Hero, Come Back by Stephanie Laurens

Caterham…”
    “He could have driven up and—” Reggie broke off, frowning. “The boys said a black coach—I’m sure they meant a town coach. If it had been a traveling carriage with four horses, they would have mentioned it.”
    Hugh shook his head. “Portsmouth House. In Park Lane. He would have stopped there and changed carriages.” Abruptly he stood. “I’ll send a footman to ask. It’s just around the corner.”
    They all waited in a mounting fever of impatience. Imogen offered refreshments, and they accepted, but none of them paid any of it the slightest heed.
    The footman returned in ten minutes, out of breath from running but quick to say, “His Grace stopped by this morning. Esher was right surprised. No warning at all. His Grace had out the town coach, the one with no crest, but had his own coachman drive. They came back an hour or so later, and drove straight into the stable yard. The grooms said as His Grace had a young lad with him.” The footman suddenly looked highly self-conscious.
    “Indeed,” Imogen declared. “A distant cousin.”
    The footman looked relieved. “Just so, ma’am. Did seem he was one of the family. His Grace and the boy got into the coach and off they went. Didn’t say nothing to Esher—just sent the groom in to say he’d gone home to Surrey again.”
    Hugh dismissed the footman.
    Reggie rose, as did Anne. “Surrey, near Caterham.”
    Hugh exchanged a concerned look with Imogen. “I can’t imagine why…”
    “Nor I.” Imogen rose. “But I’ll get things in order here, then we better start down. Will you order the carriage?”
    Hugh nodded. “I’ve got Phillips, my agent, waiting in my study. We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished with him.”
    “We’ll go straight down.” Reggie moved to open the door. “Benjy will be worried being with strangers.”
    Hugh nodded again, then drew in a deep breath. “My father. He can sometimes be somewhat irascible, but…”
    “If he roars,” Imogen said, sweeping out into the hall, “just ignore him and wait until he stops.” She nodded to Reggie, and exchanged a deeper, more meaningful nod with Anne. “We’ll follow you down as soon as we may.”
    On the pavement, Reggie stopped and turned to Anne. “Will you let me take you home?”
    She stared at him. “ No! I’m going with you.”
    He swallowed a sigh. “We don’t know what we’ll find when we reach Caverlock Hall.”
    “Whatever we find, we need to bring Benjy back, and he’ll most likely be frightened. Regardless of his training, he hasn’t had any exposure to ducal houses, let alone crusty old dukes. But he knows me, and besides, he’s legally in the care of the Foundling House. You’ll need a representative to take him back if His Grace turns difficult.” Her jaw set; she met his gaze defiantly. “I’m coming with you.”
    He read the message in her eyes; there was nothing for it but to nod and acquiesce. “All right. But when we get there, you will bite your tongue and let me do the talking.”
    She humphed—that seemed to be her way of signifying grudging assent; before he could help her, she clambered up into the curricle.
     
    The day was fine, cool with no rain although clouds were gathering in the east. Anne was glad she’d thought to don her new pelisse; its warmth kept her from shivering as the wind of their passing swept through her. Reggie kept the horses well up to their bits and they rushed and rattled south past Battersea and Croydon, then on down the Brighton Road before veering east for Caterham.
    Caverlock Hall wasn’t hard to find; the innkeeper at the Caterham Arms directed them to where the drive joined the road through the village just past the last houses. Reggie turned his horses in between the tall gateposts, then set them trotting down a long avenue lined with old oaks.
    It was late afternoon and the shadows were lengthening, the sun slanting beneath the clouds that had swept across the sky. With the prospect of