Page 9 of A Duchess to Fight For
Hobart was white, and there was a sheen of sweat covering his body. Frederick held his hand as Shona cleaned and bandaged the wound.
She looked at Frederick. “You need footmen or stable boys to get him to his bed. I suggest the Duke stay in the dark about this. Do you understand?”
Frederick nodded. He understood all too well. Frederick and three footmen carried Hobart up the servants’ stairs to his bedroom. Once he was stripped and in bed, a footman went to the kitchen and brought up food and drink. Frederick stole whisky from his father’s decanter and poured some of it into a wineskin.
Shona climbed the servants’ stairs every day for a week checking on her patient. Frederick slept in Hobart’s bed that week. Their parents didn’t even notice Hobart wasn’t around.
Frederick was devastated when, at the age of fifteen, Hobart ran away from home.
He was eighteen and had his own bank account by then, so he hired a private detective to find Hobart.
Over the years, Frederick learned to hire a private detective for a short period, usually six months. The first one strung him along for close to two years, doing very little except collecting Frederick’s coin.
Frederick assumed Hobart had changed his name, and he didn’t rule out that Hobart may be working on a ship or had sailed to America.
*****
After ten years of searching for Hobart, if there was any possibility that Hobart was alive, Frederick vowed to find him. Finally, he offered a reward. It was coin the likes of which any dockworker or farmer couldn’t resist. There was no honour among thieves. Someone would turn him in.
Hobart was medium tall with brown hair and brown eyes. The only thing that made him stand out from every other person with that description was an X on his upper arm, facing out. It was a mangled thing, but it was easy enough to see.
The reward did it. And quickly. Within a week of posting it, the private detective, Quinn sat across from Frederick in his London townhouse telling Frederick where Hobart lived.
He lived over a pub near the docks.
“Take me to him,” Frederick said.
Frederick stood and pulled the bell for Mendon.
“Your Grace,” Mendon bowed.
“I want four footmen in here in the next ten minutes.” He turned to Quinn, “Take me to him.”
The four of them walked to the docks, and Quinn continued to lead them through a maze of streets populated with houses that all looked the same. Nondescript brown houses with a window and a door in the front.
Frederick was afraid Hobart would run from him although he didn’t know why he would.
Quinn whispered in Frederick’s ear. “Third one down on the left. There’s a back door, so I suggest you split them up front and back.”
“Can he jump out the window and run?”
“Yes. Have them cover the door and the alley.”
Frederick whispered to his footmen and pointed. “Got it.”
Silently, they all nodded. When they moved into position, Frederick knocked on the door loudly. “Hobart, it’s me, Frederick. Please let me in. I want to see you.”
Frederick saw the shadow of a man in a window with no curtains withdraw and heard his footsteps fading to the back.
Frederick turned to his footmen. “Stay here until I call you.” He ran to the back door where two footmen were holding Hobart down.
“Let him up,” Frederick said, then called the footmen up front to join them.
He looked at Hobart. He had a full beard. Frederick began to cry, ran to him, and hugged him hard.
He wouldn’t let Hobart go. “I finally found you,” he said through sobs. “And you’re too thin. Come, we’ll get you bathed, shaved, and fed. My clothes will hang off you too, but they will have to do for now.”
“No,” Hobart said.
