Trevor looked back at the lad. “Leave? Do you really want to return to Macgregor and a life of thieving?”
“Where else would I go? I have no home. No family.”
“But what if Macgregor and this Featherspoon fellow have lied to you all this time? What if your family is alive and wondering where you have been these past three years?”
Tears filled the boy’s eyes and his bottom lip quivered. “I would love to believe that, m’lord. But I don’t dare.”
“Who were your parents?”
“My father was Baron Grisham.”
Trevor nodded. “Do you remember where you lived?”
“Aye.” Norman’s face brightened. “I know it’s quite a way’s away, but will you take me there?”
“Yes, I will. I want to know if you were kidnapped or if your parents had indeed died.”
Color bloomed on Norman’s cheeks and excitement danced in his brown eyes as he explained where he had lived. Trevor leaned over and opened the door to instruct the driver where togo. Although it was several hours away, the ride would be worth it.
The first part of the drive, the boy chattered like a bird, talking about his home and family. At times Trevor wished the boy would stop, but then realized this kept him from thinking about Louisa… from thinking the worst in her.
Finally, an hour later, Norman fell asleep. Exhaustion settled over Trevor, but he refused to close his eyes. Picturing Louisa as a vagabond and doing what Norman had told him she had done, were not good images to have.
What worried him more than anything was having her regain her memory, only to discover she had been a bad person—that she had done all the things Norman told him about. Could Trevor still allow her to be in his home, caring for his children knowing she had done this? And, could he still love her and want her for his wife?
He must find Percy Featherspoon and get more answers.
When the vehicle slowed, Trevor peered out the window. Night had fallen over them, but up ahead stood a home all lit up. The half-moon helped to guide them as well.
“Norman,” he said, reaching over and shaking the lad. “Wake up. I think we have arrived.”
The boy stretched and yawned, then blinked with sleepy eyes. He scanned the inside of the landau as confusion crossed his features. When he met Trevor’s gaze, it only took a moment before recognition struck and Norman smiled.
“Are we home?”
“I certainly hope so.”
The boy scrambled to the window and pressed his nose against the glass. When the house came into view, Norman gasped. Shaking his head, he pulled back and looked at Trevor with teary eyes.
“That cannot be right. I was told the house burned down—that my family was in the house.”
“Is that your home?” Trevor asked.
“Aye.”
Hope budded in Trevor’s chest, and he prayed he would be able to reunite the boy with his family.
When the vehicle stopped, Trevor and Norman climbed out. Trevor walked ahead of the lad, but with the boy’s hurried steps, Trevor had to quicken his step. He stopped in front of the front door and pulled the bell.
Norman sniffed and wiped his moist eyes. “I don’t understand, m’lord.”
“We shall discover what really happened, I assure you.”
The door opened and Trevor greeted the butler. “Pardon me for calling at such a late hour. I’m the Duke of Kenbridge, and I need to speak with Baron Grisham, if you please.”
The butler bowed. “Good evening, Your Grace. What can I tell the baron is your purpose here?”
“He’s alive?” Norman’s voice rose and he pushed past Trevor and stood in front of the butler. “Is my father alive?”
