CHAPTER 16
The early morning mist had given way to a sun-bright sky. And yet the ride home felt overshadowed by a black cloud. Wrexford glanced at Sheffield’s profile as they broke free of the trees, and felt a chill seep into his bones. To feel betrayed by a trusted friend cut to the quick.
And it was the sort of wound that could fester. . . .
The earl forced his thoughts back to a more immediate challenge.
The machine was too big and too intricate to risk carrying on horseback, so he had decided to leave it.
He and one of his grooms would return later with a cart and bring it back to the manor house.
Perhaps Tyler, who was very mechanically minded, would have some ideas about its capabilities after examining it.
Still lost in thought as they entered his estate lands, Wrexford led the way down a bridle path that cut through a stretch of pastureland. But a sudden hail from Sheffield brought them all to a halt.
“If you don’t mind, I shall leave you here and take the long way around to the stables.”
“Of course, Kit,” he replied.
With a gruff nod, Sheffield turned his mount and spurred off.
“Damnation,” uttered Charlotte, her face wreathing in concern, as she watched him gallop away.
“Kit possesses more strength and resilience than he, or any of us, thinks. It seems to take adversity to bring his best qualities to the fore,” said Wrexford, watching a plume of dust swirl up in their friend’s wake. “Or so I tell myself.”
The attempt at wry humor didn’t draw a smile from Charlotte. Her worry seemed to deepen.
“I . . .” She blew out a sigh and fell silent.
“Go on,” he urged.
Charlotte looked away. The breeze tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet, tangling them into a knot. Deciding the moment for her to confide her thoughts had passed, he shifted on the saddle and regripped his reins.
“The investigation has unsettled me, Wrexford.” She turned to gaze out at the horizon. “In ways that are testing the very essence of who I am.”
He waited.
Her eyes slowly came around to meet his. “Sorry. I know I’m not making any sense.”
“You’re making perfect sense,” he replied. “I imagine what you mean is you feel torn between friendship and duty.”
Her mare snorted and pulled at the reins.
“As Charlotte Sloane, you wish to help and protect those close to you,” he went on. “But as A. J. Quill, you feel compelled to shine a light on the dark doings of those who think themselves above the law.”
A ghost of a smile passed over her lips. “You seem to understand me better than I do myself.”
Wrexford brought his stallion closer and reached out to touch his hand to hers.
The chill air gave way to a mellow warmth.
“I think we both know each other very well,” he replied.
“At times, too well. But that, I suppose, is the beauty of true friendship, where the bond runs deeper than we realize.”
The breeze freshened, ruffling through the gold-flecked meadow grasses.
“I noted that you were carefully studying the workshop and its details, in case you decide it’s necessary to draw the scene. But I don’t think you should fret about what decisions lie ahead,” he added. “When the time comes, you’ll know in your heart what is right.”
“Oh, Wrexford.” The light that came to her eyes made his heart thump up against his ribs. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and your logic to steady my doubts.”
“There is, I grant you, an irony to me—a man cursed with mercurial moods—being a source of steadiness to anyone. But as you’ve often told me, intuition defies logic.”
“Or they somehow work together in perfect tandem,” murmured Charlotte. Lifting her cheeks to the sun, she inhaled deeply. “Perhaps Sheffield was right, and a good gallop is just the thing to clear the head.”
The earl smiled. “Would you care to race to that far oak?” A wave indicated a distant tree at the edge of the pasture.
“You have an unfair advantage. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the saddle.”
“I shall allow you a five-yard head start.”
“Ha!” Sparks winked off her lashes. “Make that ten yards.”
Wrexford realized with a jolt how much he loved the way she constantly challenged him. It wasn’t always comfortable....
She was already off, her mare’s hooves pounding over the turf.
Wind whipped his face as he spurred to a gallop.
All worries gave way to the moment . . .
the sight of Charlotte crouched low over her horse’s neck, the loosened strands of her hair dancing in the wind .
. . the sheer exhilaration of just the two of them together, racing neck-and-leather across fields.
The mare had spirit and graceful speed, but his muscled stallion was quickly gaining ground. Tightening the reins, Wrexford pulled back. It seemed only right that they cross the finish line in perfect stride.
Breathless with laughter, Charlotte slowed her mount and circled back to meet him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling. “I had forgotten how glorious it is to fly over the fields!”
“Lady Peake wasn’t exaggerating,” he replied. “You’re a very skilled rider.”
“Yes, well, I spent a good deal of time in the saddle during my rebellious youth. It was one of the few places where I could exhale and feel free.” Charlotte patted the mare’s lathered neck. “Thank you, Wrexford. For not allowing me to stew in self-doubt.”
“We all need occasional reminders that Darkness should never overpower Light.”
She nodded, the very un-Charlotte-like uncertainty gone from her expression. “Speaking of darkness we should be getting back. Sheffield mustn’t be allowed to brood. We need to regroup and plan our next steps.”
They set off at a brisk canter, which soon brought them to the main carriage road.
“You go on to the stables,” said Wrexford as they slowed to a walk. “I want to stop at the manor house first. Tyler should have arrived by now, and he may have learned something more about Professor Sudler before leaving London.”
* * *
After handing over her mare to one of the grooms, Charlotte spotted Sheffield standing just inside the stable. As she moved to join him, she saw Raven was also there, on his hands and knees, playing with a large floppy-eared puppy whose ungainly legs seemed far too big for its body.
She was relieved to see Sheffield was smiling at the tug-and-pull antics involving a length of well-chewed rope.
He looked around at her approach. “I’ve just finished explaining to Raven about our discovery.”
“May I see the mechanical device?” asked the boy, scrambling to his feet and brushing the worst of the muck from his knees.
“Wrexford plans to bring it back here later,” she answered. “So yes, I’m sure you’ll have ample opportunity to inspect it.”
Raven’s face scrunched in thought. “You say the rods go up and down, shifting the numbered wheels both vertically and horizontally?”
Sheffield grimaced. “Don’t ask me how it works, lad. You’ll have to see for yourself.”
“By the by, where’s your brother?” asked Charlotte as another puppy bounded down the stone walkway between the stalls and tripped over its own oversized paws.
Raven laughed, a carefree burble that reminded her all too sharply of how rarely he sounded like a child.
Then, looking away from the dog, he answered, “Hawk went with the gardener to see the flower beds along the back terrace. He took his sketchbook, so he could do some drawings.” Crouching down, the boy began wrestling with the newcomer.
“But I’m going to find him now and see if he wants to play toss and fetch with these beasties. ”
“An excellent idea!” she encouraged. Gamboling in the fresh air and fields would do them good.
The puppies barked as he pulled a ball from his jacket pocket and scampered off, the animals following in hot pursuit.
Charlotte took Sheffield’s arm. “Shall we go see if Tyler has arrived?”
They walked past the paddocks in silence as she debated whether to broach the subject of Lady Cordelia’s betrayal and offer her support. She didn’t wish to intrude, and a surreptitious glance at his profile did nothing to help her decide.
“Have I sprouted horns or purple spots?” he murmured.
“Sorry,” stammered Charlotte.
“Don’t be. I know my judgment in many things leaves much to be desired,” he replied. “It’s no wonder you have doubts—”
“You judge yourself far more harshly than Wrexford or I do,” she said before he could go on.
Her words seemed to surprise him.
“But then,” she continued, “I think our own faults are always far more glaring to us than they are to our friends.”
“You’re being kind, as always.” A wry smile.
“However, I did some thinking on the ride home . . .” Their steps crunched over gravel as they turned onto the walkway leading to the front of the house.
“About how you and Wrexford have the strength and the courage to put truth and justice before personal sentiments, no matter how painful.”
He drew in a breath. “I know I’ve made a mull of my recent choices. But I hope you and Wrex know where my true loyalty lies.”
“We’ve never doubted that,” said Charlotte. “But caring for someone is a strength, not a weakness.”
A thoughtful silence lasted for several steps.
“Truth,” murmured Sheffield, quickening his pace as they approached the entrance steps. “We need to follow the damnable twisted threads of this conundrum and find the truth.” The stones rustled beneath his boots. “Wherever they may lead.”
Charlotte heard the steel in his voice . . . along with a whisper of regret. “Let us keep in mind that we don’t yet know for sure that Lady Cordelia has done anything wrong.”
“I don’t think either of us believes that’s true,” he murmured.
On entering the manor house, they were met by Higgins, the earl’s country butler, who escorted them to Wrexford’s study.
“Tyler has sent word that he’s been delayed,” announced the earl, a slight frown creasing his brow as he looked up from the note on his desk. “He won’t be arriving until tomorrow.”
“Is that bad news?” asked Charlotte.
“Not necessarily,” replied Wrexford, his expression unreadable. “I asked him to see if he could learn more about the knife discovered at Queen’s Landing.”
“Shall the two of us go fetch the mechanical device from Sudler’s hideaway?” asked Sheffield.
Wrexford considered the question. “On second thought, I’ve decided we should wait.
I doubt that the fugitives are planning to return, so there’s little risk in delaying.
” He had refastened the fancy lock on leaving the workshop.
“I want Tyler to see all the machinery that was used to fabricate the device, in case it sparks any ideas.”
Charlotte gingerly settled onto the sofa, suddenly aware of how the morning riding had required the exertion of long-unused muscles. “Where is Alison?”
“Higgins informed me that the dowager retired to take a nap after having nuncheon with the Weasels.”
The mention of food made her realize she was famished, as well as sore. “Might we ring for tea?” she asked as Sheffield sat down beside her. “And then perhaps the three of us should discuss what to do next, before the boys finish being boys and Alison wakes from her slumber.”
A maid was summoned and sent to fetch refreshments.
“Would that she could return with some facts for us to chew on,” muttered the earl. “With what we know right now, there’s not much to discuss. There seems little more we can learn here, so I see no choice but to return to Town.”
He rose and began to pace. “We haven’t a clue as to where Lady Cordelia and her two companions have gone, so it seems to me the logical step is to begin delving deeper into Woodbridge’s mysterious bank loans.”
“And the mysterious Annie Wright,” added Charlotte.
Wrexford’s grudging nod conceded the point. He then tapped his fingertips together. “And we need to see what develops regarding the bloody knife.” A pause. “Though both Tyler and I find its discovery a little too convenient.”
“Sometimes the very act of subterfuge can tell us more than the perpetrator realizes,” mused Charlotte.
Sheffield looked a little puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“If someone is seeking to point a finger at Woodbridge, it indicates he’s a threat to them,” she explained. “Looking at it from that perspective may help us narrow down the possible suspects.”
Their friend edged forward on his seat. “Who . . . ?”
“We need more information before we can begin drawing up a list,” cut in the earl.
“Perhaps I can ferret out something useful,” said Sheffield after a moment of thought.
“Until now, I’ve felt beholden to keep my promise to Lady Cordelia not to reveal the other partners in our business.
But I feel honor demands that my loyalty no longer be given to her lies.
They may know more than I do about her current activities. ”
“And yet there were no other names listed as stockholders,” observed Wrexford.
“That’s because—” But before Sheffield could go on, an urgent knocking caused all three of them to turn to the door.
“Your pardon, milord,” intoned the butler nervously after Wrexford hurried to click open the latch. “But there’s a lady here demanding to see you.”
A cough.
“And she says it’s a matter of life and death.”