“I think I get your point.”
“About bloody time.”
Chapter Five
THERE WAS A RAPon the top of the coach. Montgomery stuck his head out the window.
“What is it?”
“Two riders following us.”
They were barely thirty minutes out of London, and while dawn had arrived with the sun making an appearance behind them, it still wasn’t all that bright on the road yet with trees on both sides of it.
He told the driver, “Pick up the pace to see if they keep up.”
“I’ve heard your country suffers from highwaymen,” Charley said with a curious look.
“We could wish that’s all it is, but it’s doubtful considering we both have enemies. Besides, it’s a bit early in the day for robbers, with so few travelers on the road for them to prey upon.”
“Why would the Prince Regent appoint you as my guard if you have enemies?” Charley asked.
“Because I’m so good at eluding irate husbands.”
Charley’s eyes lit up. “You’re a rake! We have that in common—I’m a rake, too. The ladies can’t stay away from me.”
Monty chuckled. “Are you sure they aren’t attracted to all those jewels you wear?”
Charley turned away in a snit.
Five minutes later, Arlo rapped again to say, “They are keeping up exactly, m’lord.”
“Then stop so we can find out why.”
He sighed as he glanced at Charley to explain, “Whether they want you or me, or just our purses, they still don’t get to tag along with us to find out where we’re going. Stay put, donotlook outside, and put that cloak back over your head.”
He took one pistol from his belt and stepped out of the coach before he drew the other and pointed both at the two riders approaching them. There wasn’t much to distinguish them in their black clothes and short capes, except their clothing appeared to be identical, bringing to mind regimental uniforms, but he knew of no soldiers who dressed all in black. Both men had very long hair, and they’d made no effort to contain it.
“If you’re thinking of robbing me, you’ll need to work hard at it,” he told the two men who had reined in their horses.
The answer was gibberish to him, spoken in some foreign tongue—which answered to his satisfaction the question of who they were after. They must have been watching Carlton House day and night and following any coach that looked unusual. And while George had of course supplied his unwanted guest with a plain, unadorned coach, it had departed from the Regent’s residence before the crack of dawn carrying an inordinate amount of baggage.
One of the men fired at him, ending any further speculation. The shot missed, but Montgomery got behind the open coach door before firing back. His first shot struck the man who hadn’t fired yet but was yelling more gibberish after he fell off his horse. This gave Montgomery plenty of time to pull his other pistol and aim it at the other man, who was desperately trying to reload his flintlock.
But they were both distracted by a third fellow, a short one in a hooded cloak, charging out of the trees on the right side of the road, brandishing a flintlock in each hand and snarling, “You knocked me off my horse with your bloody racket. Drop your weapons or you’ll be knocked off yours!”
Montgomery didn’t wait to find out how that would play out. He aimed, fired, and the chap who was still reloading tumbled backward off his horse and lay still on the ground.
“I didn’t think you were going to kill them,” the short one accused.
“Well, if that had been my goal, it would have been done, but more’s the pity, I only shot to wound so they won’t be able to bother me again. Be a good chap and unsaddle their horses, I’ll tie them up with the saddle straps.”
He saw just a bit of smooth ivory cheeks above a yellow plaid scarf tied around the fellow’s neck and lower face, holding the hood of his cloak in place. This was no short man after all, just another boy. And this one come to their rescue? He was beginning to wonder if George was playing an elaborate joke on him. But the boy had already turned aside to do as he’d been asked, while Montgomery approached the first assailant who had fallen. There was some blood, not a lot, on one leg of the man’s trousers, and he was still angrily spouting words in some foreign language.
“Do I need to gag you?” Montgomery asked pointedly as he dragged the fellow off the road—and came up short. His eyes widened when he spotted the great white beast hiding in the trees, its lower legs feathered with hair that was likely as long as the animal’s mane.
“That’s a bloody hairy horse you’ve got there, boy,” he said, unable to take his eyes off such an unusually large animal.
“He’s magnificent, isn’t he? I named him Snow King, but pretty much just call him Snow.”
