A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“Give me your jewels and your purse.” The blackguard spoke in an affected voice, as deep a timbre as any Lockhart had heard.

Lockhart snorted. “I don’t have a purse, and my coachman only carries coin enough to pay the toll.”

“Hand me your purse else I’ll shoot.” Agitated, he aimed the pistol at Lockhart. “And every lady of quality has a ring.”

“No,” Claudia muttered beneath her breath, “not my ring.”

“She has no jewellery. Ours is a short journey.” Lockhart spoke in a clipped tone. “We have no luggage, nothing of any value.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you these roads are unsafe?” The blackguard snorted. He seemed to find the notion of highway robbery somewhat amusing. “A man might take a ball between the brows should he fail to comply.”

Should he fail to comply?

Lockhart had been away from England for five years, but to his knowledge, murderous thieves rarely spoke with the phrasing of a gentleman. Was this a ruse? The timing proved perfect. Was it Justin or Terence sitting astride the horse?

Even with the light of the carriage lamp, it was impossible to tell. But one thing was certain. Both men had a reason to pull the trigger, which made this rogue more dangerous than any highwayman.

The blackguard teased the hammer. “Perhaps if I put the ball between your wife’s brows it might force you to reconsider.”

The chance that this man was either Terence or Justin grew more likely by the minute. Still, Lockhart couldn’t risk pulling out an unloaded pistol. “How do you know she’s my wife? I made no mention of the fact.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“It was an educated guess,” the fool replied in a higher pitch. Lockhart could teach him a lot about acting. In his panic, the devil forgot to speak in a deep voice.

“Then I shall repeat my earlier statement. We have nothing of any value.”

The villain aimed his pistol at Claudia. “Perhaps I’ll shoot your wife, anyway.”

Lockhart’s blood froze in his veins. What if his father hadn’t amended his will? What if killing them was a sure way to gain Lockhart’s share of the inheritance? Then again, it would be better to kill him first and deal with Claudia later.

Thankfully, Claudia stood slightly behind him which made her a more difficult target. And so Lockhart decided to take a chance.

“You’ll not hit her from that range.” Lockhart stepped to the right to shield Claudia. “I know of only one man capable. So, unless you’re Lucius Valentine, I suggest you lower your pistol and be on your way.”

“I could always shoot you.”

Lockhart opened his arms. “Then take your best shot.”

Behind him, Claudia gasped. “No, Hudson. Don’t be a fool.” She tugged on the back of his coat.

The blackguard aimed at Lockhart’s heart.

And then chaos erupted.

Claudia jumped out from behind Lockhart’s back and hurled a stone at the masked man sitting astride his mount. It whisked through the air and smacked the rogue hard on the hand.

“Bloody hell!” Yelping in pain from the accurate shot, the fool loosened his grip and his weapon tumbled to the ground.

Then Fleet made his move.

A loud crack of the coachman’s whip sent the rogue’s horse skittish. It reared, threw the rider back onto the ground before darting off into the coppice.

Lockhart broke into a run. He dived on the man lying squirming on the ground. A scuffle ensued, but Dariell had taught him how to use his opponent’s strength to his advantage. Two deflects, and a hard punch to the rogue’s gut rendered the fool helpless.

“Don’t kill me,” the coward choked when Lockhart straddled him on the ground. He wrapped his fingers around the blackguard’s throat and pressed the pad of his thumb into the man’s Adam’s apple. “The … the pistol isn’t loaded. I s-swear.”

In the fall, the tricorn hat had slipped to the left to reveal a wave of blonde hair. Lockhart tugged down the black neckcloth, unsurprised to find it was Justin Perigrew playing the part of an arrogant thief, though no theatre manager in the land would hire him after such a shoddy performance.