The blighter?
Lockhart yanked his head back inside the carriage and shuffled around on the seat. He removed the loose padding to reveal the small viewing window at the rear.
In the dark, it was impossible to make out the identity of the rider chasing their heels. A black neckcloth covered the lower half of their pursuer’s face. The peak of a black tricorne—a fashion that had fallen out of style twenty years earlier—hid his eyes.
Lockhart had no reason to fear the rogue. Dariell had taught him how to knock the largest oaf on his arse. But a glint of metal caught his eye, the barrel of the devil’s pistol.
Pushing panic aside, for one did not shoot well when one’s hands shook, Lockhart removed the oak box from the cupboard beneath his seat and attempted to load the flintlock pistol.
“Bloody hell.”
The carriage careened to the right as Fleet swerved around a bend. The swift movement caused Lockhart to drop the damn tamping rod. After brushing powder from his breeches, he tried again, but the carriage bumped down a rut in the road sending him sliding off the seat.
Claudia shrieked. Her eyes flew open as she jerked forward.
“Damnation.” He scrambled up, thumped the roof and shouted out of the window, “Stop the blasted carriage before one of us suffers an injury.”
“What’s happening?” Looking more than alarmed, Claudia blinked rapidly and gripped the seat. “Hudson, why are you waving that pistol?”
“Because we’re about to be held up on the King’s Highway.”
Claudia didn’t clutch her throat as ladies wearing fine jewels were wont to do. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if her first instinct were to protect their imagined child.
“Heaven help us. Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
Fleet slowed the horses and brought the carriage to a grinding halt next to a coppice.
Frantic, Hudson closed the box but kept hold of the pistol. “During highway robberies, ladies make the mistake of hiding in the carriage, waiting like sitting ducks. You won’t. You’ll climb out with me. You’ll stand slightly behind my right shoulder, and if I tell you to run, you will run. Don’t say anything. Don’t look back no matter what you hear.” He broke for breath. “Don’t run in a straight line. Use the trees to your advantage.”
Claudia stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re scaring me.”
He shuffled to the edge of the seat, cupped her cheek and poured every ounce of love he felt for her into one tender kiss. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
She pressed her forehead to his, kissed him with the same abiding devotion. “If I loved you, I would tell you now,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I’m in love with you, Hudson.”
His heart soared and ached at the same time. He saw a bright future ahead. A bright future brought to an abrupt end by the firing of a single lead ball.
“And I am deeply in love with you.” It felt so damn good to say the words. If he died tonight, he’d not have that regret.
“Stand and deliver!” The cold, masculine command pierced the air.
“Don’t go out there. Please,” she begged. Water welled in her eyes.
“I must. We must.” He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his breeches before offering his hand. “Remember, when I tell you to run, run and don’t look back.”
“I know what you said, but I am not Selina. If there’s a remote chance I might save you I will.”
Pride and love filled his chest. Terror found a way in, too.
“Get out of the damn carriage!” the rogue cried.
Without another word, Lockhart opened the door and vaulted to the ground. He studied the assailant, looking for clues to his identity should he need to hunt the reprobate down and seek retribution.
Claudia climbed out of the carriage. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”
The rogue’s ugly laugh ignited a burning fury in Lockhart’s chest. He helped her to her feet, noticed she clutched something in her hand.