Page 54 of When Dashing Met Danger

“But how do you know?” Lucia squeaked. “You haven’t even seen the note.”

“I know where your brother is,” he said.

“You do?” Lucia jumped off the bed. “Is he still in France?”

Alex handed Freddie Dashing’s note. Freddie skimmed it. “This confirms it.” Freddie pulled on the lace of his sleeves and returned the note to Alex. “He’s staying at Madame Loinger’s in Calais, or at least he was. One of my sources heard he’d gone to Paris. And, as you know, my sources are always correct. Well, almost always. There was that one time—”

“Shut up, Freddie!” Alex ran a hand through his hair. “I know he’s in France, but what the bloody hell is he doing there?”

“What else?”

Alex stilled, and his blood chilled in his veins. He shook his head. No.

Freddie nodded, the look on his face grim.

“What?” Lucia asked, watching the exchange. “What’s wrong?”

“Wentworth, that bastard,” Alex said. “What’s he thinking sending a boy over there?”

“Then John is in France, but why? We’re at war with France.”

Dewhurst rose. “I’ll leave you now.”

Lucia turned to him, fear and uncertainty etched on her face. “Thank you, Lord Dewhurst. It’s not good news, but I feel better knowing where he is.”

Freddie bowed. “My pleasure, Miss Dashing. Good evening.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Alex said. “Wait here. I mean it, Lucia.” In the hallway he said, “Freddie, send a message for my ship to be readied. I want to leave at the first possible—”

Freddie held up a hand. “It’s already been done. You can go now, if you wish. It looks as though you have a few other matters to attend to first, however.” Freddie arched a brow at the door behind them.

“I’ll take care of Lucia.”

“I’m sure you will,” Freddie said with a grin.

Alex took a step forward. “You’re a dead man if this gets out.”

“What do you take me for?” Freddie said, looking hurt. “But I’d be remiss in my duty as a gentleman if I didn’t warn you that if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.”

“So she got to you, too.” Alex shook his head. “Well, get in line.”

“Just be gentle, Alex. For once.”

Alex turned back to his room. “I know what I’m doing, Freddie.”

“Famous last words.”

He shut the door on Freddie’s admonishment. Lucia was perched on his bed, hands at her neck clutching his robe closed. Her face, flushed with pleasure earlier, was now pale and drawn.

“I have to see Wentworth directly.” He tossed her gown and chemise to her from the pile of discarded clothing at the foot of the bed.

“Alex, what’s going on? Why is John in France?”

“Get dressed. I’ll take you home, then call on Wentworth.”

“Then you know this Wentworth? The same one in John’s note?”

“Yes.”

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