"But why do we have to come out and rob someone tonight?"

Turpin gave Swiftnick a slightly baffled look. It was a lovely, crisp February evening, with a full moon but no threat of frost. Normally Swiftnick would be highly enthusiastic about the prospect of landing a nice, plump pigeon in the shape of a coach taking some giddy damsels to a party. Instead, he was coming as close to whining as Dick had heard in a long time.

"It’s a dry night, Spiker’s caught up with organising the security for that ball of Glutton’s and I’ve heard word of a ripe plum heading along this road that’ll feather our nest for some time to come," he pointed out with considerable satisfaction. "That’s why."

"Can’t we rob someone tomorrow night?" Swiftnick growled.

Turpin blinked. "Well, I could always send to Lady Horrington and ask her to delay her ball until tomorrow, because you don’t find it convenient to rob some of her guests blind tonight, but somehow I can’t see her going along with that," Turpin said in growing exasperation. "What’s got into you, boy?"

"It’s Valentine’s Day!" Swiftnick wailed.

"Aye, of course it is. That’s why Lady Horrington is throwing this ball of hers," Dick agreed. Then the light dawned and he bent a gimlet eye in his young apprentice’s direction. "And what did you have planned for this evening, hmm?"

"Nothing!" Swiftnick said, a shade too heartily and quickly for it to be the truth. "I was just thinking it was mean that we were going to rob someone on a day when people are supposed to be loving. It will probably bring a curse down on us," he announced darkly.

Dick felt his lips twitch and was thankful that the night was dark enough that Swiftnick wouldn’t catch the grin that threatened. "A curse, eh? That would be a terrible thing."

"Yes, it would," Swiftnick agreed fervently. "It would be much safer for us to come out tomorrow."

"When Spiker will be back on his rounds and all the rich people are safely back in their houses and not stirring because they have hangovers? Yes, that would be sensible, wouldn’t it? Don’t you dare nod, Swiftnick!"

Caught in the act of doing just that, Swiftnick hastily tried to turn his nod into a shake of his head and wound up looking like said head was about to come unscrewed. Which just about sums the young scamp up, at times! Turpin thought wrathfully. He had little doubt that if they had stayed at the hideout, Swiftnick would have made the startling discovery that they had run out of something and would have selflessly volunteered to go and get it, promptly making a beeline for the latest serving girl or farmer’s daughter who had caught his fancy.

Not while he’s my apprentice, he won’t! Turpin snorted to himself. It’d be just like him to throw common sense to the winds and take up with some self-serving floozy who’d sell him to the first thieftaker who came along. And if she didn’t, then Mary’d have my hide for allowing her precious lamb to get himself debauched. "Can’t win, no matter which way I jump," he growled under his breath.

"What was that, Dick?" Swiftnick demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," Turpin sighed. "Look, we'll make a good haul tonight and you can always see about buying some small gift for the girl you have your eye on and giving it to her later."

"That's if some other bloke hasn't got to her, first," Swiftnick grumped.

Turpin shrugged. "If she's that fickle, you're better off without her," he said firmly. He lifted his head as he heard the distant sound of hooves and wheels against the road. "Right, enough moaning; we've a fat pigeon coming our way now."

Called to attention, Swiftnick quickly snapped back into professional mode and the coach that lumbered around the corner of the road was easy prey. To Turpin's delight, it was as rich a haul as he had hoped for, and the occupants were soon the poorer for their finery. Such success put him in such a good mood that he allowed his victims to keep their fine clothes, only filching a beautiful shawl from the younger of the outraged women inside.

"Not bad," he said with considerable satisfaction as they cantered off down the road, the well-bred oaths of their victims fading into the dusk air. "We might try one more coach and then call it a night."

"I thought you said there would be lots of coaches going to the party," Swiftnick objected, his previous discontent washed away by the generous haul they had just got.

"That there will be, but there's a point where opportunity becomes carelessness, remember?" Turpin reminded him. "Those people we just robbed will eventually get to the ball and tell everyone they were robbed. It won't take long for the news to spread and some enterprising person to get a band of people together to do some amateur thieftaking. Many a highwayman's been caught because he forgot that lesson."

"Yes, Dick," Swiftnick sighed. He knew Turpin was right, but the temptation was very great. That was probably what happened to those other highwaymen. They had listened to their greed, rather than their common sense.

Turpin kept going until he was a fair distance away, then he started looking for another ambush point. He eventually found one that satisfied them and they settled down to wait again. Two more coaches passed, which Turpin allowed to go unscathed. When Swiftnick wanted to know why, Turpin grinned lazily.

"Because those same people we robbed will have got to Lady Horrington's and told their tale of being robbed, then the next two coaches will arrive without having seen a sign of any highwayman. They'll think we were satisfied with just one score and delay sending out a hunting party until the next victims arrive. But we'll be long gone by then, hopefully the richer for a good night's haul. And unless I'm very much mistaken," he concluded as he heard a coach approaching, "this might be our next victim."

Swiftnick perked up and waited to see what Dick would decide. He had been fascinated to learn how Turpin chose his victims even before he had seen them. Details such as the quality of the horses, the state of the harness and the general neatness of the equipage told him if the person was worth robbing, while the alertness and armament of the driver or postillions indicated how dangerous a potential hold-up would be. The tiniest of details could be enough to sway Turpin's decision. When he saw Dick draw his pistol and pull up his kerchief, Swiftnick knew this was to be their second target.

"Stand and deliver!"

The dreaded shout was backed up by the clear sight of a pistol aimed at the driver and he hastily pulled the horses to a halt, staring in terrified horror as the black-cloaked devil seemed to materialise out of the shadows and come towards him. The sight of another rider following and then swinging out to come at him from the other direction put paid to any ideas of making a grab for the blunderbuss at his feet. He sat in silent obedience as Turpin motioned at him to tie up the reins and raise his hands.

"Much appreciated," Turpin said cheerfully. "Now, you stay nice and quiet like that while I have a little chat with your passengers. Swiftnick, make sure he remembers his orders."

"No problem, Mr Turpin," Swiftnick responded cheerfully.

"D-dick Turpin?" the driver croaked before rolling his eyes to the heaven. "Oh, lawks!"

With an appreciative grin, Dick left the man to Swiftnick's tender mercies before dismounting from Black Bess and making for the coach. He was far too cautious to just walk up to the door and present a perfect target for someone inside who happened to have a pistol of their own. Before he could take up his usual position to one side, however, the door was flung open and a vision in cream and primrose satin came bursting out. Fortunately for her, Dick was able to stifle the reflex to shoot first and ask questions later, but he was thrown even further off balance when she turned and saw him, clasped her hands together and gave what could only be described as a squeak of joy.

"You've come! How wonderful!"

"Eh?" Turpin said in utter confusion.

"Emily, come back in here, immediately!" came an indignant female voice from inside the coach.

The young girl - whom Dick assumed had to be Emily - darted forwards and landed a swift peck on his kerchief-covered cheek. "Aunt Octavia!" she hissed. "We must be careful."

"Eh?" Dick repeated.

Before he could recover, an older woman had hoisted herself out of the carriage and was eyeing Turpin with a mixture of alarm and disfavour. As her gaze passed up and down his length, Dick was aware of an acute urge to shuffle his feet and adjust his cravat. He had an aunt who had the same capacity to reduce him to uncertainty with a single, scathing look, so he managed to suppress the urge to back up.

"And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with my niece and myself?" Octavia inquired in a frostily haughty voice.

Turpin grinned, always loving that inane question. He opened his mouth to come back with a snappy answer, but was beaten to the punch by Emily.

"He says he has come to kidnap me, Aunt Octavia," she said breathlessly.

"Eh?"

"Oh, he does, does he?" Octavia said grimly, after a moment of shock. "You blackguard!" she snapped. "Is there no level so low you curs won't stoop to!"

"But-" Turpin tried.

"He probably knows that I am heiress to a considerable fortune," Emily asserted.

"I've no doubt that the cur has his informants. His kind always do," Octavia sniffed.

"Now, hang on a moment-" Turpin said indignantly.

"Oh, please do not harm my aunt, sir," Emily said quickly. "I will come with you willingly, if you but spare her."

"Look-"

"You will do no such thing, young lady," Octavia snapped, reaching out to seize Emily's arm as she started forward. "I would be failing in my duty if I allowed you to be wrested from my side. The cur will have to go through me to reach you!"

'Wrest you from my side'? Turpin almost laughed at such a theatrical phrase. He was also amused at the flash of anger that had crossed Emily's face when she had been grabbed. It looked like he and Swiftnick had had the misfortune of stopping someone who had been expecting someone else. Given the date, he had no doubt that the plans had been of a romantic nature.

"Dick, are you all right?"

Swiftnick had finally allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and had brought Toby around to see what was happening. Dick was pleased to see that his young apprentice still kept one eye on the driver, just in case he got any funny ideas.

"Another one!" Octavia said in scandalised tones. "Are you such a coward, sir, that you need another to handle two helpless women?"

"Yes," Turpin said shortly, thereby effectively robbing Octavia of speech for the moment.

"Here, who are you calling a coward?" Swiftnick said indignantly.

"My lady, don't antagonise him," the driver said in agitation. "That's Dick Turpin and his partner, Swiftnick, that is."

Swiftnick shot Turpin a triumphant look, always pleased when people identified him as Dick's partner, rather than his apprentice.

"Don't talk poppycock, man," Octavia snorted. "Lady Rotherham was held by Dick Turpin and she said that he was a perfect gentleman. Hardly someone who would kidnap a well-bred young lady and hold her to ransom."

"Well, I can't say that I recall robbing a Lady Rotherham," Dick said affably, "but once you've seen one overpainted old hag, you've seen them all. And I don't generally bother to kidnap anyone as they generally turn out to be more trouble than they're worth. Mind you, I might be tempted to change my mind in this particular instance."

There was an element of black humour in seeing Emily's face change as she listened to his voice and realised that he wasn't the man she had been expecting. He let her feel that prickle of fear for a long moment, to teach her lesson for the future. A less scrupulous man might have taken ruthless advantage of her naivete.

Lucky for her I'm soft in the head, he thought with an inward laugh.

"He is so Dick Turpin!" Swiftnick averred stoutly.

Dick was about to bring the entire charade to a halt by telling Lady Octavia that he had no intention of kidnapping anybody but he would be wanting their jewels before he allowed them to move on. At that moment, however, there was the sound of horses' hooves approaching rapidly. Emily glanced over her shoulder, then whirled around and ran down the road away from the carriage.

"Richard! Richard, save me!"

"Eh?" Turpin floundered again as he watched the lead rider, a slender, dark-haired young man dressed in dark clothes and sporting a black cloak flung himself off the black horse he was riding and rushed to take her in his arms.

"What is it, Emily? My god, you're shaking, my love!" he exclaimed.

Oh-oh, Turpin thought, taking in the sight before him and putting two and two together. The second rider was leading a pretty mare with a side-saddle on and was watching the passionate embrace in front of him with a lamentable lack of surprise. Turpin had the nasty feeling that he had stumbled onto a carefully planned elopement.

"Thank God, it's Lord Oldfield!" Lady Octavia said in relieved accents.

"Sir, Miss Tresham has just told me that you intended to molest her," Oldfield said hotly as he gently put Emily to one side and strode towards Turpin, his eyes flashing belligerently. "I demand satisfaction, sir!"

"Oh, lor, another one!" Swiftnick said in disgust.

"I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, boy," Oldfield said with a snap.

"Boy?" Swiftnick yelped in fury.

"Uh, Dickie. Think I should point out that the lad has a pistol," said the second rider with a deprecating cough. "So has the other one, I'm afraid."

"I suppose I couldn't expect some dog from the road to hold to any code of honour," Oldfield sniffed.

"Very wise," Turpin said dryly.

"You're too much of a coward to meet a man in honest combat with true steel, are you?"

"No, I'm too much the practical man," Dick retorted. "I have a pistol, you don't. That gives me a tactical advantage."

"You're not going to let him call you a coward, are you, Dick?" Swiftnick demanded.

This is my punishment for becoming a highwayman, Turpin decided with an inner whimper. "Quiet, Swiftnick!" he barked.

"Well, it doesn't seem right," his supposed apprentice muttered mutinously.

"And pretending to be Dick Turpin is even more reprehensible," Oldfield continued. "The man might be a highwayman, but at least he has a reputation for honour."

"He has a reputation for needing to have his head examined, as well," Turpin muttered, shedding his cloak with a practised flick. "Swiftnick, keep an eye on them to make sure no-one gets any stupid ideas." Or any ideas even more stupid than this one, he added to himself. "Come on, then, man," he invited as he drew his sword. "Let's test your mettle, shall we? Winner take all."

Ardent lover, Lord Oldfield might be, but it was obvious from the way his eyes lit up and he shed his own cloak quickly that he was an equally ardent swordsman. He got a little tangled up with an Emily who immediately took strong issue with the idea of her beloved fighting a desperate duel with a genuine highwayman, but she was soon persuaded - if doubtfully - that there was no possible danger as her Richard would easily defeat this dastardly highwayman.

"We'll see about that," Turpin snorted.

The initial skirmish told Dick that he wasn't dealing with an amateur, although he was fairly sure that he was the superior swordsman. He certainly had more experience in fighting for real. Once he was certain that Oldfield was unlikely to spring any nasty surprises on him, Turpin settled back to enjoy a decent bit of swordplay without having to watch his back. He trusted Swiftnick to keep an eye on the driver and the other young buck was unlikely to interfere in what he saw as a fair fight.

He never had any doubt as to the end, and when he sensed that Lord Oldfield was tiring, he engineered an opportunity and disarmed the young man quickly with an expert flick of the wrist. Oldfield stared at him, stunned, then cast a somewhat fulminating look over his shoulder as his friend started to applaud enthusiastically.

"Oh, I say, very well done, sir! A marvellous move!" He suddenly realised that he was being glared at by Oldfield and Emily. "Well, it was," he said plaintively, hunching down in his saddle. "Damn fine bit of swordplay."

Turpin laughed. "I thank you, sir." He gave a small bow and then sheathed his sword and brought his pistol into play. "And now, I must ask you all to hand over your valuables. Unlike the gentry, I have to work for my living."

He ignored the splutterings he got from everyone as he worked his way around his victims. From Lady Octavia he obtained one of the most ornate - and ugly - diamond sets he had seen for a long time. He knew of a jeweller who would weep tears of joy over being able to re-set such fine stones into a setting better calculated to show off their beauty.

Oldfield handed over a large purse of heavy coin with gritted teeth. Turpin gave him a smile that would be hidden by his mask and touched his hat in mock humility, chuckling at the strangled curse that earned him. He was willing to wager that Oldfield had plenty more where that came from and it was only the indignity of being robbed that was sticking in his craw. The cursing became a little more vehement when Turpin insisted on claiming the diamond stick pin in the man's cravat, as well as the fine snuff box which he discovered in one of the deep pockets. Feeling a folded sheaf of paper under his questing fingers, Turpin withdrew what he immediately saw to be a special licence. He met Oldfield's suddenly anxious gaze and quietly put it back.

"Don't see how I would have any need for that," he said softly, turning a blind eye to the expression of relief which briefly crossed the young lord's face.

His friend tossed down another purse and another snuff box, with such an expression of resignation on his face that Dick couldn't hold down a sympathetic laugh. "Let me guess; you've met one of my profession before?" he asked.

"More than once," the other youngster sighed. "I seem to attract them." He blinked in surprise when Dick tossed his snuff box back up at him.

"Here, keep it. The money I need, but it doesn't seem right to take the snuff box of a man who's applauded my swordmanship."

He turned towards Emily, who was torn between trying to be brave and wanting to burst into tears. Feeling a little sorry for her, Dick pulled down his mask and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm a businessman, my lady. There's no profit in scaring pretty young things on the road. All I want is a little souvenir of our time together, and then you can be on your way."

She clutched her reticule to her in a manner which immediately told Dick that that was a good place to look first. His eyebrows rose when he managed to wrestle it out of her hands and he felt how heavy it was. One look inside solved the mystery and his lips twitched. It would seem that Miss Emily Tresham came from the same school as his apprentice. Stuffed inside her reticule was what seemed like the contents of several jewellery boxes. Obviously Emily had considered the possibility that her elopement might lead to an estrangement from her family, in which case she wanted to have some resources of her own in case things went wrong. He had to admire such foresight and closed the reticule again.

"Can't say as I have any use for women's things," he said, giving her a broad wink as he handed her back the reticule. "Just hand me those pretty earrings and the necklace and we're done."

She blinked, then gave him a radiant smile before hastening to obey him. Happy with what looked like some good quality pearls, Turpin made his way back to where Black Bess was standing patiently and quickly loaded the loot into one of his saddlebags. Once he had finished, he went back to stand in front of them. He was going to enjoy this.

"Now, I've been thinking…." He began.

"I doubt that," Lady Octavia sniffed.

Oh, yes, I am definitely going to enjoy this! Dick snorted to himself. "That idea about ransom sounds like it might be a good one."

"I knew it!" Octavia said in throbbing tones.

"It does?" Swiftnick said in shocked tones. He peered suspiciously at Dick for a moment, then his expression changed and he nodded sagely. "Aye, I reckon it does," he said thoughtfully.

Bless you, lad, Turpin thought affectionately. "Yes, but I can't see anyone bothering to pay a ransom for a young thing like Miss Tresham, here," he continued. "I mean, all she had on her was a simple set of pearl jewellery. Now Lady Octavia," he said, with a faintly malicious smile in that lady's direction, "had an impressive set of diamonds, and I'm sure there are more where that came from."

Octavia was torn between gratification and outrage. Gratification won and she couldn't hold down a quick look of triumph in her niece's direction. Savour the moment, you old harridan, Turpin told her silently. It's not going to last for long.

"The trouble is, I don't want to saddle myself with a parcel of people who'd only slow me down," he mused aloud, "so what to do?"

One thing you had to say about Lord Oldfield; he wasn't exactly slow-witted. He stared at Turpin for a moment before his eyes gleamed. "I would be willing to be the bearer of your demands, sir, if you would allow me to escort Emily… er, Miss Tresham to safety."

"I don't know," Turpin said slowly, making a show of hesitating.

"Don't see's how it would do any harm," Swiftnick put in. "We'd need to send a message somehow, and this is as good a one as any."

"You have a point," Dick said eventually. "All right, off you go and deliver my demands to Lady Octavia's people."

He made a shooing motion and Lord Oldfield leapt into action, quickly shepherding a slightly bewildered Emily to the waiting mare. Turpin helpfully held the mare's head while Emily was helped into the saddle, then was distracted as Oldfield's friend brought his horse up next to him.

"Um, what exactly should I say to Lady Octavia's husband, sir?" he asked nervously.

"Nothing," Turpin said quietly. "There won't be any need."

An expression of profound alarm crossed the young man's face. "I say, you aren't planning to do the old battleaxe in, are you? Only I think that might cause something of a furore, you know."

"Would anyone miss her?" Dick asked curiously.

"Well, it depends on what you mean by the word 'miss'," the other said thoughtfully. "I mean, you'd miss the bull that always tried to gore you when you crossed his field, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose I would," Turpin agreed gravely. "But don't worry; I only mean to hold on to the dear lady until you and the others are safely beyond reach of pursuit."

"Eh?" Light dawned. "You don't say. So you're one of them, as well."

"One of what?" Dick asked in confusion.

"Agents of Cupid. Ricky says I'm one," he admitted gloomily.

"Never mind, I'm sure you'll survive the experience," Turpin assured him. Seeing that Emily was safely in the saddle, he let go of the mare's head and came to stand beside her. "God's speed, my lady," he said, taking her hand and kissing the tips of her fingers.

She smiled down on him. "I can see that some of the stories I've heard about you are totally untrue, sir," she said.

He flashed her a grin. "Some of them?" he quizzed.

She dimpled down at him. "And the ones that say you're a gentleman are perfectly true."

He laughed and shook his head as he stepped away. If she had crossed his path maybe a couple of years ago, he might not have been so kind. Time, and a certain blond idiot, had had a mellowing effect on him. "On your way with you, and don't throw yourself into the arms of any more strange men," he said severely.

She managed to hold down her radiant smile. "After tonight, I won't have to," she said outrageously.

Turpin shook his head as he walked back to Black Bess and got into the saddle. He waited until the other three had disappeared around the bend in the road before he ordered Octavia back into the coach and for the driver to retrace their original path. If the man thought that returning to where they had come from was a little strange, he kept his opinions to himself and started off obediently. It didn't take long for Swiftnick to come up alongside him.

"We're not really kidnapping her, are we?" he demanded anxiously.

"No, we're just buying time for the others to get away," Turpin assured him.

"I knew it!" Swiftnick crowed softly. "They're eloping, aren't they?"

"Well, two of them, are," Turpin agreed wryly.

"And you laugh at me when I come up with ideas like that. You know what you are, don't you?"

"Apart from an idiot to be putting up with you?" Turpin asked with a long-suffering sigh. "Hang on, this spot will do," he said when he saw that the road forked in two. "Driver!"

"Yes, Mr Turpin?" the man asked anxiously.

"Take her ladyship back to her home, with the compliments of Dick Turpin, and his apprentice Swiftnick!"

He turned Black Bess down the other road and urged her into an easy canter which soon left the spluttering driver and the outraged Octavia far behind. He didn't think the fast pace would distract Swiftnick, so he wasn't surprised to see the same smirk on the younger man's face when he eventually slackened their pace back to an easy walk.

"All right, out with it," he said in resignation.

"You, Mr Turpin, are a romantic," Swiftnick gurgled.

"I am not!"

"Are too."

"That's not an argument," Dick complained.

"No, it's a fact."

"It's a wild fabrication," Turpin said firmly.

Arguing amiably, the two of them made for their current hideout. Turpin had already decided that he would let Swiftnick take a couple of the smaller coins tomorrow and go off and treat the latest girl he was sweet on to a treat of some kind. After all, he didn't have to worry about the lad taking it into his head to elope with her, which was one headache Turpin was quite happy to go without!

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