Chapter 1

Gravesend, England

June 1837

Stand and deliver.

It was the statement that had struck fear into the hearts of many for over a century. Since the days of the notorious, Dick Turpin, travelers by public or private coach guarded their possessions with a determined protectiveness. Drivers carried pistols and the dreaded blunderbuss, which should have deterred most incidents. However, with the traffic increasing exponentially each day along the New Road from Dover to London, and the new uncertainty shrouding the country with the recent death of King William IV which had given rise to Queen Victoria, tensions were high once more. It had been a hundred years since a woman had sat on the throne, since the reign of Queen Anne, and with the rise of political unease was the influx of immigrants and the dawn of the industrial age. England was starting to revert to uncertain times, but that didn't stop the nobility from enjoying the best that life had to offer.

Miss Leah Lindquist sat in a cramped coach with a book in her lap and her valise at her feet. She had just gotten off the ship at Dover and was traveling north of Birmingham to join her elder brother after the death of her aunt three months previous. She knew she should be feeling more remorse than she was, but she was regretting having to try to call somewhere else home. She wanted to stay somewhere, whether it be England, the land of her birth, or France, where she had lived with her aunt.

She set down her book and glanced out the window at the dreary day as the coach rocked back and forth. The atmosphere quite suited her mood as she thought back to the day she had been told she was forced to rely on her relations once again.

Her aunt had been in failing health for some time, but when she caught a chill that winter, she had been unable to recover. When the doctor had approached Leah in the parlor with a grim expression on his face, she knew that something was terribly amiss. "I'm afraid I have some distressing news, Miss Lindquist."

She had held her breath in anticipation.

"I regret to say that your aunt has passed on. She was suffering from typhoid fever, and should I have made my way to her before now, we might have had a chance to remove the contaminated blood and…"

Leah blinked. The rest of his statement faded away as she put a hand to her stomach. She swallowed over the lump that had abruptly formed and was able to rasp, "Thank you."

Once she was left alone, Leah closed her eyes and collapsed onto a nearby chair, feeling strangely… numb. However, a pain so strong abruptly shot through her chest and she massaged the area to help ease the ache. She knew that it wouldn't last long. It never did, because she had learned how to grieve over time. All she had left now was her elder brother and that was not a welcome thought.

Mr. Henry Lindquist was the son from her father's first marriage. He was twelve years her senior and a vicar with an established following. He was proud of his rectory, and Leah could just imagine all the prayers she would have to recite before bed each night. She was not looking forward to spending the rest of her days under his roof, but she was quite sure her brother would ensure she was married off sooner rather than later. At her age of two and twenty years, he likely thought she was a hoyden who should have wed long before now. Thankfully, her aunt hadn't pressed the issue, content to have Leah as a companion, for which Leah was immensely grateful. Contemplating spending the rest of her days with a man she didn't admire or respect, completely devoid of love or affection, was not something she was enthusiastic about.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as though she had much choice in the matter any longer. The day of reckoning had arrived and she was at the mercy of her next guardian.

There were times that she wished she could disappear into a Radcliffe novel and find her happiness in the arms of a Gothic hero—or perhaps a villain. The appeal did not lessen when she imagined some dastardly avenger absconding with her. In truth, the prospect of dashing highwaymen had always thrilled her. Having never been kissed, the idea of being ravished didn't sound as shocking as her maid might have thought when she'd confided as much to her.

Leah sighed. She would miss Mary and their late-night talks. As a servant, the maid was one of the few friends that she'd had. For someone who had been moved about from place to place, it had been difficult for Leah to keep in touch with anyone for long. Her mother had died when Leah was just two years old, and her father had been restless, choosing to travel abroad rather than face his grief. It had been strenuous for Leah who had wanted to lay down some roots and just call someplace home.

Pushing those regretful memories aside, Leah decided that she would try to rest for the remainder of her journey. She closed her eyes and dozed off for a time.

When the carriage suddenly jolted, her head banged against the window hard enough for her to see dark spots. She gritted her teeth and rubbed the tender area as the vehicle shuddered and came to an abrupt halt. She could hear shouting coming from outside as the occupants inside began to mumble to themselves in alarm. Leah decided that they had probably cracked a wheel and left it at that. Her head was pounding and that was all she cared to concentrate on.

Suddenly, the door was wrenched open and a pistol came into view. "Everyone out," came the deep, masculine order.

Leah glanced toward the speaker, but her vision was a bit blurry. She waited for the other passengers to file out and then she got to her feet. A wave of dizziness passed over her and she shut her eyes tightly.

"I said, out."

Her arm was grabbed roughly and she was dragged out of the coach. Standing on the ground didn't help her equilibrium, and as she started to waver, she was caught back in that firm grip. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, annoyance in his tone.

She hissed out of pain and said, "I hit my head on the window." She dared to slit open an eye and then rather wished she hadn't. A tall man stood before her, his face halfway concealed by a black mask.

She blinked, and then blinked again, telling herself that surely, she wasn't seeing what she thought she was. Perhaps she'd struck her head harder than she'd imagined because her fantasy had come to life.

Her hand was moved away from her forehead and the dark eyes behind the mask narrowed slightly as the smooth, strong jawline clenched. He called to someone over his shoulder. "Take this one."

Leah had no idea what that meant, but as she was passed on to another captor with the same black mask, she couldn't resist glancing back at the first man. He was dressed casually with a white shirt and black trousers, tall boots, with a dark cape thrown across broad shoulders. His windblown brown hair fell across his forehead, He held a cutlass in his grasp, but it was the stark way his eyes pierced her as she was taken away that caused a strange sensation to coil within her.

Realizing the men intended to abscond with her, she demanded to her current captor, "Where are you taking me?"

She didn't get a reply, but neither did she actually believe that she would. Instead, she was tossed into another coach, but this one was decidedly more comfortable than the public transport she had just exited. The seats were upholstered with black velvet, and silver-threaded damask curtains hung from the windows. A lantern set on a hook on either side of the door and offered a light glow to the darkened interior. Now that the sun was starting to sink along the horizon and the moon was beginning to make its appearance, the dim light inside offered a slightly mysterious air.

Leah might have admired the allure of it all a bit more if her head wasn't throbbing with a dull ache. She leaned back against the seat and decided that she would panic about her current situation later. Right now, she just wanted to ease her suffering.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed while she waited for something to happen. She jerked when the door opened and the man who had pulled her from the public coach climbed inside. As soon as he sat down, the carriage started to move.

They hit a rut, and she groaned slightly. Her chin was caught in a firm grasp and the lantern was held close to her face. "Look at me."

Leah wanted to ignore him, but since he didn't sound quite as gruff as before, she slowly opened her eyes. He was close, peering directly at her. His mouth was set in a tight line as he observed her for a time. She was grateful when he finally moved back and took the lantern with him. Returning it to the hook, he said, "Your pupils aren't altered."

She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she asked, "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. It means you don't have a serious head injury."

"Oh." Leah was surprised that he might have a care about her health at all. If he was a ruthless highwayman, it shouldn't matter to him if she was alive or dead. "Where are you taking me?"

His eyes glittered behind his mask, reflecting the light from the lantern. "Does it matter?"

She thought about that for a moment and then shrugged a shoulder. "I suppose it doesn't. It isn't as though I was particularly thrilled to be where I was going anyway." She laid her head back. She didn't trust this man, but something told her that he wouldn't harm her. Perhaps it was the odd way he had inspected her for injuries. Either way, she was growing too tired to care.

"Where were you traveling?"

She didn't bother opening her eyes to reply. "To stay with my brother in Dudley. He's a vicar."

"His name?"

"Henry Lindquist," she mumbled, feeling the effects of her recent shock starting to steal over her. Combined with the pain from her injury, she was fading.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Leah offered some sort of reply, but she wasn't sure it was coherent, because she fell into oblivion.

Harlan studiedthe woman in his coach and decided he had no idea what to do with her, although he'd ordered his men to take her with them. It was a foolish idea, since he didn't even know who she was. The name Lindquist meant nothing to him, if that was what she actually said. She was starting to slur her words, although the soft snore she expelled told him that she had drifted off.

This was a complication that he didn't need. At all. But he had never been able to ignore a damsel in distress. It was a failing he'd done his best to overcome but had yet to conquer over the years.

Unfortunately, the lady intrigued him. She piqued his interest. Perhaps too much. In his line of work, it was dangerous to get too close to anyone.

And yet…

He yearned to reach out and caress her soft cheek and move a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. It flowed freely about her shoulders and he was fascinated by the fiery highlights that flickered in the lantern's glow. He'd been momentarily taken aback by the light amber shade of her eyes. They were unique, and it made him curious to know more about her.

Harlan forced himself to look away from the enchanting creature. He yearned to rip the mask from his face, but it was a necessary evil. Until he had the answers he sought, he had to conceal his identity. To expose himself unnecessarily would be detrimental, not only to himself, but to his men. They were loyal to a fault, and he would trust any one of them with his life.

And they weren't the only ones at risk.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon by the time they arrived at their destination. With large, silent oscillating turbines towering overhead, the Windmill Hill was something of a tourist attraction with the camera obscura fitted inside. Combined with the tea gardens and various amusements to be hosted quite frequently, it was the perfect place to hold clandestine meetings when The Old Prince of Orange tavern was compromised. Sometimes the best kept secrets were those in plain sight.

Harlan was the only one who had secured lodgings near the windmill on the bank of the River Thames. The other men remained closer to the heart of Gravesend with their families, from where they could report to him on a moment's notice.

As the coach rolled to a stop, the door opened and Harlan's most trusted confidante, Hugh, stood in the opening. He glanced at Harlan's sleeping female companion and smiled broadly. "Wore her out already, did you?"

Harlan pushed him out of the way and stepped to the ground. "Just bring her into the cottage, will you?" he snapped.

A chuckle was the only reply as Harlan made his way into the modest dwelling, but he was thankful for the roof over his head. It had been a long day, and something told him it would be an even longer night, especially when Miss Lindquist awoke.

The other three highwaymen were already standing inside the small parlor while they awaited further instructions. "We were unlucky tonight," Harlan announced, as he removed his cloak and tossed it over a nearby chair. He crossed his arms and looked at each of them in turn. He had spent most of his youth in this modest village, and he knew the history of each man there, especially that of Hugh, with whom he had gone to school. He had personally chosen them for this mission, knowing that they could be trusted, and he knew they were just as devoted to their country. Each of them brought something useful to the table, but sometimes fortune just wasn't on their side.

Matthew was the eldest. He was married, had six daughters, and gray hair, which he would claim was because he lived with seven women. It was his skill with the reins that made him a valuable asset. Benjamin was also married, but as yet, had no offspring. He was a stocky man with a gruff voice and a beard that deterred most victims from trying anything unsavory. Lucas had light hair and glasses and was the epitome of a London dandy. He was married and had a daughter on whom he doted fondly. It was his strategic mind that had been a particular asset to Harlan.

As Hugh entered the room with their captive thrown over his shoulder, Harlan shot him a dark look, to which he snorted in return and disappeared into the back bedchamber. Hugh had grown up with Harlan, which was why he trusted Hugh implicitly. He was the charming one of the lot, his red hair and devilish charm kept most of the ladies at ease during their highway raids. However, he was ridiculously in love with his wife and they shared two young sons.

"What do you plan to do next?" Matthew asked.

Harlan returned his attention to the room, knowing that Hugh would rejoin them in a moment. "We continue as before until we find what we are looking for." He saw the resilience on their faces, but he also noted the tight lines that bracketed their mouths and knew that the tension was starting to take its toll. "The local authorities have been lenient thus far, and so long as we keep reminding them of their duties to the Crown, they will continue to do so." He glanced at Hugh, who had returned. "I know it is tiresome to be gone so often, away from your families, but I feel that the threat to our nation will soon be handled as it should. Until then, we must retain our current guise and stand strong."

"Are we still confident it is someone from the continent?" Lucas asked.

"Indeed," Harlan concurred. "The disgruntled soldiers from the Crimean battles have become increasingly vocal about the conditions in which they suffered at the hands of the king, but now that William's niece has taken up the position of power, they are not likely to forgive past transgressions. With the growing concern of commerce and poor living conditions in London, it is no doubt that we must be on our continual guard. That is why we are watching the roads so closely. Until we learn the identity of the individuals involved in the conspiracy to overthrow the government, we must remain vigilant."

Hugh stepped forward. Although he still wore his mask, his eyes narrowed with determination. He put a fist over his heart. "You have my loyalty, as does the queen."

Each man, in turn, stepped forward and pledged the same. Harlan inclined his head and put his fist over his heart. While he offered the same vow to them, it was altered slightly. "I pledge my life and all my worldly goods to the faithful men in this room. I will not forget your continued loyalty, and you can be assured that the Crown will recognize it as well."