“Toddle?” Margaret’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Is that a crack at my diminutive height?”
“Come off it. You’re notthatshort. Besides, if height were related to propensity for getting into trouble, you’d be the tallest of all the Preston siblings, our brothers included.”
“Your arguments aren’t even making sense anymore. I fear you’re quite overwrought. Perhaps you need some smelling salts to put you in order before we arrive.” She turned to Bradford and smiled sweetly. “Do you have any smelling salts on your person?”
“As a rule, we highwaymen don’t carry smelling salts,” he said in a bland tone. “We prefer our quarry to faint dead away. Makes it much more convenient to collect their purses.”
“Aha!” Margaret jabbed the air with her finger, sounding delighted.
“Please don’t encourage her. I fear she’s serious.” Beatrice rubbed both temples in earnest.
“You act as if I’m a halfwit when you know full well that I’m as capable as you are,” Margaret said. “Of course I know that noteveryhighwayman is a down-on-his-luck secret duke with a tragic past who writes poetry by moonlight. Justsomeof them.”
“Ugh.” Beatrice sagged against the seat. “For your sake, I pray you end up with a leviathan-sized husband who’s concerned with naught else but your safety. Even so, he’ll have his work cut out for him.”
“What on earth do you mean bythat?” Margaret snapped, for the first time appearing truly irritated. “Why would size have anything to do with qualifications to be a husband?”
“Because you’re so hard-headed he’ll need to have the fortitude and dexterity of a bullfighter to keep you safe.”
“Am I the bull in this scenario?”
“Precisely!”
“You act as if giving people the benefit of the doubt is a bad thing,” Margaret said. “But I’ve learned that circumstances often dictate how a person is viewed, and those circumstances aren’t always the person’s fault.”
“Fair enough. But certainly you must admit that there’s no good excuse for becoming a highwayman.”
Margaret tilted her head. At the motion, her blonde curls strained at the barrettes valiantly trying to contain them. “Well, no. I believe there aresomecircumstances that might warrant it.”
“Such as?”
“Like those inA Duel with a Duke. He had to steal from the rich to support his siblings. And he never hurt anyone.”
“Fine. You win. In that scenario, being a highwayman is fine.” Beatrice gave a spluttering sigh of defeat, wilting against the padded seat.
Bradford couldn’t help it; his lips twitched with the smile he’d been trying to hide.
Beatrice said dully, “Apologies, you must think us nigh on insane.”
If only insanity were so entertaining, he thought.
He said lightly, “If insanity were as pleasant as this, Bedlam would be a merry circus.”
The carriage bumped to a stop; Margaret leaned forward and peeled the curtain back an inch. “We’re in line to be dropped off. We wasted too much time with your unfair opinions on highwaymen; we’ve learned barely anything about Lord Hayes.”
“Well, do you have any questions left?” Beatrice asked accusingly.
She frowned. “I thought we had so many, but now in the moment, I can hardly remember them.”
“Tell me this, at least,” Beatrice finally said, leaning forward. “Do you have plans to marry again?”
Bradford was so surprised by the forwardness of the question that before he knew it, he was telling the truth—one that he hadn’t admitted to himself until then. “Nothing would entice me to marry again except for love.”
“Very well, then.” Beatrice leaned back with a satisfied smile.
CHAPTER 16- LILY
Due to some sleight of hand in the traffic pattern, Lily’s carriage arrived first at the Theatre Royal. Lit torches lined the walkway, casting flickering light on the impressive facade. She ascended the steps with Rachel and Sylvia and took a post just inside the door next to a large window so she might look for her sisters’ arrival with Bradford.
