Free The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy by Patricia Veryan

won’t move fer figs!”
    â€œAs if you’d be took in by slugs,” said Freda. “If ever a coachman knows his horses, it’s Mr. Abraham Hines!”
    Only slightly mollified, he grumbled, “It ain’t decent, it ain’t. Does the missus know these here Crosslands, even?”
    Freda smiled into his narrow, glum countenance and allowed as how the missus wouldn’t never do nothing she thought was havey-cavey. Handing him her own valise, she added, “Fairly dotes on my young lady, she do, and likely thinks the sea air will do her good, since she’s come down with this nasty cold.”
    â€œMore likely since Colonel Ritchie’s come back from France,” observed Coachman Hines with a cynical sniff.
    â€œOoh!” Freda squealed, and dug him in the ribs. “You are naughty!”
    â€œ I ain’t,” he argued. “But I wouldn’t put it past the missus to kick up her heels with the Colonel whilst the coast is clear!”
    Shocked, Freda pursed her lips and said righteously, “It not being my place to criticize me betters, I will say nought.”
    The coachman grunted and scowled after her as she hurried back into the house. “Say nought, indeed,” he grumbled. “She’ll have plenty to say if I can’t find the blasted place!” He glanced up at the pale sky. Not sunny, exactly, but at least there was no sign of ugly weather. It would be a drive of at least six hours, and by the time he got Miss Elspeth to her friend’s house it would likely be dusk. Not much doubt but that he’d be given dinner and a bed, of course. With luck, this here Lord Crossland would have a good cook and on the way back to the City tomorrow there’d be no call to race his cattle.
    Securing the boot, he brightened. This scrambling journey might not turn out too bad after all.

4
    Vance Clayton had once boasted to have driven his light coach from London to Worthing in only five hours, but although Madame’s horses were spirited beasts and Abraham Coachman knew his trade, by mid-afternoon they were still a long way from the coast. Elspeth and Freda had enjoyed the drive at first, but the constant pounding of hooves and jolting of the coach had become tedious, and as the hours passed Freda began to be convinced that they could not reach their destination until morning. She had said as much to her young mistress forty minutes ago, but Miss Elspeth was lost in thought and had made no response.
    The weather, at least, had continued fair. They’d stopped twice to change horses and once to take an indifferent meal at a large and noisy inn. They had been leaving the yard of that establishment when a splendid blue carriage and four beautifully matched black horses had arrived at a reckless rate of speed and almost collided with them. Abraham Coachman had howled his indignation. The occupant of the blue carriage had given them a scornful glance, revealing a haughty and darkly handsome countenance, and Elspeth, who’d been so quiet all day, had roused to look out of the window and exclaim heatedly, “Oh! It’s him again!”
    Intrigued, Freda had remarked, “Such a fine gentleman! Who is he, miss?”
    â€œThe most intolerable creature in London. At least, I hope there is no other like him! He seems to make a habit of annoying people.”
    Freda had attempted to continue the conversation, but Elspeth had lapsed into her anxieties once more. She’d decided that once they reached the High Tide tavern she would somehow slip away from Freda and Abraham Coachman and find some likely person of whom to enquire for the Reverend Mr. FitzWilliam Boudreaux. If all went well, that gentleman would be able to hire men willing to attempt the rescue of her beloved brother; he might, in fact, already have done so. She acknowledged with a sinking heart that she did not know where Vance was held, or how to reach him, much less how to win his