by Cheryl Holt
A man stopped in front of him and called, “Harry!”
Caleb was so used to answering to the name that he replied with, “What?”
Before he could react, the man swooped in and grabbed him. Suddenly, another man was there too, and while Caleb gave a shout of dismay, it was swiftly cut off as a kerchief was stuffed in his mouth. They each clasped an arm and marched away with him. He struggled and kicked with his feet, but he couldn’t prevent what was occurring.
Several passersby had noticed him being accosted. One of them blocked their way and said, “Here now! Where are you going with that boy?”
“He’s a truant,” one of the ruffians claimed, “and he runs away all the time. His headmaster sent us to fetch him back to school so his father doesn’t find out.”
The response satisfied the onlookers, and they allowed the men to continue on. Caleb glared beseechingly, hoping to convey a message with his eyes, but it was futile. Everyone had moved on.
He was dragged down the block and around the corner where a black carriage awaited, and though there was no crest to signify the occupant inside, he knew who it would be. His spirits flagged, and he wondered if he’d see Annabel or Soloman ever again.
A footman whipped the door open, and Caleb was lifted in and tossed on the seat. Mr. Boswell was in the seat across. Caleb tried to jump out, but his wrists were quickly bound, the end of the rope lashed over a handle so he couldn’t escape.
He yanked and pulled for an eternity until he grew too tired to keep fighting. He sagged with exhaustion, and Mr. Boswell reached over and tugged the kerchief from his mouth.
“What have you to say for yourself, young man?”
“Let me go!” Caleb fumed.
“Do you understand the trouble you’ve caused? Ever since you were discovered to be missing from school, your professors have been frantic with worry over your condition.”
“That’s a lie. They couldn’t care less about me.”
“I’ve been searching everywhere too, only to learn that you were with your Aunt Annabel.”
“What if I was?”
“I’m sure I’m not mistaken on this issue. The last time we spoke I specifically ordered you to stay away from her.”
“Well, I don’t choose to obey such a ludicrous edict.”
“Precisely. You carry on exactly how you please. No one can control you. No one can make you behave, and I am weary of fussing with you.”
“Fine, I’m happy to be shed of you too. Return me to Annabel at once.”
“No, you impertinent cur. You will go where I tell you to go, and you will submit to all the rigor and discipline that will now be inflicted. I have already provided instructions that any penalty or reprimand is to be permitted.”
“You have no right to take me anywhere.”
Boswell gasped with offense. “I have no right?”
“You’re not my grandfather, and I am not a Boswell. I demand you release me.”
“The situation is even worse than I feared. Your aunt has filled your head with nonsense, and you have believed every word.”
“It’s not nonsense.”
“You are very smart, Harry. It’s the reason you’re always in trouble. You’re too smart for your own good. I’d have predicted you were too bright to get yourself immersed in such a ridiculous scheme.”
“I’m not Harry.”
“Because you would dare to say that to me, I have to assume you are as deranged as your mother.”
“You didn’t ever know my mother so you couldn’t possibly judge her mental state.”
“Your mother is Lydia Fenwick Boswell, and I won’t hear any differently from you.”
“No, my mother was Melinda Grey, Lady Lyndon.”
“If you ever again utter such an absurd remark in my presence, I will take a switch and beat you so hard you will not sit down for a week. Perhaps that is where I went wrong with you. Perhaps I should have beaten you regularly and fiercely.”
“You can beat me or starve me or leave me to freeze in the snow, but my mother was Melinda Grey. Not Lydia Fenwick. Lydia is a criminal and a kidnapper, and she will very likely hang for what she did to me.”
“I always thought Lydia was mad, but evidently her crazed traits are flowing in your veins as well.”
“I’m Caleb Grey, and Lydia is not my mother.”
Boswell stared down his imperious nose. “I am planning to deliver you to a spot where you will be shaped and molded as I have never been able to accomplish. But if you persist with these unhinged tales, I will simply drop you at Bedlam Hospital and abandon you there with the other lunatics.”
Caleb supposed a weaker boy would have been trembling and crying, but he was tough and strong and Mr. Boswell had never frightened him.
He flashed a look that was even more imperious than Boswell’s. “When I am restored to my place, I will make you sorry every day for how you’ve treated me.”
“You pompous, irksome child,” Mr. Boswell scoffed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You’ve vanished and the only place you’ll ever occupy will be the one I select for you.”
“My brother will find me.”
Boswell laughed a cruel laugh. “What brother would that be? Would you be referring to Soloman Grey?”
“Yes, Soloman will find me.”
“In light of your delusional condition, you must really believe you are Caleb Grey so you should remember that Soloman Grey was previously charged with keeping you safe in your pathetic little life, and he failed miserably. You shouldn’t count on him faring any better on this occasion.”
“I’m not afraid of you, and you can’t scare me. Wherever you take me, I’ll simply run away again.”
“Not from where you’ll be. There will be no more running away. It won’t be possible.”
Mr. Boswell nestled against the squab and shut his eyes, indicating the conversation was over which was fine by Caleb. He gazed out the window at the passing scenery, wondering where they were headed, his mind working furiously to devise an escape before they arrived.
MILE,” BENJAMIN MUTTERED TO Veronica through gritted teeth. “Smile if it kills you.”
He was standing in a grand ballroom at an engagement fete a friend was hosting in their honor. His mother and Wesley were standing with them too. Weeks earlier, long before he’d ever met Annabel Fenwick, he had promised Veronica they would attend.
But everyone was staring, taking furtive glances or outright gawking, and he couldn’t ever remember being more uncomfortable.
His servants had been extremely competent—and extremely defiant—in spreading stories about Caleb Grey being back. Rumors were swirling, with no one quite sure what to believe. So far, four acquaintances had asked if the gossip was true. To which Benjamin had scoffed and shook his head. No, it wasn’t true.
Soloman was convinced as to the boy’s identity, and the following morning they would ride to the country with Peggy Jones. They would dig up the grave where she swore she’d secretly buried Harry Boswell. If Benjamin turned over a few shovels of dirt and stumbled on that tiny coffin, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t reached the same conclusion.
Wesley and Veronica were fighting, and they could barely speak without snapping at each other. His mother was very smug, like a cat that had lapped up all the cream, as if she’d been perpetrating mischief. He wondered what it had been and hoped it wouldn’t be a mess he’d be required to repair.
All in all, it was shaping up to be a miserable night.
“You might have had the courtesy to personally apprise me of this disaster,” Veronica tightly spat at Benjamin.
In the carriage, Wesley had spilled the beans about Caleb Grey’s possible return, and Veronica was in a veritable paroxysm of fury at the news.
“I’m not inclined to parley over it until the matter is resolved,” he stated.
“I am supposed to become a countess through my marriage! How could you do this to me?”
“Me!” he sputt
ered. “What have I done? The child simply showed up alive and hale and healthy.”
“He didn’t just...show up,” she fumed. “You let that doxy inflict herself into our family. This is all her fault. And yours!”
She hissed the part about Annabel, and he bristled.
He was still smarting from Annabel’s rejection. How could she blithely split from him? Had she a heart of stone? Clearly, she didn’t care if he walked away, and she’d left him to flounder in society’s shallow waters with only Veronica and Wesley to keep him afloat.
“Veronica,” he murmured, “I am going to say this once so heed me and heed me well.”
“Yes, Veronica,” Wesley sneered, “heed your fiancé.”
“Shut up, Wesley,” Benjamin said then he glared at Veronica. “We are not discussing this here. We will deal with it after my cousin has rendered a decision. It’s up to him, not me.”
“I am to put my future in Soloman Grey’s hands?”
“Yes. Unless and until he confirms the child is Caleb Grey, there is nothing to fret over.”
“Nothing! Are you mad?”
Her cheeks grew such a violent shade of red, he worried she might be choking on an hors d’oeuvre.
His mother leaned across Benjamin and whispered to Veronica, “Don’t agonize over this, Veronica. The child won’t plague us for long.”
Benjamin scowled. “Why would you think that, Mother?”
“We’ve been waiting for the investiture for most of a decade,” she blithely claimed. “The universe wouldn’t snatch it away at the last second. It would be too cruel.”
Aiden Bramwell blustered up. They’d been in school together as boys, but even though his brother was an earl he loved to sail and actually worked for a living as a ship’s captain. In light of their respective jobs, he and Benjamin were usually out of the country so they rarely saw each other.
According to Michael Fenwick—but not Annabel who’d denied a connection—Aiden was Annabel’s first cousin. Benjamin feverishly struggled to figure out how to ask Aiden about Annabel without pushing his mother and fiancée into a gale of offense.
They exchanged pleasantries then Bramwell said, “I hate to bother you about this, Grey, but the wildest rumor is circulating.”
“You don’t have to tell me what it is.”
“Everyone is anxious to inquire, but with how you’re glowering they’re all terrified of you. So they sent me.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” Benjamin forced a chuckle.
“Is it true?”
Bramwell was on tenterhooks, eager for Benjamin’s reply while his mother, Veronica, and Wesley stiffened with outrage, their combined wrath informing Benjamin that he’d better be silent. But he didn’t need to be reminded.
“I can’t talk about it now,” Benjamin said. “I’ll explain later.”
Bramwell raised a brow. “That sounds mysterious. My curiosity is soaring.”
They might have had to tiptoe through an awkward conversation, but a flurry erupted on the dance floor. The music hadn’t started yet. Guests were milling, chatting, and drinking champagne, but the crowd parted as someone approached.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bramwell suddenly mumbled. “It’s my cousin, Annabel. I haven’t seen her in years.”
Benjamin whipped around. The others had heard Bramwell, and they whipped around too.
She was with her brother, and they were promenading across the floor in a stately, imperious way. They were dressed in exquisite costumes, looking so beautiful and so glamorous, they might have been a European prince and princess.
Annabel’s gown was blue, her petticoats wide, her cleavage cut very low. Her glorious auburn hair was intricately styled, swept up on her head with braids and curls. A peacock feather dangled behind. She was dripping with diamonds—real? fake?—her ears, neck, wrists, and fingers shimmering under the chandeliers.
Her brother was attired all in white, but sporting a sapphire sash that matched the color of her gown. His coat had gold buttons and epaulettes on the shoulders so it could have been an officer’s uniform from a foreign army.
The blue in their clothes set off the blue of their Fenwick eyes. People openly assessed them, and whispers were frantically flying. Bystanders weren’t sure of who they were, but they seemed to be important, as if they might be royalty.
The exotic, cunning pair continued until they were directly in front of him, and he braced, not certain what they intended. The assembly was gradually quieting, agog over the pending drama. Even the musicians had ceased tuning their instruments.
Beside him, Veronica gasped. “Michael!”
Michael didn’t glance at her, but kept his insolent gaze locked on Benjamin. Benjamin kept his attention locked on Annabel, but before he could greet her his mother broke the awkward moment.
“Miss Fenwick!” Her sharp tone was scolding. “Why are you here? How dare you arrive—when you specifically promised you wouldn’t!”
Annabel didn’t respond to his mother, but paused until all eyes were on her. Then she said to Benjamin, “What have you done with Caleb Grey?”
“What?” Benjamin stammered.
Every person in the room froze with astonishment as Annabel answered with, “I found Caleb Grey, and I brought him to you unharmed. We have simply been waiting for you to publicly announce his return.”
“Miss Fenwick,” he seethed, “may I please speak to you in private?”
“No, you may not, Captain Grey. Caleb was kidnapped off my stoop earlier today. Men in a black carriage bound and gagged him and carted him away!” There was a shocked intake of breath from all present then she asked again, “What have you done with Caleb Grey? I demand to know, and all of London demands it with me.”
He’d always thought her voice was sexy and husky, but he hadn’t considered how well it would carry in a closed room. With how she’d enunciated her words, she could have had a career as an actress on the stage.
Pandemonium erupted. People were shouting, some rushing toward him while some ran for their carriages, most likely to spread the news others had been dying to have verified.
He could wring her neck for making such an ostentatious display. There could now be no refuting Caleb’s claim. There could be no insisting he was the wrong boy. If Benjamin tried, the whole kingdom would call him a liar.
“What are you talking about, Annabel?” he said. “Where is Caleb? I couldn’t guess what happened to him.”
“Can’t you, Captain?” She studied him then scoffed with derision. “Perhaps you really don’t know. It must have been your wicked, treacherous mother.”
“My mother! What has she to do with this?”
“She came to my home and bribed me to say he’s not Caleb. She bribed me to disappear with him.”
The crowd roared with outrage and cast livid glowers at his mother. She drew into herself as if wishing she could become invisible.
Annabel reached into the cleavage of her gown, and she pulled out a handful of money. She tossed the bills into the air. Her brother reached into his coat and did the same, the bills floating down like a rain shower. The sight had onlookers transfixed.
“This is the blood money she paid me,” Annabel said. “This is what Caleb’s life is worth to your family. Two hundred pounds, Captain. Now where is he!”
He whipped his scorching gaze to his mother who was slinking away. He grabbed her wrist and furiously warned, “Don’t you move a muscle.”
Benjamin was so astounded he couldn’t decide how to proceed, and Aiden Bramwell rescued him. The mob was pushing in, struggling to be nearer to Annabel, and the situation was growing dangerous. They could all be trampled.
“Let’s slip out,” Bramwell advised, “before this gets ugly.”
“Good idea,” Benjamin muttered.
Bramwell grinned. “I didn’t realize you have such a knack for scandal, Grey. I could have sworn you like to keep a low profile.”
He opened a door behind them and urged
them down an empty hall. Benjamin marched along, dragging his mother and turning knobs until he located a deserted parlor. He shoved his mother inside then Annabel and her brother. Wesley and Veronica followed.
Bramwell was the only one he denied entrance.
“Sorry, Bramwell,” he said, “but this is family business.”
Annabel scowled, not recognizing her cousin. “Bramwell? Aiden?”
“Yes, Annabel, I’m your cousin. Once you’ve wrapped up with Benjamin, have him give you my direction. I’d love to have you stop by.”
Then he closed the door, and Benjamin was sequestered with Annabel, her brother, his brother, mother and fiancée. Any sort of explosion was likely.
“Your audience has vanished, Miss Fenwick,” he said, “so cease your theatrics.”
“I’ll calm down,” she saucily retorted, “after you tell me where Caleb is.”
“I spoke with your nephew yesterday,” Benjamin told her, “and he seemed fine to me. I haven’t seen him since so don’t accuse me of foul play.”
Annabel sauntered over so they were toe to toe, and sparks erupted, sizzling hot enough to light the room on fire.
“Are you aware, Captain,” she asked, “that your mother visited Edward Boswell this morning?”
“Is this true, Mother?”
Benjamin glared at her, and she defiantly glared back. “Someone had to meet with him. Why not me? You were too busy letting this manipulative strumpet ruin our future.”
“Mind your tongue, Mrs. Grey,” Michael Fenwick had the temerity to say. “I’ll match my sister’s reputation against yours any day of the week.”
Benjamin ignored Fenwick. His anger had soared to such a high level that he wondered if the top of his head might simply blow off. “Mother, did I—or did I not—order you to stay out of this?”
“Why would I listen to you when you’re being ridiculous?” Millicent responded. “That child is Mr. Boswell’s grandson, and Mr. Boswell has full authority over him. Not you and not this...woman.” She rudely gestured at Annabel. “The boy had run away from school, and Mr. Boswell has been searching for him. Imagine his astonishment when I informed him the child was in London and being used as bait in a blackmail scheme.”
