“
She set her jaw stubbornly, despite the effort it took. “Perhaps not evil…but he was certainly a thief and a swindler.”
“Because he was entrusted to care for you?” Roslyn ventured to guess. “But he refused to honor Sir Rupert’s wishes after his death?”
“So how did you manage to survive?” Drew asked, his tone sympathetic.
Constance shifted her gaze to him. “To support us…my son hired on as a houseboy in a nobleman’s household…and was later promoted to footman… I found employment in a milliner’s shop.”
“And how did you come to live here?”
She turned her face away, as if ashamed to answer. “We could not make the rent…so we moved to even cheaper lodgings. I abhorred having to bring…my children here, but I had no choice. And now we may be evicted even from here. When I fell ill last month…my employer let me go-”
Her last words were cut off when she began coughing fiercely into Drew’s linen handkerchief.
Seeing a mug of water on the bedside table, Roslyn helped Constance lift her head so she could sip, yet she continued to struggle for breath.
“Has a physician attended you?” Roslyn asked, deeply worried.
Constance swallowed with effort and then fell back weakly, shutting her eyes. “No…we cannot afford doctors or medicines…on Ben’s meager salary.” She forcibly opened her eyes again. “Why do you ask about Benjamin, Miss Loring?”
When Roslyn hesitated, wondering how much to divulge, Drew answered for her. “Your son was interested in acquiring a certain brooch in Lady Freemantle’s possession, Mrs. Baines.”
Constance looked puzzled. “My brooch…how did he even know…” She fell silent except for her breathless rasping.
“The brooch was yours?” Roslyn gently prodded.
“Yes, it was a gift…from Rupert many years ago, at our son’s birth. I cherished it because it…had Rupert’s portrait inside. But when he died, the brooch…was at the jeweler’s being cleaned, so I never saw it again.”
“And you could not legally claim it?”
“No.” Her voice lowered to barely a whisper. “Rupert could never publicly acknowledge…me as his mistress, out of respect for his wife, so…I could not simply demand the brooch back. Lady Freemantle would…have learned about me then…and Rupert would not have wanted that.”
“So why did your son want the brooch?” Drew asked.
“I…suppose to return it to me. I remember some weeks ago…when I first became ill and was wracked with fever…I told Ben I wished that I still…had the miniature portrait of his father. Perhaps I told him it was…in Lady Freemantle’s possession. I can’t recall.”
At least that explained why the boy had been so determined to obtain the brooch, Roslyn reflected. He was trying to fulfill what he thought was his mother’s deathbed wish.
“Is Benjamin in trouble?” Constance repeated weakly.
Again Drew answered for Roslyn. “That remains to be seen. The evidence against him is very serious, but we wish to speak to him before making any accusations.”
“What evidence?” Constance demanded worriedly.
“We believe he attempted to steal the brooch, more than once.”
She stared. “You must be mistaken, your grace. Benjamin would never steal. He is a good boy, the best son anyone could hope for.”
“Perhaps so, but his arm injury may have been a gunshot wound.”
“A gunshot wound! You must be mistaken-”
Just then the door burst open and Winifred’s ginger-haired thief rushed into the room, a worried look on his face. He took one look at the visitors, however, and froze in recognition, his expression turning to fear. The parcel he was carrying dropped from his nerveless fingers, while his freckled complexion turned as pale as his sick mother’s.
He was no longer wearing a sling, Roslyn noted, although he seemed to favor his right arm by holding it close to his chest.
To his credit, Benjamin recovered quickly and stuck out his chin. He meant to brazen it out, Roslyn realized.
“What do you mean coming here? My mother is too ill for visitors! Please leave at once.”
Constance looked appalled by his brusqueness. “Benjamin!” she rasped. “What do you mean…being so rude to our guests?”
When she started hacking again, the boy launched himself toward the bed, insinuating himself between the visitors and his mother. Obviously bent on protecting her, he whirled, his fists clenched defensively. “I won’t let you hurt her!”
Suspecting his belligerence was caused more by fear than anger, Roslyn would have tempered her reply, but Drew’s tone was not so gentle when he responded. “We have no intention of hurting your mother, lad. We are here to discuss your attempted theft of Lady Freemantle’s property.”
The boy ground his teeth. “It is not
“So you thought you had a right to hold up her ladyship’s coach at gunpoint, and when that failed, you invaded her home?”
Constance gasped. “No, Benjamin…you would never…do something so terrible.”
He turned to gaze down at her. “I’m sorry, Mama. I thought having Papa’s portrait might help you to get better.”
He turned back to face the duke, his gaze defiant. “Lady Freemantle won’t miss one little trinket with all those diamonds and emeralds she has in her jewel case. She is rich as a nabob.” His tone turned bitter with resentment. “It isn’t fair that she should be so wealthy while my mother and sisters starve.”
“Oh, Benjamin…” his mother murmured in dismay. “I taught you better than to covet other people’s possessions.”
His tone softened. “I was not coveting your brooch, Mama. It is rightfully yours, and I was only trying to get it back for you.”
Drew’s gaze remained grim. “You could have injured or killed Lady Freemantle and Miss Loring when you shot at them.”
Constance gave a low moan. “Dear heaven, Ben…how could you?”
The last fire left the boy’s eyes, to be replaced by guilt. “I am truly sorry, Mama. But my pistol discharged by accident. I would never have shot them, your grace. I would never hurt anyone.”
Interrupting the uneasy silence, Roslyn spoke up. “I have always found Lady Freemantle to be quite reasonable, Benjamin. Why didn’t you simply ask her to return the brooch?”
His gaze shifted to her. “I didn’t dare risk it, Miss Loring. Her ladyship didn’t know that her husband had another family-and I couldn’t tell her. In any case, I was sure she would be outraged if I approached her, enough to have me horsewhipped and driven off her estate or worse. Stealing the brooch was the only possible way I could regain possession of it.”
Although his voice remained steady, his chin was trembling, and Roslyn could detect more than a glimmer of remorse in his eyes.
“So you pretended to be a footman and managed to get hired for my sister’s wedding celebrations?” she asked.
“Yes… I mean, it was no pretense. I am in service to Lord Faulkes. But a footman’s livery is a good disguise for a thief. The gentry never look at servants-they’re invisible.”
There was significant truth to his assertion, Roslyn acknowledged as Benjamin turned back to Drew.
This time his voice quivered noticeably when he queried, “D-do you mean to arrest me, your grace?”
