or not. What do you suppose a man like that wants from you? I’ll tell you what—”
“Please, spare me the gruesome details of your wild imaginings.”
“He wants to bed you,” Fred blurted out. “To take his pleasure of you and leave you ruined.”
Maggie reflexively drew back in her seat. She was no sheltered child. She nevertheless felt a quiver of uneasiness at Fred’s bluntness.
Ladies hadn’t much to protect them in this world. Little else but the rules of polite behavior. It was those very rules that made gentlemen treat them respectfully—almost deferentially. Maggie had never valued such deference. Not when it was offered purely on account of her sex. But now…the absence of it left her feeling peculiarly vulnerable. As if Fred had issued an unspoken threat.
“You mustn’t speak of such things to me,” she said. “It’s not decent.”
Fred continued undeterred. “You may not care one way or the other. You’ve made no secret how little score you set by your own reputation. But know this, I won’t wed a woman who’s been playing the light-skirt, nor will I support one.”
Heat rose in her face at his crass words. Her temper rose as well. “Is that what it will take to rid you of this ridiculous desire to marry me? If only I’d known sooner.”
“I mean it, Margaret. If you’re to be my wife, you’re to come to my bed untouched or not at all. And if I find out—”
“Untouched. There’s a word. It can mean so many things.” Maggie knew she was playing with fire but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Am I never to have embraced another gentleman? Never to have kissed him? Or is it only the marital act that you object to?”
Fred’s face reddened in the dim light. He leaned forward in his seat. “Have you kissed him?”
“You’re not a feudal lord, Fred. You’re no lord at all. You’re not even a baronet. Not yet. And if you think you can dictate to me—”
“Have you kissed him?”
She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I can’t recall. One kisses so many gentlemen.”
A predatory glint shone in Fred’s eyes. “You’ve never kissed me.”
Maggie didn’t register the danger until it was too late. One second Fred was sitting across from her, and the next he’d caught her by the arms and pulled her from her seat, straight into his lap. She gave a muffled yelp of surprise.
“Perhaps that’s the trouble,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She shoved his chest. “Let go of me, you great oaf.”
“Just one kiss.” His grip on her arms tightened painfully. “It’s the least you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” She fought to break free of his bruising grasp. Her hand found his injured shoulder in the struggle. She pressed hard against his bullet wound.
Fred let out a hoarse yelp. For a split second she managed to get loose, but then he seized her again, more roughly than before. The delicate sleeve of her new ball gown tore in his hand.
“Oh!” she cried. “Now look what you’ve done!”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He was too intent on his purpose. “Hold still,” he muttered as his mouth sought hers. His breath was hot on her face. “You may enjoy it.”
At that very moment, the air was rent by a thunderous crack.
The horses screamed and the carriage veered sharply to the right. Maggie was flung from Fred’s lap straight into the door.
Aunt Harriet woke with a start. “Good gracious! Have we lost a wheel?”
Maggie struggled to her seat. Her hair had come loose from its pins during her tussle with Fred. She pushed it back from her face. “That wasn’t the wheel,” she said breathlessly. “It was a pistol shot.”
“Nonsense,” Fred said. “Something’s merely happened to the carriage.” He hammered on the ceiling. “Coachman? What the devil is going on?”
The coachman made no answer.
But someone did.
A deep masculine voice broke through the darkness. “Stand and deliver!”
Aunt Harriet’s rheumy eyes grew wide as saucers. “Heavens!” she cried. “It’s a highwayman!”
Fred dropped back into his seat. His face was ashen. “Stay calm, ladies. Leave this to me.”
Maggie’s heart pounded in her ears. She told herself that she wasn’t afraid. Not terribly so. Highwaymen didn’t kill ladies, not as a general rule. “It’s all right,” she said to Aunt Harriet. “He’ll only want our jewelry.”
Aunt Harriet’s blue-veined hand flew to the diamond necklace at her throat. “Can our outriders not protect us?”
Maggie shot a look at Fred. “We don’t have outriders. Only the coachman and