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“ F orgive the modest accommodations, Your Grace,” the elderly servant wheezed as he led them through a narrow hallway. “Captain Veer wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

The house was indeed modest, a far cry from the grand estate one might expect a successful naval officer to afford. Faded wallpaper peeled at the corners, and the carpets showed considerable wear.

Whatever fortune Captain Veer had accumulated, it hadn’t been spent on his home.

“No need for apologies,” Felix replied smoothly when Rowan remained silent. “We appreciate the captain receiving us without notice.”

They entered a small parlor where a man in his forties sat reading to two young children. A woman, presumably Mrs. Veer, worked at some embroidery by the window. The domestic scene was so ordinary, so peaceful, that for a moment Rowan wondered if they had the right house.

Then Veer looked up, and his face drained of color.

“Captain Veer,” Rowan said, his voice carrying quiet authority. “I need a word with you. Privately.”

The children—a boy and a girl who couldn’t be older than six and eight—stared at the visitors with wide eyes. Mrs. Veer had risen from her chair, alarm clear on her face.

“Is everything all right, Elias?” she asked her husband.

Veer stood on unsteady legs. “Yes, my dear. These gentlemen are… old acquaintances from my naval days.” He turned to Rowan. “Perhaps we could speak in my study?”

“That would be acceptable.” Rowan glanced at Felix. “Lord Halston, perhaps you could entertain Mrs. Veer and the children while the captain and I discuss our business?”

Felix immediately transformed into his most charming self. “I would be delighted. Mrs. Veer, I must say what a lovely home you have. And these must be your children? They have their mother’s pretty eyes, I see.”

As Felix worked his magic, drawing the family’s attention with an amusing anecdote about his travels, Rowan followed Veer down a short corridor to a cramped room that served as both study and library. The shelves were sparse, holding perhaps two dozen books and some naval charts.

The moment the door shut behind them, Rowan’s control snapped. He seized Veer by the collar and slammed him against the wall with enough force to make the pictures rattle.

“You know why I’m here,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Veer gasped, clawing at Rowan’s hands. “Your Grace, please?—”

“Don’t.” Rowan’s tone turned colder. “Don’t insult me with lies. I know what you did. What I want to know is why.”

“I don’t understand?—”

Rowan pulled him forward only to slam him back against the wall again. “I spent a year in hell because of you. A year aboard the Intrepid, pressed into service like a common criminal. My name erased, my identity stolen, my life destroyed. And you’re going to tell me you don’t understand?”

Fear replaced confusion in Veer’s eyes. His resistance crumbled, shoulders sagging in defeat.

“How did you find me?” he whispered.

“That’s not your concern.” Rowan released him, watching with satisfaction as Veer slumped against the wall. “Start talking. Everything. From the beginning.”

Veer’s legs gave out, and he slid to the floor. For a moment, Rowan thought he might have to physically shake the words from him. Then Veer buried his face in his hands and began to speak.

“I never meant for it to go so far,” he said, his voice muffled. “You must believe me. I thought… they said you’d be gone a few months at most. Just long enough to?—”

“To what?” Rowan demanded. When Veer didn’t immediately answer, he grabbed the man’s shirt front and hauled him to his feet. “To what?”

“To satisfy the contract!” Veer burst out. “They said someone needed to disappear temporarily. That you’d be treated well, kept safe, then released with a story about voluntary service.”

“Treated well?” Rowan’s free hand clenched into a fist. “I was flogged within a week. Worked like a dog. Nearly died in battle three times.”

“I didn’t know,” Veer sobbed. “I swear on my children’s lives, I didn’t know it would be like that.”

Rowan drew back his fist, ready to strike, but Veer threw up his hands in desperate supplication.

“Please! I only did it to save my family. I was drowning in gambling debts. They were going to take our house, put my children on the street. When the offer came—twelve hundred pounds—I couldn’t refuse. It was that or watch my family starve.”

“Twelve hundred pounds.” Rowan’s voice was deadly quiet. “That’s what my life was worth to you?”

“I’m sorry,” Veer wept openly now. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. But I was desperate. The creditors were threatening to break my legs, to hurt my wife. What would you have done in my place?”

“I wouldn’t have sold an innocent man into slavery,” Rowan snarled.

“It wasn’t supposed to be slavery! They promised?—”

“Who?” Rowan shook him. “Who made these promises? Who paid you?”

“I don’t know!” At Rowan’s disbelieving glare, Veer stumbled to his desk. “I never met them. Everything was handled through intermediaries. But I kept this.”

With shaking hands, he pulled out a drawer and retrieved a folded paper. “The receipt from my accountant. He managed the payment.”

Rowan snatched the paper, examining it closely. The handwriting was neat, precise. A formal receipt for services rendered, made out to one Edward Bentern. The name meant nothing to him, but the quality of the paper and the official seal suggested someone of means and influence.

“Edward Bentern,” he read aloud. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. I tried to find out after… after it was done. But there’s no trace of him. It might not even be a real name.”

“Your accountant. Where is he?”

“George Latham. He has offices in Plymouth.” Veer wiped his face with a trembling hand. “He arranged everything. The payment, the documentation. I met with the intermediary only once, and he wouldn’t give his name.”

“Describe him.”

“Average height, brown hair, well-dressed. He had educated speech, like a gentleman.” Veer’s voice grew bitter. “He spoke of it like a business transaction. As if we were discussing cargo, not a man’s life.”

Rowan folded the receipt carefully and placed it in his coat pocket. This was the first tangible evidence he’d found, the first real clue to whoever had orchestrated his nightmare.

“Your Grace,” Veer said tentatively. “What will you do to me?”

Rowan looked down at the pathetic figure before him. Part of him wanted to beat the man senseless, to make him suffer even a fraction of what he’d endured. But the sounds of children’s laughter drifted through the walls, and he thought of Felix charming Veer’s innocent family.

“You will never leave Cornwall,” he said finally.

“You will not go near a dock, a gaming table, or anywhere else that might tempt you to your old vices. If I hear even a whisper that you’ve strayed from this county or returned to gambling, I’ll see you ruined.

Not imprisoned, Veer. Ruined. Slowly and thoroughly.

Your family will watch as everything you’ve built crumbles around you. ”

Veer nodded frantically. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand. I’ll never?—”

“Furthermore, you’ll write down everything you remember about the transaction. Every detail, no matter how small. Sign it and send it to my London residence within the week.”

“Of course. Anything you ask.”

“The only reason you’re not facing the gallows is those children out there,” Rowan continued coldly. “They deserve better than a father who would sell his soul for coin. Make sure they never learn what kind of man you really are.”

“Thank you,” Veer whispered. “Your Grace, I?—”

But Rowan was already moving toward the door. He’d gotten what he came for, and every additional moment in this man’s presence made him sick.

He found Felix in the parlor, teaching the Veer children a card trick while their mother watched with cautious amusement. His friend’s eyes met his, reading his expression instantly.

“Well, children, I’m afraid the Duke and I must be going,” Felix said smoothly, producing a penny from behind the little girl’s ear as a parting gift. “But it’s been absolutely delightful meeting you all.”

They made their farewells quickly, Veer hovering anxiously in the doorway as if afraid Rowan might change his mind about leaving him breathing.

Once outside, Felix waited until they were in the carriage before speaking.

“Back to London,” Rowan instructed the driver, then settled back against the seat.

“Well?” Felix demanded. “What did you learn? Did he confess?”

“He did.” Rowan pulled out the receipt. “Someone named Edward Bentern paid him to arrange my abduction. Twelve hundred pounds.”

Felix whistled low. “A substantial sum. This Bentern must have wanted you gone quite badly.”

“The name means nothing to me. It might be false.”

“And Veer claims he never met this mysterious benefactor?”

“Everything was handled through intermediaries and his accountant, George Latham in Plymouth.” Rowan stared at the receipt as if it might reveal more secrets. “We’ll need to pay Mr. Latham a visit.”

“Did Veer say why someone wanted you gone?”

“He claims he doesn’t know. Just that I needed to disappear temporarily.” Rowan’s jaw clenched. “He thought I’d be treated well and released after a few months.”

“The man’s either a fool or a liar.”

“Both, most likely. But I believe he truly didn’t know the full extent of what would happen.” The memory of Veer’s terror seemed genuine. “He was desperate, drowning in gambling debts.”

“That excuses nothing,” Felix said sharply.

“No, it doesn’t.” Rowan folded the receipt carefully. “But it means he was a tool, not the architect. Someone else orchestrated this, someone with enough money and influence to arrange a duke’s disappearance.”

“Edward Bentern.” Felix tested the name. “It does sound false, doesn’t it?”

“It does. But there must be a trace, some way I could find who is behind that name.”

“So what will you do?” Felix asked.

“Find Latham. Follow the money. Someone, somewhere, knows who Edward Bentern really is.” Rowan’s expression hardened. “And when I find them, they’ll learn what it costs to steal a year of a man’s life.”

“And Veer?”

“His children didn’t deserve to suffer for their father’s crimes.” Rowan thought of the little girl with her shy smile, the boy’s eager questions about their travels. “But he’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, wondering if today is the day I change my mind.”

“A fitting punishment for a coward,” Felix agreed. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t beat him senseless.”

“I wanted to.” Rowan flexed his fingers, remembering the urge to strike. “But that would have been satisfaction without purpose. The receipt is worth more than revenge.”

“Practical. Selina’s influence, perhaps?”

Rowan shot him a sharp look. “What does my wife have to do with this?”

“Oh, nothing direct. But you seem less inclined toward immediate violence since your marriage. More thoughtful in your responses.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Felix smiled knowingly. “The old Rowan would have pummeled first and questioned later. Marriage has mellowed you.”

“The old Rowan hadn’t spent a year learning patience aboard a naval vessel,” Rowan countered.

“If you say so.” Felix’s tone suggested he wasn’t convinced. “Speaking of your duchess, what will you tell her about this trip?”

“Nothing.” The response was automatic. “This doesn’t concern her.”

“Your wife doesn’t concern you?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Felix pressed. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re chasing something dangerous, and she doesn’t know she might be in the crossfire.”

Rowan kept his gaze fixed on the window, refusing to look at him.

The truth was, he thought about Selina all the time.

Wondered what she was doing. Whether she missed him or was simply glad for the quiet.

But to bring her into this meant explaining everything—his abduction, the helplessness that still haunted him, the nightmares he hadn’t shaken.

“I’m protecting her,” he said at last, the words quieter than he’d intended.

“From what? The truth?”

“From becoming a target. Whoever arranged my disappearance might try to use her against me if they knew how much—” He stopped abruptly.

“How much what?” Felix leaned forward. “How much she means to you?”

“We have a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.”

Felix laughed outright. “You’re a terrible liar, Rowan. I’ve seen how you look at her. How you defended her from that harpy Lady Penderwick. That’s not the behavior of a man in a business arrangement.”

“Drop it, Felix.”

“As you wish.” His friend settled back, but his knowing smile remained. “Though I maintain you’re being an idiot.”

They spent the rest of the journey to London discussing strategy.

Felix would make discreet inquiries about anyone named Edward Bentern in London society, while Rowan would travel to Plymouth to confront Latham.

The accountant might provide the next link in the chain leading to whoever had orchestrated his abduction.

As London’s skyline appeared on the horizon, Rowan found his thoughts turning homeward.

Would Selina be waiting? Would she ask about his journey?

He needed to maintain his distance, to keep her safe from the shadows of his past. But with each passing day, that resolve grew harder to maintain. She was working her way under his skin, past his defenses, into places he’d thought permanently barricaded.

Felix was right about one thing—marriage had changed him.

The carriage rolled through London’s streets as evening fell, carrying him back to a wife he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust, and an enemy he couldn’t yet name. But he had a clue now, a thread to follow.

Edward Bentern, whoever he really was, had made a crucial mistake in leaving a paper trail. Rowan would follow it to its source, no matter where it led.

And then, finally, he would have his revenge.