After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(70)

Hunter was a common name. There was no reason that a valet should be associated with these Hunters, but it was something to do while they waited for their investigator to widen his search of inns. They’d scrambled to make an appointment; here they were.

The office they’d been directed to was small, the sort taken temporarily by traders who arrived in town for a few weeks in order to sell their wares. They waited in the hall, listening to two men argue, then laugh, then agree to terms.

Captain G. Hunter was, by the sounds of it, an American. Well. Theresa supposed there were worse things in the world.

The door opened; one man left. A woman ushered them in.

The man who sat at the desk watched as they entered, then frowned at the two of them. He had brown, piercing eyes. His skin was a dark brown; his hair was short and curly.

Theresa shoved her hands deeper into her muff.

“Captain Grayson Hunter.” He didn’t stand. “You’re Mr. and Mrs. Worth?” He sounded dubious.

She would need all of her dignity for this. Theresa raised her chin. “I am Lady Theresa Worth. This is my younger brother, Benedict Worth.”

Captain Hunter’s eyes touched on Theresa’s hat, then her muff, as if sizing up her wealth. He glanced at Benedict’s cuffs. Then he leaned back in his chair, one arm over the edge. Piercing eyes indeed. “You’re here to answer my advertisement about telegraph cable?” His accent was definitely American.

“Um.” Benedict looked at Theresa, a clear sign that meant I’m bad at lying, you go ahead.

Captain Hunter looked up at the ceiling in entreaty and shook his head before looking at the two of them. “I’m sorry, I know that actual adults look younger and younger to me every year—but are the two of you even of age?”

Theresa’s hands clenched together in her muff. “We’re not children. I’m—”

“Old enough to sign a contract?”

“That’s not my fault! I’m older than I appear.”

“You must be all of thirteen years old, then.”

He was mocking her. Theresa felt her cheeks heat. “I’m fifteen. Two months ago. And I don’t wish to sign a contract. I wish to speak to you about one Adrian Hunter.”

“Oh.” He let out an amused huff. “Has my brother offended you somehow?” He leaned forward, and his voice seemed almost a mockery. “Was it by existing?”

“I don’t know if he’s offended me!” Theresa shot back. “He could have! That’s why I’m here. Do you have any idea what he’s been doing these last few weeks?”

Something in her voice made him stop. He glanced to his side, at a stack of papers, and then pressed his lips together. “And here I thought he was back at Harvil, seeing to the china plates. Suppose you tell me.”

His tone was mild—too mild, really. Theresa stared at him in something like awe. He was even better than the dowager, refusing to give away any information until he’d gotten it himself.

“I don’t know,” she heard herself mutter. “We’re just children, how could we know anything of importance?”

He shrugged. “Don’t mind me. I’m a bit prickly these days; England does that to me. And I don’t dislike children. It’s hardly your fault you were born a short time ago. Can you tell me something I don’t know about my brother?”

She suspected he was still mocking her. She didn’t care. She took a deep breath and bulled ahead. “I think your brother married my sister.”

He picked up a series of interlocked iron rings that sat on his desk and turned them over in his hands. He did not react to this, not for a moment, just turning them over and over. “You think. You…think. Do you not know who your sister married?”

This was where matters became delicate. Theresa was trying to figure out how to explain the tangled knot of their family, wondering whether to start with the treason. In her experience, it never turned out well when she started with the treason, but no story ever made sense without it. Drat.

“We lost her,” Benedict said simply.

Captain Hunter blew out his breath. “You…lost. Your sister. That seems careless.”

“Well, the fact that you haven’t immediately denied the claim suggests that you lost your brother, too.” Theresa shot back.

“Point.” Captain Hunter looked up at the ceiling. “I told him so.”

“Do you really trade ambergris?” Benedict asked, picking up a piece of paper off his desk. “Why ambergris? Why not tea or rum or cotton? Isn’t that what traders into London normally trade?”

“Benedict!” Theresa grimaced. “This is no time to get excited by trade!”

Captain Hunter did not seem even slightly disturbed by this rapid change in subjects. “Yes, I trade ambergris. Among other things. And no, I have not lost my brother. He has just been unusually evasive for the last month, and given what he was supposed to be doing… He would not want to admit to me if things went amiss. How he could imagine he would hide something like a marriage… In my defense, I spent four years fighting off privateers and blockading Charleston. I have to work hard not to order my family around. Apparently, I didn’t work hard enough. But you don’t want to hear my family history.”

God, she wished she could do that. That insouciant look up at the ceiling as if he didn’t care about either of them. Theresa did her best to copy him. “A convenient excuse to lose track of family.”