Page 73 of The Lyon Returns
“I see. You’re certain he was aboard, then, and fairly certain he led the convoy into France, yet you search for him here?”
Disappointment weighed him down. She had only been grasping at straws. “Yes, in case he somehow returned. Barring that, I’ve been seeking his family’s whereabouts.”
She smiled a whimsical smile. “Ah, yes. Mr. Kennedy never anticipated marrying or having a child of his own, claiming himself wed to the sea. Then Meredith came along and upended the apple cart.”
He shook his head. He had never allowed anyone to read his private journals. Had never considered the notion, and no one of his acquaintance would have dared ask had they even known they existed. He should be appalled, or offended or, at the very least, self-conscious. Instead he felt relief at having Gwen with whom to confer.
Abruptly, her brows snapped together and she sat up straight in her chair. “Wait. Are you saying Meredith and the babe are gone?”
“Gone without a trace. I first checked the apartments I keep in Portsmouth. Dirk resides—resided—locally, but we often sailed out of Portsmouth, or received important shipments there.”
“So, for expediency’s sake, you keep a place there for you and yourhigher employees’ use,” Gwen surmised.
She was so damned easy to talk with; she never missed a beat. “Precisely. When Dirk knew he would be there for an extended time, Meredith and Dirk Junior would relocate temporarily to join him.”
“They weren’t there, and they aren’t here,” she said thoughtfully as she swirled her brandy in the glass, peering into it like a gypsy reading tea leaves before lifting her gaze to his. “What of their belongings?”
He tried without success to squelch the ember of hope once again igniting in his chest—that Gwen would somehow solve the riddle and clear his friend of all complicity. “Their furnishings remain in their residence in Wapping. However, by all appearances, they packed for an extended trip and left in a hurry. Their neighbors claim not to have seen them leave, nor to have any knowledge of where they may have gone.”
She pursed her lips. “Leading you to conclude they departed for France where they rejoined Mr. Kennedy.”
He took a hefty swallow of the fine liquor. “It would seem the most logical conclusion.”
“Yet you continue to search for them,” she said, tilting one fine brow. “Why?”
“Fool’s errand,” he muttered and swirled his own brandy in his snifter. “It’s unlikely Dirk will ever return. Unlike me, he doesn’t have a wealthy duke for a father who won’t stand for him being thrown into Newgate prison.”
She set her glass aside and moved to kneel before him, one of her hands on each of his knees.
His throat went tight looking down into her pale, fine-boned face, and the care he read there.
“Gideon,” she began in a low voice. “Do you know what I think?”
“No.” He knew whathethought. He wanted to kiss her. To haul her up onto his lap, ravage her mouth and forget everything, save her.
“I think you know very well Mr. Kennedy would never betray you, nor would he move his precious family to live with the enemy.”
“So where are they and how do you explain him leading the ships into enemy territory?”
“Perhaps someone forced him at gunpoint to veer the ship toward France. Perhaps the crew mutinied and forced him to walk the plank.”
He grunted. “Spoken like a woman who’s read far too many horrid novels.”
In typical Gwen fashion, she ignored his childish outburst and cocked her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Perhaps, and I think this scenario most likely, someone threatened those he loved in order to gain his compliance. Maybe even took them. Didn’t you say his entire family disappeared, leaving no one the wiser as to their whereabouts?”
“Yes, which could as easily be explained by him acquiring a hefty sum through nefarious deeds and sending them somewhere he planned to later join them.” Even as he spoke the words, they felt wrong.
“You don’t believe that,” she said, reading his mind. She cupped his cheek with one silken palm.
He resisted, barely, pressing into her touch.
“If I had to guess, I’d say you suffer from guilt.”
“Guilt?” he railed, as the fire of need within him raged. “I had nothing to do with Dirk’s treachery.”
“Of course you didn’t. But you likely blame yourself for having been absent when he needed you, having departed for Calcutta to see to your business interests before the final shipment of arms set sail.”
He stared into her eyes, sudden, intense misery welling up inside him. “Ishouldhave been here,” he gritted out. “I should never have let such a major responsibility land on his shoulders.”
