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that it would be seen as scandalous if it became known she travelled alone. “No it is fine. If you could just ask for my carriage to be ready in one hour.” The housekeeper sniffed, but had more sense than to argue. Sophia was easy-going to a certain degree, but the staff knew if she made her mind up over anything, she did not change it.
    “And,” Sophia added decisively. “I don’t expect you to relay this conversation to Lady Hermione. I will have my coachman, and a footman with me, and highwaymen are highly unlikely to accost me between here and Midwood, especially during the day. Once at Midwood, I will be well served.” She giggled inwardly as the housekeeper curtsied and left after an abortive attempt to persuade Sophia to allow someone to pack for her, opining that she couldn’t possibly set out without luggage. Sophia wondered what had caused her to utter the words “well served?” If only, she thought wistfully, if only.
    Ah well, she had best prepare for her journey.
    It took longer than the allotted hour before she was able to leave. First Sophia had to arrange for a message to apprise Hermione of her plans. Her niece had, as she often did, left the house to ride in the park. At last, after Sophia struggled to change into her travelling dress without help, she was able to set out on her way. Although nothing overtly unhelpful happened, Sophia suspected her delay was due to servants deliberately trying to ensure Hermione returned home. She felt they assumed Hermione would thus attempt to dissuade her from journeying alone.
    To her annoyance, her coachman had been replaced by a new man, one recently employed, along with an assistant. When Sophia enquired where Glossop was, the reply had been vague. It seemed his mother had taken a turn and he and his younger brother who normally drove her coach together were sent home to attend her.
    Why have all my servants deserted me? Is it bad luck?
    However, some luck was on her side and at last the coach began its journey northward through the busy streets of London. To Sophia’s relief, there had been no sign of her niece. Sophia knew quite well Hermione would not be easy at her unaccompanied travels.
    With a wriggle of pleasure, Sophia sat back in the soft, comfortable seat and sighed with satisfaction as she realized how nice it was to be alone for once. Something that was unusual in the busy season. She loved Hermione with all her heart, but there came a point when playing chaperone—decoy, call it what you will—wore her out. Her mind registered with a sudden jolt how much she was looking forward to a few days to herself, whatever the problems she may encounter.
    Her lunch at The Spire, a pretty coaching inn, just over half way to her destination, was partaken in a private parlor. Well known to the host and his wife, Sophia lunched well, and dallied rather longer than she had intended. It was past three in the afternoon before she made her farewells and set off, knowing she would still arrive at her destination in daylight. Just.
    She sat happily, half dozing—for The Spire’s luncheons were renowned for their excellence—as the coach continued toward its destination. Once at Midwood, she would ask for a bath to be drawn. Travelling, even in such a well-sprung coach as she was in, tired her. Sophia yawned and stretched, wishing the aches in her body were for a more pleasurable reason. The thought made her wonder just what her two suitors—she knew not what else to call them except annoyances—were doing about collecting their debt. Exasperated, she felt that familiar tingle run through her body, dampening her curls, peaking her nipples as she thought of those—yes she admitted it—exciting young men. Did they really want someone such as her? Older, perhaps not wiser, and, she was sure, nowhere near as experienced. She hoped so. With a sigh, she closed her eyes to enjoy her enforced period of idleness.
    A shot rang out.
    The coach lurched and Sophia was