Page 28 of Dallying with the Diamond

“We must stop,” Honoria announced loudly. The woman continued to snore. Honoria kicked her in the shin hard. “I said we must stop.”

The woman started, sat up and looked around. “Why?”

“I have to use the chamber pot.” Honoria used her most aristocratic tone and turned up her nose for good measure. “I refuse to do so in a moving coach. It might spill.”

The woman cackled, shook the Gaelic bear of a man awake and said something to him to which they both laughed.

“I am to marry your master, am I not? What will he say when I tell him you would not allow me to stop to use the chamber pot.”

“He won’t care,” the woman said. “He pisses out the window of this coach every time he travels to London.”

Now that is a lovely image.

Suddenly Honoria felt the need to move away from the windows. She shifted into the middle of the seat. That had not worked out quite as she’d planned.

“We’ll stop to change the horses in a bit. You can piss then.” Lovely. The two of them settled back to sleep. Honoria smiled. She had a chance. Which was all the woman who loved Leonidas Atherton needed.

An hour later the coach slowed and pulled into a crowded innyard. Several grooms rushed out from the stables and worked to unhitch one team of horses and hitch up another. The carriage door opened and her female bodyguard clutched Honoria’s arm and dragged her out of the coach and around the inn to the shambles of a privy. With a derisive sniff, Honoria opened the door and stepped inside. Just as she thought, her bodyguard stood outside and complained about how long she was taking.

Honoria checked the boards that held the privy upright. Several at the back had loosened with age, if they’d ever been tightened at all. She made quick work of pushing several to one side. She soon had an opening big enough to crawl through. Her kerseymere dress and her heavy cloak gave her some trouble, but she managed to wriggle free. She stood up and assessed the buildings and activity behind the inn. The stables looked quite busy, but they were too close to the inn. There appeared to be a small dairy some distance behind the stables. Honoria headed for that building at a run. She was nearly there when something heavy that smelled of ale and onions crashed into her.

She kicked and scratched and even snapped like a dog in the hope of biting the hands that snatched her up and carried her like a sack of potatoes back to the coach. A stream of Gaelic accompanied her being tossed into the coach. The woman climbed in and slapped Honoria in the face. Honoria slapped her back. The burly Scot laughed at that and hauled himself back into the coach. He shouted something out the window and the coach was set in motion once more.

“You try that again, you English whore, and I’ll have Bran here tie you up and toss you in the boot.” The woman poked her finger at Honoria’s face. Honoria grabbed that finger and twisted it back towards her captor.

She half stood and leaned over the older woman. “You slap me again and I’ll show you how an English whore deals with a servant who doesn’t know her place.” She sat back down and folded her arms across her chest. Honoria had never spoken to a servant in such a way. Then again, she’d never been sold to a duke and kidnapped by a couple of foul smelling Scots.

With her eyes closed, she pretended to sleep. She imagined herself in Leo’s arms and then strolling the Royal Academy with him. Her eyes burned and she swallowed hard. No. She would not cry and she would not give up. She fully intended to be enjoying Leo’s talented cock into her eighties. Her mind turned to planning her next escape.

The coach lurched and slid. The sudden motion startled Honoria awake. How long had she slept? Her guards looked concerned. The man pushed aside the curtain to reveal a darkening sky and the approach of a storm. That wasn’t the cause of their concern. The coach had stopped. Men were shouting outside. The hateful woman pulled a pistol from her reticule. The man pulled a box from beneath the seat and retrieved a brace of pistols.

What the devil?

The door slammed open. The woman discharged her pistol. Honoria smelled smoke. She pulled off her bonnet to find a hole through the brim. She opened her mouth to complain when hands reached in and dragged her from the coach. Her two guards, disarmed now, soon followed. Several men on horseback surrounded them. A short wiry man gripped Honoria’s hands together and dragged her to one of the horses. The rider grabbed her hands and dragged her across his lap.

“What are you doing?” she cried. “I demand you put me down at once.” An inane thing to say as these men, whoever they were, obviously had no intention of doing anything she said. They tied up her guards and the coachman and shoved them into the ditch at the side of the road. One of the riders climbed onto the coach and started it down the road. The riders fell in behind the coach. Honoria had never been so uncomfortable in life. The rider who had her across his lap had bony legs and knobby knees. Not to mention his horse clopped along like a Herefordshire sheep.

Highwaymen.

She’d ask what next, but she was afraid of the answer. At least these were English highwaymen. They discussed her fate as if she were not there at all.

“The coachman said she’s some border lord duke’s bride. We’ll ransom her and sell the coach and horses,” Knobby Knees said. He smacked Honoria’s bottom. “Which duke do you belong to, lady?”

She elbowed him in the stomach. “I don’t know. My father didn’t tell me. I supposed you could go from castle to castle and ask.”

“You’re a mouthy wench.” He grabbed her breast and squeezed. The other men laughed when she yelped indignantly. She twisted her arm back and grabbed the falls of his breeches. When she found what she sought she squeezed his bollocks as hard as she could. He screamed like a woman and dumped her on the ground. When she got up to run, one of the riders stopped in front of her and pointed his pistol at her head.

“Try that again and we’ll shoot you where you stand.” He whistled and the coach stopped. “Walk.” He waved the pistol towards the carriage. “Get in and don’t even think about trying to escape. You won’t be the first woman I’ve shot. Won’t be the last either.”

Honoria trudged to the coach, As she passed Knobby Knees she bobbed a curtsy. She didn’t quite hear what he said to her as she climbed into the coach. To be certain he was not complimenting her attire. At least slamming the coach door gave her some satisfaction until the coach jerked into motion and she landed on the floor on herarse.

She stayed down. Was some evil deity trying to tell her something? The coach began to pick up speed. The roads were not the best and eventually Honoria had to fight her way onto the uncomfortable forward-facing seat. She’d kept from weeping by telling herself Leo would come for her. Now she realized, why would he? She’d not told him she loved him. He certainly hadn’t said he loved her. How would he find her now? Even if the duke’s servants were discovered, everyone would simply assume she’d been killed. Unless these imbecilic highwaymen managed to find the right duke to ransom her. If the man would actually pay for her twice.

She’d been brave. She’d admitted her flaws. She’d admitted she loved Leo and wanted to spend the rest of her life writing a whole new journal of erotic adventures with him. Dammit. A hiccup of a sob escaped her. She deserved a good cry before she made her next escape attempt. She sniffed, but her nose still burned. A tear trickled down her face. She searched her cloak pockets. Apparently, the highwaymen had taken her reticule.

“Is it too much to ask for a bloody handkerchief?” she railed as she glanced at the coach ceiling. The lining was tattered and about to come down. She tugged at a piece of the material which came away in her hand. She blotted her cheeks and blew her nose.

“Leo,” she whispered. “Where are you?”