The Marquess Who Loved Me - By Sara Ramsey Page 0,33

only way to seize it is to stay with Folkestone and see where he leads you.”

Love.

Revenge.

Ellie wanted both. But Lucia had missed a crucial piece.

Ellie wanted forgiveness — both from Nick and from herself. And she wanted to believe that, if she ever had the chance to love again, she would be strong enough to hold on to it — and strong enough not to lose herself just for the taste of it.

A crack sounded outside the carriage. Someone shouted. Ellie felt the carriage jerk as the horses tried to bolt, and another jolt as the driver reined them in.

Ellie opened a window covering. Lucia moved to do the same on the other side. The sun, shrouded in clouds, had nearly set — but even in the dimness, Ellie saw the shapes of two masked men on horseback.

And two guns, both aimed at the carriage.

She pulled the curtain closed. The carriage had lost speed. Their driver couldn’t evade mounted highwaymen. She could only hope that the robbery would be bloodless. No one had been killed by a highwayman in their neighborhood in ages. It was best to give them something, then send them packing. She had taken descriptions of her jewels to London rather than her entire collection — there was little else for the highwaymen to take.

But it was odd of them to choose daylight, when they could be more easily recognized and their victims were unlikely to be wearing expensive evening finery.

“Do you have your pistol?” she asked Lucia.

The maid held up her reticule.

“Put it between the cushions — they’ll take the bag. We will give them what they want, but if they threaten violence, defend yourself.”

“Of course.” Lucia slid the pistol out and secreted it under the upholstered cushion. Ellie surveyed the rest of the carriage, but unless she wanted to try hitting the men with a lamp, there were no other weapons.

The carriage stopped. Her breath came fast and shallow. She braced herself against the seat — they wouldn’t see her tremble.

A second shot fired, closer this time. Lucia’s lips compressed in a grim line. Ellie looked up, not sure whether to open the ceiling panel — not sure whether her nerves would hold if the driver was dead above them.

But she couldn’t sit idle — not when she might be able to pay the thieves to leave before anyone was harmed. She reached for the door handle and unlatched it.

“Stay here,” she ordered Lucia.

Just as she opened the door, someone yanked it from the outside. She stumbled, hitting her head on the doorframe. The sharp explosion of pain made her eyes water.

One man had dismounted. He looked up at her with a leer as he gestured with his pistol. “Now ain’t you a prize,” he said, staring straight at her breasts.

She ignored him, looking over his head to the man who watched — mounted, masked, and inscrutable. His horse and clothing were of better quality than the man who’d come for her. Some part of her found that odd.

“Call off your lackey and tell me what you want,” she demanded.

Behind her, Lucia cursed under her breath. The man who stood at her feet reached for her arm. But her gambit worked. The leader whistled at him, calling him to heel like a dog.

“Who is in your carriage?” the horseman asked.

An unusual question — and another warning bell. The part of her that was neither terrified nor angry knew, suddenly, that this was not an ordinary robbery.

“What if I said I had two footmen, both armed?” she asked.

“Then I’m sure they would have already inserted themselves in this conversation. Tell me now, or I will kill your driver.”

She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing. And she didn’t hear any travelers in the distance who might aid them. She raised a hand in surrender. “My maid and I travel alone.”

The second man lifted her out of the doorway before she could protest, dumping her on her derriere in the ditch. Certainly not an ordinary robbery — and she was suddenly cold, shivering on the ground, hoping someone would come before she learned why the highwaymen had stopped her.

At least her driver still lived, even if his face was ashen. He edged forward, very slowly — perhaps hoping to pull a gun from under his seat.

The mounted man noticed and swung his gaze from Ellie to the driver. “You’re not the man I want to kill today,” he warned, in a voice that might have been pleasant if