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“I don’t carry my valuables with me,” the man said. “The roads aren’t safe these days, as you can clearly imagine!”
Reginald laughed heartily. “The roads are safe for the most vulnerable. I’ve no doubt that you’ve many other trinkets besides these.”
Horse hooves beat against the road, and Reginald snapped his head towards them. Two men on horseback came quickly towards them, but worse, they were the constables. Reginald swore quietly. They weren’t even properly inside the city of London yet!
A breeze drifted through the air, and Reginald raised his hand, raking back his hair from his eyes. When Reginald turned his attention back to the carriage occupant, the man had frozen. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Run!” Reginald shouted. “Go!”
There was one rule that all highwaymen always followed, and that was that every man had to think of only himself during sudden escapes. Charles bolted, taking the stolen jewelry and money. Edward vanished quickly into the trees, and with the constables quickly approaching, Reginald turned to run.
“Wait!”
A hand seized his wrist with surprising strength. It was the carriage occupant. Reginald scowled. He had no desire to fight a foolish, old man, but he also refused to be captured.
“Release me at once!” Reginald snapped, raising his pistol.
The man’s eyes were wide, and although his jaw dropped, he didn’t relinquish his grip on Reginald’s wrist. “Reginald, please!”
How does he know my name?
Reginald froze, his heart thundering against his ribs. With a sudden burst of force, he pulled his wrist free of the man’s grip. Reginald raised his pistol and fired a shot into the air, several feet from the man. It was only meant to be a warning.
“Stay in the carriage!” Reginald snapped.
But as he turned to run, the man from the carriage pursued him. And there were the constables, too. If he fled further up the road, Reginald knew they would quickly overtake him on their horses, so he needed to hide. The woods would be his best chance for eluding their grasp. They ran alongside the road and were too filled with hidden holes and roots for horses to travel through. That was why he’d left his own further back.
A hand seized his coat and pulled him back. Reginald twisted around, the movement sudden enough to send the man from the carriage falling to the ground.
“Quit pursuing me!”
What is the matter with this man? I’ve never been pursued like this in my life!
Ordinarily, the wealthy men he robbed remained in their carriages and made all haste away once Reginald and his men had withdrawn. They’d only ever been pursued by a few young and foolish men with quick tempers and delusions of heroism.
Hooves beat against the ground, and Reginald found his path blocked by the constable atop his horse. He clenched his jaw and raised his pistol, even though this was clearly a battle he couldn’t win. Without turning around, Reginald knew that the constable’s companion was behind him.
“Are you unharmed, Your Grace?” That was the driver, come to collect his master.
Your Grace? I tried to rob a Duke?
Isaac had mentioned that he’d heard awealthygentleman would be traveling to London, which was how Reginald and his band of highwaymen had known to wait for him. Now that Reginald was thinking about it, itwasrather strange that the constables had happened outside of London at the precise moment which the robbery was to occur. It was too convenient for them and too disastrous for him.
That was, unless Isaac had betrayed them and told the constable about the crime. Isaac had never mentioned that they would be robbing a Duke, despite clearly having some information on the carriage’s occupant.
“Lower your weapon and place it on the ground!” the constable ordered, his gun pointed at Reginald’s face.
“Please, do it,” the man from the carriage—His Grace, it seemed—said. “Listen to the constable.”
Reginald clenched his jaw. “I don’t see why it matters to you,Your Grace. And I don’t want your pity now or ever.”
Men like His Grace were all the same; they liked topity, but they never liked to help. They were never interested in improving anyone’s lot in life save their own. And regardless, Reginald knew that this would end in either imprisonment or worse.
The Duke cleared his throat. “Please. I can help you, son.”
“Now,” the constable ordered.
“I’m not your son,” Reginald said, reluctantly placing his pistol on the ground. “Don’t call me that. I don’t want your empty endearments.”
