Noble Scoundrel - Amy Sandas Page 0,11

of no word, the method had finally paid off.

Though she held herself back from embracing him again, she soaked up the sight of her brother’s face—a perfect blending of their father’s stern intelligence and their mother’s deep compassion—and felt nearly overwhelmed with relief at having him safely within reach again.

As his steady gaze met hers, she offered a tentative smile. “I’m guessing you have quite a tale to tell.” And she had so many questions.

A brief shadow crossed his features before he replied. “There are things you won’t enjoy hearing about.”

Katherine’s chest tightened. What had he been through? She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let him go. She restrained herself. Barely.

Gesturing toward an unfortunately colored lime-green sofa set before the fireplace, she said, “Perhaps we should sit.”

He nodded and led the way.

Settling in beside each other, she offered her hand, palm up in the space between them. For the first time in a long time, her brother did not hesitate to put his hand in hers. The solid warmth of his palm and the strength on his fingers intertwined with hers was assuring.

“The beginning is usually a good place to start,” she suggested.

Her brother took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Keeping his gaze trained on the edge of the pink-and-white patterned rug spread out on the floor in front of them, he began. “You know how I have a hard time getting to sleep sometimes?”

Katherine nodded. It had been that way since he’d been a baby. He’d never wanted to go down for naps and had fought bedtime like it was some sort of punishment. When he was little, Katherine had often sat at his bedside, telling stories about mythical creatures that lived in the woods near their home or singing soft lullabies to ease him to rest. But it’d been years since she’d done that.

“Well,” he continued hesitantly, “after we came to London, I’d get so restless at night. I just couldn’t be still. So...I started going for walks.”

Fear and anxiety gripped her. “You went out in the city alone?”

He nodded and sat a little taller, though he still avoided looking at her.

Her little brother had been walking the streets of London. At night! Possibly for months.

“Walking up and down the avenues and boulevards helped bring things into focus,” he explained. “I could envision how the city’s pattern spread out around me, how the lines flowed and intersected. Around every corner, a new corridor would open up. It felt endless but measurable. Every block was the same as the one before but also utterly different. It...calmed me, I guess. The more familiar the expanding grid became, the more balanced and, I don’t know, steady, I felt.”

Katherine sighed.

From a very young age, Frederick had displayed evidence of having exceptional intelligence. He’d learned to speak early and by three years of age had amassed an extensive vocabulary. He’d mastered reading and sums shortly afterward. But he’d always had an intense affinity for patterns. Intricate designs and complex systems fascinated him. He adored mazes and puzzles, but eventually he struggled to find any that challenged him.

Katherine understood why he’d be drawn to explore London’s many thoroughfares and crooked lanes. Despite the inherent dangers.

“The somber streets became so familiar to me it didn’t even occur to me to be scared.”

Katherine had to forcefully remind herself that Frederick was safe and sitting right there beside her. She squeezed his hand. “What happened?”

“Two men in a carriage caught me unaware. I should have tried to run, but by the time I realized they meant to abduct me, it was too late. They wrestled me into a carriage and took off at a terrible speed. We didn’t stop until we got to an old inn of sorts where they tossed me into a room that was little more than a cupboard.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. One of his thick brows curved sardonically. “They weren’t too clever, Kit. They didn’t even bother to secure my hands or feet or anything.”

“You escaped?” She tried not to let the fear his story invoked reflect in her tone. He might not have been scared by his ordeal, but the idea of her brother being in the hands of ruthless kidnappers had her heart racing and her stomach churning.

“Quite easily,” he replied matter-of-factly. “At one point, they both stepped outside, thinking I’d be secure enough behind the locked door.”

She almost smiled. When Frederick was six years old, he’d developed a brief fascination