A Highwayman Came Riding by Joan Smith Page B

Her breathing was normal. She had turned on her side, which might account for the interruption of snoring. Marianne retrieved her note and put it in her pocket. She saw no reason to tell the duchess of her outing.
    “She’s fine,” she said when she rejoined the captain. “It has been an enjoyable evening, Captain.” Wishing to establish something like friendship, she offered him her hand.
    He took it and drew her closer to him. His hands were on her shoulders. She felt she should draw away but was mesmerized by those dark eyes glittering into hers, drawing closer, closer, until they were a shimmering blur, and his lips brushed hers, soft as the flutter of a moth’s wing. They grazed across her cheek to her ear.
    “So sweet,” he murmured, and kissed her ear, while Marianne stood, not breathing, until her lungs felt they would burst.
    She didn’t make a move to stop him or encourage him. It seemed something outside of her control. When she didn’t withdraw, the captain lifted his head and gazed at her a moment with a deep, penetrating look, and she stared back, unblinking, waiting. His arms went around her, his head lowered to hers. And from the next room came an angry shout from the duchess.
    “Well, that is certainly a help,” the captain snorted. Then he laughed. “So much for romance.”
    “I had best see what she wants.”
    “I’ll go with you and speak to her now.”
    “And let her know you were in my room? Wait a moment, then go outside and tap on her door from the hallway.”
    His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re well organized. Have you done this before?”
    Marianne was already on her way to the adjoining door. She just looked her objection to this risqué suggestion over her shoulder. She found the duchess sitting up in bed, yanking at the coverlet and scowling.
    “What kept you? There is someone knocking on my door. See who it is. The knocking woke me up.”
    Marianne hastened to the door, preparing a surprised expression to greet Macheath. A short man with a pale, narrow face and dark, deep-set eyes stepped in. He was wearing a dun-colored redingote that brushed his ankles and carrying a curled beaver.
    “Officer Bruce, of Bow Street, madam,” he said. “I am here on behalf of the Duke of Ancaster. I would like to have a word with Her Grace.”
    Bow Street! Marianne looked around the hall but saw no sign of Macheath.
    “Ancaster?” the duchess called from her bed. “What does he want with me?”
    Officer Bruce strode to her bedside. “We want your assistance, madam. He was robbed not far from here last night by a highwayman. We believe it is the royal scamp known as Captain Jack. My investigations have led me to this inn. I have heard belowstairs that you, too, were robbed. Of a diamond necklace is my information. Am I right or am I right?”
    “Quite right,” she said. “I mentioned it to the gels who helped me when I arrived. I planned to report it to the constable tomorrow. As you can see, the shock has driven me to my bed. What did the scoundrel take from Ancaster?”
    “Three thousand pounds in cash. Rent monies that he was taking to London to pay his bills.”
    “The man is a fool, traveling with such a sum.”
    “That’s as may be, Your Grace. Some would say ‘tis foolish to travel with diamonds. What can you tell me of this Captain Jack?”
    “He robbed me of a diamond necklace worth five thousand pounds.”
    “Can you describe the man?”
    “He wore a mask. He was a big man.”
    Marianne stood with her heart in her mouth. She wished she could indicate to the duchess that Macheath intended to return the diamonds. As this was impossible, she hoped that Macheath was listening at the door and would have the sense to get on Juno and ride as fast and as far as he could.
    As she stood, sweating at every pore, another knock sounded at the door. She went to answer it and saw Macheath standing in the doorway. Officer Bruce saw him, too. She wanted to warn him away, but