“What do you mean coming here? My mother is too ill for visitors! Please leave at once.”
Constance looked appalled by his brusqueness. “Benjamin!” she rasped. “What do you mean…being so rude to our guests?”
When she started hacking again, the boy launched himself toward the bed, insinuating himself between the visitors and his mother. Obviously bent on protecting her, he whirled, his fists clenched defensively. “I won’t let you hurt her!”
Suspecting his belligerence was caused more by fear than anger, Roslyn would have tempered her reply, but Drew’s tone was not so gentle when he responded. “We have no intention of hurting your mother, lad. We are here to discuss your attempted theft of Lady Freemantle’s property.”
The boy ground his teeth. “It is not her property! The brooch belongs to my mother.”
“So you thought you had a right to hold up her ladyship’s coach at gunpoint, and when that failed, you invaded her home?”
Constance gasped. “No, Benjamin…you would never…do something so terrible.”
He turned to gaze down at her. “I’m sorry, Mama. I thought having Papa’s portrait might help you to get better.”
He turned back to face the duke, his gaze defiant. “Lady Freemantle won’t miss one little trinket with all those diamonds and emeralds she has in her jewel case. She is rich as a nabob.” His tone turned bitter with resentment. “It isn’t fair that she should be so wealthy while my mother and sisters starve.”
“Oh, Benjamin…” his mother murmured in dismay. “I taught you better than to covet other people’s possessions.”
His tone softened. “I was not coveting your brooch, Mama. It is rightfully yours, and I was only trying to get it back for you.”
Drew’s gaze remained grim. “You could have injured or killed Lady Freemantle and Miss Loring when you shot at them.”
Constance gave a low moan. “Dear heaven, Ben…how could you?”
The last fire left the boy’s eyes, to be replaced by guilt. “I am truly sorry, Mama. But my pistol discharged by accident. I would never have shot them, your grace. I would never hurt anyone.”
Interrupting the uneasy silence, Roslyn spoke up. “I have always found Lady Freemantle to be quite reasonable, Benjamin. Why didn’t you simply ask her to return the brooch?”
His gaze shifted to her. “I didn’t dare risk it, Miss Loring. Her ladyship didn’t know that her husband had another family-and I couldn’t tell her. In any case, I was sure she would be outraged if I approached her, enough to have me horsewhipped and driven off her estate or worse. Stealing the brooch was the only possible way I could regain possession of it.”
Although his voice remained steady, his chin was trembling, and Roslyn could detect more than a glimmer of remorse in his eyes.
“So you pretended to be a footman and managed to get hired for my sister’s wedding celebrations?” she asked.
“Yes… I mean, it was no pretense. I am in service to Lord Faulkes. But a footman’s livery is a good disguise for a thief. The gentry never look at servants-they’re invisible.”
There was significant truth to his assertion, Roslyn acknowledged as Benjamin turned back to Drew.
This time his voice quivered noticeably when he queried, “D-do you mean to arrest me, your grace?”
Drew’s grave expression never changed. “Given the severity of your mother’s condition, I understand why you wished to champion her. But when you held up her ladyship’s carriage, were you aware that highway robbery is a hanging offense?”
A sob escaped Constance, while Benjamin’s face whitened again. “Y-yes, your grace.”
“Do you believe you should go unpunished for your crimes?” Drew asked.
The boy swallowed hard. “No, your grace.”
“Then what do you think your punishment should be?”
Drew waited, his sharp green gaze steady, while Benjamin remained silent.
Roslyn found herself biting her lip in consternation. The boy didn’t deserve to hang, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him being locked away in prison, especially when he was the sole provider for his mother and young sisters. But that was what would happen if Winifred brought charges of thievery against him. From the look of fear on his face, Benjamin was aware of the consequences, as well.
“I do not know, your grace,” he finally said. “Perhaps I should hang.”
With another anguished sob, Constance held out an imploring hand. “No…please, I beg you, your grace…you cannot hang my son, I beg you…”