“You realize he’s the second young boy who’s disappeared in the last week,” Hart said.

The man shrugged. George’s hands bunched into fists. Hart reached out and took one of her fists in his hand. If anyone was going to punch this swine, it would be him, not George. Though he understood and shared her anger.

George ignored him. “Danny might be dead. Murdered. Don’t you care?”

“No business of mine if he is. Not my blood, not my son.” And without even saying good-bye, he walked out.

George jumped to her feet. “Horrible, horrible, horrible man! I’m going to talk to his wife. She might know something that could help us.”

But when George found the wife, she just gave them a scared look, glanced out at where her husband had gone and shook her head. Three well-scrubbed small children clustered shyly around her, hiding behind her skirts.

Hart and George left, disgusted. “Why, why, why do perfectly decent women marry ghastly men like that!” George said in a low, furious voice. “He obviously had no respect for his first wife—he just wanted the farm—and look how he’s treated Danny, who was his means to get the wretched property! And now he’s terrorizing a second woman. Men like that shouldn’t be allowed to marry. I hope he chokes on his stinking farm!”

Hart was a little taken aback by her vehemence.

She continued, “Men should never be allowed have children if all they do is palm them off on someone else and ignore them. Poor little unwanted boy.”

Which boy was she talking about? Danny or Phillip? But she wasn’t just talking about the boys. There was personal history in that rant. Her own father had abandoned her before birth, he recalled.

They rode for a time in silence.

“I wonder who Danny’s real father is,” she said after a while. “Does he know how his son has been neglected? Would he care?”

“That farm was a substantial dowry,” Hart said. “On that alone, we could assume he thought he was making good provision for the girl and his child.”

She glanced at the duke. “Do you have any—”

“No. And if I did, they’d be well cared for. But I haven’t.”

“If we do find Danny alive, we should try to find out who his father is,” she said. “Would that be possible, do you think?”

“First we have to find Phillip,” he said heavily.

“I know.” She rode closer and reached out for his hand, and they rode on like that, hand in hand. It was strangely comforting. He hadn’t realized how much he’d pinned his hopes on Danny being a key to finding Phillip. He’d been convinced he’d find the two boys together, up to their ears in mischief and afraid to come home.