CHAPTER 4 #2
“He had further news about a murder that took place last night.” Her gaze turned clouded. “While we were dancing beneath myriad glittering candles and drinking fine French champagne.”
“You know damnably well that Evil will walk the streets regardless of whether or not we dance until dawn.”
“I . . .” Charlotte took a seat on the sofa. “I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”
“I don’t know anyone who is less accepting of the fact that Evil exists,” he said softly. “Few people have the courage and conviction to challenge it as you do.”
A tight sigh was her only reply.
Wrexford settled himself in the armchair facing her. “I heard of the murder, as well, but it seemed to me that it wasn’t the sort of crime to draw your attention. Did Skinny bring information that might alter that?”
Charlotte shifted her gaze to the windows. Rain clouds had blown in to block the sun, turning the light to a soggy grey haze. A few fat drops began to spatter against the glass.
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “The victim was apparently a clerk involved in accounting at East India House and had no reason to be at the wharves.”
“There are any number of reasons a man might go to a place where’s he’s not supposed to be,” pointed out the earl.
Her expression turned even more troubled. “Yes, I’m all too aware of that.”
He sensed she was wrestling with a conundrum. “Which means?”
A sigh. “I . . . I’m not sure it’s right for me to say.”
Wrexford waited. Charlotte rarely dithered in uncertainty, so it must be a decision fraught with complexities.
“But I confess . . . ,” she said after a prolonged hesitation, “I would value your thoughts on the matter. Perhaps I am merely seeing specters where there is naught but harmless vapor.”
“I think you know by now that I can be trusted to keep anything you tell me in strictest confidence.”
A ghost of a smile flitted over her lips. “It goes without saying that I would trust you with my life.” Another sigh, and then she quickly recounted the scene she had witnessed between Cordelia and her brother.
The earl carefully considered what he had heard before responding.
“Granted, the river is not a usual haunt of the aristocracy, but there are reasonable explanations for why Woodbridge appeared to have strayed there. Gentlemen often hire a ferryman to cross over to the slums of Southwark or Rotherhithe for the dissolute pleasures available there.”
Charlotte gave a rueful grimace. “I knew I could count on your logic to put my fanciful fears to rest.”
Wrexford acknowledged the statement with a shrug.
“It’s merely one possibility out of many.
But Woodbridge doesn’t strike me as a fellow who would be involved in anything nefarious.
” He smiled. “His sister is far more clever. And as we know from recent experience, she’s the one who possesses the imagination and daring to do something dangerous. ”
“True. However, Lady Cordelia is also very sensible as well as clever. She calculated the risks of what she did very carefully and decided the odds were in her favor. And it was done out of necessity, not hubris or greed.”
Charlotte thought for a moment before adding, “She has a strict code of honor. I don’t think she’s capable of wrongdoing.”
“Given the right circumstances, anyone is capable of wrongdoing,” he replied.
She bit her lip.
“But getting back to the murder, other than Woodbridge’s suspicious appearance, is there any reason for you to think it might be a subject for your pen?”
“No,” she admitted. “Though it seems Bow Street is asking some strange questions around the wharves. They seem very interested in the word argentum, though neither Skinny nor Alice knows why.”
“Actually, I can provide an answer on that,” said Wrexford. “The murdered clerk said, ‘Argentum,’ with his last dying breath.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“Griffin paid me a visit this morning to see whether my Oxford education might provide any insight as to what the word might refer to—other than ‘silver,’ of course.” A pause. “Though I suspect his real reason was to see what my cook was serving for breakfast.”
“And did you offer any suggestions?” asked Charlotte.
“No,” he answered. “I haven’t a clue as to why the fellow said it. And idle speculation seems pointless, unless one pens those ghastly horrid novels that seem to sell so well.”
“Oh, come,” murmured Charlotte. “The Mysteries of Udolpho is a very entertaining book.”
“I have better things to do with my time.”
She raised a brow. “Like teaching the boys how to make stink bombs?”
“Ah. So you do know about that.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s Tyler who deserves the credit for giving them the instructions. I merely supplied the chemicals.”
Deciding it might be a good time to take his leave, Wrexford rose and retrieved his hat. “I mustn’t keep you any longer, Lady Charlotte. Good day . . . and if I were you, I wouldn’t fret about the murder. Whatever web of intrigue, if any, is involved, I can’t see how its threads will entangle us.”