CHAPTER 22
Twilight was fading to darkness by the time Wrexford returned to his townhouse. He had spent the afternoon making inquiries, including confirming with the head porter at White’s that the admiral’s regular backgammon partner was still ill.
Copley would likely serve again as a surrogate, he thought, a smile touching his lips, as he crossed the black-and-white checked tiles of the entrance foyer.
The board game was considered by many to be a metaphor for war, but the real battle would begin in earnest once the dice and the counters were put away.
Laughter—along with a series of deep-throated rumbles—interrupted his thoughts as he approached his workroom. It seemed his sacrosanct study space had become . . . a playground.
“What the devil is going on in here?”
“Harper was getting bored,” said Raven, looking up from playing tug-of-war with the hound over a disgusting-looking bone.
“And lonely,” chirped Hawk, who was sprawled atop Harper’s shaggy iron-grey flank. “So we decided to come over early, before Lady Cordelia arrives, to keep him company.”
Wrexford made a pained face at Tyler. “What were you thinking to bring along that big hairy beast to the city?”
Harper let go of the bone and pricked up his ears.
“The Weasels suggested that he would make an excellent guard for the professor,” replied the valet. “ Any intruder will think twice before challenging those fearsome teeth.”
To Raven’s and Hawk’s chortling delight, the hound responded with a monstrous yawn.
“It would serve you right if he bites you,” growled the earl.
Tyler smirked. “He won’t. He’s Scottish.” A pause. “As you’re a Sassenach, it’s far more likely that he’ll snap at you.”
“He had better not bite the hand that feeds him,” warned the earl, “or he’ll find himself exiled to the Outer Hebrides.”
Harper, his pink tongue lolling out of his massive jaws, rolled onto his back and let out a whuffle of contentment as Hawk scratched his belly.
“Lud, just look at you.” Wrexford shook his head in censure. “You heard Tyler. You’re supposed to be a fierce guard dog, ready to tear an intruder limb from limb.”
The hound flopped onto his side and bared his teeth in a canine smile.
“You’re an embarrassment to your wolfly ancestors,” muttered the earl, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“Woof.”
More laughter.
“Out, you little beasts,” ordered the earl. “And take Harper with you.”
“May we take him for a run in Hyde Park?” asked Raven.
“Absolutely not. Two lads running wild with a large animal might attract undue attention, even at this hour. He gets his exercise with me on my morning ride. I’m known to be eccentric, so nobody questions it.”
Seeing the two crestfallen faces, Wrexford added, “You’ll have ample opportunity to take him on runs when we return him to the country.”
“We’re invited for another visit?” asked Hawk.
“Yes, but it’s up to Lady Charlotte and Lady Peake,” the earl replied. “So I suggest you follow orders. I would hate to have to say a bad word about your behavior.”
They scampered for the door, Raven turning to let out a low whistle. Harper rose and padded off after them.
“Don’t scowl at me,” said Tyler as he picked up the bone and placed it in one of the workroom waste pails. “You said yourself we’re up against a very dangerous enemy. The hound is an extra measure of protection.”
“Enough jesting.” Waving off the offer of a drink, Wrexford sat down at his desk. “I need you to make some inquiries about Lord Elgin Copley.”
“For what am I looking?”
“Whether his saintly appearance masks some very dark sins,” replied the earl.
The valet went very still. He was no longer smiling. “You think the corruption runs that high? Copley is the most powerful and respected member of the board of directors.”
“It’s quite possible.” The earl passed on what Charlotte had told him, then explained, “I noticed that he carried just such a snakeskin walking stick when he came to play backgammon with his cousin at White’s.
He was a trifle late and hurried upstairs without passing over his coat and hat to the porters. ”
Silence.
Wrexford continued sorting through some papers, looking for some notes he had made on the case. But after several moments, he looked up. It wasn’t like Tyler to refrain from comment.
“Are you troubled by this?”
“Yes,” said Tyler without hesitation. “And if he’s the one running the scheme, so should you be.”
“I may be stubborn, but I like to think I’m not a fool. If you have concerns, I would like to hear them.”
Normally quick with his wit and his tongue, the valet took his time in composing a reply. “When circumstances first forced you to take up sleuthing to solve a crime, you were the only person at risk if you failed.”
“Lady Charlotte and the Weasels—”
“Yes, yes, they were soon entwined,” said Tyler. “Then in the Ashton affair, Sheffield and McClellan were drawn into the heart of the mystery.” Rain had just begun to fall, the first hesitant drops pattering softly against the windowpanes. “And now Lady Peake . . .”
Wrexford watched the dark silhouettes of ivy shudder in the swirling breeze. It was true. Being alone gave one the luxury of a devil-be-damned attitude toward life. “You think I should back away to keep them out of trouble?”
A measured exhale.
He waited, using the moment to marshal his own thoughts.
And then, thankfully, a very Tyler-like laugh. “I’m neither a bloody idiot nor a bloody hypocrite. Of course I don’t expect you to slink away when you know something is wrong. I just want to remind you to exercise caution in confronting Copley.”
The valet moved to the hearth and warmed his hands over the fire. “Unlike our previous opponents, the East India Company has both the resources and the power to crush anyone who stands in the way of their plans.”
Wrexford nodded. “I’m very aware of that.
I’ve spent the afternoon speaking with friends who are more intimately acquainted with the workings of the Company than I am.
The recent Charter Act has created factions within the board of directors, so the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that the Argentum scheme is not some secret official endeavor of the East India Company, but rather a purely private financial manipulation. ”
“Even so, the men involved are powerful and possess the means to eliminate any threat to their objectives.”
“Which is all the more reason to knock those who seek to abuse such responsibilities on their arse,” responded the earl. “Yes, in the past, I might have recognized wrongdoing but have felt cynical enough to dismiss it as the way of the world. But friendships change one’s perspective.”
In ways that defied mere words.
“It matters deeply to fight wrongdoing. Not just for friends, but also for those who can’t fight for themselves.” Charlotte, he knew, had always understood that. It was, he realized, one of the things he loved best about her.
Tyler struggled to smother a smile. “It seems the cynic may be turning into a sentimentalist.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting,” retorted Wrexford.
“Quite right. I’ll need it for trudging through the rain and muck to dig up whatever dirt I can find on Copley.” The valet fetched his hat and coat from the corner of the room. “Still, let us both tread carefully, so we don’t end up falling down some deep and dark chasm . . .”
* * *
Tyler’s words were still echoing in his ears as the earl entered White’s an hour later and made his way upstairs to wait in the parlor adjoining the game room. He flipped open his pocket watch and watched the hands slowly move to mark the hour.
Tread carefully. Wrexford had been mulling over the admonition on his walk to the club. It was good advice, given the situation. But sometimes a bold step was necessary to force an enemy into making a fatal mistake....
The scrape of chairs sounded from next door as Sir Charles, true to his military precision, announced that time was up and they would continue the game at the next session. Wrexford moved into the corridor and contrived to pass by just as the admiral and his cousin were quitting the room.
“Ah, Copley.” He stopped and turned. “Actually, might I have a quick word with you?”
The admiral gave a curt wave. “Don’t rush on my account. I’m toddling home to finish a section of my writing that simply must get done.”
The earl gestured to the empty parlor. “In that case, shall I have a porter bring up a bottle of port so we can enjoy an unrushed interlude of quiet conversation?”
“By all means,” answered Copley with a gracious nod. “A tête-à-tête with a man of your wide-ranging interests is always a thought-provoking way to pass the evening.”
* * *
A gust tugged at Charlotte’s hat, sending another drizzle of windblown rain snaking down her spine.
Hunching deeper into the collar of her coat, she darted through the unlocked gate in the garden wall and hurried to the scullery door.
Too unsettled to sit still in her workroom, she had abandoned her sketching and decided to pay a visit to the earl’s townhouse.
At this hour, Cordelia and the professor would be hard at work running their calculations, and the boys had left their aerie earlier in order to watch.
Raven was especially fascinated by the Computing Engine.
And while she acknowledged that the mechanical complexities were a technical wonder, it was the flesh-and-blood warmth of friends that Charlotte sought, rather than the solitude of waiting alone to hear from Wrexford about the confrontation.
The earl’s implication that Copley might be the mastermind of Argentum had chilled her to the marrow.
She had no illusions on how often the better angels of human nature were seduced into falling from grace.
Still, she hadn’t wanted to believe that the evildoing could emanate from the East India Company’s directors.
The power, the privileges, the money they received legitimately should be enough to satisfy anyone.