Free Mally : Signet Regency Romance (9781101568057) by Sandra Heath

gauze—”
    â€œThat pale blue is perfectly good, Miss Mall. Now then, I’ve put your white gloves and reticule on the dressing table. Shall you wear a necklace?”
    â€œI don’t know. No—” Mally smiled and took off her engagement ring. “I shall wear no jewels at all, except my ring over my glove.
That
will be something to rub Lady Annabel’s nose in the mud with!”
    â€œSweeting, I don’t think you need to rub her nose in any more than you already have done.”
    â€œAnd I shall change the ruby pin for that green enameled butterfly Maria’s betrothed bought for me in Italy—it will catch the green in the ring. There. Now I feel I can take on the world and his wife—and any predatory titled lady!”
    She was pulling on the slender white kid gloves when Digby knocked upon the door. “Yes, Digby, what is it?”
    â€œMr. Paulington is here, Madam. I have shown him secretly into the library and Mrs. Berrisford does not know he is here, as you directed.”
    Mally took a long breath. “Yes, thank you, Digby, I shall be in the library directly.”
    The butler closed the door again and Mally bit her lip. Lucy patted her shoulder. “Don’t let anything spoil your evening now, for dining out with Sir Christopher and his friend will do you good.”
    â€œThat is easier said than done, isn’t it, Lucy? What if he’s discovered something dreadful?”
    ***
    â€œGood evening, Mr. Paulington. Have you discovered anything?”
    He scrambled to his feet hurriedly, for he had been lazing very comfortably in Daniel’s chair. “Oh, good evening, Mrs. St. Aubrey.”
    â€œPlease sit down again, Mr. Paulington.”
    â€œThank you. Thank you kindly. Well, Mrs. St. Aubrey, I have managed to discover something concerning your sister. She did indeed leave the mail at Cirencester and spent that night in a hostelry named the Castle. On the following morning she was called for by a gentleman driving a phaeton.”
    â€œShe was
called
for?”
    â€œYes, madam. And she was expecting him, whoever he was. I got a description of some sort from the innkeeper, but unfortunately the fellow was more interested in the phaeton than in the driver. Now then, yes, here it is. He was quite tall, lean, with dark hair—he thinks—reasonably well togged out but no Corinthian or beau. As I said, the innkeeper was more interested in the phaeton. Seems it belonged to one of his rivals, a posting house in Gloucester by the name of the Rose and Crown.”
    â€œA post
phaeton?
That is surely something new!”
    â€œSeems this Kennett of the Rose and Crown has done well with the phaeton, there’s many folk fancy themselves up on a high-flyer like that. It is a dark brown drag, well lacquered and polished, and it has red wheels, with a yellow crown device thing in the center of each lamp—the crown of the Rose and Crown. The rose is painted on the back and gets covered with mud with each puddle! Anyway, that was what I discovered. So, I took myself on the next stage to Gloucester and looked up this Mr. Kennett at the Rose and Crown. The phaeton was hired to go to Cirencester and then to Hereford. Kennett sent a boy to Hereford to pick it up two days later, as agreed. He was pleased with himself too, for some rector or other wanted to come to Gloucester and paid for the use of the phaeton, so I reckon that drag’s more than paid for itself three times over. So, Mrs. St. Aubrey, the trail led me back right to where it started. Hereford.”
    â€œDid you go there too? To wherever the phaeton was left?”
    â€œYes, but there wasn’t much time to make inquiries, for the mail was about to leave and I didn’t want to have to hang around another day. The gentleman left the phaeton at the inn during the night. No one can remember it arriving—there was something of a junketing there that night, for the