was that she’d be discovered.
Stepping back into the carriage, Caroline instructed the driver to take her back to where she’d first hailed him, not wishing for him to come to any kind of conclusion with regard to her identity. Fortunately, he didn’t seem the least bit interested.
Sitting back in her seat, Caroline exhaled a deep breath as the agitation of that night slowly subsided. She felt her breath come more easily and her pulse slow. As a result, however, she now felt a stark cold seep into her bones, and she began to shiver, unable to find any resemblance of warmth in her sodden clothes. Her hair was still dripping wet, and she felt drops snake their way down her neck and slip under her clothes, adding to the shivers that already assaulted her.
“I’ll be home soon,” Caroline mumbled into the darkened interior as she rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Yes, soon she’d be home. Then she’d shrug out of these clothes and warm up in her cozy bed, under a tall pile of blankets. The thought was heavenly!
“Halt!” a man’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip a moment before the carriage skittered to an abrupt standstill.
Caroline’s eyes flew open, and her pulse once more thudded in her neck. What now?
Chapter Eight
A Masked Man
After the rain had trapped him in the house for the past sennight, Pierce could not deny himself a quick outing even if it was the middle of the night. Who knew when the rain would pick up again? He saw the soft drizzle that currently fell from the skies as a sign to seize this opportunity and make the best of it.
Mounting his black gelding, Pierce pulled the dark cloak tighter around himself, feeling the sting of the wind as it pushed through the deserted streets. His black mask remained safely tucked inside his coat. However, he did not expect to come upon another living soul on a night like this.
The items he’d procured on his last excursion Pierce had already passed along to be sold. Especially the diamond necklace had fetched a nice sum, the entirety of which Pierce had donated—anonymously, of course!—to the Foundling Hospital in Bloomsbury.
As he allowed his steed free rein, Pierce felt his thoughts drawn back to the few moments in his life that had all but upended it; the decision to travel to America, the night he’d found Daphne, Peter’s last request as well as most likely Charlie’s arrival.
Mr. Cameron had promised him to send word immediately upon receiving further information. He’d written to Peter’s solicitor in Kingston, instructing him to buy passage for Charlaine. However, Pierce could not help but wonder if the young woman would even want to leave her home. Despite losing her family, was there something or someone there she would not wish to leave?
The sound of carriage wheels sloshing across wet cobblestone drifted to Pierce’s ears. He blinked, and his gaze focused on the dark outline of a coach up ahead.
A devious grin tugged on the corners of his mouth as he glanced up and down the street, finding it still as deserted as before. Another sign? Reaching inside his coat, Pierce donned the black mask, fastening it securely, before kicking his gelding’s flanks and urging the mount after the vehicle.
In no more than a few of his mount’s large strides, he’d caught up with the hackney coach, then pulled out his pistol, keeping it shielded below his cloak from the soft drizzle that still persisted. “Halt!” he yelled as he pushed his mount into the driver’s line of sight.
As always, the man flinched, then jerked on the reins almost reflexively, pulling the horse to an abrupt stop, his eyes wide and fixed on Pierce. Still, this time, Pierce detected a hint of defiance in the man’s gaze, reminding him to be cautious. Clearly, this man considered being robbed a personal affront. “Down!” Pierce called. “Onto the ground!”
The driver did as instructed, but kept his eyes trained on Pierce, watching with a clenched jaw as Pierce pulled the other pistol from his belt.
“You in the coach,” Pierce addressed his peer hiding within as he urged his gelding closer to the door, “step outside! Now!” Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the coachman turn his head to keep Pierce in sight, and he felt his hand clench about the butt, wondering when the man would make his move.
Unlike Lord Huffington, who’d been too drunk to