CHAPTER 12
Forcing her eyes away from the clock, Charlotte turned her attention back to her drawing. Darkness had settled over the city. And yet there were any number of reasonable explanations as to why the boys hadn’t yet returned from the dowager’s townhouse with a reply to her request.
Granted, what she had done was a risk.
“Pericula ludus,” she whispered. Danger is my pleasure. Many of her past actions seemed to give truth to the ancient Latin adage. Breaking the bars of a gilded cage had meant flying into the unknown.
After dipping her pen in the inkwell, Charlotte began to add cross-hatching to the dark outline of—
The sudden clack of the brass knocker nearly caused the quill to slip from her fingers. Cocking an ear, she listened as McClellan hurried from the kitchen to see who was calling.
“Lady Peake!” The maid’s surprised voice floated up from below.
Her great-aunt had come to call at this hour? Charlotte felt a surge of panic. It was well after suppertime.
“Lady Charlotte requested a meeting, and as she said it was rather urgent, it occurred to me that the boys and I ought to all return together,” came Alison’s brisk reply. “Besides, I’ve been curious about where she lived.”
Ah, well. Charlotte drew in a tight breath. Two birds with one stone. Another old adage, but her mind was too jumbled to recall the Latin phrase.
“Please allow me to show you to the parlor,” said McClellan. “And then I’ll let Lady Charlotte know you’re here.”
After tucking a loose curl behind her ear—she didn’t care to contemplate what other strands had come free as she had worked—Charlotte rose and quickly shook out the creases from her work gown.
It was time for the dowager to see the sow’s ear, not the silk purse.
On entering the parlor, she found Alison inspecting the books and paintings at the far end of the room.
“This is a wonderful landscape,” said the dowager, turning from a large canvas of a Tuscan hillside and lowering her quizzing glass. “The light and colors are exquisitely rendered.”
“It was done by my late husband,” said Charlotte, finding her throat had gone very dry.
“He was very talented.”
“Yes, very.” She gestured to the sofa. “Won’t you sit down?”
Shifting the cane to her other hand, Alison then crossed the carpet and settled herself against the sofa’s thick pillows. All the lamps were lit, filling the room with a mellow glow.
“This is a very charming place,” observed the dowager after another look around.
“It’s nothing fancy, but it suits me,” replied Charlotte, aware of how stilted she sounded. Despite her resolve, she was finding it hard to shake off her nervousness. Alison had always accepted—nay, encouraged—the fact that her grand-niece marched to a rebellious drumbeat.
But what if the person I’ve become has crossed the line of no return?
Charlotte looked up to find the dowager regarding her with an inscrutable stare.
“I gather there is something important that you wish to discuss with me?” said Alison.
“Yes,” she answered. “But before I do so, I need to explain . . .”
“Tea,” announced McClellan, carrying a tray into the parlor. “I thought refreshments might be welcome.” Following behind her were Raven and Hawk, each bearing a platter of pastries.
Charlotte breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had sent the boys off with scrubbed faces and clean clothing, and by some miracles, they still appeared relatively tidy.
“Dundee cakes,” announced Raven, setting his offering down on the table in front of Alison.
“And ginger biscuits,” chirped Hawk. “They’re my favorite,” he confided to the dowager as he put down his plate.
“I’m very fond of ginger biscuits, too,” replied Alison, her lips twitching upward. “However, I shall try to leave one or two for you.”
“S’all right. Have as many as you like.” He grinned, revealing a few molasses-flecked crumbs lodged between his teeth. “There’s another pan in the oven.”
McClellan cleared her throat. “Lady Charlotte has poured tea for Lady Peake. Be a gentleman and bring it to her, and then you may offer her a biscuit before fixing plates for you and your brother.”
Raven had taken a perch on one of the facing armchairs, hands folded primly in his lap.
“Thank you,” said the dowager once Hawk had finished serving her. She looked at Charlotte, her eyes alight with amusement. “The boys have such impeccable manners. I confess, I’m still trying to puzzle out why Wrexford calls them Weasels.”
Charlotte had been struggling with how to broach the subject of her past—her real past, not the one gilded with half-truths and outright bouncers. And here, she decided, was a way to cut through all hemming and hawing in one fell swoop.
“It’s because of our first encounter with the earl,” she said. “Raven stuck a knife in Wrexford’s leg, and Hawk flung a broken bottle at his head, when they thought that he was threatening me.”
For a moment, the room was utterly still. Even the plume of steam rising from the teapot seemed to freeze in midair.
And then a tiny twitch as Hawk’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I thought we were never, ever supposed to mention that,” he whispered, his mouth quivering in confusion. “On account of . . . of . . .”
“On account of it giving away the truth,” said Raven, turning to watch Alison intently through the fringe of his dark lashes. “The truth that we’re orphan guttersnipes, not m’lady’s respectable relatives.”
The dowager blinked and took a moment to polish her quizzing glass before raising it to her eye.
“I found the boys—or rather, they found me—in my previous residence,” explained Charlotte in a rush.
Like peeling a bandage from a wound, it was best to get it over with quickly.
“Which was on the fringes of St Giles, a far less pleasant neighborhood than this one. They had been abandoned, and Raven was doing his best to care for Hawk. They began doing odd errands in return for whatever scraps of food I could afford, and for shelter from . . .” She hesitated.
“From all the evils than can befall children left to fend for themselves.”
Alison sat pale and still as a statue carved from marble.
“It’s true we’re not bound by blood, but we are a family, one with bonds far more meaningful than a dribble of scarlet liquid.
” Charlotte crooked a smile. “As you know, I’ve always been a fool when it comes to love, whether it be my passions for art and ideas or for the people I wished to hold close to my heart. ”
Still no reaction from the dowager.
She closed her eyes for an instant. “There’s more you need to know, assuming you’re willing to hear it. But the boys need not stay.”
Raven and Hawk quietly slid down from their seats and put their plates of untouched sweets on the table.
The muted chink seemed to unlock Alison’s tongue. “Do you mean to say . . .” Light winked off the glass lens as she fixed her much-magnified eye on Raven. “You watched over your brother and fought to keep him safe?”
“Oiy.” Raven lifted his bony shoulders in a shrug. “We’re family. Ye take care of yer own,” he added, letting his speech slur into the patter of the stews.
“Well, I think . . .” The dowager’s voice stuck for an instant in her throat. “I think that’s quite the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Catching the glint of a tear pearled on Alison’s lashes, Charlotte dared to think the meeting might not end in utter disaster.
“Lord Wrexford says the mark of a true gentleman is that he protects the people he loves,” murmured Hawk.
“Hmmph.” Alison made a small sniff. “It seems His Lordship is not only a very handsome devil but also a very wise one.”
Charlotte gave a small nod to Raven and Hawk. “You have your lessons to do, so off you go, while I finish my explanations. . .”
“Wait!” exclaimed the dowager as the boys turned for the doorway, punctuating the command with a thump of her cane. “How dare my little Weasels run off without giving their aunt a hug!”
An uncertain smile blossomed on Hawk’s face as he took a tentative step toward the sofa. “But you’re not really our aunt.”
“The devil I’m not!” Alison seized him in a fierce embrace. “However, perhaps you’ve decided you don’t want an old dragon as a relative.”
“Of course we do,” replied Raven, allowing a very un-Raven-like grin. “Who else would ply us with ice cream and sweets at Gunter’s?”
“That’s very practical and pragmatic,” said Alison with an approving nod. She released Hawk with a last fond ruffling of his unruly curls. “Now come take your leave of me properly, you young jackanapes. That is, unless you consider yourself too big for hugs.”
Charlotte held her breath. Raven wasn’t easy to reach.
The boy hesitated and then shuffled over and allowed the dowager to plant a peck on his cheek. He pulled away quickly, but not before Charlotte saw another grin tug at his lips.
“Weasels, the Dragon, and me—a strange bird Wrexford calls Phoenix,” said Charlotte as they scampered off. “Lud, what an eccentric menagerie we make.”
“Hmmph.” Whether the sound was a snort or a laugh was impossible to discern.
“Thank you, Aunt Alison,” she added. “For not falling into a swoon at the truth.”
“Merciful heavens, did you think I believed for a moment your farididdle about the boys being orphaned relatives of your husband’s family?
” Alison reached for a ginger biscuit and took a bite before continuing.
“They’re far too clever and interesting to have been brought up in a respectable but boring gentry family. ”
“I’m very grateful that you’re not easily shocked.” Charlotte blew out her breath. “For I’m not yet done with the revelations.”
The dowager finished her biscuit. After dusting the crumbs from her fingers, she once again lifted her quizzing glass. A Cyclops-like eye, widened in an unblinking stare, was admittedly a little unnerving, but Charlotte held herself steady.
“Well, do go on, gel,” drawled Alison. “My delicate nerves can’t stand the suspense.”
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