The man chuckled. “Says the woman in trousers who is trying to rob me.”
Elsbeth pointed the pistol at the man. “You, Sir, have justlost your pocket watch. Bring it to me and you can be on your way.”
“Very well, but you could at least tell me where you live,” the man said as he slowly approached her.
“And why would I be foolish enough to do that?”
The man stopped next to her horse and extended the pocket watch. “So I may know where to retrieve my pocket watch.”
“Where I live is not important.”
The man’s lips curled into a smile. “I disagree. A lady highwayman is quite rare.”
Elsbeth grew tense. “I never said I was a lady.”
“You did not have to,” the man said. “It is in the manner in which you speak and how you sit atop your horse that makes me wonder why you have turned to a life of crime.”
“I did not turn to a life of crime,” Elsbeth stated, growing defensive. The unmitigated gall of this man. He did not know her. He did not know why she was doing this.
The man held the pocket watch up higher. “Take it, my lady highwayman.”
Keeping the pistol trained on him, Elsbeth reached with her other hand for the pocket watch. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Just in case you are wondering, my name is Niles Drayton, the Earl of Westcott,” he informed her with a slight bow.
“I was not wondering.”
His smile grew. “Pity. I find that I very much want to know your name.”
“Well, you shall leave disappointed, then.” Elsbeth glanced down the road and wondered if she had missed her stepfather’s coach this evening. Either way, her time was short, and she didn’t have time to converse with this infuriating earl.
She urged her horse to back up. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Do you want anything else?” Lord Westcott asked. “I havecoins. Lots of coins. Perhaps I could remove our trunks, and you could sort through what you would wish to steal.”
Elsbeth furrowed her brow. Surely this was not normal behavior. Why was this earl offering to give her more than what she was asking for? “No, I do not need—or want—your money. Or whatever it is that you have in your trunks.”
“Just my pocket watch.”
Looking down at the pocket watch in her hand, Elsbeth said, “I do not want this either.”
“Then why did you take it from me?”
“You left me little choice,” Elsbeth said, holding it out. “Take it back.”
Lord Westcott made no attempt to retrieve the pocket watch. “No, you can have it. I want you to have something to remember me by.”
Elsbeth let out a slight huff. “You flatter yourself, my lord. I do not want to remember you.”
Cocking his head, Lord Westcott said, “You are truly the worst highwaywoman ever. Would you care for some pointers?”
“No, I would not,” she replied. “I would prefer if you kept your opinions to yourself.”
Ignoring her words, Lord Westcott’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Is this how you envisioned your robbery to go?”
“I think it is going fairly well,” she lied.
Lord Westcott chuckled, the noise grating on her nerves. “I hate to tell you this, but you would be wrong. In fact, everything you are doing is wrong.”
