Moonstruck Madness (8 page)

"It's just as well. I didn't trust those coachmen anyway.
Wouldn't be surprised to find them in league with highwaymen waiting to rob us."

"Dio mio,
that is all that
I
need now," the Contessa swore beneath her breath.

"I don't think we need fear that occurrence," the Duke replied calmly. "My men are well trained to act in our defense."

"This country is most
inhospitable,
I
don't know why
I
let you talk me into visiting it?" The Contessa spoke tiredly.

"Now, now, Luciana, I promise you that you'll find London much more to your liking," Lord Wrainton placated her.

"I gather this is your first visit to England, Contessa?" the Duke asked.

"
Si,
and I hope my last. It is not a country I have a liking for.
L'ltalia i molto bella,
but this country, aah," she said in disgust, throwing her hands up in the air.

Lucien laughed. "It takes the Englishman to love England. As when a man is in love with a woman, he often doesn't see her faults."

 
"So you admit this England has faults." The Contessa smiled thoughtfully. "Me, I wish to be back in Venice in the smooth swaying of a gondola," she sighed as she was thrown sideways when the wheels of the coach bumped through a hole. "These carriages were made for fools."

"I didn't think you had holdings in these parts, Your Grace?" Lord Wrainton inquired curiously. "Isn't your estate further north?"

"Yes, I'm just looking over some recently purchased property," Lucien replied. "You seem to know this area. Have you lived hereabouts?"

"Born and raised around here," Lord Wrainton confided. "In fact, I have an estate in the next valley, Verrick House. Not much to look at I'm afraid. It's just a small Elizabethan manor house, and I haven't even seen it in Lord knows how many years, come to think of it. Wonder what it's like now?" he speculated idly.

"Caro,
we should pay a visit to this little house," the Contessa suggested, then turning to the Duke explained, "You see, I am the Marquis' third wife, and as yet I have not met his family. How many
bambini
do you have,
caro?"
she demanded with a frown.
"Two or three,
n'e vero?"

Lord Wrainton shrugged carelessly. "Three, I think."

"You obviously haven't seen your children in some time," the Duke commented sardonically.

"This one has not been the proud papa, but soon," she smiled knowingly, glancing slyly down at her waistline, "he shall be, and he will not run off and leave this one as he has these other poor
bambini."

The Marquis turned a dull red under the lash of her tongue, shifting uncomfortably at the truth.

"And you, Your Grace?" she asked Lucien, gaining his wandering attention. "You are married and have
a
family?"

Lucien smiled derisively. "No, not yet, Contessa," he replied shortly.

"Ah, you suffer from the broken heart,
si?
This is too bad, but I think you have many
amores
just the same." She glanced at the Duke provocatively, her gaze lingering on his face. "You seem the cool one, but I think you are like Lucifer the fallen angel with your scarred face—
a
warning, perhaps, for one to beware?"

The Marquis looked nervously at the Duke. "Please excuse Luciana, Your Grace, she is Italian and inclined to speak her mind without thought," he apologized, sending
a
quelling look to the Contessa who merely smiled teasingly at him.

The Duke laughed. "I think your wife keeps you very busy, Lord Wrainton, and I am too well used to sharp-tongued females to allow the Contessa's words to trouble me."

They traveled throughout the afternoon, the rain continuing to fall lightly as the team of horses pulled the coach swaying and lurching down the road, becoming bogged down in numerous potholes and streams.

"We are to arrive soon, I trust? I never thought to find myself seasick in a coach," the Contessa remarked impatiently and then gave her maid
a
shake. "Wake up, Maria! You begin to snore."

The coach began to slow down, and as it came to
a
complete halt the Contessa leaned forward expectantly.
"Bene,
we are here at last."

The Duke frowned and made to look out the curtained
window when the door was thrown violently open and a breath of cold, wet air rushed in. "What the—" Lucien began.

"Stand and deliver!" a voice called from outside and before Lucien could reach for the pistol strapped to the side of the coach, the other door was swung open and a large man holding two pistols pointed them threateningly at the occupants of the coach.

"Dio miol"
the Contessa cried, cringing backward as Maria screamed in terror and fell across her lap in a dead faint.

"Ah, we've ladies present, have we now?" the voice speculated with amusement. "If the gentlemen will remove themselves from the carriage for just a moment, we won't keep them longer than it takes to relieve them of their purses," the highwayman invited politely.

The Duke looked at the pistols pointed at his heart, and shrugging at the Contessa's frightened face and Lord Wrainton's outraged one, he climbed from the carriage, pausing briefly as he saw the tartan sash of the highwayman before stepping carefully into the muddy roadway.

"Well, well, if it isn't my scar-faced friend from the party. You do have the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time for me," Bonnie Charlie laughed.

The coachman and grooms were standing nervously on the other side of the road, their weapons in a pile in the middle of the road and under guard of the highwayman's other large companion. In the growing twilight it was becoming difficult to distinguish details, everything turning palely indistinct in the fading light.

"Would our other fine gentleman care to join us?" Bonnie Charlie asked, feeling a need to hurry.

Lord Wrainton climbed slowly from the coach, the collar of his greatcoat turned up to protect him against the light drizzle that fell and his cocked hat shadowing his features as he stood nervously beside the Duke.

"Now, what will we be donating to the cause today? A few golden guineas would not come amiss. After all, no gentleman of means travels without a full purse. Hand it over," Bonnie Charlie demanded, hardly glancing at the man who stood beside the tall Duke.

Lucien reached into his coat, his hand disappearing beneath the thick material.

"Carefully, lad.
I'd hate to ruin your finery," the highwayman cautioned as he watched Lucien remove his purse and toss it over to him.
"And your friend?"

The Marquis handed over his purse with ill grace, cursing under his breath as he did so.

"Now, if we might have a look at the ladies and see if they would care to share their wealth with those not as fortunate?"

Bonnie Charlie waved Lucien aside, staying out of the aim of Will's pistol, which was trained on the two gentlemen, and glanced inside the coach.

The Contessa was fanning Maria frantically, trying to revive her, when she looked up into the face of the masked bandit.

"Din!"
she whispered, beginning to fan herself instead.

"You're not English," Bonnie Charlie commented regretfully as he eyed the milky pearls around her neck, "so I'll leave you your lovely pearls and take only your earrings. As the other lady is insensible and obviously unadorned, I shan't trouble her."

The highwayman
bowed,
a grin on his lips as the Contessa stared in bemused silence at this gentleman of the road.
"Arrivederci."

Backing from the opened door of the coach, Bonnie Charlie turned to confront the Duke, whose coat was dampened from the misty rain that was beginning to fall more heavily.

"My apologies for keeping you standing in the rain," Bonnie Charlie mocked, his own clothes covered by a black greatcoat that enveloped his figure warmly. "You may both get aboard, and I trust I haven't inconvenienced you too greatly, although it is a pity that you must look the fool in front of so lovely a lady. Better that, however, than
a foolish attempt to fight me and find oneself dead. Yes, far wiser to play the fine gentlemen and return to the lady in one piece."

The Duke grinned, the scar on his cheek whitening as he said deliberately, "So brave, my small foe, with your giants behind you. I've yet to see you prove your worth. You do a lot of fine talking, but I'll wager you're no more than a bluffing puppy giving himself airs." Lucien laughed scornfully, adding softly, "You swine, you're not fit to lick the boots of a guttersnipe."

Bonnie Charlie's violet eyes blazed with anger at the Duke's sneering contempt, and losing control at his baiting, lifted a hand and struck the Duke full across the face.

Lord Wrainton gave a gasp of astonishment and remained deadly still. Lucien grinned malevolently. "Not much strength for a renowned and supposedly vicious highwayman, but as much as I'd expected from a braggart."

"Get back in the coach if you value your mongrel skin," Bonnie Charlie ordered hoarsely, his gloved hand shaking as he leveled his pistol even with Lucien's heart.

"My pleasure.
I begin to grow chilled," Lucien acquiesced in a condescending tone and followed the Marquis into the coach.

Bonnie Charlie backed up to his horse and agilely mounted, and for just a second glanced away from the coach as he grasped the reins. In that instant the Duke withdrew a pistol from his coat and fired it at the giant guarding his coachmen from the back of his horse. John grunted in pain and momentarily dropped his guard, but before the astonished coachmen could
react
Will had fired a shot into the ground before them, halting any movement they might have made, and Bonnie Charlie had fired his pistol into the door of the coach causing the Contessa to scream in alarm and Lucien to draw back for protection.

Signaling to Will and John, Bonnie Charlie urged his mount through the prisoners, scattering them in alarm, and disappeared into the trees, Will and John doing likewise, but in different directions.

The footmen ran to their weapons, but by the time they'd reached them and turned to aim, the highwaymen had disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

Lucien stared grimly after them, his lips thinned in anger, then climbed from the coach to confront his coachmen who were standing sheepishly in the road.

"Well, how did this happen? I had assumed you were all armed for the likes of these highwaymen?" Lucien
demanded,
a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Was a tree, Your Grace, fallen across the road and causin' us to stop. In this weather we never thought 'twas highwaymen. And then from nowheres
these giants appears
and aims them pistols at us before we could even draw ours. Would've laid us low if we had," the head coachman explained ruefully, seeking confirmation from the other abashed faces around him. "Got to move the damned tree besides," he added, looking balefully at the fallen tree across the road that had caused all their trouble and was now still blocking their way.

"I trust this will never happen again? I only allow one mistake of this nature while you're in my service, so don't disappoint me again," the Duke replied coldly. "Now get this cleared as
quick
as you can," he directed. "We've been delayed long enough as it is." Turning, he walked back to the carriage, his broad back looking uncompromising and stern to the chastened servants.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking. Get to it. You're not in a funeral procession yet," the head coachman yelled, giving the closest boy a cuff on the ear that sent him scurrying.

"We shall be on our way presently," the Duke informed Lord Wrainton, who was leaning weakly against the soft cushions of the seat. "Are you quite all right, Contessa?"