CHAPTER 27
“Wrex!” called Tyler as he and Raven rushed into the earl’s workroom.
Wrexford pushed aside the notes he had been scribbling and shot up from his desk chair.
“Thank God you have returned,” continued the valet. “We had a look at Taviot’s townhouse and—”
“And it’s deserted!” exclaimed Raven. “One of the urchins who lives in the area told me that the servants all left in a flurry—in two coaches, headed east.”
“The knocker was also taken down,” added Tyler. For the beau monde, that was a signal that the family had departed town.
“What are we going to do, Wrex?” Raven tried to appear calm, but the earl saw the rippling of raw fear in the boy’s eyes.
“If necessary, we are going to make a plan—and then we are going rescue m’lady and Alison,” he answered without hesitation.
Raven swallowed hard and gave a fierce nod. “Oiy, of course we are.”
“Horatio’s new information has proved to be the missing piece of the puzzle,” said Wrexford. “It finally explained why the whole picture of this mystery within mysteries has been so difficult to discern.”
“You mean because there are—” began Tyler.
“Two master villains,” finished the earl. “Yes, it’s why the trail of evil deeds has been doubly hard to follow. But now that we have discovered the truth, we’re no longer just flailing at shadows.”
Wrexford glanced down at his notes. “I have been thinking . . . Given the identity of Taviot’s partner in crime, I am certain that they know their perfidy has been discovered, so it stands to reason that they have seized Charlotte and Alison,” he reasoned.
“Which also means that our loved ones will be used as bargaining chips, so are not in any imminent danger.”
Not yet.
He began to pace in a circle around his desk.
“The villains will use them to negotiate—most likely for a deal that will allow them to escape from England.” His steps slowed as he parsed various possibilities.
“My guess is that they originally planned to take Alison hostage. Charlotte is a complication. And when one is forced to improvise, the chances of making a mistake are greater.”
Clenching his hands, Wrexford tapped his knuckles together. “In any case, we must move quickly to put ourselves in a position to seize the advantage.”
“How do we start?” demanded McClellan.
The earl’s answer was delayed by the return of a breathless Hawk, who needed several moments to regain the power of speech. “Aunt Alison hasn’t returned home!”
“S’all right,” piped up Raven. “Wrex has a plan.”
All eyes turned to him.
“First we need to marshal our forces,” announced Wrexford.
“Tyler, you fetch Henning. Raven, you must get Kit and then go to Lady Cordelia’s residence and have her roused.
Bring them both back here as soon as possible.
” To the maid, he said, “Mac, you and Peregrine take Horatio upstairs and see that he is settled for the night.”
The maid nodded in agreement. The ensuing discussion was going to involve secrets that an outsider could not be permitted to hear.
“Come along, boys,” she said as Tyler and Raven raced off to perform their tasks.
“What about me?” asked Hawk in a small voice once they were alone.
Wrexford sat back down in his chair and gestured for the boy to join him. Hawk was not only younger than his brother, but he also had a more sensitive nature. The earl knew that worries weighed more heavily on his small shoulders.
“I—I want to h-help,” added Hawk, blinking back tears.
“It would be a great help if you would keep me company.” Wrexford pulled the boy into his lap and wrapped his arms around him.
He had meant the gesture to be of comfort to Hawk, but the weight and warmth of his dear little Weasel—a physical reminder of love and family—turned the faint spark of hope in his own heart into a blazing flame.
“Don’t worry, lad. The devil himself wouldn’t dare harm our loved ones. First of all, Alison would smack him with her stick.”
Hawk looked up, his trembling mouth quirking to a tiny smile. “And m’lady would poke her pen in his arse.”
“Quite right, lad,” replied Wrexford, smoothing the tangled curls back from the boy’s brow. “And then—”
His words were cut off by a sudden flurry of steps and a blessedly familiar voice rising from the shadows of the corridor.
“Halloo! Halloo! Where is everyone?”
* * *
Wrexford shot up from his chair so fast that he sent Hawk tumbling to the carpet. Charlotte would have chuckled, but the earl seized her in such a fierce hug that it squeezed the breath from her lungs.
“You might wish to be a trifle more gentle, milord.” Kurlansky sauntered into the room as he peeled off his gloves. “Your wife has taken a nasty blow to the head.”
“Then I shall put her down,” growled Wrexford, “and proceed to thrash you to a pulp.”
“Might I first pour myself a glass of spirits?” replied the Russian on spotting the tray of decanters on the sideboard. “I don’t suppose you have vodka?”
“Nyet,” said the earl.
“Wrex!” Charlotte caught his fist and uncurled his fingers. “Mr. Kurlansky deserves our thanks, not a bloody beak. He rescued me from a very unpleasant situation.”
Wrexford quickly stepped aside as Hawk flung himself at Charlotte. “Then I suppose that I should offer you a drink after all.” He gestured for Kurlansky to help himself.
After glancing around, Charlotte gave Hawk another hard hug and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Sweeting, please go up find the others and inform them I have arrived home safely while Wrex and I have a private discussion with Mr. Kurlansky.”
The boy looked reluctant to let her out of his sight, but a warning cough from the earl made him turn for the door. However, he hesitated after a few steps and then hurried to Wrexford, who crouched down and exchanged a few hurried whispers with the boy before sending him on his way.
“Alison—I fear Alison has been—” began Charlotte.
“Yes, we’re aware that she is missing,” interjected Wrexford. “Raven and Tyler are fetching our inner circle of friends so that we may start planning a rescue.” He caressed her cheek. “Sit down, my love. Let me pour you a wee dram of whisky, and then tell me what happened while we wait.”
“You have a very fine wine cellar, milord,” said the Russian after taking an appreciative sip of his brandy.
“Apparently you deserve more than pig swill,” came the grudging reply.
Charlotte held back a chiding comment. She didn’t blame the earl for being angry and upset. “He does,” she responded, and proceeded to explain the events of the evening.
“But how did you come to be there, Mr. Kurlansky?” she added after finishing her account.
“As luck would have it, I’ve also been interested in the activities of Taviot and his consortium,” replied the Russian. “I was spying on the soiree tonight and happened to notice that you were in trouble.”
She frowned. “But how did you come to be the one who dragged me into the carriage?”
Kurlansky took the liberty of refilling his glass before answering. “I had noticed a nasty-looking ruffian skulking in the shadows by the carriage. Having witnessed the attack on you through the library’s windows, I put two and two together and decided to insert myself in his place.”
“I imagine he didn’t take kindly to that,” observed Wrexford.
“He did not.” A shrug. “Be that as it may, the fellow is no longer a threat—to anyone.”
“Qui gladio vivit, gladio moritu,” intoned Charlotte. “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.”
Wrexford quickly moved on. “What’s your interest in Taviot and his consortium?”
“Oh, come, milord.” The Russian arched his brows. “A man of your intellectual prowess does not have to think very hard to realize that the tsar of Russia would be very interested in any new technological innovations involving sea travel.”
“In other words, he sent you to steal the plans,” muttered the earl.
“So your wife assumed.” Kurlansky winked at Charlotte. “I did not miss your daggered looks, milady. And I confess that purloining the technical plans for an oceangoing marine propulsion system might have been my assignment . . .”
A pause. “Assuming they had a chance of working.”
“What makes you think that the Royal Navy or Henry Maudslay have not been successful?” countered Wrexford.
“The fact that, like you, I’m very good at what I do.”
Tired of the verbal sparring, Charlotte shifted against the soft leather cushions of her armchair.
“Enough thrusts and parries.” She closed her eyes for an instant as the movement sent a fresh stab of pain through her skull.
“Mr. Kurlansky, are you saying that you think none of the inventors have come up with a workable system for an oceangoing steamship?”
The Russian inclined an exaggerated bow. “That is precisely what I am saying, milady.”
“Which makes me want to assume the exact opposite is true,” quipped Wrexford. “However, in this case, my own investigations have led me to the same conclusion.”
“Using a propeller is moving in the right direction,” mused Kurlansky. “It solves the propulsion part of the problem, as there is no doubt among marine engineers that it is a more efficient and reliable design than a paddle wheel. It’s the steam engine that is the weak link.”
“There are too many practical problems,” agreed the earl. “Our current precision milling capabilities aren’t sophisticated enough to create an engine powerful enough for sea travel. Efficiency is also a factor. Ships simply can’t carry enough fuel for an ocean voyage.”
“True, milord,” said the Russian. “Though I have no doubt that sometime in the future—perhaps the near future—someone will build on the current designs and succeed in creating a breakthrough engine that will revolutionize seagoing ships.”
“As our friend Mr. Sheffield recently remarked,” observed Charlotte, “it’s the right idea but has the misfortune of being conceived ahead of its time.”