Then he uncovered the hint of a rumor which had circulated at the time.
A witness was reported to have seen Boston merchant Stephen Huntley, Nathaniel’s younger brother, fleeing the scene of the fire. The story was discounted and the witness viewed as unreliable, not only because of him being a ship’s master, well known for having business disagreements with Stephen Huntley, but because, at about this same time, Stephen—a graduate of Harvard College, a respected member of Boston society, a devoted husband and father—had been struck grievously ill and was bedridden. He died shortly thereafter.
His passing was received as a great tragedy, and all of Boston lamented his loss. Family, friends, and business associates rallied to protect his good name from slander, and the rumor was promptly hushed.
Only through his tireless research did Brogan stumble upon news of it. But with nowhere left to turn, he’d made haste to Duxboro to call on Stephen’s shipbuilder brother. As it happened, Brogan was in the market for a merchantman, and Nathaniel Huntley came highly recommended. Though three years had passed since he’d set eyes on his son, one glimpse past the open draperies of Nathaniel Huntley’s study window to the ruggedly built, towheaded child playing in the garden, and Brogan knew he had at last found his precious child.
Relief washed through him, victory sweeter than any prize he’d taken during the war, for Brogan could see his son was in health and had been cared for.
He wavered between a smile that split his face to a shout of joy and a tearful outpouring. Yet Brogan revealed nothing of the whirlwind of emotion inside him and instead channeled his excitement into laying out what he required in the design of his merchantman, then placed an order for the Yankee Heart. Once the documents had been signed, it took every bit of strength and resolve to leave Huntley’s estate. Brogan had no choice but to bide his time until the Yankee Heart was built, counting the months until he could execute his plan and reclaim his son.
Which caused Brogan to often wonder . . . if the rumor had been so unfounded, as everyone believed, then how had it managed to be the only bit of information to successfully lead him to Duxboro and his son?
Obviously there was a connection between the Huntley brothers and Abigail. But what was the connection? One a Boston merchant, the other a Duxboro shipbuilder—how was it they’d both been acquainted with her? And what had been the nature of that involvement? It would seem even more likely that it was not Stephen at all who’d been spotted the night of the fire, but Nathaniel. Did the two brothers bear a strong resemblance?
In the weeks Brogan had spent in Nathaniel Huntley’s company, in careful observation of the shipbuilder . . . and in knowing Abigail as well as he had . . . Brogan could not imagine these two conflicting personality types having had any sort of close association.
And yet they most definitely had.
As far as Brogan could tell, the only thing they had in common was the child Benjamin.
Why his son?
Only the fellow seated across from him knew the answer.
Brogan leaned forward, eager to turn the conversation to his advantage and gain the information he sought, but he must proceed with caution, for beneath Huntley’s humble and affable exterior lay a shrewd, accomplished fellow, careful in all respects and keen to keep his wits about him.
Brogan grew weary of hiding his identity. Should he confess all to Huntley right now and be done with it? Unburden his secret and trust in the shipbuilder’s goodwill to help him resolve the fate of his relationship with his son? Here they sat, man to man; it was the perfect opportunity. And yet how could he, not knowing what reaction his news would bring? Brogan couldn’t risk alienating Huntley before he’d had a chance to restore his relationship with Drew.
Nathaniel Huntley, what dark secret do you hide? The man had intentionally avoided his inquiries about Abigail. What influence could she have exercised over him that would have caused Huntley to act so extensively on Benjamin’s behalf? Kindness?
Brogan had a difficult time believing such goodwill existed.
He might never learn the truth of what happened three years ago, never know why Abigail had rid herself of their son on the day before the Black Eagle was scheduled to sail into war. But unwittingly she had saved Benjamin’s life. If she had not given the boy to Huntley, Ben would have been in their townhouse when the fire broke out. He would have perished alongside her.
Abigail had been gone nearly three years, and in the passing of that time, Brogan’s bitterness and resentment had turned to pity.
He realized he was only half listening to Nathaniel Huntley, who had moved on to the topic of his merchant venture and was debating what goods he should invest in to trade.
“Cod,” Brogan heard himself blurt.