Heiress in Regency Society. Helen Dickson

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      Having ridden further than she intended on the brave, fast horse, Angelina found herself enveloped in a shadowy world of muted sounds, where damp and decay rose from the under-growth and assailed her nostrils, and squirrels skittered in the upper branches of the trees. Without the sun a bitter chill had fallen on this twilight world.

      A feeling of unreality crept over her and she shuddered, glad when she saw an opening in the trees ahead where sunlight slanted through. Riding towards the light, she reined in beneath a canopy of oaks. The scent of wood smoke hung heavy in the air. Experiencing a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck and an eerie, familiar feeling, her head snapped up like an animal scenting danger.

      She had emerged into some sort of encampment with an assortment of brightly painted caravans and carts, all of which had a shabby appearance. Dogs roamed and several piebald ponies grazed nearby. Men, women and children prowled about furtively in their garishly coloured attire, and some older people sat around a fire where ribbons of smoke spiralled upwards out of the embers.

      Angelina knew instinctively that these people were the gypsies Alex had told her about, the gypsies he had told to move on. She sensed that every eye had become fixed on her. Two men with gold rings in their ears and brightly coloured scarves tied loosely around their necks rose from where they were sitting on the wooden steps of the caravan nearest to her. She swallowed nervously as they stood quite still, watching her.

      They looked foreign—their skin swarthy and their hair hanging loose, lank and shiny black. Distrust and resentment lurked in their fathomless, totally unrevealing dark eyes. Her heart almost ceased to beat when her eyes were drawn to a knife sheathed at one of the men’s waists, and when she met his gaze she felt a sudden chill, as if a shadow had passed in front of the sun, robbing her of its warmth.

      No one made any attempt to speak to her, but the air was charged with an ugly tension, menace bristling all around her, the very silence an enemy. She shuddered, feeling extremely vulnerable and afraid. Through a veil of confusion and fear, what she now saw was a scene from her past. She glimpsed the dark, shadowy images creeping with stealth out of the locked doors of her mind, and she was sure they were catching up with her. All her deepest, darkest nightmares lay among the ghosts these gypsies resurrected, and with her emotions heightened to fever pitch, she feared she was about to be attacked again.

      Whirling Forest Shadow about, she kicked him into a gallop. Trembling with fear she was borne homeward, unaware as Forest Shadow’s iron-shod hooves struck the cobbles in the stable yard with ringing tones that her low state was about to be brought even lower.