Page 4 of The Duke of Cups (The Highwaymen #3)

“They’re fake,” she said, taking one of the rings off.

“Here, see, you can have it, but it isn’t worth anything.

If you’re really highwaymen, perhaps you can tell by looking.

People good with jewels can, or so I hear.

” She was talking too much. It was funny, because she would have thought, if she had been in fear for her life, she would have talked less .

“The dresses,” said Dunrose, plucking the ring from her grasp and surveying it, tilting his head this way and that.

“Well, someone pays for those, someone who’s helping me,” she said.

“Who?”

She bit down hard on her lower lip .

Dunrose gestured with his pistol. “Come now, is this person worth dying for?”

“Seraphine Merteulle,” she breathed, silently begging Seraphine’s forgiveness. She would hopefully not mind too much, since it wasn’t as if the dukes didn’t know about at least some of her schemes. Seraphine had always kept Hyacinth a secret from them, though.

“Really?” Dunrose looked at Rutchester. “Doesn’t sound like her, does it?”

Rutchester shrugged. “The marchioness does this for you out of the goodness of her heart?”

“She was friends with my mother,” said Hyacinth. Her voice lowered. “I’m not English either, you see. I’m French.”

“Oh, this is the part she conceals until last,” laughed Dunrose. He gave her back the ring. “This is a fake, and not a good one, love.” He nodded at her. “Out of the carriage.”

She hesitated only a moment, and then remembered they had guns. She got out. She saw the driver, lying on the ground there. He’d fallen from the top of the carriage and landed on his face, and his head was bent back in an awful way. She let out a little squeal.

“Oh, yes, don’t look,” said Dunrose, putting an arm around her and walking her away from the carriage. “The footman’s back there as well.” His hand drifted lower, to the small of her back.

She shuddered. He was being very free with her, wasn’t he? Well, this was what came of not having a chaperone, wasn’t it? Of course, they’d probably just have shot her chaperone. They were so cavalier about it, too, killing people like it was nothing.

“So, there’s nothing in your carriage of any value, is there?” said Dunrose.

She shook her head.

“Well, you see, we’re in a bit of a worse position now than if we were simply worried about your telling everyone our secret,” said Dunrose. “Now, we’ve destroyed the whole carriage for nothing.”

“It must be worth something,” she said. “The carriage itself. Plus the horses?”

Dunrose thought about it. “Maybe.” His hand migrated around to rest on her hip. “You know the marchioness, and I imagine you’re also close to the comte.”

“Champeraigne, you mean,” she said. “I have met him, yes. He is Seraphine’s lover. She is quite close to him. But he tells her often that she must put aside sentiment and cut me loose, that I am a drain on her resources.”

“But if we needed you to get close to Champeraigne, you could?”

“No,” she said.

“More easily than us,” he said. “You’ll owe us a favor, how’s that, little one? In exchange for your life?”

She scoffed. “You’re horrible.”

He shrugged. “True. You’re rather prettier than I thought you were when I thought you had a lot of money.”

She pulled away. “What does that mean? And why are you finding me pretty at all?”

Rutchester came over. “Why are we wanting her to get close to Champeraigne?”

“No idea, yet,” said Dunrose. “Once Arthford stops spending all his time between his new duchess’s thighs, I suspect he’ll wish to try a new scheme to get us free of him, however.” Dunrose looked her over, eyes widening. “You know, I do wonder about her, Rutchester.”

“What?” said Rutchester. “Are you letting her go or what? We have bodies to bury now, especially if you want to try to sell off the carriage and horses piecemeal.”

“Oh, let’s leave it,” said Dunrose, with a shrug. “We’ll take her to Bess’s, and we can talk. She’s close to the marchioness, and she’s a liar, and she’s French. So, she wouldn’t have any problem administering poison, would she?”

“What?” said Hyacinth.

“Oh,” said Rutchester. “ Her . Against Champeraigne.”

“Yes, he’d never suspect, would he?” said Dunrose.

“No,” she said. “No, I won’t do that. I’m not killing someone, especially not Seraphine’s lover. She would never forgive me.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” said Dunrose. “I know your secret, Miss Thomas. So, unless you want me to ruin you—”

“Yes, well, I know your secret, too,” she said, drawing herself up. “So, unless you want me to ruin you —”

“All right, all right,” said Dunrose. “Let’s negotiate, then.

You can’t drive a carriage yourself, I don’t suppose?

And none of the horses are outfitted with a side saddle, so unless you’re as uncouth as Arthford’s duchess, who rides astride in trousers, then I suppose you’re stranded here. Are you not?”

Her lower lip started to tremble. She pressed her lips together to stop it.

“Come with us,” said Dunrose, putting his hand on the small of her back again.

“Stop touching me,” she said, shivering again as she shook him off.

“Oh, apologies, love,” said Dunrose.

“And stop calling me love,” she said.

“Don’t think I shall stop that,” said Dunrose. “You still haven’t responded to my proposal, anyway. Marry me or die.” He grinned at her.

“I hate you,” she said decisively.

“You wound me,” said Dunrose, but he didn’t sound wounded. He turned to Rutchester. “I don’t think she’s going to marry me, do you?”

Rutchester rolled his eyes. “If we’re going to Bess’s, let’s go.”

“What’s Bess’s?” said Hyacinth.

“It’s a brothel,” said Dunrose, still grinning.

She grimaced. “I think I’m going to faint.”

Dunrose laughed. “Well, do it, and then I’ll just have to carry you. Is that what you’d like?”

“You couldn’t carry me if you wanted to,” she said. “You’re not built for such things. He’d have to do it.” She nodded at Rutchester’s larger frame.

Dunrose raised his eyebrows, his smile widening. “You’re going to regret you said that, madam.” He seized her, pulling her into his arms—one arm under the bend of her knees and one around her back.

She screamed, trying to struggle, but the duke was surprisingly strong and he held her aloft easily.

He laughed, walking off with her in his arms. “Let’s go, Rutchester.”

“Put me down,” she said piteously.

“I likely couldn’t have carried you five or six months ago,” said Dunrose. “The laudanum was eating me up, then. But I’ve regained quite a bit of strength since then. I even eat now. Full meals.”

“Put me down,” she said again, begging with him. “I’ll walk. I can walk.”

“I happen to like you in my arms,” he said. “Keep wiggling like that. You’re giving me an erection.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded horrid.

He thrust his pelvis into her hip. “There? See?”

“I don’t what an erection is ,” she said. “But whatever you’re doing, I know you should stop.”

He set her down, blinking at her. “It’s really no fun if you’re that innocent, I must say.”

Rutchester had gone past them. He turned back to glare at them both. “Are we walking?”

“We’re walking,” said Dunrose. “To be clear, that’s a no on the marriage proposal?”

She shot him a withering look. “Yes. I’d rather die.”