Chapter 35
Not far from Felmont’s Folly, a carriage wound its way along a dark road. Mr. Whittaker snoozed and snored his way home, tired from a long day sitting in judgment on his fellow man.
The horses halted, disturbing his sleep.
“What is going on?” he called out. “Why have we stopped?”
The carriage door swung open and a silver pistol snaked inside to poke him sharply on the knee. Moonlight glinted on the weapon while a low voice wheezed, “Who is within?”
“Whittaker. Who the devil are you?” the magistrate called out as he smartly moved to the far side of the seat.
The hooded felon peered inside to reveal a long Felmont nose badly disguised behind a mask. It was impossible to hide the length of it from one who had known the family all his life.
Mr. Whittaker lost all fear of losing his purse or his life. “Stop this nonsense, I say. If you think to lay your crimes at Lord Felmont’s feet, you’ll rue the day you tried. What game is this?”
The highwayman sniffed under the seats, shifting Mr. Whittaker’s feet aside with the pistol.
A muttered sigh spoke of disappointment and loss. The dark figure retreated. The carriage door politely closed.
His driver found his voice, if not his courage. “Do I shoot him, sir?”
“No. Drive on.” Mr. Whittaker did not want to risk his horses being shot by his coachman.
What was going on, had another Felmont lost his mind?”
Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1) Page 56