A Highwayman Came Riding Read Free Page B

uncanopied bed, a chair, a toilet table, and a braided rug on the floor. A small fire was burning in the grate. She placed the lamp on the bedside table.
    The room was at least clean. Marianne turned down the quilt to allow the captain to place the duchess on the bed.
    “We have to send for a doctor,” she said. She sensed that the duchess was looking a little better. Her complexion had a hint of color now.
    “Ned, our host, is as good as a sawbones,” the captain replied. He went to the duchess and felt her pulse, laid his hand along her cheek, and seemed satisfied.
    “He is only a woodchopper or some such thing,” Marianne objected. “You must get a proper doctor. Tell the man it is for the duchess. He’ll come. We’ll pay whatever he asks.”
    The highwayman lifted a well-arched eyebrow and said, “What will she use for money? Or is it your own two guineas you mean to spend?”
    “I believe you will find the Duchess of Bixley’s credit is good,” she replied loftily.
    The man’s lips quirked in an amused way that was not quite a smile. In the confusion of settling the duchess, Marianne had not taken time to look at him closely. She stared at him now, assessing him as an opponent.
    He had a rugged, weathered face with a strong jaw. When he lifted his hand and removed his hat, she saw that his hair was as black as a crow’s wing, with the same glossy iridescence. He wore it barbered close to his head, combed back, not brushed forward in the more stylish Brutus do. This surprised her, as his clothing was that of a dandy.
    He was still in afternoon dress, but beneath his dark cape she glimpsed an elegant blue worsted jacket and a finely striped waistcoat of dark blue and yellow. A dotted Belcher kerchief was knotted casually at his throat in lieu of a white cravat. A pair of buckskins revealed a board-flat stomach and well-muscled legs. His top boots were a little the worse for dust, but they were of finest leather, not down at the heels. He wore no jewelry except a watch chain, with presumably a watch in his pocket. A ring could prove dangerous for a highwayman. One of his victims might recognize it if she saw him again and identify him by it.
    His general appearance told her the captain was well-to-do, which only proved that he was a successful thief. She was more interested in assessing his character. That he was a thief already told her a good deal, but what sort of thief was he? Were there some personal weaknesses she might put to advantage? This would reveal itself in his eyes and mouth, and of course in his behavior. She studied his eyes. Dark blue, intelligent, heavily fringed—and pitiless. Her gaze lowered to his lips, which were set in a grim line. She could expect no mercy from this criminal. He would have abandoned her on the road with her dying mistress were it not for the severe penalty her death would bring him.
    The penalty for a convicted highwayman was hanging, but it was commonly said that he could buy his way off the gallows for five hundred pounds as long as he had not physically harmed his victims. That was all their fine manners amounted to.
    “Well, are you going to send for a doctor?” she asked.
    “Let us ask the duchess if she wants one, if she is through with her performance now,” he said, and turned toward the bed.
    On cue, the duchess emitted a low moan, then opened her eyes and struggled up, resting against the pillows. “A sawbones will not be necessary, Marianne, but I shall have some of that wine now. Or brandy, if you have it, Captain.”
    “It will be my pleasure,” the captain replied and left.
    “Your Grace!” Marianne exclaimed in astonishment.
    “I am fine now,” the duchess said, “though I really feared I was going to have one of my attacks.”
    “But why did you—”
    “I could not let that jackanapes ride off with my diamonds. I needed a ruse to stay with him. He has them in his pocket. He is a wide-awake scoundrel. He’ll not be easy to fool. We must