Page 24 of Brutal Serpent

I gasped. “Highwaymen!”

St. Erth only looked annoyed. “What manner of country bumpkins are these?” he asked with annoyance, yanking the carriage window open.

Liversedge was already pulling our equipage to a halt.

There beside the carriage were three men on horseback, all wearing rough clothing and dark handkerchiefs pulled over their eyes.

“You there!” the first one said. “Get out of the carriage. And you, there!” he called, addressing Liversedge. “Send down the strongbox.”

“What should we do?” I whispered.

“I supposed we had better get out,” St. Erth said, rolling his eyes. “If we don’t, they’ll just start pawing at the door.”

I felt disappointed. I had hoped he might suggest fighting them off or something.

However, maybe there were possibilities here. Maybe I could escape if there was a scuffle.

Maybe they would shoot my husband.

The thought excited me, even though I felt wicked. But that would be lovely.

However, maybe they would also shoot me too.

I would have to wait and see.

St. Erth was so tall he had to bend down to get out of the carriage door, and I followed along after him.

As we got out, Liversedge and Gilly were arguing about the strongbox.

“Where is it, you fool?”

“I thought you had it!”

“What is this infernal noise?” St. Erth snapped as he stretched to his full height. The highwaymen looked leery of him, all three men keeping their revolvers trained on him.

But the Viscount didn’t make any moves toward them, only brushed specks of dust from his lace collars.

“Give us the money, my lord,” the first highwayman said, dismounting from his horse carefully, his eyes trained on my husband.

“Please,” said St. Erth, leaning against the carriage and looking bored, “There’s no need for these theatrics. Take what you want and leave. Liversedge!” he called up to his driver. “Send down the strongbox.”

I took a careful step sideways. I didn’t think St. Erth was looking at me. I would run into the nearby woods and not stop until I reached Bath.

Liversedge suddenly threw a heavy chest down in front of the men, sending clouds of dirt and dust flying into the air.

“You aristocrats are like fat pigeons,” the leader of the highwaymen said with some satisfaction. “Easy for the plucking.”

The robbers bent over and one man produced a tool he used to break the lock with a sickening crunch.

I took another step so that I was now behind the men with the guns. They had their revolvers trained on my husband; his servants were too far away to grab me. I needed to use this to my advantage.

“Take me with you,” I whispered as loudly as I dared. “This man kidnapped me,” I continued, forcing myself not to look at St. Erth as I grabbed the highwayman’s arm desperately. “Bring me back to London and my family will reward you handsomely for protecting me from him.”

“Eh, what?” the leader of the robbers said distractedly, turning in a fury to St. Erth. “Sir, this strongbox is empty!”

But St. Erth wasn’t looking at him. He was looking atme, his blue eyes blazing with fury.

“That was a very stupid thing to do, Viscountess,” he said harshly.

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