With a shake of the reins, the carriage lurched forward. Jane was off for a rendezvous with adventure. She could not recall looking forward to anything quite so much. But Godmersham was not long behind them when Jacques opened the small window that let the driver communicate with his passengers.

“Mademoiselle Austen, I fear we are being followed.”

Jane scrambled to her knees to peer out the back window. Even though it was still early afternoon, the road was deserted—not a farmer or wagon to be seen for miles, just a solitary horseman charging toward them. He was several hundred feet behind the carriage, but he was gaining.

Jane’s heart skipped a beat; her brothers were always warning her about bandits who preyed on innocent travelers. It would be too aggravating to have to admit that Edward had been right.