“You don’t question any of this, do you?”
Bened shook his head. “Too many times a younger son or some other relative has grabbed both title and land through the all-convenient death of the heir. One of my cousins was caught up in such a mess about six years ago. She helped an earl whose uncle not only cuckolded him but wanted him gone so that he could lay claim to it all. He tried to kill the earl at least five times. The man even tried to murder the earl’s newborn son but had to settle for making the man believe the boy was dead. Put the babe with a woman dying after birthing her own stillborn babe but my cousin was there and saw it, saving the child.”
“Was that the Earl of Collinsmoor?”
“Aye. You have heard about that?”
“A tale like that travels far and wide. Every time he or his wife is seen, it gets repeated.”
“That does not surprise me. An earl, an unfaithful wife, a missing heir, and a mad uncle.” Bened grinned. “Who could resist chewing on such a meaty tale?”
Primrose could not resist returning his smile. “Very true. It also had a happy ending. The perfect touch.” She cocked her head to the side as she grew serious again. “So, his uncle was mad?”
“What else would you call a man who cuckolds his own nephew, plots to be rid of his own great-nephew by leaving the babe to die with some poor woman in a tiny, poor cottage, and makes plans to wipe out his entire bloodline from the nephew to his own wife and daughters.”
Shock froze her in place for a moment and then she lifted one unsteady hand to push back a lock of hair that had slipped free of her braid. “Insane indeed. I do not believe my relatives are insane, not even Aunt Augusta. Cold, sly, greedy, bitter, but not mad.” Her eyes widened. “You think she means to kill Simeon?”
“And you do not?”
She had to think about that for a moment. Although her desperation to find Simeon had mostly been born of her aunt’s plans for her, now she wondered if she had nursed a fear for his safety as well. If her aunt did not think Simeon could be controlled or ignored, she would see him as a threat. Augusta had been around enough to know her chances of getting Simeon under her thumb were very small indeed. It was now clear how Aunt Augusta dealt with anyone who threatened her comfort and her place in society.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and said, “None of this is your trouble, however.”
Bened watched her straighten her spine so that her slender body was perfectly erect in her chair. She clasped her hands together in front of her. Her expression was one of a cool, composed courtesy but he could see the uncertainty shadowing her eyes and sensed the taut fear she struggled to control. She was brave but that would not help her fight the dangers she would encounter if he let her continue on alone. Such things required an experience and hardening that she simply did not have.
“It is now,” he said.
“Why? You do not know me.”
“True, but I know you need help. I also have some experience in hunting people down. I have been honed in battle and have a way of knowing when the enemy is near.”
“What does that mean? What exactly is having a way of knowing? You have a skill for tracking people?” She had to admit that it would be a useful skill to have access to.
“Do you know whom the Earl of Collinsmoor married?” Bened decided he might as well speak the truth now rather than have her discover it later and run from him at just the time she needed him close at hand the most.
“The woman who found his son, Chloe Wherlocke. Oh. She is your cousin? They say some odd and, perhaps, unkind things about her and the Wherlockes, I am sorry to say. But, you said your name was Vaughn.”
“Two branches of the same tree, the roots of which go back to the first Duke of Elderwood, maybe even further. I suspect that talk you mentioned is of the many eccentricities in the family, perhaps even whispers of witchcraft.” He shrugged. “Old talk. At least it remains but gossip now and not nearly as dangerous as it used to be.”
“Are you about to tell me that it is all true?” Primrose supposed she ought to be alarmed but she found herself fascinated, almost eager to have some of the rumors she had greedily listened to confirmed.
“Not sure what you have heard about us, but, aye, we could rightfully be called an eccentric lot. We are not witches, however, or tools of Satan, or wizards, or whatever else some call us. We are gifted.” Seeing only curiosity in her expression, he felt something inside him relax and continued. “Nearly every one of us can do something very unique, something most others can never do. Unfortunately, many find such gifts frightening, even a sign of evil.”