Chapter Fourteen
He had quickly escorted her to the waiting gig, but not before Brunswick reported a tussle with a man exiting the supposedly empty jewelry store. “Are you assured it was a man?” Benjamin had asked his trusted footman. “Miss Whitchurch thought she heard her sister’s voice.”
“I was waiting outside the establishment, sir, just as you instructed,” Brunswick had whispered.
“We fought, but he broke my hold by striking me across my neck with his elbow. As he ran away before I could catch my breath, I completed a quick search of the store for accomplices, but I did not search the upper floor. The constable said he would secure the premises. Though the person I fought was not as tall as I am, he was not far behind. Nothing feminine-like as far as I could tell. Punched me several times in the side.”
“We will discuss this more later,” Benjamin had instructed. “Climb up on the back. I will take the reins.”
“Yes, sir.”
Benjamin assisted Miss Whitchurch onto the seat and climbed up beside her.
His gut told him she was in greater danger than she knew, and this situation was more than a “mother” wishing to see the child she had abandoned, but how did the woman beside him and the boy play into the equations?
That was the question Benjamin could not yet answer.
Was someone using Miss Whitchurch and the child to reach him, and, thus, Duncan?
Had someone viewed his initially assisting her and was now using his interest in the lady to bring harm to him and his family?
As he drove the gig, Benjamin’s mind again saw the scene of Duncan’s shooting playing in his head.
Now, it was joined by the fear he had felt as he turned the corner of the building to view Miss Whitchurch chasing after an unknown shadow.
Dear God, both were overlaid with the memory of how the baby had silenced his cries at the sound of Benjamin’s voice.
All three memories twisted and turned together in a wild dance until the image of the child’s eyes as they became larger, not in fear of Benjamin, but, rather, as if the boy was pleased for his return—as if the child knew himself safe.
That idea frightened Benjamin more than he cared to consider.
As it easily did, his mind drifted to those early days of being with Duncan.
Benjamin had missed his mother desperately and felt quite guilty for leaving her behind to grieve alone, as well as worrying over his safety.
He did not understand at the time that she was safer without him, for he was the target, not her.
It was Beaufort who had first befriended him.
Perhaps it was because Navan Beaufort, being Irish and all that entailed in a divided England, was the perpetual outsider, even in a welcoming family setting.
At least Benjamin still had family, while Navan had lost all of his immediate family, except his maternal grandmother.
Benjamin’s mother had said, “You shall find another you can trust. One who does not think your interests make you an odd duck.” He had done so with Beaufort.
Though Navan pretended to be what society expected of him, Beaufort was so much more than any could name.
More responsible. More educated. More focused.
Even more dangerous. Although they had taken separate paths, with Benjamin going off to Edinburgh to study medicine, he and Beaufort, when necessary, still had each other’s safety close at hand.
It would be hard for many to understand, but Benjamin felt something similar when it came to Miss Whitchurch and the boy.
The moment the lady took his arm in the rainstorm and the equally monumental moment when the child wrapped his small hand around Benjamin’s finger, he had presented both his heart. He would never desert either.
He made a silent promise that once Miss Whitchurch was settled for the day, he would take himself off to Duncan Place, for he required Duncan’s advice again.
And, if his lordship was not there, Benjamin would follow Duncan to the Home Office, and, perhaps, he would also find Beaufort at the watch house.
Beaufort always had the knack of noticing the obvious which was often hidden among an array of false clues.
From beside him, Miss Whitchurch broke their silence. “Did Mr. Sustar even make an appearance at his door during this incident?”
“Not that I recall,” Benjamin assured, knowing he had missed an important clue and wished to kick himself in the arse. “Perhaps he did not hear the altercation.”
Miss Whitchurch stiffened, and Benjamin quickly realized she had known some sort of affront at his suggestion.
“Mr. Sustar has always been one of the more vocal shopkeepers regarding the Watch taking a more active approach in keeping the streets safe. He should have heard the commotion, for his living quarters back to the close. Moreover, where was the Watch? Did either you or Mr. Brunswick speak to the man traditionally on duty?”
“The Constable secured the empty shop,” Benjamin explained. “He spoke to Brunswick.”
She turned to ask Benjamin’s footman, “Was it Mr. Doué?” she inquired. “The one to whom I introduced you on Tuesday morning?”
“No, miss. It was a different chap.”
After that, they were quiet until they reached Macalhey House, where they entered the house through the rear. Though she did not respond, he told her as he led her through the garden, “I will see you for our morning meal.”
“Do you require your carriage at the usual time, my lord?” Brunswick asked.
“I believe I would like to call on Duncan Place before his lordship leaves for the Home Office,” Benjamin instructed, though his eyes remained on the gentle sway of Miss Whitchurch’s hips as she walked away.
His previous analysis of character continued to prove true: She was loyal and caring, as well as intelligent and perceptive.
“Beautiful,” his brain announced. “Yes, definitely beautiful.”
He turned in fear that he had said the words aloud to discover that Brunswick had already walked away.
“Also impetuous and stubborn as a mule,” he murmured.
“It is loathsome of me to think it, but, if the lady discovers her sister, I cannot permit her and the boy to remain at Macalhey House, for without having Miss Cassandra’s acquaintance, I am confident the lady would create a scene, and I would be forced to remove them.
” With a shrug of resignation, he followed Miss Whitchurch inside.
Still frustrated by this morning’s altercation and Miss Whitchurch’s lack of care for her own safety, Benjamin rushed through his ablutions, which irritated his valet, but he ignored Mr. McCormack’s complaints, concentrating instead on how to convince Miss Whitchurch she was in danger.
A half hour later, he was already in the morning room when Miss Whitchurch entered, carrying the child in her arms. “I apologize, my lord. The boy is fussy this morning. If Mr. Patterson could send…”
“Nonsense. I do not mind if the child is near,” he said to prevent her exit. “Mr. Patterson, have someone fetch the basket Miss Whitchurch uses for the boy and place an armed chair between us so we both might watch over him.”
Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly to him, the boy had stilled at the sound of Benjamin’s voice.
He thought if the child had been strong enough, he would have turned his head to look at Benjamin, though the boy did appear to make the effort, which had Benjamin again wondering how old the child must be to be that strong.
Mr. Patterson moved the requested chair, poured the lady’s tea, and rushed away to claim Miss Whitchurch’s customary breakfast choices and send someone after the child’s basket.
“Here,” Benjamin instructed, “permit me to hold the boy while you enjoy your tea.” He rose to remove the child from her hold before the lady could complain.
“Did you sleep well, Boy?” The child quieted his fussiness and stared at Benjamin, who sat in his own chair but turned to the side so he might lay the child out upon his lap.
The boy’s fingers circled Benjamin’s index finger and held tight.
Meanwhile, to Miss Whitchurch, he said, “What if the reason your sister left the child with you is because she feared either Lord Betts or his son now wanted the boy as an heir to the barony? What if they are pursuing her?”
She paused to consider his question before answering. “The male voice I heard did say I had something he wanted,” she confessed.
“Then all this drama could be circling around you?”
She stopped spreading the preserves on the slice of toast she had claimed from the plate, and, though he should be anticipating her response, Benjamin’s curiosity had taken an unexpected turn.
He wondered how she could hold so perfectly still?
Perhaps it was a female thing. Assuredly, neither his brothers nor he could hold one pose for so long with not even a blink of his eyes.
At length, she shook her head in the negative. “The child was born out of wedlock. There is nothing Lord Betts could do to make the boy his legitimate heir.”
Benjamin knew something of the lengths Duncan had executed to assure that Aaran Graham was the heir to the previous Lord Graham’s Scottish earldom, but he did not think Betts had been smart enough to make the line of succession irreversible.
Her fingers covered Benjamin’s fist where it rested on the table. “You are very kind to worry over me and the boy. Heaven only knows where we would be without your interference.”