Page 3 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“Really, only twenty? You must be losing your touch, Duke.”
“I don’t know how you can stand it, Matteo. Ladies of different ages and forms fawning after you. We all know what they are really after.”
“Oh, Peter, Peter… the day we find no ladies fawning after us will be a sad day indeed, my friend. Why, you must be thankful that you are still considered a catch despite your cold and detached mien.”
“Speak for yourself,Duke.”
Matteo chuckled. He motioned with his gloved hand.
“Let us go. The club?—”
But Matteo never finished his sentence as at that very moment a sudden commotion erupted down the street.
A strangled shout filled the air. At the sound of a body being slammed against a wall, both men whirled to see a disreputable-looking man accost an elderly shopkeeper who had been in the midst of closing his shop. The shopkeeper’s assistant, a girl who looked no more than fifteen, screamed. The shopkeeper, having the wind knocked out of him, slumped on the ground. At the jangle of coins, the thug found what he sought and scurried down the street.
“Thief!” cried the girl. “Help! Someone help!”
Peter and Matteo looked at each other wordlessly. They mounted their horses and chased after the thug who had quickly turned down a narrow street.
“Can you see him?” Matteo asked Peter as they slowed down to navigate the narrower street.
“Blast these lamp posts; why have they not been lighted?”
“No doubt the reason our thief took this route.”
“There!” Peter pointed as a shadow stole away from the dark and headed another direction.
They gave chase and were getting near the thug when they saw him launch himself onto a waiting carriage.
“Get off, you blasted—!” the coachman shouted.
“Give em ’ere!” The thug pulled at the reins then threw a punch which the coachman was unable to evade.
With a shout, he fell over the side of the seat and landed with a thud. As the carriage abruptly pulled forward, a woman’s scream echoed in the night.
“Benson!”
“A woman!” Matteo shouted. “There is someone in the carriage!”
Further alarmed at the turn of events, Peter leaned forward, urging his horse faster. Guilt slammed against him. In pursuing the thug, he had unintentionally placed another in danger—a woman no less!
The coachman tried to stand up. Obviously in pain, he shouted, “M’Lady! Help! M’Lady is in the carriage!”
Peter and Matteo sped past him. They caught each other’s eyes, both nodding curtly at the gravity of the situation. Ahead of them, they saw as the carriage increased in speed.
“Watch out!” a man shouted as the carriage careened haphazardly down the street. A man and woman ran in alarm to avoid being run down.
“Good God, he cannot control the horses!” Peter exclaimed.
“That carriage will overturn!” Matteo shouted back.
Just as the words left him, the carriage nearly toppled sideways, stopped only by the lamppost it grazed. Peter reined his horse sharply to flank the carriage on one side.
“Matteo, take the left! I’ll take the right.”
His friend nodded. Galloping away from each other, they quickly surrounded the hurtling carriage.
Peter’s focus intensified. Behind them, he vaguely heard the clatter of other hooves on the cobblestones—others had joined in the chase—but the sound was drowned out by the lady in the carriage calling for help.
