Victoria hugged her bag to her chest, silently chiding herself for not having packed a warmer cloak.
Along with her regret over the cloak, she was also annoyed with herself for not having had the presence of mind to marry the dull Earl of Surfleet. The man might well be boring, but at least a life with him wouldn’t have involved stealing, killing, and then being held up by an armed highwayman in the middle of the night.
No, if I’d become the Countess Surfleet, I’d be home and safely tucked up in my bed. With my dull as dishwater husband.
She was still pondering her life’s choices when a tall figure appeared from out of the darkness. The light from the lantern he held glinted in the barrel of the pistol which the highwayman held in his other hand. He wore a hat pulled down over his head, the lower half of his face covered in a black cloth. Only his eyes were visible.
Hard eyes which bore straight into hers.
She looked away, doing her best to focus on the wheel of the coach. Her gaze traced the spokes, then settled on the hub in the center. Anything not to have to look at him.
The highwayman cleared his throat. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Now for most of you this will be your first robbery, so I shall explain how these things work. The main things you should bear in mind are one, keep your mouth shut, and two do not attempt to be a hero.”
One of the passengers, who was clearly not listening, asked. “So what do you want from us? I will give you anything as long as you leave my wife alone.”
The masked robber tutted his disgust to the man who couldn’t understand basic instructions. “Sir, I’m not in the business of ravishing defenseless women.” He moved closer to the group, making his way slowly down the line of frightened and freezing passengers. When he got to where Victoria stood, he stopped.
“Then again, I don’t mind a tumble with a female who can look after herself.”
Victoria’s head whipped up and she met his gaze once more. She could have sworn mischief danced in those villainous blue gray eyes.
Only Robert Tolley would think that robbing a fully laden mail coach was something to jest about. But this female was going to give him more than a tumble when she got him alone.
I’m going to give him a serious piece of my mind.
He pointed his pistol at her travel bag. “Open it.”
The cheek. Fancy demanding she open her private travel bag in front of all these strangers.
“I’d do as he says, ma’am,” instructed the man standing next to her. Victoria stifled a snort at the angry look the highwayman flashed at the other gentleman. She could just imagine how well another man telling his wife what to do would go down with her rebellious husband.
She dropped the bag to the ground, and after opening it, proceeded to pull out a couple of plain gowns, a scarf, and a pair of boots. When her gaze landed on her lace edged stays, she snatched them up and waved them in Robert’s face.
“I shall tell my husband what a rogue you were. That you had a thing about women’s private undergarments. You vile cad.”
She swore she could hear his teeth grinding with barely suppressed rage. He sucked in a deep breath, and grabbing the stays out of her hands, quickly stuffed them back into the bag. He let out a loud wince as he righted himself. “Damn it.”
Her gaze went to his left shoulder, where the agent for the East India had shot him. Victoria shook her head in disbelief. A mere twenty four hours ago her fool of a husband had taken a bullet, and now he was attempting to hold up a royal mail coach. She had surely wed a mad man.
“Is that all you have? What about money? Jewels?” he snorted.
Victoria had a small amount of coins on her person, but no jewels. The notion of taking any of the Tolley family treasures simply hadn’t crossed her mind.
“No, I don’t have any jewels. If I did, do you think I’d be taking the public coach? My husband is not made of money.”
Robert leaned in. “And just who is your husband, madam? I do feel sorry for the chap.”
Her brows furrowed. She couldn’t say who she really was; the notion of the Duchess of Saffron Walden riding in the mail coach was beyond preposterous. Victoria’s gaze caught the edge of Robert’s chocolate-colored vest peeking out from under his coat, and she recalled the name she’d given the coaching company. “Mrs. Brown.” She cleared her throat. “I am Mrs. Brown.”
He laughed. The swine actually laughed at her. “You didn’t put a lot of thought into this, did you? Tell me, Mrs. Brown, did you just throw a few things into a bag, and then hightail it from your home? You look the sort of female who absconds in a hurried huff.”
She glared at him. He was digging himself into a deep hole.
The driver of the coach cautiously approached. “I hate to be a nuisance, but could we possibly get this robbery over and done with? If you take what you want, we could still make up the time before we are due in London.”
Victoria took the opportunity to get in a little dig at her husband. “Yes, what is it that you want, Mister Highwayman? So far all you’ve given us is puff and wind. I wonder if that pistol of yours is even loaded,” she snorted.
He was losing ground and fast. If he didn’t get Victoria spirited away from here and soon, there was a good chance someone would actually decide to be a hero. With his injured arm, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Robert glanced back down the line of passengers. None of them were particularly well dressed. He doubted any of them had much money or valuables worth taking.
