"It needn't come to killin' if ye hand over the goods," the highwayman growled.
"Hold 'im there, Jeb," the mounted man commanded his companion in crime. "I'll see what they be carryin' in this fine coach."
Mariah stifled a gasp. Remembering the second pistol in Lady Russell's coach, she stepped backward, only to trip on her gown. Her lungs emptied with a grunt as her backside hit the hard ground.
The mounted ruffian instantly spun around to face her. "What 'ave we 'ere?" His face split into a lecherous leer as he dismounted. "Let's see what the missy's got for ol' Bart . . . or mayhap ol' Bart's got something for the missy."
She gazed up in speechless horror and scrambled backward like a crab as the lecherous highwayman approached. In growing panic, she looked to Nicolas. Both men were watching her. In the few seconds his assailant was distracted, he slid his hand under his coat. Her heart lodged in her throat as he retrieved the hidden pistol.
Both highwaymen froze at the click of a hammer cocking.
"If you think to add ravishment to your litany of crimes," Nicolas said, "think again."
"You've got one shot, guv," the first highwayman said. "Use it on me, and Bart takes his pleasure while you watch. Use it on Bart over there, and I'll kill ye. Now how d'ye s'pose this'll play out?"
"There is a third option you have not considered." Four sets of eyes riveted toward the coach, from whence Lady Russell emerged holding the coachman's blunderbuss. "It is primed and loaded, and I assure you, gentlemen, I most certainly know which end to point. Mariah," she said, "why don't you wait in the coach like a good gel. Needham, pray feel free to disarm our friend Jeb. I believe both of these fellows will need full use of their hands in order to move this infernal tree from our path."
***
"Needham," Lady Russell said with a sniff, "I can't tolerate it a moment longer. Would you please cast them out?"
"Pardon, my lady?"
"Their clothes." She wrinkled her nose. "The stench is unbearable. Pray let us be rid of them. Surely we have enough miles between us now. There is little chance they'll catch up with us."
"Certainly not without their horse. Do you think they'll press charges for horse thievery?" Nicolas asked. "I believe 'tis a hanging offense."
Lady Russell released a gleeful chortle. "What a farce the entire episode turned out to be! They thought to rob us, only to be left by the roadside as God made them. And what pitiful specimens of manhood they proved to be," she added with a wink. "Call it a widow's whim, but I can't help measuring every man by my dear departed Wriothesley's," her lips curved wickedly, "standard."
Nicolas and Mariah simultaneously colored at her scandalous remark.
"Weren't you frightened, my lady?" Mariah asked, eager to change the subject. "Would you truly have shot them?"
"Undoubtedly," Lady Russell replied. "But I prefer not to think of such unpleasantness. Happily, we are all safe and sound, aside from my poor coachman's bruised head." She sighed. "I suppose 'twould be wise to beg the duke to provide us outriders for our return journey."
***
It was late afternoon when Lady Russell's traveling coach turned up the long chestnut-shaded drive leading to Woburn Abbey. Although Mariah resided in a large and ancient manor, it was still a struggle not to gape at the sheer opulence of the grand Palladian mansion surrounded by meticulously manicured grounds and its vast expanse of lushly wooded deer park.
"This entire property was once a Cistercian monastery until confiscated by our good King Henry and awarded to one of the present duke's ancestors for services to the crown," Mr. Needham said. "The original house dates back to the twelfth century, though I don't know how much remains since the present duke has rebuilt it."
A veritable army of footmen in forest-green velvet livery greeted the coach as it came to a halt under the marble-pillared and pediment-topped porte-cochere. One footman lowered the coach steps, and two others flanked their progress to the massive double doors of the duke's mansion. The doors swung open in synchrony into a marbled foyer with a soaring frescoed ceiling.
Nicolas followed her gaze as it tracked over the faces of smiling angels and dancing cupids and then down the silk-covered walls adorned with priceless paintings. "The Dukes of Bedford are renowned for their love of art," he said. "If you also enjoy it, I daresay you will be impressed by the gallery."
While Mariah gazed almost awestruck at her surroundings, Lady Russell wasted no time in chastising the servants.
"Why is there is no one to greet us?" she inquired, painted brows raised.
"The duke and duchess are hosting tea, my lady," the head footman replied apologetically.
"Very well," she sighed. "I won't impose upon them. Did my baggage coach arrive?"
"Indeed, madam," he answered, "a little over an hour ago."
"Good, then. Will I be in my usual rooms?"