And he was dangerously lethal.

“Ma’am,” Grace said, giving the dowager a nudge. “I think we should do as he says.”

“I do love a sensible woman,” he said, and smiled again. Just a quirk this time-one devastating little lift at the corner of his mouth. But his gun remained high, and his charm did little to assuage Grace’s fear.

And then he extended his other arm. He extended his arm. As if they were embarking at a house party. As if he were a country gentleman, about to inquire about the weather.

“May I be of assistance?” he murmured.

Grace shook her head frantically. She could not touch him. She did not know why, precisely, but she knew in her bones that it would be utter disaster to put her hand in his.

“Very well,” he said with a small sigh. “Ladies today are so very capable. It breaks my heart, really.” He leaned in, almost as if sharing a secret. “No one likes to feel superfluous.”

Grace just stared at him.

“Rendered mute by my grace and charm,” he said, stepping back to allow them to exit. “It happens all the time. Really, I shouldn’t be allowed near the ladies. I have such a vexing effect on you.”

He was mad. That was the only explanation. Grace didn’t care how pretty his manners were, he had to be mad. And he had a gun.

“Although,” he mused, his weapon rock steady even as his words seemed to meander through the air, “some would surely say that a mute woman is the least vexing of all.”

Thomas would, Grace thought. The Duke of Wyndham-who had years ago insisted that she use his given name at Belgrave after a farcical chorus of your grace, Miss Grace, your grace-had no patience for chitchat of any sort.

“Ma’am,” she whispered urgently, tugging on the dowager’s arm.

The dowager did not say a word, nor did she nod, but she took Grace’s hand and allowed herself to be helped down from the carriage.

“Ah, now that is much better,” the highwayman said, grinning widely now. “What good fortune is mine to have stumbled upon two ladies so divine. Here I thought I’d be greeted by a crusty old gentleman.”