Chapter 1
Sebastian Ashcroft, the fourth Marquess of Danesfield, thrust his hand under the seat and grabbed the mahogany box.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as his carriage swerved left and right in a bid to shake his pursuers.
Ramming the heel of his boot against the seat opposite, to act as a brace, he flicked the catch on the box and removed the pistol before pouring powder into the muzzle and tamping it down with the rod. The scoundrels would make their move before the next turnpike. All he needed was one clean shot to even the odds.
Keeping a firm grip on the loaded weapon, he peered out of the viewing window.
The principle rider wore his collar raised to cover the lower part of his face, his wide-brimmed hat pulled down to shield his eyes. He rode with the deportment of a gentleman. Yet his horse’s dull black coat and clumsy gait led Sebastian to conclude that he’d either been hired in the dark or out of sheer desperation.
Swamped by his driving-coat, the second rider appeared much smaller in frame and also used a hat and some sort of fabric to mask his identity. He was obviously inexperienced as the gentleman kept glancing over his shoulder, urging him to keep the pace and often dropping back to wait.
The possessive act suggested a kinship. Perhaps he was his brother or son — or even his lover.
Sebastian yanked down the window and yelled up to his coachman, Haines. “Stop the carriage.”
“But, my lord,” Haines shouted from his box seat.
“I said stop the carriage.”
As the carriage rattled to a halt, Sebastian threw open the door and jumped down in one fluid movement. Holding his pistol firmly in front of him, he marched to the rear of the carriage to greet his assailants.
“You wanted my attention and now —” Sebastian skidded to a halt, frozen by the sight of the gentleman’s agitated horse. With its teeth bared it snorted loudly, jerking his head up violently and lifting its front legs clean off the ground.
“Stay back. Do not come a step closer,” the gentleman ordered, pulling the horse's head tightly round to left until its nose almost touched the top of his polished boots. There was an air of authority in the rider’s voice, although his command suggested a level of concern.
The second rider gave a high-pitched shriek and slapped a gloved hand over the fabric to mask any further sound.
The elegance and mastery with which the gentleman settled his horse confirmed he was a skilled rider and most definitely of good breeding, which made the whole encounter even more puzzling.
Sebastian aimed his pistol at the gentleman. “If you’re lucky enough to escape without my bullet in your back, your horse will be the death of you.”
“Let’s hope I’m fortunate enough to escape both,” the gentleman sneered with a level of arrogance often demonstrated in elite circles.
“Even if that were possible, the punishment for robbing a member of the nobility is death. You’ll both hang.”
“I doubt it.”
There was something familiar about the man’s arrogance and polished repartee. Perhaps it was time to make things a little more interesting, Sebastian thought, and so aimed his pistol at the second rider who’d sat motionless throughout the whole exchange.
“Get down,” Sebastian said. A quick glance at the shapely thighs encased in a pair of breeches confirmed his suspicion. The rider was a woman.
Alarmed, her head shot up in the direction of her associate and Sebastian could feel the tension in the unspoken words passing back and forth between them.
“He … he cannot hear you. He’s deaf.”
Sebastian chuckled to himself. “That is unfortunate,” he said feigning surprise. “If he’s deaf, you must be blind. As if I’m not mistaken, he is definitely a she and this is the most ridiculous robbery I have ever had cause to witness. You’re not even armed.”
Sensing his master’s irritation, the horse became restless once again, shuffling backward and pawing the ground as though the earth had started crumbling away beneath him and he was unsure where to place his feet.
The gentleman muttered an angry curse.
Suppressing a grin, Sebastian took the opportunity to press him further. “What sort of man allows a woman to act as his right-hand in a robbery? You obviously care little for her welfare.”
“It was certainly not my idea,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Trying to get her to listen to anything I say is like … like trying to trap lightning in a blasted bottle.”
Sebastian could not hide his amusement. He could not recall the last time he laughed aloud. In the last six years, he had been involved in many dangerous encounters, but this one had to be the most bizarre encounter of his entire life. To Sebastian’s surprise the gentleman sniggered, too.
“How dare you laugh at me,” the woman scolded. Straightening her back, she appeared much more robust than Sebastian first thought. She’d yanked down her disguise to reveal a pert little nose and a pair of rosy pink lips. “And if you think I’m going to sit here any longer and be ridiculed for … for caring … for wanting to make sure you didn’t end up dead in a ditch.”
She swung her horse around, dug her heels in and cantered off across the field towards a small wooded area in the distance.
“For heaven’s sake, Annabel, wait,” the gentleman cried. “Damn it, woman. Do you want me to shout your name out for all to hear?”
Sebastian studied the man’s frustrated countenance and almost felt sorry for him. “Now it’s just the two of us, let’s get back to this business of robbery.”
The gentleman sighed loudly. “This is not a blasted robbery,” he said, his gaze flitting back and forth between Sebastian and the woman in the dist
ance.