other side of the road. Hopping onto a stone wall, she stood hands on hips, surveying the landscape. From behind came the sound of a coach, the jangle of reins, the rumble of heavy wheels, and the snort of a team of horses. Selina looked over her shoulder as it raced past, being driven far too quickly. Dropping from the wall, she crossed the road behind it, heading back to Wind. Then she heard a voice raised from within the coach and the conveyance drew to a halt. Instinct told her that something was not right. A cold chill went down her back as she stared at the coach's rear.

It was a town coach with a solid canopy and two men standing on the chassis to the rear. A window in the rear of the canopy showed a red face briefly. It was hard to make out but the brief glimpse she got was enough to make her want to run. The instinct proved correct, as she scrambled to untie Wind's reins when the two men broke into a run towards her. She managed to get one foot into a stirrup before they grabbed her. One held her about the waist, pulling her away from the horse. The other grabbed her hands which were flailing and scratching.

"Now then, my lady. Let's not have any trouble shall we?" one of them said.

She knew that voice. A London accent that the man had tried his best to eradicate because his lord and master considered it uncouth. But Barrow had never quite managed it. Selina knew him because he was one of her father's footmen.

"Bring her!" Maximilien Voss barked, leaning out of the coach.

Selina actually screamed. It was not the wail of a damsel in distress but a growling roar born of anger and frustration. She writhed and kicked but the two manservants had a firm grip of her. Barrow held her practically under his arm, while the other, Michaelson, switched from her hands to her feet. They held her between them like a rolled carpet. Then she was unceremoniously hurled into the coach at her father's feet. He rapped on the roof of the coach with a silver-topped cane. It rocked briefly as Michaelson and Barrow climbed aboard, then began to move off.

"Left the horse behind, my lord," Barrow called.

"Leave it! It will serve as part of her punishment!" Voss snarled.

His Teutonic roots were evident in his voice despite the years he had spent in England since boyhood. He glared down at his daughter, face dark and heavy brows drawn. Apart from the hair above his eyes, he was bald. A thick, dark beard covered the lower part of his face, shot through with iron gray.

"This was clearly meant to be. I receive your invitation and set off to bring you home, only to find you roaming the countryside in this extraordinary get-up. What do you think you are doing?"

Selina scrambled up, pushing herself into the seat opposite her father. Her eyes went from one door to the other, contemplating leaping from the coach. Her father leaned forward.

"You are wayward and in need of discipline. What were you thinking, trying to enmesh yourself with the Duke of Valebridge? Do you know the kind of man he has become since you knew him?"

Selina opened her mouth to retort but words did not come. She would be lying if she leaped blindly to Arthur's defense. She did not know what kind of man he had become, not entirely.

"At least he is a husband of my own choosing. I will not be forced into marriage with a brute!" Selina spat.

Her father raised his cane, his hand slipping to the middle of it to better wield it as though it were a club. His face was contorted in anger but a shout from Barrow froze him.

"My lord! We are being followed! A madman on horseback is chasing us!"

Selina was at the window before her father could stop her. She undid the strap holding the leather bind in place and pulled it up, putting her head through as she did. Unbelievably, it was Arthur. Hatless, dark hair streaming behind him, he was urging his horse to more and more speed.

"Arthur!" Selina screamed just as the coach driver urged his team to greater speed.

Despite the weight of the coach, four horses could muster more speed than just one. Selina watched as the distance between Arthur and herself widened. Then he was lost to sight around a bend in the road.