“What is happening, if I may ask? The Dunkirks passed me, but neither would give me the time of day.”

Jane tried to urge the mare to a gallop, but she merely trotted a few paces and settled back into an amble. “Murder, I’m afraid, if someone does not intervene.”

He laughed. “Oh, you women are so melodramatic. Do not expect me to catch you when you faint.”

“I would rather hit the ground. Good day, sir.” She kicked the mare, hard, and succeeded in making the animal start forward. Doing the numbers in her head, she tried calculating how far she had yet to go. She had no hope of overtaking Mr. Dunkirk, but if she could arrive before any mischief occurred, then she might hope to influence the outcome.

“Stay a minute!” He brought his horse up beside her. “You are quite serious, aren’t you? Who murdered? How?”

Odious man! Her foolish outburst had done nothing but intrigue him. Buffington followed her now, his horse keeping pace easily with hers. He reached out and snared her horse’s reins from her hand.

Jane gasped and tried to wrest them back, nearly unseating herself in the process. Buffington pulled both horses to a halt; Jane’s nursemaid of a steed did little to fight him.

“Are you mad?” Jane tugged ineffectually at the reins in his grasp.

“No, not I.” He sat with easy nonchalance in his saddle, smiling at her with condescension in every pore. “I think it best that we pause here until your family arrives.”

“I do not have time to wait for them.” Jane did not like to think on what would happen when Mr. Dunkirk overtook Captain Livingston.

“Yes. You had mentioned that you were being chased by the devil. Do tell me more about that. I have always wondered what he would look like.”

“You are sure to find out if you do not unhand me.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes. I am certain he will be along the road at any moment, also intent on going to Bath. The waters are fine this season, I understand. It is unfortunate that your family must forgo them for your sake.”

At last Jane’s mind awoke to the fact that Buffington had the excuse that she was unwell as the Ellsworths’ reason for returning to Long Parkmead. A reason that was sound enough—until Jane came thundering down the road babbling of murders and devils.

He must think her mad.

“I was speaking metaphorically, Mr. Buffington.” Jane straightened her back, feeling for the first time the stray locks of hair which tumbled around her face. She must look the very picture of madness. “I thank you for your courtesy, but I must insist that you release my horse.”

“No, Miss Ellsworth. I’m afraid I cannot in good conscience do anything of the sort.”

Jane uttered a cry of exasperation and rage. To Buffington’s dismay, Jane dismounted and began walking down the road toward Bath, hoping to meet her father the sooner. Though her hope of catching up with Mr. Dunkirk was now shattered, she could not sit here idly while he rode on, intent on murder.