Chapter Sixteen #2
“I don’t want anything.” Marianne’s voice was sharp. “Don’t you see? This is all my fault.” She felt the compassionate gazes of both Aunt Clementine and Benedict and could not stand the weight of them. “It is my fault,” she repeated.
“How so?” Benedict asked.
“I escaped. Then Edgar kidnapped Toby as punishment.” Guilt and fear clawed at her stomach making her bend almost double. “If I hadn’t run away, Toby would be here, safe and sound.”
She heard Benedict draw breath as if to reassure her, but it was Clementine who spoke first.
“I don’t think that is true, Marianne. The more I consider it, the more convinced I become that Edgar Chawton always intended to take Toby.
There was no drama here, this morning. Nothing untoward took place.
Toby simply vanished.” Marianne clamped her hand to her mouth, unable to take any more, but Clementine continued.
“It was a very smooth, well-executed plan.”
Marianne rocked backwards and forwards on the Chesterfield.
As if from far away, she heard Benedict repeat his instruction to Andrews, followed by her maid’s brisk footsteps leaving the room.
A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, and she longed to close her eyes and give in to misery and hopelessness. But no, she had to find Toby.
Benedict’s warm hand rested on her shoulder, giving her strength.
“I can save him,” he promised.
Marianne focused her gaze on the curved headboard of Toby’s little bed. She imagined him lying there, safe and warm, and tears filled her eyes.
“We should pay the ransom demand. You never know, this could be an entirely separate matter. Nothing whatsoever to do with Edgar.”
Benedict and Clementine spoke in unison. “No.”
Fire spread inside her. “He is my son. I want him back.” Her anguish vanished in a bubble of anger.
“Of course.” Benedict’s long fingers kneaded her shoulder. “But consider this. In the unlikely case that Edgar is not behind this, if we pay this demand, whoever has Toby will merely come back with more. We might never be free.”
“There is no honest negotiation with dishonest people,” Clementine added.
Marianne swallowed hard, trying hard to keep hold of her spiraling emotions. “But we should do whatever we can.”
“Yes.” Benedict came to kneel in front of her.
“Anything and everything. Whoever has him, be it Edgar Chawton or some other villain, I want to look them in the eye and ensure they never act against us again. But I believe your aunt is correct. Edgar is behind this. It is too much of a coincidence otherwise.” His grip on her tightened.
“Which is why I want to go myself and find Toby.”
Marianne began to shake her head, but Benedict spoke in a voice that quivered with conviction.
“I know the people that Edgar is consorting with. Heaven help me, I have drunk with them and gambled with them.” He squeezed her fingers. “Don’t you see? They will allow me into the building without suspicion. Let all that was bad and dark in my past be put to some good.”
“You are asking too much.” She breathed deeply to try and quell her rising panic.
“I am asking as Toby’s stepfather. As the man who will raise him as my own,” Benedict corrected her, prompting a fresh swell of emotion which caused Marianne actual pain.
“You trusted me with these jewels.” He fished in his pocket and brought out the sapphire necklace.
“Will you trust me with this, much more important task?”
“I trust you with all my heart.” Tears blurred Marianne’s vision as she reached out to cup his stubbled cheeks. “But don’t you see, I can’t risk losing both you and Toby.”
Benedict laid the necklace gently on the sofa cushions and then turned to give his full attention to Marianne.
“You will never lose me, I promise.”
“But I still think it is too dangerous.”
“I am a trained soldier, all too accustomed to danger.” His eyes flashed and she saw, for a moment, the warrior behind the gentleman.
But when he spoke again his voice had dropped and she had to lean forward to catch his words.
“Do you remember what I once told you, Marianne? When I was in France, toward the end, I failed to save my friend William. He died on the battlefield. And not a day goes by that I don’t feel guilt and regret tearing me apart. ”
He faltered and despite her own distress, Marianne reached for his hand. “How could it be your fault? He died in battle,” she said soothingly.
“Just as it is the fault of no one here that young Toby has been kidnapped. But let me be the one to save him. I can do it, Marianne. I promise. In fact, I need to do it.” His eyes flashed again, with the same steely determination that ran through his words.
Marianne believed him.
She looked at the strong, courageous man who was kneeling before her, and she thought there was no one else in the world whom she would rather entrust with Toby’s safety.
No one else—other than herself—who cared so passionately about her little boy.
She stifled a sob as she smoothed back a lock of his unruly hair.
“I cannot refuse such a heartfelt request.”
He held her gaze. “You give me your blessing?”
“With all my heart.” Marianne gazed into Benedict’s chocolate eyes and fancied she could see to the very depths of his soul.
“I will not let you down,” he said fervently.
The force of their connection all but shimmered between them. Marianne had forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It was only when Andrews materialized at her side, a glass of brandy in her hand, that she came to her senses.
“Thank you,” she said, sipping the amber liquid and wincing at the strong, warming taste.
Benedict got to his feet with scarcely a wince to betray his long days in the saddle. “I shall go right away.”
From the other side of the room, Clementine held out a restraining hand. “Bessie Dove-Lyon has offered the services of her wolves.”
“I would rather work alone.” Benedict shook his head, glossy curls flying.
“No.” Marianne rose to her feet and locked eyes with him. “Please,” she amended. “Do not go alone, I beg you.”
Someone burst in at the nursery door, but Marianne dared not look away from the man she loved.
A smile flickered at the corner of Benedict’s mouth. “I cannot deny you anything, Marianne.”
Relief washed over her. “You will take the wolves? Any more men of your acquaintance?”
“I do not wish to cause a scene with too many able-bodied men rushing in.” Benedict rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. “Allow me to mull this over.”
“Take me, milord, if you please?”
They all turned to find Jeffrey, the gardener, standing in the doorway, red-faced and panting.
“I ran all the way from the orchard,” he added, by way of an explanation.
“I’ve grown mighty fond of Master Toby, if you’ll permit me, milady.
” He gave a clumsy bow to Marianne. “And I would do all I can to bring him safely home.” At the last moment, he snatched his gray cloth cap from his blond head and twisted it in his hands.
“Thank you, Jeffrey,” Marianne said, emotion building inside her once again. “Toby loved the swing you made for him.”
“And I loved watching him swing on it,” Jeffrey burst in, with an apologetic look at Aunt Clementine.
Benedict strode forward and clasped Jeffrey’s hand. “I can always make use of an able-bodied and invested man.”
“Thank you, milord.”
Benedict glanced over his shoulder in a last, lingering look at Marianne. “I will send word, just as soon as there is any news.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Be careful.”
To her great surprise, he blew her a kiss. “I will, I promise.”
And with that, Benedict and Jeffrey were gone, leaving the three women looking at one another with wide eyes.
“I say, Andrews, is there any more of that brandy?” Aunt Clementine asked mildly. “We are unused to such displays of emotion in Fencham House.”