Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

T he royal mail coach was crowded and uncomfortable. While the people themselves were quite polite and well-mannered, their sharp elbows and knees were somewhat less civilized.

Victoria had never had to travel by public coach before. Her family's private carriage had always been the comfortable way to journey between London and the Duke of Mowbray's country estate. She could only pray this was her first and last trip in a cramped mail coach.

Her plan, which she could admit had been hatched whilst she was in a furious rage, involved several parts. First there was the journey of some twelve miles from the Tolley estate to the Boar's Head Inn at Bishop's Stortford, a trip undertaken in the comfort of Robert's private carriage.

After arriving at the coaching inn, she had purchased a ticket for the London bound mail coach using the name Mrs. Brown for the passenger manifest. Upon reaching the capital, she intended taking up residence once more at Tolley House, and employing a small retinue of servants. Once she was settled in, she'd bury her nose in all of her husband's cookbooks and wait for Robert to make his next move.

While her injured pride at her husband's duplicity had played its part, it was the shocking events in the laneway which had been the eventual catalyst for Victoria's decision to leave the estate. Robert had been wounded and a wife really should have stayed, but she couldn't stomach the idea of putting on a brave face and pretending that she hadn't killed a man.

But by the time the fully laden coach was ready to pull out of the mounting yard of the Boar's Head a little after nine o'clock, Victoria was beginning to have second thoughts. She was alone, and her life was crumbling all around her. It was only her stubborn Kembal blood which saw her press on.

Once I get to London, then I shall have time and space to think.

The other passengers in the coach were a rather jolly bunch, laughing and sharing various tins filled with homemade food amongst themselves as the mail coach made its way south. Victoria sat quietly staring at her hands, doing her best to forget that less than a day ago she had held a loaded pistol in them. She couldn't imagine what her fellow travellers would say if they knew that a killer was seated in their midst.

Resigned to her fate, she had just settled in for the long, uncomfortable night ahead when the driver of the coach let out a loud cry. "Villainy is afoot!"

The coach came to a sudden, shuddering halt, tossing the passengers about in their seats. The gentleman seated nearest to the door swung it open and jumped out. He returned seconds later, closing the door firmly behind him. He whispered a hurried, "We are being bailed up by a highwayman. Hide your jewels and coins."

Victoria glanced at her travel bag. She had a small purse with some coins in it, but no other valuables. If they wanted her wedding ring, they were more than welcome to it.

A loud rap on the side of the coach had heads turning. The lady seated next to her, muttered, "Lord save us."

When the door swung open once more, she caught sight of the driver standing on the side of the road, holding a lantern. The man, who wore an expression on his face which said he was used to being held up at gun point, calmly announced, "I'm terribly sorry about this folks, but the highwayman who is currently holding a pistol to my head insists that you all climb out."

In the dark someone else spoke, and the driver looked away. He nodded, then turned back to the passengers. "And he suggests that you all make haste."

The first of the passengers did as they were asked, followed by the rest of the group who also shifted along on the bench before stepping down from the coach. Clutching her small travel bag, Victoria joined her fellow travellers on the roadside.

They were ordered to stand in a long line. The group, which totaled fifteen people, included the passengers who'd been seated on top of the coach, the driver, and the man in charge of the royal mail box who had been seated at the back.

Victoria hugged her bag to her chest, silently chiding herself for not having packed a warmer cloak.

Along with her regret over the cloak, she was also annoyed with herself for not having had the presence of mind to marry the dull Earl of Surfleet. The man might well be boring, but at least a life with him wouldn't have involved stealing, killing, and then being held up by an armed highwayman in the middle of the night.

No, if I'd become the Countess Surfleet, I'd be home and safely tucked up in my bed. With my dull as dishwater husband.

She was still pondering her life's choices when a tall figure appeared from out of the darkness. The light from the lantern he held glinted in the barrel of the pistol which the highwayman held in his other hand. He wore a hat pulled down over his head, the lower half of his face covered in a black cloth. Only his eyes were visible.

Hard eyes which bore straight into hers.

She looked away, doing her best to focus on the wheel of the coach. Her gaze traced the spokes, then settled on the hub in the center. Anything not to have to look at him.

The highwayman cleared his throat. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Now for most of you this will be your first robbery, so I shall explain how these things work. The main things you should bear in mind are one, keep your mouth shut, and two do not attempt to be a hero."

One of the passengers, who was clearly not listening, asked. "So what do you want from us? I will give you anything as long as you leave my wife alone."

The masked robber tutted his disgust to the man who couldn't understand basic instructions. "Sir, I'm not in the business of ravishing defenseless women." He moved closer to the group, making his way slowly down the line of frightened and freezing passengers. When he got to where Victoria stood, he stopped.

"Then again, I don't mind a tumble with a female who can look after herself."

Victoria's head whipped up and she met his gaze once more. She could have sworn mischief danced in those villainous blue gray eyes.

Only Robert Tolley would think that robbing a fully laden mail coach was something to jest about. But this female was going to give him more than a tumble when she got him alone.

I'm going to give him a serious piece of my mind.

He pointed his pistol at her travel bag. "Open it."

The cheek. Fancy demanding she open her private travel bag in front of all these strangers.

"I'd do as he says, ma'am," instructed the man standing next to her. Victoria stifled a snort at the angry look the highwayman flashed at the other gentleman. She could just imagine how well another man telling his wife what to do would go down with her rebellious husband.

She dropped the bag to the ground, and after opening it, proceeded to pull out a couple of plain gowns, a scarf, and a pair of boots. When her gaze landed on her lace edged stays, she snatched them up and waved them in Robert's face.

"I shall tell my husband what a rogue you were. That you had a thing about women's private undergarments. You vile cad."

She swore she could hear his teeth grinding with barely suppressed rage. He sucked in a deep breath, and grabbing the stays out of her hands, quickly stuffed them back into the bag. He let out a loud wince as he righted himself. "Damn it."

Her gaze went to his left shoulder, where the agent for the East India had shot him. Victoria shook her head in disbelief. A mere twenty four hours ago her fool of a husband had taken a bullet, and now he was attempting to hold up a royal mail coach. She had surely wed a mad man.

"Is that all you have? What about money? Jewels?" he snorted.

Victoria had a small amount of coins on her person, but no jewels. The notion of taking any of the Tolley family treasures simply hadn't crossed her mind.

"No, I don't have any jewels. If I did, do you think I'd be taking the public coach? My husband is not made of money."

Robert leaned in. "And just who is your husband, madam? I do feel sorry for the chap."

Her brows furrowed. She couldn't say who she really was; the notion of the Duchess of Saffron Walden riding in the mail coach was beyond preposterous. Victoria's gaze caught the edge of Robert's chocolate-colored vest peeking out from under his coat, and she recalled the name she'd given the coaching company. "Mrs. Brown." She cleared her throat. "I am Mrs. Brown."

He laughed. The swine actually laughed at her. "You didn't put a lot of thought into this, did you? Tell me, Mrs. Brown, did you just throw a few things into a bag, and then hightail it from your home? You look the sort of female who absconds in a hurried huff."

She glared at him. He was digging himself into a deep hole.

The driver of the coach cautiously approached. "I hate to be a nuisance, but could we possibly get this robbery over and done with? If you take what you want, we could still make up the time before we are due in London."

Victoria took the opportunity to get in a little dig at her husband. "Yes, what is it that you want, Mister Highwayman? So far all you've given us is puff and wind. I wonder if that pistol of yours is even loaded," she snorted.

He was losing ground and fast. If he didn't get Victoria spirited away from here and soon, there was a good chance someone would actually decide to be a hero. With his injured arm, he wouldn't stand a chance. Robert glanced back down the line of passengers. None of them were particularly well dressed. He doubted any of them had much money or valuables worth taking.

Stealing spices was a much easier and more lucrative business. You waved a pistol at the driver, he stepped down and out of the way, and you pinched his stuff. Everyone knew their place and how it all worked.

Everything had been working beautifully, right up until yesterday when the East India had decided it was done with being an easy target, and Robert's whole business model had collapsed all around him.

Now all he wanted was to take his wife by the hand and get the hell out of here.

She is not going to make it easy for me.

Robert let out a resigned sigh. "Right, who has money? I need at least ten pounds to make this heist worth my while."

"Don't you bloody dare," hissed Victoria.

The gentleman standing next to her, who had somehow decided he was her protector, put his hand on Victoria's arm. "Now, my dear remember what he said, no heroes."

She turned to the man. "Firstly, I am a woman, and if I decided to take on this brute, I would therefore be classed as a heroine. And secondly, I would thank you to remove your hand from my person before I turn rabid and bite you."

He quickly snatched his hand away and mumbled something about ungrateful damsels in distress.

Robert considered Victoria, and it was all he could do to stop a sly grin creeping across his lips. She was well and truly riled, and there was something about Victoria and her heightened state of emotion that sent a ripple of lust shooting down Robert's spine. His cock twitched at the mere prospect of the two of them tangled in bedsheets while engaged in a bout of hot, angry sex.

Victoria bent and stuffed her clothes back into her travel bag. Righting herself, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a coin purse. She took out a coin and handed it to him. "Here's a sovereign to get things started."

He had no other choice than to set down his lantern and take the money from her. Within a matter of minutes, the Duke of Saffron Walden had some eight pounds and fifteen shillings in his possession. When one of the poorer-looking passengers tried to press a few farthings into his hand, Robert shook his head. "You need that more than me but thank you."

He'd got most of the money he had demanded, but not what he had come for—his duchess. Robert worried his bottom lip. He walked back to where Victoria stood, and when their eyes met, he could have sworn she was on the verge of giving him a serious piece of her mind.

Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear, "Help me. I am in absolute agony, and I just want us to go home. Please."

She really ought to leave him to his fate, but the thought of her mother and what this scandal would do to her had Victoria racking her brains. She had to help come up with an escape plan. One which would see both her and Robert leave the coach while at the same time making sure that her wayward husband didn't get shot for a second time.

She forced down her anger and focused on the problem at hand. Making good their escape.

"So do you still have a shortfall on your expected haul from this robbery?" she mused.

He nodded. "Yes, but I've come up with a solution for that little problem."

"Really, and what would that be?"

Robert pointed the pistol at her head. "You are the solution to my problem. Your clothes are well cut. You speak with a fine accent. I would say that your family has money, so I've decided that you are coming with me. I've heard that kidnapping can be quite lucrative."

The gentleman standing next to Victoria mumbled something else, but she noted he didn't offer to go in her stead. She'd clearly done her dash with him.

Coward. So much for being a gentleman.

"Alright, if you agree to let these people back on the coach and send them on their way, I will come with you. I'm sure my husband will pay handsomely for my safe return. And if he doesn't, then you might just gain yourself a well-bred mistress. Considering how much of a clod my husband is in bed, I could be up for a spot of ravishing. What do you say?"

Victoria held out her hand, smiling sweetly as Robert was forced to shift the pistol to his left hand in order to shake. The move had him wincing with pain. She could see the bead of sweat on his brow as she squeezed his hand tightly when they sealed their deal.

You'd better get used to the pain, because there is more where that comes from.