She seized the leader of the packhorse and swung into her saddle with a fluid motion that startled Henry. “Let us go, then, Robin Redbreast.”
She nudged her horse ahead into the trees without glancing back, pulling the packhorse behind. Henry rode in silence for some time, trailing her through dense woods.
“Do you know where you are going?” he finally asked.
“Yes. A southwesterly course will lead us back to the Dover highway and away from where the others planned to meet.”
“You fear your gang will not understand your actions, then?”
She tucked her chin. “Very much so.”
Her fear was all too familiar. His every action as a child had been second-guessed by his judgmental brother. “And are you certain our trajectory is southwesterly?”
“Of course, Sir Skeptic. Why? Are you lost?”
“Physically, yes,” he replied. “But morally, no.”
She cast a glare at him over one shoulder, clearly peeved. Over the ensuing minutes, Henry’s eyes returned frequently to the packhorse laden with bags containing ten thousand gold coins, and his low regard for her sank further. Finally, he could bite his tongue no longer.
“It seems the proverb is untrue.”
She glanced back at him. “Which proverb is that?”
“The one that says there is honor among thieves. But here you are stealing from your fellows.”
“I am no thief,” she shot back. “But then perhaps you view anyone not of thehaute tonas a thief.”
He chuckled dryly. “I did not call you a thief. However, I did imply that you were worse than one, stealing for yourself what was obtained by all.”
She halted her horse and glared at him again, her dark eyes firing arrows into his soul. “You know nothing of me. Nothing whatsoever. The coins are not for me.”
“For whom, then? Your friends? Your family? Will you shower the poor with riches as a modern-day Robin Hood?”
She continued to attack him with those lively eyes, apparently incredulous at his words. “The coins are for you to return to Bow Street with no mention of me.”
Her simple reply struck him like a fist. His regret flared until she offered another caveat. “I request only one consideration.”
“There it is. Let us hear it.”
“I ask that you share a portion of any reward with me so I may find a living in London.”
Henry shook his head as his appetite for chiding her suddenly diminished. “Your plan suffers from a fatal flaw, Miss…”
“Locket.”
“Lucy Locket? Like the common street rhyme?”
“Yes, like that. You were saying?”
“Oh, yes. Your brilliant plan ignores the fact that the magistrate recently placed a moratorium on lower members of Bow Street claiming any reward for retrieved property, pending a mysterious ongoing investigation. Furthermore, should you return the money in person, you will be hanged.”
She glanced back at him again, her face stricken. “Hanged?”
“Yes. The penalty for highway robbery is death by hanging, with the body subsequently displayed in a gibbet at a crossroads until it rots. Several Bow Street patrolmen witnessed your participation in the robbery. While I might not testify to that fact, they will.”
“But I did not participate in the robbery.” The tremor of her words revealed deep dismay.
“You did, Miss Locket. It is a standard strategy of highwaymen to post sentries along the road to warn of lawmen. You shouted warning to the crew, without which we might have apprehended them on the spot. You are an accomplice, regardless of your intentions.”
