by Cheryl Holt
“You don’t have to tempt me with a secret to get me to hurry. I’m delighted to be with Annabel. You know that.”
For an instant, she hesitated. Once he walked out the door, there was no going back. Once Peggy confessed her transgression, the Boswells would disown him—despite what the rest of the kingdom might believe about her story. Was it right for Peggy to ruin the small amount of support he received from the Boswells? Was it right to imperil the lone bit of security he possessed?
But as swiftly as she asked the questions, she shoved them away.
He was Lord Lyndon and had always been Lord Lyndon. She wasn’t about to let him spend another second as Harry Boswell. He would be Caleb Grey from this point on.
He escorted her into the school, and they made an effusive show of saying goodbye, hugging each other as if in farewell.
“Don’t dawdle,” she whispered in his ear.
“I will fly to my aunt with wings on my feet,” he whispered in reply.
She left, strolling slowly as if she were in no rush. She glanced back, but he’d vanished. When she rounded the bend in the road, the carriage was parked up ahead. Annabel was sitting in the driver’s box, and Caleb was already there, chattering away, the two of them eager to race to London and take on the world.
Peggy grinned and ran to join them.
THINK YOU SHOULD wait in the carriage.”
“And I don’t think so.”
Annabel scowled at Caleb, being humored by his aristocratic temperament, but exasperated by it too.
From the moment she’d explained the situation, he hadn’t questioned a single word. It was almost as if deep down, he understood who he’d once been and didn’t need to be apprised.
They were in the drive outside the Grey’s town house in London. She wasn’t certain if Benjamin was home or if he was still in the country. Nor was she certain she should approach him, but she didn’t know where else to start.
He didn’t have the highest opinion of her veracity or sincerity, but she had to try to convince him as to what Lydia had done. If not him, who?
She had no idea if he would listen. There was the added problem that he had the most to gain by Caleb never returning, but he was an honorable man. She had to remember that. He would never keep what wasn’t his.
“All right,” she finally said to Caleb, “you can come in with me, but you’ll stay in the foyer while I talk to him. He might be upset.”
“Are you afraid he’ll be awful to you?”
“He might be. Or he might make awful comments about you.”
“It doesn’t matter what he says,” Caleb firmly replied. “He can’t hurt me.”
She didn’t imagine that was necessarily true. A rich family could damage a common person in many egregious ways. She didn’t suppose Benjamin would harm Caleb, but what about his mother or brother? What about his other relatives?
Peggy was the one who’d advised her to be careful, who’d pointed out the dangers. Annabel was usually so shrewd and clever, but recently she’d been overwrought so she hadn’t fully grasped the ramifications of the hornet’s nest she was about to stir.
They’d ridden over in a hackney cab, and she opened the door. A footman emerged to greet them, and he helped them climb out.
“Is Captain Grey at home?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss.”
Annabel smiled at Caleb. “Here we go.”
He slipped his hand into hers and gave it a supportive squeeze. “Don’t be scared. It will be fine. I’m sure of it.”
She glanced up at her driver. “Would you wait for us? I don’t expect we’ll be very long.”
He nodded his agreement which was a relief. If Benjamin refused to meet with her, or if he kicked her out after hearing her story, she wanted to be able to leave without dawdling like a pair of beggars.
They were shown into a front parlor and offered refreshments, but they declined. Then the butler went off to locate him. She was too nervous to sit, but Caleb didn’t appear nervous at all and was snooping around, touching everything, looking at everything.
It seemed to take an eternity, but had been just a few minutes, and he was hurrying down the hall. As he entered the room, he murmured, “Annabel, this is a wonderful surprise.”
He stepped toward her then noticed Caleb over by the sofa, and he pulled up short.
“Hello, Captain,” Annabel said. “It feels like it’s been ages.”
“And Master Harry,” he said to Caleb, “It’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Captain,” Caleb responded, and he winked at Annabel.
They’d previously decided he wouldn’t announce his identity to the Captain until she’d had a chance to break the news.
“Have you escaped from school again?” the Captain asked him.
“I ran away with Annabel. She’s a wicked influence.”
“Ha! You’ve got that right. Won’t your grandfather be angry?”
“Probably.”
The brief conversation dwindled, and the Captain gazed at her, his focus so intense that it was like a physical caress. They’d only been separated for three days so she hadn’t thought their emotional connection could have waned. But with men, who could ever guess how they would behave?
“Could I speak with you privately?” she inquired.
“Certainly.”
He peeked over at Caleb, his expression curious, but Caleb simply grinned and shrugged as if he didn’t know what it was about.
The Captain took her arm and guided her out, and as they left she glanced back at Caleb. “Stay in here. Don’t wander off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Auntie.”
“I’m serious. No exploring.”
“I won’t.”
Yet it was always difficult to predict how he’d act. It was the aspect of his character that had driven Mr. Boswell to distraction, and with Caleb discovering his true name he was more imperious than ever.
The Captain led her down a dark hall, and he said, “We have a small garden behind the house. It’s a bit chilly this afternoon, but the sun is shining. Would you like to talk outside? Or would you rather go to my library?”
“The garden sounds lovely.”
They walked out a rear door, and he escorted her down a path to a bench next to a fountain. She peered up at him, suddenly feeling awkward and shy.
He was standing very close, and it was almost painful to have him so near. She wanted to put some space between them, but at the same time she wanted to wrap herself around him and hold onto him forever.
“I was just coming to visit you,” he said.
“You were?”
“Yes. Your brother told me where you live and I’ve been by there three times already, but you weren’t ever there.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Me too. I found my cousin.”
“Soloman Grey?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Grey was still Caleb’s guardian, and her mind rushed with dizzying thoughts. Was it good that he was in England? Was he a reasonable man? Would he listen to Peggy? Annabel was about to find out.
“He caused quite a scandal a few nights ago,” Benjamin said.
“I heard about it from my brother. He was at the ball when your cousin kidnapped a woman.”
“Yes. Years ago, he and I made a pact that we’d never stir gossip again, but I guess he forgot.”
“Maybe he couldn’t resist.”
“That’s his story, and he’s sticking to it. He and I have been catching up, and I’ve been getting acquainted with his fiancée. Theodosia Postlewaite? Do you know her or her family?”
“I believe I know her father,” Annabel said. “Isn’t it Lord Wood? He’s a notorious gambler and spendthrift so he and my father were great chums.”
“Soloman and Theo have been hiding in a hotel, but they’re being evicted as disreputable persons. So they’re moving to Grey Manor until they can figure out how to marry as quickly as possible.”
“Is Grey Manor the best spot for them? Isn’t your bachelor party still in progress? You’ll be tossing Lady Theodosia into a pool of libertines and doxies.”
“The party’s over, and I sent everyone home.” Then he abruptly declared, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I hate that we quarrel all the time, but you drive me mad.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Don’t you?” He raised a brow. “In my opinion, Miss Fenwick, you enrage me deliberately. I’ll likely be committed to an asylum when you’re through with me.”
“If you weren’t such a bully I wouldn’t have to fight with you so often.”
“And if you would ever heed me, we wouldn’t have to argue.”
She would have offered a pithy retort, but before she could he kissed her. It was lush and delicious, and as he drew away she sighed with contentment.
She felt as if it had been years—rather than days—since he’d kissed her, and she was eager for him to do it again and never stop, but she didn’t think she should loaf in his garden and misbehave. The servants might see. His mother might see. There was no predicting who was in the house. His fiancée perhaps? Also, after she said what she’d come to say, he might not be so romantically inclined.
“I have the agreement I signed with your brother,” he said. She was about to scold him, but he held up a hand, halting any complaint. “Before you go off half-cocked—”
“I’m never half cocked,” she told him. “I’m always fully loaded so I can take a clean shot.”
“I just wanted to inform you that I hope you’ll change your mind. I can’t bear to imagine that I would never be with you again.”
It was the sweetest comment ever, and he was studying her with such warm affection that her pulse raced. For a moment, she thought, Why not give in? Why not relent?
But she couldn’t. There was the pesky problem of him being engaged to another, and there was Caleb Grey down in his front parlor.
“Could we sit for a minute?” She pointed to the bench.
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.” His gaze dipped to her stomach, and he scowled. “I’m not overly familiar with women’s bodily conditions, but I’m sure it’s a bit too soon for you to be...”
He didn’t complete the sentence, and she chuckled. “No, it’s not that. It’s much too early to know. This is something else.”
“Something worse?”
She considered then shrugged. “I wouldn’t say worse. I would call it astonishing.”
“Astonishing! Well...”
He sat and extended a hand for her to sit too. She’d intended to ease down beside him, but he snuggled her on his lap, her bottom balanced on his thigh which definitely made it hard to concentrate.
“I have to tell you a story, and my sister’s maid, Peggy Jones, can confirm it. Do you remember Miss Peggy? You met her at Lydia’s.”
“Yes, I remember her.” He pulled her near and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”
“I suppose bad is in the eye of the beholder, and this is quite shocking so hear me out before you shout at me.”
“I’m determined to turn over a new leaf with you. I won’t shout.”
“You haven’t heard what it is yet.”
“I won’t shout,” he insisted. “I promise.”
She scrutinized him, curious over where their relationship would be after she finished. Would he toss her out? Would he tear up the contract he’d penned with her brother? Would he brand her a charlatan and a liar?
The myriad of disturbing possibilities were endless.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes, Annabel.”
“I realize you and your cousin, Soloman, have wondered what happened to Baby Caleb. You once told me Mr. Grey never believed Caleb was dead, that he suspected someone who wanted Caleb stole him out of his cradle.”
“Yes, it’s always been what he believed.”
“Well, he’s correct. Caleb was stolen, and I know who took him—and why.”
He frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Caleb is alive and fine, and I’ve brought him home to you.”
He froze then shook his head. “No, no, that can’t be right.”
“It is, Benjamin. Here’s what occurred.”
BENJAMIN GAWKED AT ANNABEL as if she were speaking in tongues.
She started talking about Lydia and her son, Harry. She talked about Harry dying in the night, about Lydia being crazed with terror over how Mr. Boswell would react.
She went on to explain about Lydia being acquainted with Caleb’s mother, Melinda, how Lydia had been to Melinda’s supper, how she’d snuck up to the nursery afterward, stuffed Caleb in a satchel, and simply walked out of the house with him.
She’d raised him in the country as if he were her own child, a replacement for the real Harry Boswell who was allegedly buried in the woods behind her cottage.
“How did you find all this out?” he asked when her words wound to an end.
“After you and I quarreled the other day, I stopped by Lydia’s on my way to London. She and Peggy were arguing, and I overheard them. Peggy has been anxious to confess for years, but Lydia always convinced her not to.”
“Lydia being so commanding and all,” he sarcastically said, “she could threaten Peggy and make her obey?”
“It wasn’t that. Peggy has been afraid she’d hang if the truth was revealed, and Lydia constantly reminded her that she would, but her conscience has been tormenting her—especially with your investiture coming.”
“Convenient of her to decide now,” he muttered. “You never had any idea?”
“No. I always felt that Harry—I mean Caleb—didn’t belong with Lydia or the Boswells. He’s very different from them, but I never assumed there’d been any mischief.”
“It’s a wild story, Annabel,” he carefully stated.
“It’s not a story,” she countered. “They had this. Look.”
She opened her reticule and pulled out a tiny knitted cap. The name Caleb was embroidered on the front. He took it from her and ran his thumb over and over the stitching.
When Caleb vanished, there had been numerous items pilfered from his crib, but Benjamin didn’t remember exactly what. The nanny had insisted she could describe what was missing and had written a list, but she had also been a suspect in the disappearance so they hadn’t paid attention to what she said on any topic.
And Soloman had fired her immediately afterward. He’d fired every person who’d had even the most miniscule bit of responsibility for the baby.
Had there been an embroidered cap? There might have been, but if he wanted to seek the nanny’s opinion, who could locate her? After being terminated from her post, what motive would she have to assist them?
Soloman would probably recollect what was taken, and Benjamin would certainly ask him, but would his cousin know if it was the same cap? Would Soloman recognize it? Had he ever noticed the clothes Caleb was wearing?
It was like a talisman, and Benjamin was transfixed, trying to recall if the list of the missing items had ever been published anywhere. How could Annabel have learned about it? Was she scamming him? Was she tricking him? If news of the items had never been published then Annabel couldn’t possibly have heard about the cap so one of two scenarios was occurring.
Either she was in league with the nanny and scheming for a payout or her tale was true and the boy he’d met as Harry Boswell was really Caleb Grey.
“I have several other things too,” Annabel stunned him by saying.
“What are they?”
“The leather satchel. A blanket that has Lyndon embroidered around the edge. A little nightgown with the same stitching. Some toys. Lydia grabbed them as she was leaving.”
Benjamin had been at Lyndon Hall with Annabel, and they’d toured the nursery together. The room had been eerie, with all the toys and clothes still there, but no peo
ple and no baby. Would Annabel have returned to Lyndon Hall? Would she have broken in and stolen things from the nursery?
He’d stopped by her house the past three days, but she hadn’t been there. Had she been at Lyndon Hall instead, preparing the greatest swindle she and her brother would ever perpetrate? Would Annabel participate in such a plot? He couldn’t believe she would, but her brother definitely might. Where was this going?
“So...you’re claiming the boy in my front parlor is Caleb.” He spoke the words slowly, listening to how they sounded as they rolled off his tongue.
“Yes.”
“Miss Jones can verify it?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“What about your sister?”
“She’ll never admit it. She flat out said that she’d likely hang for being a kidnapper, and she begged us to be silent.”
“Miss Jones could hang too,” he pointed out. “Why is she suddenly not worried about it?”
“She’s felt guilty for so long that she’s willing to accept any penalty.”
He assessed her, wishing he could open the top of her head and see inside it. How was he to decide if she was telling the truth?
She might have just answered the biggest question to circulate in the kingdom in the prior decade. She might have solved the most perplexing riddle. Or not. Perhaps she was lying through her teeth so he had to tread cautiously.
He wouldn’t accuse her of lying for he had no idea if she was or not. He reflected on his own meeting with Harry Boswell, how he’d been so unnerved by the boy, by how much he’d resembled Soloman. There was the scar on his hand, his swagger, his grin, his secret handshake.
“What about you?” he asked. “What are you hoping to get out of this?”
“Me? I don’t want anything—except for Caleb to be returned to his rightful place.”
“Big of you...”
She stiffened and nearly jumped off his lap, but he held her so she couldn’t move away.
“Don’t stomp off in a snit,” he said.
“Then don’t assume bad behavior on my part.”
“I’m not assuming it. This is a lot to take in.”
“I realize it is, and it’s why I’m here. I knew you’d listen to me.”
