“Yes,” Reynard replied politely although with an impish grin beneath the mask. How foolish they always looked whenever they were stopped, how at a loss for wit! At best they would quaver or bluster, while at worst they would become creative in their panic. Thankfully, the genteel woman before him seemed the former; Reynard would have hated to have to shoot her. Some unkind portion of his mind, however, had to wonder if doing so might not be a great boon unto her spouse. The woman’s voice was shrill on his ears. “You are quite correct, dear lady. I have no wish to cause any more harm than required for my efforts, and I deeply regret the shooting of the other serving man. Be that as it may, that shall not stay my hand should you refuse me my simple request.”

Belatedly, he realized he had never cocked the second pistol. He hid his own rueful forgetfulness with theatrics, cocking the hammer now with a decisive click as he took aim at her down the gun’s length. It made for a punctuation to complete his demand.

“Let us not banter and bargain here, dear woman.” Easily, Reynard grabbed the luggage rail once more and gracefully swung himself down to land easily before the pair. “You may keep your carriage, your luggage, your life, and your honor.” Saying the last part was a trial, for the highwayman could not imagine anyone trying to take the woman’s virtue without a full array of siege engines. “To go through all of that would take far, far too much time. So to be of an expedient nature, your monies and jewels will do me well enough. In a pile there, by the step of your coach, if you please. Not you, sir,” he held up his free hand in forbearance as the driver reached for his own purse. “I would not take from yeomanry, honest or otherwise. The lady’s wealth is my only quarry here. So set it down and step away towards the ditch. In it actually.”

As trained, his horse began to walk towards him as the driver automatically backstopped towards and then down into the drainage ditch that lined the road, his hands carefully remaining in sight. Reynard grinned again. The woman was wearing a fortune in jewels, and no doubt that purse of hers was fatter than a Christmas goose.

“Please, do not make a scene, dear woman,” he urged kindly, “for when you regale the magistrates with this tale, it should be with an honest tongue that you recount both your own bravery. Not to mention prudence and common sense. Should it temper your wrath, know that my deeds are not done solely for my own benefit.”

Reynard was more pleased with himself than he could imagine, for with his horse close at hand and his prize soon to be claimed, he would be away into the forest to count his blessings and his coins.

***

Robert sat in the parlour, his pipe lit and a snifter of brandy close at hand. His usual comforts did little to ease his nerves. True, the arrival of his wife’s closest confidant and companion would certainly lift her spirits and make him all the more free to pursue his desired solitude. Once Fanny arrived, he could easily take his leave for a time without notice. He imagined himself visiting the tavern once more, and moreover trying to gain the attention and affections of the lively innkeeper’s daughter! Even were she not willing, it was the chase that livened the Captain. The thought of her quickened his blood, sharpened his eye, and though he might never lay with her save in day-dreams, the sight of her lush body and the sound of her quick laughter made him[i]young[/i] again! How gladly he would slip away to look upon the fiery lass once more!

If only that wretched woman would arrive!

Once more, Robert glanced at the mantle clock in disgust. What comfort his wife found in Fanny’s presence was beyond any comprehension of his own. Perhaps it was simply some quirk of the female persuasion? At least the cavalry officers who would attend them for tomorrow night’s dinner had something in common with him, tales of war and trials of command, all of that! Fanny grated upon his nerves. Worse, there was little doubt in Robert’s mind that she would be sharing no end of ill advice with his wife. She couldn’t damn well leave well enough alone, that was her problem in his eyes. There was something about her that drew such words as ‘machinations’, ‘plots’, ‘scheme’, and (worse of all) ‘good intentions.’ Heavens knew what foolishness she would inspire Diana to sample!

Diana… His wife had been more accommodating the past week. Since their late night conversation, she seemed far more subdued and, while not allowing him to stray too far from the house, Diana had been more willing to allow him his moods. The thought of his own wife did sooth his anxious nerves somewhat. He would have been far calmer if it had not been his wife’s friend that they were waiting upon. Calmer still if she wasn’t expected at all!

That imagined scenario led to a shudder of distaste. Fanny… arriving unannounced and uninvited… Now [i]there[/i] was a mental image of the foulest hell!