CHAPTER SEVEN
Inside the little cottage, Rosanna collapsed onto a chair as Edie slammed the door shut and locked it.
Her copper-headed maid stood defiantly in front of her Mistress, her fists clenched, and even in her anguish, Rosanna could smile at the sight of the slim slip of a girl preparing to defend her against all comers.
Outside, they could hear Sir Walter shouting, the stamping of hooves and then John Barker’s firm quiet voice.
“I am sorry, Sir Walter, but there’s no Lady Rosanna here.”
“Nonsense! I saw her ride in here with my own eyes. She was on a grey pony. Let me pass! I am Sir Walter Fenwick and I wish to search these stables at once.”
Rosanna flinched.
If he found the pony, he would know he was right. How long would it take him to make the head groom tell him where s
