CHAPTER 19
Wrexford’s peregrination around the room had brought him back to the doorway, where the other sword stood propped up against the wall.
“We can’t ignore the possibility that the real villain is someone else entirely.
Our suspects aren’t the only ones who would reap enormous profits if they possessed Ashton’s invention.
And as a man of science, I’ve learned one must consider all factors when one is conducting an experiment. ”
He slowly set his weapon next to its mate. “Else you risk having it blow up in your face.”
“Yes, but . . . where do we begin?” mused Charlotte. “With Mr. Hillhouse in God knows what difficulty, time is of the essence.”
“The answer is actually very simple. We—or rather, I—start at the Royal Institution, where all the latest gossip concerning the world of science echoes through its august corridors before it ever reaches the public.” Wrexford allowed a cynical smile.
“Men tend to be even more loose-lipped than the drawing room tabbies. If McKinlock’s company has any new projects in the works, one of the Institution’s members will have heard rumors about it. ”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “An excellent idea, milord. It makes sense that whoever is looking to make a fortune from the invention would want to partner with someone who already manufactures steam engines.”
“It would, indeed.” Wrexford cast his gaze on Ashton’s technical drawings, which Charlotte had placed on the table by the sofa.
“Miss Merton, I know you’ve gone to great trouble to retrieve these, but I’d like to keep them for now.
Not only will they be safe in my townhouse, but it will also give me and my laboratory assistant the chance to understand on what sort of revolutionary innovation Ashton was working. ”
“Valves,” whispered Octavia. “It’s all about valves.”
Steam power, he knew, had to do with heat, condensation and creating a vacuum. The quicker and more efficiently an engine could cycle through the process, the more pressure—and power—it could create.
“I’ve not the technical expertise to give you more than a rudimentary explanation of how the design works.
It involves four valves in each cylinder.
The linkages for opening and shutting them are independently controlled, which keeps the temperature at a constant.
The result is far more power. In addition, Eli and Benedict calculated that the new engine will be far more efficient, and run on thirty percent less fuel. ”
“Revolutionary, indeed,” murmured Wrexford.
“As for keeping the drawings, I’m hardly in a position to argue,” added Octavia with a cynical shrug. “Besides, I agree that they are probably most secure in your hands.”
As the earl leaned down to pick them up, Charlotte cleared her throat. “A thought just occurred to me. Without these as reference, would someone have the knowledge or expertise to build the new engine?”
A good question. Wrexford was already taking a closer look at the schematics.
“The toolmakers who’ve been fashioning parts for our experiments have an inkling of what Eli was doing,” answered Octavia.
“And some of the investors might have a general idea that a new concept of valves is involved. But the devil is in the details. The exact design is exceedingly complicated, and I doubt there is anyone capable of imagining his creative thinking.” The tiny tic of hesitation seemed amplified by the stillness of the room.
“Except, of course, for Benedict,” she added softly, “who knows the plans by heart.”
“Then I daresay we need to find Mr. Hillhouse,” said Wrexford, “as it appears he is a key to unlocking this mystery.” Paper crackled as he tried to focus on the tiny mathematical equations scrawled on the margins. His mind suddenly felt muzzy with lack of sleep.
“However, there’s nothing more to be accomplished at the moment. We all need clearer heads before attacking our appointed tasks.” He touched a hand to his jaw and felt the faint prickle of whiskers rasp against his flesh. It stirred the uncomfortable sensation that he was missing something.
And yet he couldn’t put a finger on what it might be.
The demands of the here and now pushed the thought aside. “Sterling, you must see Miss Merton safely back to Mayfair. And I suggest you do it now, before the city begins to stir to life.”
Jeremy nodded. Octavia rose and gathered her cloak.
“One of the lads will lead you out to where a hackney can be flagged down without attracting unwanted attention.”
Raven nudged his younger brother. “Ye heard His Nibs. Take them out te High Street, and be quick about it.”
Charlotte waited until the sound of hurried footsteps had faded into the night before asking, “So, what do you make of this latest twist, sir?”
Wrexford couldn’t help but quirk a smile.
“You’re the one who’s attuned to interpreting intuition, Mrs. Sloane.
My limited intellect must depend on facts and logic.
Both of which are proving damnably elusive in this case.
” He took a moment to twist the drawings into a tight roll. “Fetch me some twine, Weasel.”
Raven looked loath to leave, but hurried toward the kitchen.
“My sense is that Miss Merton is telling the truth,” said Charlotte.
“The truth as she understands it,” muttered the earl.
The candle sputtered as wax dripped down the pewter stick. It was burning low.
“There’s that,” conceded Charlotte. After a lengthy pause, she continued, her voice betraying a troubled note. “There are tantalizing leads, but precious few facts. So much seems to depend on Mr. Hillhouse, and whether he’s a force of good or evil.”
“Kind o’ like a complicated mathematical equation.” Raven materialized from out the gloom and held out a length of twine. “Ye know, where ye have te figure out the value fer x or y before ye can work out the correct answer.”
“Precisely, lad,” replied Wrexford. He started to secure the roll but was only half-aware of his fingers working the knots. Out of the mouth of babes . . . the boy’s words had stirred an even sharper sense that he was forgetting something.
Charlotte looked up with a start. “Mathematics!” she exclaimed. “Why, we’ve made no mention of the page of numbers you found in Hollis’s rooms. And yet his dying words said the answer to Ashton’s death was in the numbers.”
Damnation. Wrexford felt like an idiot.
“I take it you haven’t heard anything from the professor at Cambridge?” she asked.
The earl shook his head. “I shall write to him again. But Henning came earlier this evening with proof they were written by Hollis.” He quickly explained about the note left for Nevins and how they still had no clue how to interpret the strange jumble.
It was a reminder of how his usual clarity had been strangely clouded during this investigation.
The reason why was not something he cared to contemplate.
And yet he must.
“Wrexford . . .”
Charlotte’s sharpness roused him from his momentary brooding.
“I must ask you an uncomfortable question.”
“Go on,” he drawled. “I daresay you’d do so with or without my permission.”
She didn’t smile. Not a good sign, he decided, though he wasn’t sure what misdeed of his had brought such a serious expression to her face.
But first Charlotte turned to Raven. “It’s time to return to your aerie.
You must get some sleep if you are to be sharp enough to keep watch on our suspects.
” Seeing he was about to argue, she raised her voice a notch, something she rarely did with the boys.
“Go.” Her lashes flicked, darkening the shadows around her eyes.
“I need to have a word with His Lordship in private.”
Raven looked unhappy, but reluctantly obeyed. Charlotte waited until she heard the creak of the stair treads before clearing her throat.
Another bad sign, thought Wrexford. She never shied away from crossing verbal swords with him. It was one of the things he respected about her.
This strange hesitation put his nerves on edge.
“It seems to me that your usual dispassionate detachment has been missing from the very beginning of this case,” she began. “Is there a reason?”
“If you’re implying that I ought to be able to solve any crime, no matter how complex or—”
“That’s not at all what I mean,” she interrupted brusquely. “I think you’ve let your emotions become involved—and as you once warned me, that’s asking for trouble.”
Wrexford couldn’t summon any clever quip. He wouldn’t insult her by pretending he didn’t know to what she was referring. Charlotte, with her unholy gift of intuition, appeared to have sensed the truth even before he had.
Not that he thanked her for it.
Charlotte took his silence as confirmation of her surmise. “I’ve met Mrs. Ashton. The widow has . . .” A tic of hesitation as she chose her words carefully. “. . . a powerful presence. She’s attractive. Alluring. And—”
“And you think her womanly wiles have seduced me?”
“I think they have clouded your judgment,” replied Charlotte flatly. The candle guttered and with a dying hiss went out. Uttering a low oath, she fetched an oil lamp from the side table. It took her several strikes of the steel and flint to light the wick.
“Whether she’s warming your bed is none of my business,” continued Charlotte.
“What does concern me is your emotional state. If you can’t view the investigation with a dispassionate eye, it puts us all in an untenable position.
Not only will it make it nigh on impossible to uncover the truth, but it may also place people who are dear to me in peril. ”
In other words, thought the earl, she worried that he was being ruled not by his brain, but some other portion of his anatomy.
“I must be able to trust you, Wrexford.”
For a moment, he kept his gaze on the carpet, watching the flitting of dark, nighttime shapes dart through the weak aureole of lamplight.