street lined by tall buildings. It seemed like a tunnel, and he could easily be boxed in from only two sides.
Still, few people knew of his nocturnal activities for those that did were the same ones who preferred to keep their own nightly life hidden.
None had ever dared accuse him.
A perfect plan!
Pulling up the dark hood, Pierce assured himself that the black mask covering half his face was still securely tied. Then he reached for the pistol fastened to his left side and spurred his gelding onward, its hoof beats now clearly audible on the cobblestone.
The moment he overtook the coach, Pierce leveled the pistol at the unsuspecting driver. “Halt!” he called in a tone that brooked no argument and had served him well countless times as it generally made those at the receiving end of it quake in their boots.
The driver’s eyes widened in panic, and he immediately jerked on the reins, bringing the coach to an abrupt standstill. The horse whinnied in complaint, tossing its head about and snorting loudly.
“Hey, w-whath going on out there?” a deeply inebriated voice called from inside the coach. “Why’d we s-stop?”
Pierce held the driver’s fearful gaze. “Down,” was all he said before he urged his steed around the carriage as the driver scrambled from the box. “Onto the ground. Face down.” Again, the driver did as commanded, a slight tremble in his jaw as he lay down flat on the pavement. “Do not move and no harm shall befall you.”
In that moment, the coach’s door was pushed open, and a rather unkempt head of hair was stuck out into the night. “I said w-whath going on ou—?” The next words died on the man’s lips as his gaze met Pierce’s, his eyes widening upon seeing the cloaked, black rider.
Holding the man’s gaze, Pierce took his time drawing the other pistol fastened to his belt, a sardonic curl coming to his lips. Then he purposefully lowered it to the man’s forehead, enjoying the fear that stood in the cur’s eyes.
The Earl of Kearsley.
A man who liked to hold himself above reproach, attacking those who misstepped within society’s circles with vicious ruthlessness. He’d urged his peers to all but ostracize the new Earl of Pembroke simply because the man had made his fortunes in America through honest labor. Perhaps that was why society feared their new peer. Because he was everything they were not. Because even though they would never dare admit it, they knew that he was the better man.
It had been that censure that had made Pierce approach the new earl, relieved to find him a truly decent man with a conscience rarely found among the ton.
“Your valuables,” Pierce growled at Kearsley, “stuff them in this bag.” With a flick of his right hand, he tossed a small sack at the man before lowering the pistol back at the driver, who was still cowering on the ground. “And be quick about it.”
With trembling hands, the earl removed his rings and cuffs and dumped them in the bag. Then he hesitated, his inebriated brain too slow to mask the thoughts crossing over his pale face.
“Empty your pockets as well!”
Kearsley flinched, but then dug into his pockets without delay, pulling out a small coin purse as well as a diamond necklace. Apparently, some gambling had been part of his evening as well!
“Now, toss it back to me.”
Fortunately, Kearsley managed to bridge the small gap between himself and Pierce, throwing with enough force that the small bag did not fall short. Pierce caught it easily and quickly stuffed it inside his coat. Then he gestured for the driver to rise and climb back up onto the box. “I bid you a good night.”
With his eyes still trained on the two men, Pierce returned both pistols to their places at his belt before he pulled his gelding around. “Until we meet again,” he growled at the earl, then urged his gelding into a gallop down the street, vanishing around the next corner before the two men even dared to move.
Only moments later, he was swallowed up by the night, guiding his steed in a wide circle around the neighborhood where his own townhouse could be found as well. In a darkened corner, he removed the black mask and slipped it inside his coat before pulling off the black cloak. He rolled up the billowing fabric and tied it to the back of his saddle.
Now, he seemed for all intents and purposes like a peer out about