Hero, Come Back (Cynster 9.50)

as grimaced, too. “And that’s what’s been causing the delay. Hugh, naturally enough, wanted to know if I knew anything to explain this boy’s existence before he girded his loins and broke the news to the pater.”

Thomas looked at Anne. “It’s really not that easy to find the words in which to put it to one’s father that he did not do the right thing.”

“He may not have known about the boy,” Reggie put in.

Thomas looked at him, rather bleakly. “He would never accept such an excuse from either Hugh or me; I rather doubt he’ll expect us to accept it of him.”

Reggie held his gaze, then nodded. Seeing Anne’s lips part, he quickly asked, “I take it you’ve been upstairs all morning?”

Thomas blinked. “As it happens, yes. Why?”

“Some gentleman lured Benjamin, the boy, into his carriage this morning. He’s disappeared.”

Thomas’s shock was transparently genuine. He glanced from Reggie to Anne. “You’ve lost him?”

Anne blushed. “Yes. But it has to be someone associated with your family who took him—no one else among the ton knows of his existence.”

Thomas’s gaze grew distant; he frowned. “Perhaps Hugh wanted to speak with him…” Abruptly he shook his head. He rose. “Allow me to sort things out here, then I’ll meet you in Charles Street.” He glanced at the clock. “With luck, Hugh will still be at home.”

Reggie nodded, and briskly ushered Anne out before she could think of anything more to say. He handed her into the curricle; as he sat beside her, she humphed. “If Hugh has taken Benjy, of course he’ll be at home.”

Reggie said nothing. A frown in his eyes, he turned his horses and set off for Hugh’s house.

The butler showed them into the morning room. “I will inquire if his lordship is at home.”

Anne glared at the door as it shut. “Hugh better not try to deny us.”

Reggie noted the belligerence that sat so ill on her gentle face; he hid a smile. “He won’t—your name will be enough to get him down here.”

It was, but to their surprise it was Imogen who came through the door first. A tall, thin woman, pale, brown-haired, with fine ascetic features rather too severe to be fashionable, she carried herself well, but somewhat rigidly. Hugh followed her, grave, concerned—and not just for them, or what they might say. His gaze followed Imogen as she swept across the room.

“Good morning, Miss Ashford. Mr. Carmarthen.” Imogen shook hands, then gestured them to seats. Immediately they’d all sat, she leaned forward. “I assume this concerns Benjamin Caverlock?”

Unless she was the greatest actress since Sarah Siddons, her concern was genuine—transparently so.

Anne slanted Reggie a quick look, then nodded. “I’m afraid he’s been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped!” Hugh stared at them.

Imogen blanched and sat back, her hand rising to her throat. “Oh, dear!” Her eyes fluttered closed, then she drew a deep breath, opened them again, and fixed Reggie with a commanding look. “But that’s not the end of it—I take it there’s been a ransom note?”

Reggie met her gaze, then looked at Hugh. “No. That wasn’t how it was.” He explained, concisely. “The other boys are quite sure the gentleman called for Benjamin. He was looking specifically for him.” He gave Hugh, shocked and bewildered, a moment to gather his wits. “We’ve just come from Thomas—he knows nothing about this. Do you?”

Hugh looked at him, then paled. “Good God, no! If I’d any idea…” The horror in his face was impossible to mistake. “I can’t think…”

He looked at Anne. “I’m so sorry. The delay…” He broke off and ran a hand through his dark hair, disarranging the heavy locks. “After checking with Thomas, it became clear I’d have to broach the subject with my father. I’ve been struggling to write to him—it’s not that simple a thing to put into words. You would likely not understand, but the pater isn’t the most…well, temperate being, and—”

“My dear, hush.” Imogen put a hand on his arm. His words dying, he looked at her. She smiled, a little ruefully. “I knew you’d find it difficult, but truly, old Portsmouth might be an ogre and as grizzly as they come, but he’s an honorable man.” She looked at Reggie and Anne. “I wrote to him and told him of the boy as soon as Hugh confirmed he wasn’t Thomas’s son.” Her lips pinched slightly. “Regardless of how I view Thomas’s chosen lifestyle, I would trust him—or indeed any Caverlock—on such a matter. Portsmouth had to know”—again her smile softened her face—“and I knew both Hugh and Thomas would shrink from telling him. So I did—just the bare facts.” She straightened her shoulders. “As the mother of his grandson, I do have certain privileges.”

“When did you send the letter?” Reggie asked.

“The day before yesterday.” Imogen stared back at him; they all started doing estimates in their heads.

“Where is the duke’s residence?” Anne asked.

“Surrey.” Imogen blinked. “Near Caterham…”

“He could have driven up and—” Reggie broke off, frowning. “The boys said a black coach—I’m sure they meant a town coach. If it had been a traveling carriage with four horses, they would have mentioned it.”