If He's Daring

by Hannah Howell

  “Do you think that sort of behavior is why your husband did not name him your son’s guardian?”

  Catryn grimaced and ate a piece of delicious herb-seasoned chicken as she thought over her answer. “Henry did not like Morris, did not trust him. Morris felt much the same about Henry. I often wondered if Morris disliked his brother just because he was born first, actually faulted him for that. In most other ways, they were very much alike in their habits and vices, so one would have thought they would have been close. Yet, though my husband did love to gamble, he most often won and never approached that cliff where just one more ill-advised bet will beggar you. Morris was never so careful.”

  Orion nodded and sipped at his wine. “So your husband was certain that all he had clung to would be lost if Morris was in control.”

  “Yes. Morris cannot seem to resist a bet, a chance to rake in huge winnings. He always thinks he has found the perfect way to fill his purse without working. He is prone to believing anyone who promises him a massive return on an investment. My husband was forever covering his losses, at least covering them enough so that Morris did not end up in prison or worse.”

  “Did Morris stay with you very often?”

  “No. They could not abide each other’s company much, and that suited me. I do not like or trust Morris and never have. The fact that Henry felt the same was a relief. I was sad that my son had no fond uncle to turn to from time to time, especially since my husband had so little to do with him, but it was just a brief, occasional sadness caused by watching other uncles with their nieces and nephews. Another man to teach Alwyn how to go on would have been nice. My father does what he can, but he should not be having to raise another child.”

  “And how does Morris treat you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does he treat you with courtesy and the respect due his brother’s wife, or is he dismissive, scornful, and reveals resentment that you gave his brother a child?”

  “Oh, he was always polite as he should be, but no more than that.”

  Orion had the feeling that was not all, but he did not press her on the matter. “How did your husband die?”

  “Stabbed. He had been at one of his clubs, so he said, and was attacked on the way home. Robbed and stabbed several times. The wounds became infected and he died.” She smiled faintly when his lovely blue eyes narrowed. “I, too, wondered if Morris had something to do with it, but the men were caught and confessed. They had simply seen a fine gent strolling home and saw a chance for some gain. He fought and they fought back. They won. For the moment. Their victory and new wealth was short-lived. They were hanged a year later, and even when facing that gruesome end, they said nothing about anyone having hired them or even told them where Henry would be. I do think Henry died wondering if his brother had had anything to do with it, for he ranted about his brother while fevered.”

  Orion turned his attention to finishing his meal as he thought over all she had told him. Despite what the men who had killed her husband had said, there was always the chance that Morris had had a hand in her husband’s death. It was possible to arrange a person’s death without actively taking part in the planning. Simply talking loud enough about the person’s plans, wealth, and direction within the hearing of known thieves could be enough. It was something to consider. He doubted Morris grieved his loss.

  Glancing quickly at Catryn, he thought on how little grief there had been in her telling of the tale. Not a hint of loss or sorrow had been evident in her words. She could have been speaking of someone she had only known in passing. There had been a few other hints that her marriage had not been a happy one, something all too common amongst the ton. It was not just his family that suffered from broken or dismal unions, but few of the ones outside of his clan suffered as much desertion as his.

  It was too bad she was such a good woman, he mused. She was a widow ripe for seduction. A bad marriage often left a woman yearning for something more, some passion and pleasure. Orion knew he could give her that. He had left behind enough satisfied women to have confidence in his skills in the bedchamber. Unfortunately, Lady Catryn was too good a woman, despite her recklessness in chasing after her child, something he could not help but admire.

  “Giles said you worry about how Morris will treat the boy if he hears young Alwyn talking to people who are not there,” he said, and almost smiled when she gave Giles an accusatory look and the boy just shrugged.

  “It is just a child’s game, but yes, I am worried that Morris will have no patience with it,” she replied. “I have tried my best to make Alwyn understand that his little game can upset some people, but he is, after all, only five, and sometimes forgets. I just fear that Morris is one of those who will find it very upsetting. He is a very superstitious fellow.”

  “Is he now. That will help.”

  “How so?”

  The serving girl entered with some stewed apples, small cakes, and cream, so Catryn had to wait for her question to be answered. She took the time to think about every instance where she had noted Morris’s superstitious nature. Although she did not know how such information could help Sir Orion, she wished to give him as much as she had. By the time the maid left and they had each helped themselves to some of the treats set before them, she was a little surprised to discover that her memories revealed that Morris was actually very superstitious, very concerned about all those shadows in the dark that others ignored once they left childhood.

  “A superstitious man acts differently than one who is not troubled by such things,” Orion said as soon as the door closed behind the maid.

  She thought about that for a moment and nodded. “Yes, I suppose he would. I was just realizing that Morris is very superstitious, very worried about ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night. It is as if he never matured past the age where he feared what was under the bed.”

  “There is sometimes good reason to fear what is under the bed, so to speak. A man like that,” he continued before she could remark on his words, “will not stay in an inn named, let us say, the Devil’s Horseman. He will travel on to one with a less ominous name. He may even do a few things that draw the attention of the people around him, like tossing salt over his shoulder if he spills it or becoming nervous just because a black cat walks by. Most people have a touch of superstition in them, and have limits as to what odd things they will accept with ease, but the worst of such fears have passed except in a few. I suppose he believes in such things as witches.”

  “Oh yes. There was a fair near us when we were at the country house, and Alwyn wished to go. So did I. But Morris refused to come with us because he said there was a witch there. He meant the gypsy, I suspect, who was doing her readings or whatever they are called. I thought he just used it as an excuse to hurry away from the country, because he left that day; but the more I thought on it, the more I realized he was serious.”

  “And exactly what does Morris look like? Tall, short, red hair, black hair?”

  “He does have dark hair, but it is more of a very dark brown. Hazel eyes. Shorter than you and almost too thin. He prefers to wear his wig when out and about, for his hair is thinning. He also prefers his clothing to be as bright as his carriage. Morris is a bit of a dandy. Otherwise he is not one who would stand out in a crowd. There is nothing about him, aside from his bad taste in clothing, that would make you recall him if you ever met him.”

  “And your husband had dark brown hair?”

  “Not as dark as Morris’s, but yes. Why?”

  “Because I begin to wonder if we have been following the right carriage, despite my inability to believe there could be two such gaudy carriages on the road. Everyone who has seen it has mentioned the small boy looking out of the window as having black hair, very black hair, rather like Giles’s.”

  Orion noted the faint hint of color that came and went on her smooth cheeks. The boy’s hair color had obviously troubled her. He wondered if he had judged her wrong, if she was more d
aring than he had thought her to be. Had she cuckolded her husband?

  “I know.” Catryn rubbed her forehead. Even speaking of Alwyn’s hair, so different from hers or her husband’s, or even her father’s, never failed to give her a headache. “My father says that color shows up in our bloodline now and then. It goes back a long way.”

  “To some distant relative?”

  “Yes, but he never told me who. I asked, but he said he would have to search the books he has on the family, and I soon forgot to remind him that I was waiting to know. It would have been nice to have a name to spit out every time someone noted that Alwyn’s hair is an odd color for a redhead and brunet to produce. Always remarked upon ever so gently and politely, however.”

  He was not surprised by the bite in her words. It was easy to imagine just how such a prying inquiry would be made, and the poorly hidden implication behind it. Orion ignored the twinge of disappointment he felt over the fact that she had not cuckolded her husband, thus making her a prime target for seduction, especially since that twinge was overshadowed by how much it pleased him to have her innocence confirmed. What he saw now was more proof that Giles could be right: Young Alwyn, even Lady Catryn, could be blood kin of the Wherlockes or Vaughns. Thin, watered down, distant though it might be, there was a chance the tie was there, lost in the midst of time and turmoil. It was very hard to vanquish all Wherlocke or Vaughn blood, however, which explained the occasional gift appearing in people who had never realized they were connected to his family.

  “Does all this help? I have the feeling that you now believe we have gone from just following the man to, perhaps, having to hunt him down.”

  Orion pushed his dish aside and refilled his tankard with the last of the wine. “I do. If not immediately, then very soon. He will learn that you are hard at his heels and that he should alter his route to throw you off. It is what I would do.”

  “Then this is going to take far longer than you may have planned for, and may be far more difficult than I had anticipated. It might be wiser if I went to the authorities or hired someone.”

  “No, best to keep this all as private as possible. If it is made too public, the man might consider it best to get rid of the evidence of his crime.” He nodded when she paled. “Keeping it private could be the best thing for the safety of your child.”

  “It is what I would prefer, but I also do not want to leave Alwyn in Morris’s hands for too long.”

  “The boy will be freed of the man soon. I am very good at this, Lady Catryn, and that is not an empty boast. Everyone has a particular skill. Mine is finding people and things. The only thing that does trouble me is your opinion that Morris is much akin to a spoiled child. That would mean he is bad at planning, perhaps erratic, but it should only slow me down a little. I will still find him. The thing you must think on now is just what you want done with Morris when we find him and get your son back.”

  Catryn was still trying to decide about that as she took her bath. Morris had to be stopped, but just how she could do that without actually having him jailed or transported, she did not know. Such a judgment could be made only in the courts, where this whole situation would quickly end up the subject of public gossip and speculation, and she did not wish that either. Nevertheless, the constant court cases, and now this kidnapping of her child, were troubles that could not be allowed to continue.

  “Maybe if he goes to a port, I will have a stroke of good fortune and he will fall into the water and drown,” she muttered and then felt guilty for wishing death on anyone, even someone like Morris.

  She did not need more guilt. She already felt more than enough for not telling Sir Orion the truth about Morris when he asked how the man acted toward her. Catryn simply could not say what she thought and suspected. It not only sounded vain but it was embarrassing. Morris had never actually pushed himself on her, but she had quickly become suspicious that some of his growing anger toward Henry had been because Morris coveted his brother’s wife. Shortly after Henry died, Morris had been a little less discreet in his interest, shallow though she had known it to be, but she had soundly rebuffed him and he had then turned to the courts.

  “Just thinking it sounds vain,” she said to herself and shook her head as she stood up and reached for a towel. “I should have told Sir Orion though, and let him decide.”

  Standing before the fire to stay warm as she rubbed her hair dry, she thought about Sir Orion. He was too handsome for any woman’s peace of mind, but there was strength within him, a steadiness she had only ever sensed in her father. Despite his privileged position, his good looks and health, she knew without asking that he had known harshness in his life. And despite the fact that he had an illegitimate son, she could not shake the feeling that he was not actually some rake who bounced from woman to woman without any pause. He would understand, when she told him about what she thought Morris felt for her, that she was not just stroking her own vanity.

  As she donned her night shift and crawled into bed, she tried to think of exactly how to tell Sir Orion that she thought Morris lusted after her. By the time the maid slipped in and removed the tub with the help of two other young women, Catryn still had no answer. Snuggling down beneath the covers, she decided it could wait. It was probably not important anyway. Morris had gone for her child, not for her, despite once asking her to marry him, and that was what they all had to concentrate on now.

  “She is hiding something,” Giles said as he crawled into the bed.

  Orion looked at the bed and inwardly sighed. He had been planning to spend the night sharing a bed not with his son but with a lush, eager woman. Being Lady Catryn’s gallant knight was costing him. He stripped to his drawers and climbed into the bed. Crossing his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling and considered what Giles had said.

  “Yes, I believe she is. Something was there, behind her blithe words when she answered my question about how Morris treated her.”

  “Since she is a fair lass, I am thinking the man wanted under her skirts.”

  Orion looked at his son. The boy was frowning as if he would punch Sir Morris de Warrenne in the nose if the man were within reach. Something about Lady Catryn had captivated his son. The boy was on this journey for more reasons than curiosity and the need to help some child. It could be that Giles was experiencing his first infatuation, even if the boy would never recognize it as such.

  “True. Crudely spoken, but true,” said Orion.

  “How are you supposed to say it?”

  “That the man is intrigued by her, attracted to her, wants her for himself.”

  “Oh. Well, he is. Does. It embarrasses her, so that is why she did not say so. Is it important though?”

  “Oh yes. It is important. Morris may even have anticipated that she would chase him down if he took her son.”

  Orion had to admit to himself that he would also like to punch Sir Morris de Warrenne for that. That intrigued him, for he had never before cared who else lusted after a woman he was interested in or even bedding. If she succumbed to any other seduction than his, he simply walked away. He did not share, but not for any deep emotional reason. Since he did not partake of any other woman’s favors while he was involved with a lover, he had always expected the very same courtesy. Yet, the idea that Sir Morris may have eyed Lady Catryn with lust annoyed him. More than annoyed him. He wanted to blacken both of the man’s eyes.

  “So, he really does want everything his brother had, and taking the boy was part of a trap,” said Giles.

  “It could be, yet I begin to wonder if Sir Morris could actually plan anything as clever as that.”

  “Because he is like a spoiled child?”

  “Exactly. He sounds like a man who has never been through the fire, shall we say. Easy childhood, got all he wanted when he wanted it, maybe did not get something he thought he needed, like the attention of his father or some such thing, and has never fully matured into a man.”

  “Buys fancy, eye-stinging cl
othes and carriages and resents a little boy for getting what he had never earned anyway.”

  Orion nodded. “Exactly right. And eye-stinging was a very good way of describing his taste.”

  “Thank you.”

  Turning his head, he shared a grin with his son but quickly grew serious again. “If we are right, and I believe we are, we may need to keep a close watch on her and our backs. As she told us, when Sir Morris wants something, he wants it now and does not take well to being denied. He could feel that she is not falling into his grasp fast enough and turn back to grab her.”

  “Ha! Just let the bastard try.”

  Orion had to bite back a laugh. He was continuously astounded by the spirit in his son. Despite what had happened to the boy, he still cared, even enjoyed life to its fullest. He laughed easily and played much as any other child would. One could almost forget that the boy had grown up on the dark, deadly streets of the city with little more care than that offered by his mates, who were not all that much older than he was, and the occasional kind-hearted or avaricious whore. His friends had taken him into their care, and that was why his family had more or less adopted the whole lot. They had more than proved their worth in what they had done for Giles.

  “Go to sleep. We will need our rest, as I feel we will be spending a great deal of time rushing about the countryside.”

  Giles murmured an affirmative and closed his eyes. The boy was asleep in no time at all, and Orion felt his heart clench with strong emotion. Giles could not show him any more clearly how safe he felt with him than by falling asleep so easily and sleeping so deeply. Having had little to do with Paul’s or Hector’s upbringing since they had been staying with his cousin Penelope since their own mothers had deserted them, Giles had not realized how easily a child could grab his heart and make it impossible to shake free. He knew it had nothing to do with Paul and Hector being luckier in how life had treated them, either. Once he had all three boys in his home at last, Orion suspected he would be having this trouble with his heart more often. Paul and Hector had just not had the chance to get a firm grip on it yet.