“Nowthatis a woman worthy of marriage.” Mallen grinned.
“I just hope you are right,” Maximilian said. “That she will come around with time.”
“And love. Do not forget that part.”
“I will not. If I can find this rogue before the ball, then perhaps that will be when I ask Eugenia to marry me.”
“Oh, right, the ball. My wife tells me we have not received an invitation.”
He clicked his tongue in admonishment. Maximilian grinned and dug into an inner pocket of his coat. Pulled out a heavily engraved invitation and handed it to Mallen. “You are cordially invited to the ball, Edmund. You and your lovely lady.”
“She will be so impressed and flattered that you delivered this in person,” Mallen said with a grin, tucking it away in his own coat, “that I fear she will take to her bed with the vapors. I myself anticipate the invitation to the wedding.”
“First things first,” Maximilian said. “I must find this rogue before he kills us both.”
* * *
Maximilian spent the day and ate supper with Edmund and his wife, then rode home in the twilight. His spirits lifted after his conversations with his friend; his hopes rose even as the sun sank beyond the rolling hills of the moors. He whistled an aimless tune under his breath, his now rested gelding’s trot filled with energy and life. All around him, sounds of birds settling into thickets, of insects chirping, even the almost noiseless flight of a hunting owl filled his ears.
He mentally planned to visit Eugenia when he returned home, to put Edmund’s ideas into action – tell her loved her and missed her. He knew he could give her the time she needed to recover from this ordeal, and he reminded himself he needed to be patient. “It may take a while for her to be herself again,” he said to the gelding.
The horse twitched his ears to listen, then suddenly swung them, and his head, toward the right. Well-trained and well-mannered, he did not whinny, but his trot slackened slightly. Maximilian also turned his head to see what caught the horse’s attention. He saw nothing save the darkness and the last of the sunlight edging the hills. Yet, the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright.
He had ridden this road many times, in daylight and darkness, and knew everything that lived on the moors. His horse, too, was experienced and intelligent, and busily told him they were not alone amid the hills and heather. Only the sight, smell, and sounds of other horses would make the gelding so utterly fascinated. As none of his tenants lived in this area, and the road was not one most travelers used, that meant someone was on his estate on horseback.
Maximilian patted the gelding’s neck. “You let me know where they are, all right?”
The gelding’s head suddenly lifted, his ears back, informing Maximilian that someone was now behind him. “We might have to race these buggers home,” he muttered to his horse. “You are one of my fastest, son, so do not let me down.”
Though Maximilian tried not to tense, keeping his body relaxed in the saddle, the gelding knew what he was thinking, feeling. His neck arched and he pranced, pulling on the bit, asking for permission to run. Maximilian held him back, but when the gelding swiveled his head to gaze into the dark distance toward the left, Maximilian knew he was surrounded.
“All right, my lad,” he muttered. “Let us show them the meaning of speed.”
Digging his heels into the gelding’s ribs, he loosened the reins. The horse took off as though shot from a bow, galloping at a dead run down the road. Almost immediately, Maximilian heard shouts of dismay and anger, and the thudding of hooves on both sides and to his rear. He suspected they may have watched him through spyglasses, as he could never have seen them if his horse had not.
Bending low over the gelding’s neck, his black mane whipped into Maximilian’s face from the wind created by their speed, Maximilian glanced back over his shoulder. His sudden burst of speed obviously caught the brigands off guard, for he heard them cursing and mercilessly flogging their mounts. This horse he rode was one of the fastest he owned, and all he needed was the head start he gave himself.
Maximilian grinned as he slowly pulled ahead of his pursuers, listened as the pounding of their horses’ hooves faded into the darkness. “You think you can beat a Bromenville?” he muttered.
A shadow suddenly appeared between himself and the faint pink light of the distant sunset. A man on a horse, directly in his path. Too late, he recognized the trap – drive him straight into the fourth man. With low stone walls to either side of the road, he tried to rein the valiant gelding to the side, to jump the wall. But the other rider was too close, his own speed too fast.
The bay gelding slid on his haunches, reared, and tried to avoid the inevitable collision. Maximilian cried out as he tumbled from his saddle and bounced over the gelding’s rump to land heavily on the gravel.
Chapter 25
The four riders closed in on him. His horse had not run off, but stood nearby, his reins on his neck. Maximilian tried to dodge the man on horseback who had ignominiously dumped him off his mount, but the highwayman reined his horse around, spurred hard, and put himself and his horse between Maximilian and escape.
The other three circled around him, armed with bared swords, their teeth gleamed in the faint light as they grinned at his predicament. Maximilian pulled his pistol from his trousers and cocked it but did not point it at any of them. Instead, he waited. He had only one shot, a single opportunity to take out one robber and held to the hopes that was all he needed.
“I will tell you now,” he said conversationally, turning in order to address all of them. “I have no coin on me. Leave now, and I will forget this happened. Try anything, and one of you dies. Then I will hunt the rest of you down and hang you.”
“Dae ye hear that?” asked the man who stood between Maximilian and his horse. “The Duke wi’ hang us, lads.”
The others chuckled, laughing amongst themselves. He spoke with a thick Scottish accent, and Maximilian cocked his head to the side, trying to memorize it and the man’s voice. “We nae want yer coin, Yer Grace,” he said. “We be paid more gold tae kill ye.”
“Ah.” Maximilian nodded wisely. “And make it look like a highwayman murdered me as I rode in the night. I see. Are you certain you still wish to proceed? One or more of you will certainly die tonight, even if you do manage to slay me.” Raising the cocked pistol, he took careful aim at the Scottish speaker. “Ready to die then, sir? I have fighting skills enough to take on your comrades.”
The Scotsman stiffened. “Ach, he be bluffin’. Kill ‘im, lads.”
