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“Stay away from the pistol!” the constable ordered.
Reginald stepped back. From the ground, the weapon seemed to mock him, but he knew he’d lost. The constable had a gun and a horse, and the man behind Reginald did, too. His only chance for escaping this with his life was to comply and inevitably throw himself at the mercy of the courts, although he doubted they would be any more forgiving.
“Aren’t you, though?” His Grace asked. “You have a scar on your forehead that I won’t soon forget. I saw it when the wind ruffled your hair!”
No, this is impossible.
Reginald felt ice trace a path down his spine, and he wasn’t sure if it had more to do with the approaching constable or His Grace’s assertion. Probably the latter. Still, he forced a bold, haughty laugh. “I earned this scar in a duel with a gentleman much like yourself, who didn’t know when he ought to let well enough alone.”
“Is that what you tell everyone? I seem to recall you getting that scar in a different way. When you were a boy.”
A lump formed in Reginald’s throat. He remained still as the constable fastened the irons around his wrists. This seemed like the strangest end to his career as a highwayman, being captured both by the constable and by the past he’d fought so hard to avoid over the years. He swallowed hard and shrugged, as if by continuing to deny the truth, he could make everyone around him disappear.
“You’re mistaken.”
The Duke approached, and the constable, who took a firm grip of Reginald’s arm, cast him an alarmed look. “Be cautious, Your Grace. You can’t trust highwaymen.”
“Quite true,” Reginald admitted.
But Reginald couldn’t keep his own gaze averted. Instead, he looked at the Duke again, searching his features more closely. The man was older and more worn than Reginald remembered. Once, he’d been a striking man, who’d only grown handsomer as he aged. Reginald remembered this man being lively and exuberant. Now, he seemed like a diminished husk of that man.
“I don’t think you want to do this,” Reginald said. “I can scarcely imagine the scandal this will create.”
His Grace raised a trembling hand, and Reginald inwardly flinched as the Duke’s thumb traced along the old scar.
“Ah, I realize it’s none of my business,” the constable’s companion said. “But what’s…happening?”
“You caught a common criminal,” Reginald said, forcing himself to sound cheerful. “Excellent work.”
“Yes,” the constable said, pulling roughly on Reginald’s arm. “I’m sure many people will be quite pleased, and soon, we’ll have your associates, too. It’s over, you see. We already know where you and your men have been planning these robberies.”
Is that true, or is he saying that merely to taunt me?
Long ago, Reginald had accepted how his end might come, and although he wasn’t keen to be punished for his crimes, he had no one. There was no wife or child waiting for him to return home after a long day’s work. But his associates did.
The Duke drew back his hand, looking distraught. “You’ve caught my son. I’m sure of it. Of all the professions you could’ve chosen, why was this the one, my child? What would your mother think?”
She would be horrified, utterly horrified.
“She’d admire my resolve,” Reginald replied.
“We must take him to the gaol,” the constable said, looking uncertain. “I’m sure you understand, Your Grace.”
The Duke looked hesitant, and Reginald looked away, unable to bear the expression on his father’s face.
My father.
It seemed so impossible for him to be there, after being gone for ten years. Reginald cleared his throat. “You’d best not become involved, Your Grace. Let this be the end of the matter.”
His Grace, hisfather, shook his head. “It won’t be. I can assure you of that. I will help you.”
Reginald wasn’t sure which would be worse, facing justice for his crimes or having his father interfere after Reginald had tried too hard to leave his old life behind. Maybe it would be better to face the gallows or exile than to endure what his father might consider penance or worse—knowing that he’d been spared when he didn’t deserve to be, while his associates were hanged for their crimes. It wasn’t fair, any of it. “Please,” Reginald said, offering one last plea. “It’s better for all of us if you just let me go to my ignominious end.”
Besides, Reginald could always try escaping. He’d been caught before, after all. This was a matter of principle, of being treated the same way his loyal associates would be.
But if Reginald knew anything, it was that his father was a relentless man. He never changed his mind, and he never went back on his word.
