The pain of those losses still lingered, though the good memories came far more often than the sad ones now. Catryn did not regret all she had had to learn, either. She wished she had continued to use those skills from time to time, for now she was not sure how much longer she could continue without a rest. She had been racing along for nearly an hour and her whole body was protesting the exertion. Morris’s carriage had long been out of sight, but she was certain she was on the right trail. It would help if she had some idea of how far behind him she actually was, however.
Worry was a constant ache in her heart. She did not think Morris would hurt her son, but then she had never thought he would resort to kidnapping Alwyn either. Morris had never spent much time with her son and knew nothing about him. She doubted he had ever spent time with any child. Catryn feared what the man would do when he became aware of Alwyn’s habit of talking to people who were not there, such as his dead father. She had worked hard to make Alwyn understand that he needed to hide that little quirk, for it bothered, even frightened, too many people, but he was only five years old. She could not be certain he truly understood the danger.
The first of the obstacles she had worried about arrived an hour later, and she had to wonder if the Fates were working against her. The team was beginning to lag. Shaking free of her troubled thoughts, she briefly considered pushing them harder and then softly cursed. Catryn knew she now faced the same choice she had been forced to make with her mare Sorley. The only difference was that these horses simply needed a rest.
She pushed aside all thought that she was doomed in her quest to catch Morris, as well as the unkind thoughts she nursed about the man whose carriage she had stolen and the lack of stamina in his horses. It would do her no good to run the animals until they could run no more. She might gain on Morris for a little while, but she would lose him again when she was forced to stop and hunt down a new team. Morris would also have to rest his horses at some point along the way. Catryn began to search for a safe place to allow the horses to rest, perhaps one with both water and some grazing space.
An hour passed before she found the perfect spot. Catryn carefully drove the carriage off the road onto a grassy clearing near a brook. The moment she got down from the driver’s perch, she knew it was not only the horses that needed a rest. She had to hang on to the side of the carriage for a moment until her legs stopped shaking. There was not one single place on her body that did not ache, but her arms and upper back pained her the most. She was going to pay very dearly for this adventure.
Just as she was rubbing her aching bottom, a young voice said from behind her, “Arse hurting you, is it?”
Catryn spun around so quickly she stumbled back several steps as she struggled to keep her balance. A young boy stood there, grinning at her, his blue eyes shining with laughter. With his thick black hair tumbling around his face in waves that came perilously close to being curls, he was an astonishingly pretty boy. She judged him to be several years older than her son and wondered where he had come from. It was late in the day for a boy his age to be wandering the countryside all alone.
“Who are you and where did you come from?” she asked.
“I am Giles Wherlocke and I was sitting in the carriage you nicked. Who are you?”
“Lady Catryn Gryffin de Warrenne.”
By the time she finished telling him her name the full import of what he had said had seeped into her mind. Catryn stared at the boy in growing horror. There was no denying the truth that now blazed across her mind, however. In her blind desperation to get her son back, she had stolen away another person’s son.
“Sweet mercy,” she muttered. “Your parents are going to see me hanged for this.”
“Only have the one parent, m’lady. Only have my father, Sir Orion Wherlocke. Truth be told, a fair number of people have taken to stealing his carriage of late, though those people were all his own kin. You are not kin, I am thinking. Not with that red hair. So why did you have such need for my father’s carriage? And, I do say, you held off Cody right fine, you did. Did not know a proper lady could hold a pistol that steady.”
Even though she was a little bemused by the way he spoke with an odd mixture of proper and not so proper English, Catryn did notice that the boy did not assure her that she would face no punishment for what she had done. “I needed it.”
“Why? You be a proper lady and all. You must have one of your own.”
“My horse came up lame and I needed the carriage to continue my hunt for the man who stole my son. I could not afford to take the time to return home to get another horse or the carriage.”
“Why did some man take your son? He want money for the boy?”
She dragged her hands through her hair, idly noting that it had fallen free from the neat style her maid had spent a great deal of time perfecting. “I need to see to the horses right now.”
Giles did not push her for an answer to his question but moved to lend her a hand. As they worked together to unhitch the team, rubbed the animals down with handfuls of grass, and then watered them, she told Giles all about Morris and his fight to gain control over Alwyn and his inheritance. Her openness with the boy surprised her, but she decided she just had a deep need to speak her thoughts aloud to someone and he was there, watching and listening, his pretty eyes sharp with intelligence. At times Catryn felt as if she spoke with an adult while at other times, especially when the boy asked why again and again, she could see the young boy beneath the air of toughness and maturity.
Just speaking of all Morris had done stirred her anger. The moment the horses were tethered so they could graze, she began to pace as she talked. Spitting it all out, her father would call it, and that was just what she was doing. She cursed Morris for his greed, his inability to accept what was right by law and his brother’s will, and even for his fanciful blue-and-gold carriage. Even telling herself that a young boy should not be subjected to her fury at Morris and her fear for her child, she could not stop talking. Or pacing.
“Morris is headed to the coast,” she said, abruptly changing from ranting about all of Morris’s past crimes and thinking only of the one he had committed this time. “He may be trying to take Alwyn out of the country. He may even be thinking to just toss my baby overboard once he is out to sea.”
“No, he would ne’er do that,” Giles said as he paced alongside her. “He wants what your boy has and that means he best be keeping that boy alive until he gets it. That is how the game is played.”
She paused to stare at him. “How old are you?”
“I think I am eight.”
“You think?”
“Well, no way to be certain since my mother left me in an alley in the city when I was a babe still swaddled and all.”
Catryn did not know what to say and stared at him in silent shock for a moment. “And your father?”
“I told you; I just found him. Me and my mates were helping his cousin and then he came to help, too, and one of the older ladies said I was his. No one argued with her, said she knew what she was about, so he took me in. My mates are all staying with his cousin and are at their country house now. We are going to better ourselves and not have to live in the dark alleys, maybe thieving a bit, maybe going hungry. I begin to think the lady knew what she was talking about, too, because my father and I do well enough.”
“But how did you survive until you found your father?”
“My mates. There was a woman or two along the way who helped, but it was mostly my mates who raised me. As I told you, they are all at Penelope’s now and that was where my father was taking me. Lady Pen is my father’s cousin and she used to have a house where all the other Wherlocke bastards stayed. My father named it the Wherlocke Warren. Now that Lady Pen is wed, she has kept the ones she has and deals with whatever new ones appear as she thinks best.”
It was impossible for Catryn to envision the life he spoke of. So hard, stark, and dangerous. That a mother would leave her babe in an alley as if the
child were nothing but trash to be tossed away was also impossible for her to understand. Without his mates, Giles would have died and she had no doubt that he knew that well. It was no wonder he often seemed to be so much older than he was.
She was not so certain he had improved his lot much by being taken up by his father. A cousin who had run a house for the bastard children of her family? Who still took in the occasional new one? It was very good of the woman to care for the children so many just tossed aside, but how good was such a scandal-filled life for a young, growing boy? Better than living in an alley, she told herself firmly, and shook aside her concern over his future. She could look into that later, when she had Alwyn safely back at home.
“You were very lucky to find them.”
“I was. And you will find your boy soon and take him home.”
“If Morris has not hurt him.”
“Why do you keep thinking the man will hurt your son? There is no gain in it for him. You have to see that.”
“I do. But Alwyn is just a little boy, and Morris has no skill with children. He would not understand Alwyn’s ways, his little quirks and the way he plays.” Catryn had seen how people had reacted to her son carrying on full conversations with people who were not visible, even telling others what had been said to him, and knew Morris would have no patience, might even be afraid, which could prove very dangerous for her son.
“What do you mean by his quirks and how he plays? Was this Morris ne’er a lad himself?”
“Of course he was.”
“Then what does the boy do that you think will make Morris hurt him?”
“Alwyn talks to people who are not there,” she replied, surprised at her own candor. “It is but a child’s game. He has few other children to play with and then only rarely, so he has made up a few of his own. That is all it is. But people find it alarming and I have taught him to be quiet about it. He is only five though.”
“So he has some boys he has thought up to play with.”
“Not all boys,” she reluctantly admitted. “He claims he is talking to his father, who has been dead for nearly two years.” She shook her head. “It is just a game.”
“I suspect it is. The lad is lonely, is all.”
There was something in the way the boy said the words that made Catryn think he did not really mean them, but she did not press him. “It would upset Morris, but you are right, there is still no gain in his hurting Alwyn.”
She realized that caring for the horses and talking to the boy had eased her fear for Alwyn. It was still there but was not as sharp. The boy was right. There was no gain in Morris doing any serious harm to Alwyn. That did not mean the man would not hurt him or frighten him.
“It will be well, m’lady,” said Giles, and he patted her on the arm.
“It has to be. But for now, we shall let the horses rest and have ourselves something to eat. I fear I brought very little with me as I had thought Morris was taking Alwyn to his town house, not out of the city.”
“Not to worry.”
Giles went to the carriage, climbed in, and quickly returned with a basket. The way he carried it told her it was well stocked. It made sense that such a thing would be in there as the man had been taking his son on a trip to the country. She sat on the grass beside him and opened the basket to find a bounty of bread, cheese, cold meat, cider, and apple tarts.
“At least I shall eat well before I am tossed into Newgate,” she murmured.
Giles chuckled. “You will not be tossed into a prison, m’lady. You had good reason to steal my father’s carriage. He will understand.”
Catryn was not sure of that but just nodded. She hated that time was passing and all she could do was sit, eat, and hope the horses were ready to pull the carriage again before the sun went down completely. The sooner she got her son back from Morris the better.
“It will be the man who took your son who will rot in prison,” said Giles.
“I truly hope so.” She also prayed that Giles judged his father well and that the man did prove to be as understanding as the boy thought he would be.
Chapter Two
Sir Orion Wherlocke took a last look at his image in the mirror, adjusted his neckcloth a little, and then started out of the room. It was foolish to be so precise about his appearance when he was about to take a long journey to the Radmoor country home, but he had once promised himself that he would always look his best and could not seem to break free of that vow. It was a vow born of a humiliating experience in his childhood and he should have overcome that by now.
Promising himself that he would work on freeing himself of that emotional chain, he stepped outside and stared at the place where his carriage should be waiting for him. Orion heard Cody shout and turned in that direction to see his carriage disappear into the heavy London traffic. That brief glimpse he had gotten of his rapidly retreating transport told him that the driver did not look anything like one of his many kinsmen and -women, who had lately taken to stealing his carriage with an irritating regularity to perform some act of daring that required immediate access to transport. Unfortunately, that had usually proven to be his carriage. As far as he was aware, there were no women in his family with such brilliantly red hair. He looked at Cody and the pale worry on the man’s face reminded Orion that he had told his son to wait for him in the carriage, the carriage that had just vanished.
“Giles?” he asked Cody.
“Inside the carriage, sir,” replied Cody, and then he looked briefly at the mare standing placidly at his side.
“The carriage that has just been driven away, the one you do not appear to be chasing after.”
“The lady handed me these reins and aimed a pistol at me. I was that shocked, sir, that there was never a thought in my head about fighting her. Cannot chase her on this horse, either, as it is lame. I was just trying to think of a way to set after her.”
“I believe I can understand not fighting with her, although I do wish it had been otherwise. So, a woman has just stolen my carriage and my son.”
Cody frowned. “Well, aye, she took the carriage, gave me this mare in trade until, so she said, she returned the carriage. I do not know why I think it, sir, but I could swear on my mother’s grave that the woman had no idea the boy was inside. Lad never made a sound, either.”
Orion sighed. No, Giles would not sound any alarm. The boy would think it all some grand adventure, confident in his ability to get free of any tangle. Giles still thought like a boy allowed to run free on the streets, one encouraged from time to time to steal or aid in some fraud, and one whose life had been charmed enough that he had never suffered much for that. It was going to take a while to teach the boy that the comforts of home and family he now enjoyed came with the responsibility of not leaping headlong into any trouble that was around. Orion decided he was going to have to remind Giles that he was no longer without family, and that his family possessed the kind of funds that many a criminal would covet. He could not be so free to risk himself. The boy also had to be made to understand that the family he was now claimed by would worry about him.
“Fetch me a mount, Cody, while I go and gather a few things for a journey,” he ordered the man. “I will leave a message for you to deliver to my hostess for this evening’s event that will adequately explain my absence.”
As Orion returned to his bedchamber and quickly gathered what he would need for the hunt he was about to go on, he felt no regret over missing the ball he had planned to attend after leaving Giles with his cousins. He did, however, experience some annoyance over missing his chance to woo the fair Beatrice, a buxom widow well-known for her skills and appetite in the bedchamber despite all her efforts to be discrete about her affairs. He was very close to success there and missing the chance to meet with her could set his seduction back some. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the pleasure to be found in a woman’s arms and he had been looking forward to the chance to do so again.
The woman had been
out of reach for quite a while and only recently available. Beatrice had been involved with a rich, older man for months, and Orion never poached on another man’s territory, no matter how great the temptation or need. When Beatrice had indicated her interest in him while still on the other man’s arm, and in his bed, Orion had responded with nothing more than politeness. The chance to do more had come only last week, and he had wasted no time in acting on the opportunity after learning that Beatrice was free to be pursued.
The delay in that game could not be helped, he told himself as he hurried back outside. Giles was his son. The boy was not legitimate and had only recently been discovered, but the bond was already there. Even if it had not been, Orion knew he would still go after the boy. Every Wherlocke and Vaughn was taught the importance of caring for one’s progeny, even if that progeny was a half-wild street urchin. There were a few who tried to ignore that rule, ones who occasionally needed a harsh reminder of their responsibilities, but most followed it without hesitation. Too many of them had been victims of a parent’s desertion and neglect themselves.
His concern over Giles’s fate was not as strong as he thought it should be, but he quickly shook off a sense of guilt about that. Giles was clever and had grown up on the dangerous streets of London. His son was no tenderly raised, overly protected child of the gentry. He had not even had a life as easy as Orion’s other two sons, despite how those boys had been cast aside by their mothers. Even if this woman proved to be a threat, Giles had the cunning and strong self-preservation instincts of a London dock rat. The boy could easily keep himself safe until Orion could rescue him.
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