Regency: Mischief & Marriage. Anne Herries

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      She moved away from the window and picked up her portmanteau, which contained all she required for her immediate needs. Her trunk had already been loaded on to the carriage and they were ready to leave again.

      ‘How much further have we to travel?’ she asked as the groom opened the door for her.

      ‘If we make good time and meet no accidents, we should reach Bath before dark this night, miss.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, relieved that only one day of travelling remained. She had finished her book and the last hours of the previous day had seemed tedious. ‘You are very kind.’

      ‘You are welcome, miss.’ He touched his hat. ‘I hopes as it is the lady you’re working for, miss.’

      ‘What do you mean by that? I told you at the start, I am to be a companion to Lady Sarah Manners.’

      ‘Right then, miss. Nothing to worry about then. Get in and we’ll be orf.’

      Sarah climbed into the carriage, feeling puzzled once more. Something in the groom’s manner had disturbed her. She wondered why she was riding in such luxury and once again a shiver of apprehension slithered down her spine. Had she been naïve in accepting the first offer she received?

      For a moment she felt a frisson of fear at the nape of her neck, but then she took a hold of her nerves. She was being very foolish. It was most unlikely that any marquis would go to so much trouble to abduct a girl he had never seen. She was hardly the most beautiful girl in the world. The thought made her laugh. She had been reading too many romances!

      Daniel looked across the square and saw the carriage drawn up outside the inn just as the young woman entered it. He frowned, feeling concerned as he recognised her and the crest on the carriage. What on earth was Miss Bancroft doing in the Marquis of Cheadle’s carriage? Alarm bells began to ring in his head. He recalled that she had been pleased to receive a generous offer of employment—was she being lured to a false promise? Would she join the legion of the missing?

      The thought of Miss Eliza Bancroft being sold into white slavery appalled him. He could not bear to contemplate such a thing. It must not be allowed to happen. He must do something—and quickly.

      Eliza must be warned that the marquis was not all he seemed. If he had charmed her into believing that she would be his lover or his mistress… no, he would not permit it.

      Somehow he must prevent her from plunging into a life of shame and degradation. Yet how could he prevent her? He must go after her—but how to stop the carriage? What could he say?

      An idea so reckless and foolhardy that it made him laugh for sheer mischief came to his mind. He dismissed it instantly, but it returned and he felt that he must risk it for Eliza’s sake. He was not sure if she travelled alone, but if the marquis was with her in the carriage it would be necessary to disguise himself. A grim smile touched his mouth.

      If Cheadle was involved in the vile gang that he believed was behind his cousin’s death, he would find out soon enough that he had an enemy.

      Eliza was brought from her reverie by a shout of alarm from the coachman and then a violent jolting as the carriage came to a sudden halt. She was thrown from her seat and for a moment landed on her knees on the floor of the carriage. Picking herself up, she was about to look out of the window when the door was opened.

      ‘You had best get down, miss. I hope you wasn’t hurt?’

      ‘No, just shaken.’ She took the coachman’s hand. ‘What happened?’ she enquired as he helped her descend. ‘Have we…?’ She was about to ask if the carriage had suffered an accident, but seeing the masked rider caught her breath. ‘What are you doing, sir?’ He had a pistol directed at coachman’s chest. ‘That thing is dangerous…’

      For a moment the highwayman seemed disinclined to answer. He sat his horse, staring down at them in silence.

      Eliza lifted her head, anger making her impetuous. ‘I fear you have mistaken your victim, sir. I have only a few coins in my purse—and this ring.’ She felt for the ring she had found in her mother’s sewing box. It was still on the ribbon that had been with it, hidden under her baby clothes. She took out her purse and offered both it and the ring to the highwayman. ‘Please take these and allow us to go on. I beg you, do not harm these good men—they have done nothing to hurt you.’

      ‘Who are you?’ the masked man asked in a gruff voice she suspected was disguised. ‘Why are you riding in the Marquis of Cheadle’s carriage—what is he to you?’

      He had accepted the purse and ring, which she noticed he examined before slipping them into his coat pocket. For a moment he hesitated, then beckoned her closer.

      ‘Come with me for a few minutes. I wish to speak with you.’

      ‘Don’t you listen to him, Miss Bancroft. He is a rogue and not to be trusted,’ the coachman cried and took a step towards her, stopping as the gun pointed in his direction once more.

      ‘I mean you no harm.’ The masked man bent down, offering his hand, then glanced at the coachman. ‘Wait for your passenger, man, and do not try to be a hero—or you will regret it. Remember, a wild shot might harm the young lady.’ He barked the words at the coachman, his pistol still aimed in his direction. ‘If you do anything foolish, your wife will be a widow this night.’

      ‘Please do as he asks. I am not afraid,’ Eliza instructed.

      She gave the highwayman her hand. He grasped her arm and she clutched his saddle, instinctively jumping as he hauled her up before him.

      ‘Well done,’ he murmured in an approving tone that sent tingles down her spine. ‘You are quite safe. I do not kill women and children.’

      Eliza shivered. At first she had been terrified by the sight of a masked, armed man, but for some unaccountable reason her fear had gone as he rode with her into the trees.

      They travelled only far enough to be out of sight of the coachman before he halted. He dismounted and held out his arms. She slid down into them. For a moment he held her and she was aware of the pleasant smell of soap and a breath of cologne. He was very clean for a common highwayman.

      ‘Well, sir,’ Eliza said, her heart beating very fast, ‘what have you to say to me that could not be said in front of the coachman?’

      ‘Why are you travelling in that devil’s carriage?’ he demanded. ‘Do you have any idea what kind of a man he is? Whatever promises he has made you are likely to prove your downfall.’

      ‘The marquis has made me no promises. I have never met him. I am on my way to Bath, where I am to be employed by Lady Sarah Manners.’

      The highwayman stared at her. Eliza felt a start of surprise as she noticed how blue his eyes were.

      ‘Is that the truth?’

      ‘Why should I lie to you?’

      ‘Where did you get this ring?’ He took her ring from his pocket, looking at the inscription inside for a moment before handing it to her. ‘What does it say?’

      ‘Love means more. Why do you ask?’

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