CHAPTER 24
A small cough snapped Charlotte’s meandering thoughts back into focus. She blinked and set down her pen, realizing that her drawing paper was covered with naught but mindless doodles.
“His Lordship is here,” added McClellan from the doorway. “And wonders if he might have a word with you.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She grabbed a rag from her paint box and scrubbed at spatters of black ink on her fingers. “I’ll be there in a moment.” A glance at the mantel clock showed it was later in the morning than she had thought.
Tick-tick. Charlotte quelled the impulse to grab it and hurl it out the window. Pique would not uncoil the hangman’s knot, but still, she found her hands were shaking.
Drawing a steadying breath, she gathered up Lady Julianna’s items and headed for the stairs.
Wrexford was standing by the windows with his back to the door, the broad bulk of his shoulders blocking much of the sunlight. His hair was in dire need of trimming, she noted. How odd that the tiny details seemed to take on such clarity in times of crisis.
He turned as she entered the room. Shadows darkened the hollows beneath his eyes, and his mouth was thinned in a grim line.
Charlotte felt her heart lurch and thud up against her ribs. “I take it there’s bad news?”
“I was wrong about Thornton. He’s not involved in anything evil—quite the opposite in fact.” He explained about the encounter at the Royal Institution, and their clandestine visit to DeVere’s villa.
When the earl was done, she merely nodded, unable to summon anything to say. All hope for Nicholas seemed to be slipping away.
“I’m sorry. You asked for my help, and all I’ve done is spin in circles.”
Charlotte had never heard such a note of defeat in his voice.
“Ye gods, you mustn’t say such a thing, Wrexford!
I—I had no right to ask you to undertake such an impossible task.
You could have—you should have—told me to go to the devil, and yet you didn’t.
” She drew in a measured breath. “Without you, I would have given up long ago.”
“I would do anything for you,” he said softly.
Her heart lurched again, but it was more of a flutter than a thud.
“Would you?” Charlotte set down the book and box of cards. “Then please . . .” She moved a step closer and reached up to press her palm to his cheek. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I can’t bear to see you trapped in such shadows.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, then quickly gave way to some other emotion.
The warmth of his skin pulsed against her hand, and all the sharp-edged angles of his face seemed to soften. A tiny smile quivered at the corners of his mouth.
At that instant, all the mental wrestling with what they were and weren’t to each other suddenly melted away. She stood on tiptoes . . . and felt the feathery intake of his breath against her lips as she leaned closer—
“I thought you might like some tea.” McClellan shouldered through the half-closed door and stopped short. “I took the liberty of adding a bottle of Scottish malt to the tray, milord,” she added dryly, “as you looked like you might be in need of stronger sustenance.”
“Thank you,” said Wrexford, drawing back a step.
“I’ll just set it down here on the table.” McClellan caught Charlotte’s eye and lifted an apologetic shrug. “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” echoed Charlotte, unsure whether to laugh or cry. A fitting reaction, she decided, taking a seat on the sofa. Emotions were never simple when it came to the earl.
He waited until the maid was gone before joining her. “Much as I’m tempted to gulp down the whole bloody bottle, I had better keep a clear head.”
“Wrexford—”
Her breath caught in her throat as the earl brushed a quick kiss to her brow and slouched back against the pillows. “You need not worry,” he murmured. “The moment of weakness has passed.”
A cryptic statement, if ever there was one.
However, another quick smile seemed to say far more. “Let us concentrate on the matter at hand. Other things can be unraveled later,” he added. “All is not lost for Locke. For one thing, your drawing is already stirring questions as to the evidence—”
“I know I have no right to use my influence for personal reason,” she began, only to halt as the earl made a rude sound.
“Truth isn’t merely personal,” he continued. “It’s fundamental to the rights of everyone, so stubble any misgivings. You did the right thing.”
She felt a knot loosen in her gut.
“And even more important, Thornton confirmed my belief that Hollister may not be as innocent as he claims. I plan on pursuing that lead when I leave here.”
“You’re right, of course,” said Charlotte quickly. “We must think . . .” She suddenly frowned. “Something bothers me about the hat. If it doesn’t belong to Thornton, then how did it get there?”
“That’s another lead to pursue. Woodbridge frequently attends lectures at the Institution—and Children, one of our leading scientific lights, was speaking yesterday afternoon,” he replied.
“As you’ve so sagely pointed out in the past, women are as clever and ruthless as men.
So we mustn’t overlook his sister as a suspect.
Perhaps she was spooked by my questions about the hat, and decided to cast suspicions on someone else. ”
“You may leave Lady Cordelia to me. I have a good excuse to pay her a visit this afternoon.”
His brows rose in question.
Ignoring the tea tray, Charlotte picked up the book and box of cards. “I, too, have a report to make on the activities of last night. And do hear me out before you make any rude remarks,” she said, before proceeding with a quick account of her conversations with Lady Cordelia and Lady Julianna.
The earl kept his teeth clenched until she had finished. “I shall refrain from sullying your delicate ears with my true sentiments on such metaphysical habble-gabble. Let’s just say you were right to suppose my advice would be to toss the lot of it into the fire.”
“I understand your skepticism, sir. And I don’t disagree.
But as I said, it gives me a reason to visit Lady Cordelia,” replied Charlotte.
“It can do no harm, and if perchance her expertise in mathematics can make any sense of this—” She held up the papers given to her by Lady Julianna. “Then some good may come of it.”
Wrexford uttered something unintelligible. She didn’t bother asking him to repeat it.
“I haven’t said anything to Raven about this,” added Charlotte. “He’s still just a child, and sees enough of humanity’s darker side without being exposed to philosophies that might be . . . unsettling.”
“In that, at least, we are in full agreement.”
Seizing the opportunity to change the subject, she asked, “What about Hollister? Have you any idea on how to manage a meeting with him?”
“As it happens, he resides at the Albany Hotel—just one floor above Locke’s rooms,” answered Wrexford. “I should have seen that connection sooner. But be assured that I intend to pry out whatever secrets he’s hiding when next we speak.”
We all have secrets, thought Charlotte. That didn’t mean Hollister’s would help save Nicholas. But she told herself not to lose hope.
“If he has any information that may stay the hangman’s hand, I’m sure you will find it.”
His jaw tightened for an instant—her platitude didn’t fool him in the least.
“I will do my best.”
“That is all we can ask of ourselves.” Another bromide, but it was all she could summon.
But as he nodded and turned to take his leave, Charlotte suddenly recalled a happier topic.
“Before you go, I have one last matter to discuss. I promised Hawk that I would take him to see Sir Joseph Banks’s exotic botanical collection at the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Would you mind if we make use of your unmarked carriage and undercoachman first thing tomorrow morning for the visit? ”
“The carriage is always at your command,” responded Wrexford. “Raven doesn’t wish to accompany you?”
“He would rather stay and help Mr. Tyler in your laboratory—but only if it meets with your approval. You must feel free to say something if his presence is a distraction.”
“On the contrary. He’s a very bright lad, and is proving to be a very able assistant.
” The earl paused for thought. “Indeed, he appears quite curious about science, and it seems to me that advanced lessons might be in order. They would, of course, require an additional tutor, as Mr. Linsley doesn’t have the necessary expertise.
” His expression turned tentative. “I would hope that we won’t have to brangle over financial arrangements—”
“No,” she interrupted. “As you pointed out last time, friendship shouldn’t be measured in guineas and pence.”
“Excellent, then I will go ahead and find the appropriate person and make the arrangements.”
“Thank you, Wrexford.” Charlotte smiled. For making even the darkest moments seem a bit brighter.
The shadows in his eyes lightened ever so slightly. He nodded—no other words were necessary. They understood each other perfectly.
As the door clicked shut behind him, she turned her attention back to the items on the tea table. The plume of steam from the pot had faded away, but the swirl of colors on the cards reminded her of the challenges ahead.
Nulla tenaci invia est via. For the tenacious, no road is impassable.
* * *
Lost in thought, Wrexford entered his workroom and took a seat at his desk, intent on reading the book on Aldini’s work that he had just purchased on his way home. It was too early to seek out Hollister, and perhaps more information on Vitalism would help—
The clink of glass drew him from his musing.
“Sorry,” murmured Raven, quickly finishing his adjustments to the microscope as the earl looked up. “I needed to set up a stronger lens, but we haven’t quite perfected the cradle.”
“No need to apologize, lad,” replied the earl gruffly.
“I should say not,” called Tyler, who emerged a moment later from one of the supply alcoves. “Remember, it was Master Raven’s ingenious idea to add an auxiliary lens for greater magnification.” He carefully inserted a set of thin glass slides into the microscope.
Wrexford rose and went to have a closer look. “What are you examining?”
“The sample of snuff you had me take to the Royal Society,” answered Tyler, a note of excitement shading his voice.
“Mr. Sachem has identified all the elements of the mixture. The bitter almonds and cloves are fairly common additions to the tobacco. But the last ingredient isn’t—it’s Curcuma longa, of the Zingiberaceae family. ”
The earl frowned. “Is that of any help?”
“Perhaps.” Tyler was already looking through the eyepiece. “I wanted to have another look at it myself before going and making inquiries among my tobacconist friends. They may have heard of who might be using it.”
The valet gave a grunt. “With the new lens I can see it’s quite a distinctive orange color.”
“Curcuma longa,” said Raven slowly. “Of the Zing . . . Zin-geribera —”
“Zingiberaceae family,” repeated Tyler. “All living organisms have a scientific name based on a system devised by a fellow named Carolus Linnaeus, lad. That’s because there are many different local names for flora and fauna, so the system allows scholars from around the world to speak a common language. ”
“Ye mean every weed and flower has a fancy name?”
“Aye,” replied the valet. “As do animals, reptiles, fish, and insects. It’s all based on common traits and . . . well, it’s a bit complicated to explain, but I’m happy to do so if you’re interested.”
Raven made a face. “Sounds like a mouthful of gibberish to me. But Hawk would likely find it fascinating.”
“I imagine he would,” said the earl, making a mental note to buy an illustrated book of common English plants with their Latin names for the boy.
“Come, help me put away the snuff,” said Tyler, after a last look through the microscope, “and let us ready the things we’ll need for polishing the new lenses when they arrive . . .”
Preoccupied with his own scientific inquiries, Wrexford brought his attention back to the book on electricity. There were still several hours to go before he could set out in search of his quarry.
And after reading the first few pages, Wrexford felt Hollister had better have answers for a great many questions.