He lifted his gaze to hers. One of his thick brows curved sardonically. “They weren’t too clever, Kit. They didn’t even bother to secure my hands or feet or anything.”
“You escaped?” She tried not to let the fear his story invoked reflect in her tone. He might not have been scared by his ordeal, but the idea of her brother being in the hands of ruthless kidnappers had her heart racing and her stomach churning.
“Quite easily,” he replied matter-of-factly. “At one point, they both stepped outside, thinking I’d be secure enough behind the locked door.”
She almost smiled. When Frederick was six years old, he’d developed a brief fascination with the mechanisms of various sorts of locks. It hadn’t taken him long to master them all, including how to pick them with whatever might be handy, and he’d quickly moved on to something else.
“Once free of the cupboard, I climbed through a window and ran down the alley. The streets in that part of town are different from Mayfair. Twisting, turning, narrow, and dark. Chaotic and sort of fascinating.” His tone lowered. “And the people I encountered...some of them living so desperately and furtively in the shadows.”
Though Frederick had a fiercely analytical mind, it went along with a sensitive heart. He’d never been able to observe suffering without wanting to find a way to fix it.
“Is that where you encountered Mr. Hale?” she asked. “Did he take you in?”
Frederick blinked. Then he shook his head. “No. Not yet. Unfortunately, I was set upon once again.”
Her heart jolted. “The kidnappers found you?”
“Different men. Rougher characters who were much better prepared to prevent escape. They put a cloth over my face, forcing me to breath noxious fumes that burned my throat and put me to sleep. I woke to find myself chained in the company of several other children. We’d been taken by a gang of criminals who intended to sell us into servitude and slavery overseas.”
“Oh my God!” The exclamation slid free before she could stop it.
Frederick looked to her with sharp concern as he quickly assured, “It’s all right, though. Mr. Hale and three others stormed into the warehouse where we were all being kept. Hale and his friends took care of the criminals and made sure every one of us got out of there.”
Katherine took a long breath. She could only imagine how that great-muscled man had taken care of the criminal gang. It seemed the brute wasn’t the villain she’d feared he might be. “I am unbelievably grateful to Mr. Hale for rescuing you. But I still don’t understand why he didn’t bring you straight home or at least send for me.”
“I didn’t tell him who I was.”
“But why?”
“I wasn’t ready to go home.” His tone was unflinching in its honesty.
Katherine’s heart felt like it was being crushed. Had she failed him so terribly?
Their mother had died when Frederick as just an infant. With their father’s recent untimely death, she and Frederick had become wards of their great-uncle, the Marquess of Warfield, whom they’d never met. Their solicitors had sent word to the marquess, but the man was off in Europe somewhere and had no intention of returning. Honestly, his lack of interest in taking on his guardianship duties was welcome. Katherine and Frederick had no desire to fall under the thumb of a stranger.
But perhaps moving to London while their home was rebuilt hadn’t been the best decision.
Katherine had seen the changes in her brother since they’d left Lincolnshire—his growing distance and solitude—and she’d tried to give him space while letting him know she was always there for him.
It must not have been enough.
She studied him now as she forced herself not to take his rejection personally. At twelve years old he was nearly as tall as she was, would likely pass her height within the next few months. He possessed the long-limbed form of a boy on the verge of growing into a man. In the last year, she’d become accustomed to seeing his widening shoulders bow with uncertainty and grief. She noted how often his focus turned inward as his smiles became less and less frequent and the conversations that used to go on for hours between them grew shorter and shorter.
But now, as he stood before her, she noted something different and undeniable.
His posture was strong and straight, while his gaze was direct and confident. There was a new maturity in his expression and in his manner. And she sensed something else.
Purpose.
Katherine bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from forcefully hauling her brother into her arms. He was too young to look so independent. “I don’t understand.”
His eyes darkened around a flickering inner light as his jaw tightened. When he spoke, it was with calm conviction. “I couldn’t leave her, Kit.”
And suddenly so much made sense. The reason Hale had been there to rescue the children, the way little Claire clung to Frederick and the way he had looked back at her...as though he’d protect her with his life. “Claire was one of the other children being held in the warehouse,” she whispered.
Fredrick nodded and his brows furrowed over a haunted gaze. “She was so scared, Kit. And so small. The smallest of all of us. Claire wouldn’t let anyone near her except me. They had the biggest of us chained to each other, and though I could have picked the locks myself, I couldn’t figure out a way to escape and safely bring her with me. I had to stay with her no matter what came next. And then when Mr. Hale came for us...she barely knew him and she was still so scared.” He turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Kit. She needed me. I couldn’t leave her. Not until I knew she’d be safe here.”
Aching for him, she turned and clasped his hand in both of hers. “You are the most noble person I
