CHAPTER 24 #3
Her words cut off abruptly. “Forgive me. What a ghastly thing to say,” she apologized. “Good heavens, I shall have to write to the marquess and inform him of his son’s demise. Though God only knows when he’ll receive it.”
“Anyone else you can think of?” pressed Wrexford after allowing a short interlude of silence.
“No,” said Isobel. “But I’ve had no contact with Kirkland, save for our own sordid personal business.”
“M’lord.” Trusting that her street voice would serve as adequate disguise, Charlotte couldn’t hold back a suggestion. “Be there any udder morts what knows of the invention?”
“A good thought,” agreed the earl, and then translated, “The lad asks who else knew Ashton was close to a technological breakthrough?”
“The investors,” said Isobel. “Lord Blackstone, Lord Sterling. . .” She named three others, and explained they were elderly intellectuals and longtime friends of her late husband. “I can’t imagine any of these men wishing Elihu any harm.”
“What makes evil all the more powerful is the fact that it’s often well-hidden under the most respectable guises,” replied the earl. He resumed his pacing, and then suddenly stopped after several strides. “The fellow who was here the other day—your mill supervisor. Does he know as well?”
“Yes,” said Isobel. “Mr. Blodgett is highly skilled in mechanical workings and often assisted Elihu and Mr. Hillhouse in the laboratory.”
Charlotte suddenly recalled what was niggling at her thoughts and felt compelled to interrupt again. “Oiy, m’lord. Word is there may have been mingle-mingle between the two of ’em.”
Wrexford frowned. “The lad says I need to ask you whether you’ve been having an intimate relationship with Mr. Blodgett.”
“Blodgett?” Isobel’s brows shot up. “Good God, no.”
Given all else she had heard, Charlotte didn’t doubt the denial. She nodded at Wrexford.
The earl cleared his throat. “Then getting back to Blodgett’s motivations, might he have been bribed to disclose the secret?”
Isobel considered the question. “No, I can’t see him doing that. He was paid handsomely, and aside from the question of money, he had worked with Elihu since he was a boy and was quite devoted to him.”
“Geoffrey—that is, Mr. Blodgett—could be very high and mighty with the rest of us,” offered Octavia.
“I have to say, I noticed how he looked at you, and I . . . well, I thought it was envy of Eli. It just seemed Geoffrey always thought he deserved more than he had,” She paused.
“But in fairness, Benedict and he didn’t rub together very well, so I’m not a neutral observer. ”
“What did they quarrel about?” asked Wrexford.
“Nothing in particular,” answered Octavia. “I just had the sense that Geoffrey resented the fact that Benedict had the same modest background, yet had managed to attend university. He was always trying to show that he was smarter.”
“It sounds like a natural competition,” pointed out Sheffield. “Two young men eager to win the approval of their mentor.”
“You’re probably right,” responded Octavia. “As I said, I’m not the best judge.”
So, no real leads as of yet about the numbers, and who stood to gain from Ashton’s death, mused Charlotte. And yet, she felt in her bones that would come down to how the money added up. But in the meantime, there was still another important question to address . . .
“M’lord,” she rasped. “Ye ain’t tried te cobble who searched this house.”
“Hell’s teeth, there is no end of questions,” he muttered. “And damnably few answers.”
“Are you sure the lad would not care to come join us and make himself comfortable?” quipped Isobel. “He seems to be looking at things more clearly than the rest of us.”
“No need,” snapped Wrexford. “He thinks better on his feet.”
Sheffield rubbed at his temples. “And I think better when I’ve had my breakfast. It is morning, isn’t it?”
“I could wake the cook—” began Isobel, but the earl cut her off.
“Not necessary. We’re almost done,” said the earl. “The lad asked if you have any idea who might have searched the house?”
“Kirkland and Blodgett were here, so I suppose they both had the opportunity,” she answered. “Other than that, no.”
“Then it seems to me that there’s nothing more we can accomplish for now. We all ought to get a few hours of sleep—and pray that it sparks some new thoughts on how these murders all tie together.”
“A wise suggestion.” Sheffield rose and took his leave from the ladies. To Wrexford he said, “I’ll call at your townhouse later in the day, in case I may be of use.”
Charlotte thought about slipping away while the others were occupied, but the earl had other ideas. “Come with me, Phoenix. We’ve a few points to discuss before we part ways.”
She held her voice until they had crossed the cobbled street and came to a halt in the shadows of the square’s central garden. “Wrexford, I know I owe you an explanation . . .”
He turned to face her. Charlotte bit her lip, wishing she could read his eyes through the flitting swirls of darkness.
“I assume,” he said softly, “you will share your past with me if and when you decide I can be trusted with your secrets.”
Charlotte had expected one of their usual clashes. His reply seemed to wrap around her heart and cause it to skip a beat. “I do trust you.” More than anyone else in the world. “And I mean to tell you. I—I just need a little time to order my thoughts.”
“That’s probably wise,” he said dryly. “I daresay we’ve had enough shocks for one night.”
Charlotte mustered a ghost of a smile. “Right. Well then, unless there’s anything else to discuss, we . . . we should both think of getting some sleep.”
“There’s actually one last thing.” He drew her deeper into the leafy shadows of the branches overhanging the wrought iron fence.
“But it won’t take more than a moment since I’ve no intention of brangling with you over it.
I’m going to send McClellan to stay with you until we’ve found the people responsible for the murders. ”
“Wrexford—”
“She knows how to load and fire a pistol with pinpoint accuracy. Two extremely useful skills that aren’t in your arsenal,” he continued. “She’ll arrive later today.”
“Wrexford—” But Charlotte found herself hissing at thin air. The earl had, with infuriating cat-like quickness, already disappeared into the gloom.