CHAPTER 19
Shoulders slumping, McClellan gave a reluctant nod. “Aye.”
“Before you do so . . .” interjected Charlotte.
The boys had flattened their backs against the dark wainscoting and gone very still—hoping, no doubt, that their presence would be forgotten.
But despite them being worldly beyond their years, Charlotte decided that the coming confession was not something they ought to hear.
Following Wrexford’s lead, she had never inquired as to why McClellan had left Scotland.
But one didn’t require much imagination to suspect that it wasn’t because of a minor transgression.
The earl shifted his gaze to the shadowed corner of the room. “Weasels—and that includes you, Peregrine,” he intoned. “We have matters to discuss in private.”
It was said softly, but Raven rose without argument, wise enough to hear its underlying note of steel, and marched for the door, his brother and Peregrine right on his heels.
At the last moment, however, Hawk wavered and came to a halt by Charlotte. “A-Are you going to send Mac away because. . .” His voice hitched. “Because she did something bad?”
Charlotte crouched down and pulled him into a fierce hug. “Of course not, sweeting. Mac is family. We simply need to hear what the problem is so that we can help.”
The quivering of his mouth stilled, the corners curling up ever so slightly as he turned to McClellan. “Don’t worry, Mac. We will help, too.”
The maid swallowed a watery sniff. “Well, then, I know I have nothing to fear if the Weasels are on my side.”
He flashed a gap-toothed grin before hurrying away.
Maintaining a sympathetic silence, Wrexford fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed to McClellan. The maid was by nature a stoic—in that they were kindred souls—so he sensed how painful the moment must be for her.
The maid wiped the tears from her cheeks and blew her nose before carefully refolding the damp silk and setting it on her lap. “My apologies, everyone. I shall endeavor to spare you any further theatrics. As for confessing my crime, you’re right. It’s time you all know.”
“I assume it has to do with Lord Taviot,” guessed Charlotte. “He must have been one of the gentlemen who strolled past us on Bond Street.”
McClellan nodded.
“So, did you purloin his priceless family jewels?” drawled the earl.
A mirthless laugh. “No, I picked up a poker and smashed in the skull of his younger brother, then pushed the miscreant’s dead body over the stone ledge of his bedchamber window.”
The dowager slowly raised her quizzing glass, the lens magnifying the brilliant blue glitter of her sapphirine eye.
“Well, I daresay the miscreant deserved it. I’ve done a bit more delving into the family and its doings, and by all accounts, the youngest of the Taviot siblings was a thoroughly despicable fellow. ”
“True,” agreed McClellan. “Though I am under no illusion that the laws of the land gave me the right to be his judge and executioner.” She shrugged. “Nonetheless, I did so.”
“With good reason, I imagine,” murmured Charlotte. “My guess is, he was trying to rape a servant?”
“A newly hired Highland lass, who had not yet been warned never to stray to that part of the castle,” answered McClellan.
“I had heard from other servants when I arrived to take the post that the miscreant was particularly vicious about forcing himself on women after he had consumed several bottles of whisky.”
“You deserve a medal,” muttered Cordelia.
“Scotland would more likely be of the opinion that I deserve a noose around the neck.” A pause. “However, I decided not to stay in my position as mistress of the female staff long enough to find out for sure.”
“Taking a life is a grave thing,” said Wrexford after several long moments of silence.
“It is, milord,” agreed McClellan. “I have blood on my hands, and if you wish to call Griffin, I shall willingly go with him to answer for my crimes.”
All eyes were now focused on the earl.
“The laws of the land are the laws of the land,” began Wrexford.
Tyler bowed his head, hiding his expression.
“But as we hold no official mandate to enforce them, I suggest we leave the matter for the proper authorities to settle.” He looked around. “Are we all agreed?”
Everyone voiced a heartfelt assent.
“Then we need not speak of this again.”
McClellan tightened her grip on the earl’s handkerchief. “Words can’t express my gratitude to all of you for your faith in me.”
“Auch, we’ve come to be family,” said Henning. “We know there’s not a speck of blackness in your heart.”
The maid looked to Charlotte. “I’m so sorry I didn’t confess my sin sooner. Lord Taviot occasionally comes to Town for periods of time when Parliament is in session, and I take care to avoid the areas where he might seek entertainment. But it was a shock to see him here now.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “Then I read in the gossip column of a newspaper that he and his sister were making the rounds in Mayfair to talk about their consortium, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
Tyler alerted me to Mr. Sheffield’s interest in the investment opportunity, and I saw A.
J. Quill’s pen begin to poke into the race to build an oceangoing steamship. ”
“Sorry,” mumbled Tyler. “Mac asked me to keep mum about her dilemma, and I felt beholden to respect her wishes.”
“I know it was wrong of me to remain silent.” McClellan lifted her shoulders in apology. “But I feared that I might somehow make trouble for you and His Lordship.”
“Would Taviot recognize you?” asked Wrexford.
“I—I don’t think so.”
“What about Lady Kirkwall?” asked Charlotte.
“Perhaps,” answered McClellan.
“It seems they have no reason to connect you to our household,” mused Wrexford. “So the real threat is that either of them might spot you on the street and alert Bow Street to take you into custody as a fugitive from justice.”
“I agree,” responded Charlotte. “So we will take precautions. The two of us will avoid being seen in public together, and you must continue to be circumspect in your own outings. That should ensure your safety.”
“Especially as Taviot will soon be worrying about a hangman’s noose tightening around his own neck.” Wrexford reopened his pistol case. “Speaking of which, let us return to the matter of bringing him to justice.”
* * *
Charlotte couldn’t help but flinch. She had never seen such a murderous gleam in her husband’s eyes.
“You don’t think that merely showing the letters you were given by the Frenchman to the minister of state security, along with samples of Taviot’s handwriting, will be enough for Grentham to arrest him for treason?” asked the dowager.
“I would rather have more conclusive evidence,” answered Wrexford. “So that the snake can’t wriggle out of answering for his misdeeds.”
“Like what?” inquired Tyler. He eyed the earl’s dueling weapons. “A signed confession?”
The answering show of teeth was clearly not meant to be a smile.
“Do we know why Taviot was on the Peninsula six years ago?” asked Charlotte. “That may help us discern how to look for other incriminating evidence.”
“He wasn’t in the military, so I assume he was involved in one of the delegations dispatched by the Foreign Office to assess the progress of the war and deal with the local civilian authorities,” answered Wrexford. “I’ll have that information by the end of the day.”
“And we ought not forget about his likely involvement in the clandestine attacks on Maudslay’s laboratory and the naval research facilities at the King’s Dockyard,” offered Alison.
“The consortium’s coming reception is being held at its fancy laboratory near Hampton Palace, which will offer us the opportunity to do some sleuthing. ”
A chill teased down Charlotte’s spine at the word us.
“As for the skullduggery, I have an idea of where to look for additional proof of Taviot’s misdeeds come nightfall.
There may be a chance of discovering who hired the arsonist who set the fire at Maudslay’s laboratory—and I suspect it may be Taviot,” she said.
“In the meantime, I shall think of how my pen can help prod him into making a mistake.”
“Enough words for now. It’s time for action,” said Wrexford. “Tyler, take Cordelia and show her Bernoulli’s book to see if she can discern whether he offers any mathematical insight into the sketches in da Vinci’s manuscript. Charlotte and I have our objectives. The rest of you—”
“I can do some asking around among the returning soldiers who come to my clinic for medical help,” offered Henning. “They may know something about the fancy gentleman who hired the poor murdered fellow who set the fire.”
“And I can continue making inquiries into Taviot’s private life,” said the dowager. “As Charlotte is so fond of saying, very few secrets elude curious eyes or ears.”
“Do it carefully, Alison,” warned Charlotte. “Taviot has shown that he kills without compunction.”
“We all need to exercise caution,” advised the earl. “Let us—” He suddenly fell silent and cocked an ear.
Footsteps, growing louder by the moment.
Charlotte saw him pick up one of his pistols.
* * *
“Wrex!” It was Sheffield who called from the corridor, sounding a bit breathless.
The earl uncocked the weapon’s hammer.
“Sorry to be late,” added their friend as he rushed into the room. “I have something to tell you—” The sight of the deadly serious faces that turned his way brought him to a skidding halt. “Has there been another murder?”
Before anyone reacted, Cordelia shot back with an answer. “The only thing that has gone to the grave is the notion that Lord Taviot isn’t rotten to the core.”
Sheffield appeared shaken. “W-What have you discovered?”