CHAPTER 7
“DeVere!” Sir Robert sounded surprised. “I wasn’t aware that you had returned to England.”
“I only just arrived.”
From his sleek, silver-threaded hair and patrician profile to his perfectly tied cravat and well-tailored evening clothes, DeVere was the very picture of a faultless English gentleman. Charlotte, however, knew better.
“Thank heaven the wind and weather were in our favor,” continued DeVere. “The symposium promises to be a memorable event, what with the impressive array of international scholars gathered for the occasion. I simply felt I couldn’t miss it.”
DeVere’s companion, a tall, handsome man with an oily smile, looked to Hosack and quickly assumed a mournful expression.
“What a shock about Becton. I knew his heart was weak, but . . .” He shook his head.
“A cruel twist of fate that it should happen now. My condolences—I know the two of you were good friends.”
“Thank you, Quincy,” replied the doctor.
“We, too, were close,” replied Quincy, and then heaved a sigh. “Indeed, we were on the verge of entering into a partnership. But alas, now that is not to be.”
A tiny frown pinched between Hosack’s brows, but it was gone in an instant. “Let us turn the talk to more pleasant things. Allow me to introduce Lady Charlotte—”
“Mr. DeVere and I are acquainted with each other,” she said.
“Indeed, we are.” DeVere inclined a well-mannered bow. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
She acknowledged his words with a cold smile.
“And tell me, how is your dear cousin Nicholas?”
Her face froze for an instant. How dare DeVere have the gall to ask such a question!
His role in the horrific Bloody Butcher murders of the previous year—the spree had left one of her cousins dead and his twin brother unfairly accused of the crime—had never been made public.
The authorities had deemed that revealing the truth would result in a scandal that might do irreparable harm to the highest circles of Society.
Granted, DeVere hadn’t actually wielded a weapon.
His crime had been one of omission, as he had not lifted a finger to prevent his ward from carrying out her mad scientific experiments.
But to Charlotte, who had nearly lost her own life in stopping the madness, he was guilty as sin.
“Nicholas is settling into his duties as Baron Chittenden,” she replied. “But he misses his brother terribly.”
“Understandably so, after such an unfortunate tragedy,” he replied calmly. “But time eventually dulls the pain of such loss.”
“Does it?” Charlotte held his gaze, refusing to flinch.
It was DeVere who looked away. “Dr. Hosack, do I guess right in assuming the officer with whom you were just chatting is Captain Daggett?” he asked.
It was as if she had ceased to exist.
“Quincy and I have heard excellent things about his scientific expertise,” continued DeVere. “Might I ask you to introduce us?”
Hosack complied, and in the ensuing exchange of pleasantries, Charlotte learned that DeVere had spent the last year in the Unites States, including a lengthy stay in the city of New York, where he had become a member of the same scientific society as Hosack and Becton.
A chill snaked down her spine at the discovery that he had a connection, however slight, to Becton’s murder.
The cloak of Evil fit him even more perfectly than his elegant evening clothes, and she couldn’t help but speculate . . .
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” she murmured. “While you discuss your scientific matters, I really ought to return to the King’s Gallery and see if my friends have arrived.”
The polite responses fuzzed by the ringing in her ears, Charlotte withdrew into one of the side corridors that led in a roundabout way back to the main entrance.
To her relief, the shadowed passageway was deserted.
Slowing her steps to a halt, she drew in several quick gulps of air, willing her heart to stop thumping against her ribs.
“Lady Charlotte.”
The devil-damned voice was hardly more than a whisper and yet it sounded loud as cannon fire to her ears.
She turned.
In the low light, the silvery threads in DeVere’s hair seemed to pulse with an unnatural glow.
“Since we shall be finding ourselves moving within the same circles of Polite Society, I suggest we put the past behind us. What is done is done. There’s no reason we can’t both be civilized about this.”
Charlotte stared at him in disbelief. “Civilized?”
“A few unfortunate mishaps—”
“How dare you speak as if a toy soldier was broken or a child’s ball punctured.
” Fury, bitter and burning as acid, rose in Charlotte’s gorge.
“My cousin was foully murdered because of your obsession with . . .” She hitched in a breath.
“With fame, with immortality, but most of all with your overweening hubris.”
DeVere’s smile was coolly mocking in its utter lack of emotion. “It seems you are a female of hopelessly overwrought sensibilities, Lady Charlotte. Wrexford is a pragmatic man, who doesn’t allow emotions to cloud his judgment. Perhaps he’ll shake some sense into you, once you’re under his thumb.”
Most people assumed Wrexford’s heart was carved out of granite and ice. They were much mistaken.
“Your delusions have only grown more pronounced,” replied Charlotte.
He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing, turning the irises black as onyx. “You seem to forget that I, too, lost a loved one. I don’t know exactly what happened in the laboratory, but any rational man would assume that you were responsible.”
Charlotte maintained a steely silence.
“My ward was very dear to me, and yet I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. I suggest that for the good of everyone, you do the same.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. DeVere?”
“Good heavens, no.” His well-shaped mouth curled upward. “I’m not the type of man who makes threats.”
No, your malevolence is far more subtle.
DeVere waited for a moment, but Charlotte decided not to give him the satisfaction of provoking a reaction.
“Speaking of wards, how is that delightful little boy for whom you serve as guardian?”
The floor suddenly felt as if it had tilted beneath her feet. Somehow she managed to maintain her equilibrium as he continued.
“Such a bright fellow, so full of curiosity and imagination,” continued DeVere. “You ought to send him to me for lessons in botany. He deserves to be tutored by someone with expertise in the subject so that his talents are properly nurtured.”
Over my dead body.
“Be assured,” she said, “that Wrexford and I have the boy’s education well in hand.”
“If you change your mind, you have only to ask.” He inclined a nod. “As I said, I don’t carry grudges.” A pause, and then he turned and walked back through the archway of the Cupola Room.
Charlotte waited until the shadows ceased fluttering before slumping back against the wainscoting, her rigid self-control crumbling. Every muscle in her body was quivering, and a sob welled up in her throat.
No, no, no. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—allow DeVere to know he had found a chink in her armor. Predators pounced on a weakness. Sucking in a ragged breath, she swallowed hard—
“Charlotte?” Wrexford came around the corner and stopped. Then, in a heartbeat, he was holding her upright.
His palms felt blessedly warm against her flesh.
“You’re cold as ice. What’s wrong?”
“DeVere,” she said through chattering teeth.
“DeVere?”
“He’s here,” Charlotte explained, Wrexford’s presence allowing her to shake off the last lingering bit of panic.
“He sailed over from New York with Quincy. Apparently, he headed to America when he left England.” She repressed a shiver on recalling his words.
“He told Sir Robert that he had been drawn to the country by its reputation as a land of opportunity.”
The earl muttered a low oath. “I wondered where he was. I assumed he had returned to India.”
“Would that he was half a world away,” she whispered.
Wrexford caressed her cheek and let his fingertips linger.
“He can’t hurt us, my love. The authorities know his dirty little secret, and that in itself will keep him on his best behavior.
I doubt he wants to reopen Pandora’s box, given that all the evils shoved into its darkest crevasses are tied to him. ”
Perhaps not, but I think he’s willing to risk it.
Charlotte looked up. “He threatened Hawk.”
The warmth of Wrexford’s touch disappeared when for an instant his hand clenched into a fist. He forced it to relax, but the look in his eye would have spooked the Devil himself.
“Not in so many words,” she added. “He’s far more insidious than that. He suggested that we put the past behind us, acting, of course, like a perfectly reasonable gentleman. But we both know he’s not.”
The earl’s expression hardened. “Two can play at cat and mouse, my love. There are ways of exerting pressure that will cause him to think twice about attempting to hurt our family.”
She wished she could believe that. But . . .
“Wrexford, he’s mad. Not in a way that is obvious to others. Which makes him all the more dangerous. It’s a question of obsession. He wants to go down in history among the great minds of science. And he’ll do anything—anything—to achieve his goal.”
She paused as he drew in a measured breath, then hurried on before he could respond. “To him, murder is no obstacle to obtaining what he wants. Given his friendship with Quincy, it seems he’s found a new idea of how to grab the fame and glory for which he so desperately yearns.”
“That’s a logical assumption,” replied Wrexford. “But actual evidence often proves it’s dangerous to leap to conclusions. Griffin will be thorough in investigating Becton’s murder. We must trust him—”
“Of course I trust him,” interrupted Charlotte. “But you can’t think that I can turn away from this now, and leave it to others to solve the murder.”
He looked away for a moment, the muddled gloom making it impossible to read his expression.
“I can’t turn away,” she said simply. “This is no longer a crime that doesn’t touch us. DeVere has made it personal.”
“We don’t know that for sure yet. But regardless, I promise you that he won’t harm those we love.” He twined his hand with hers. “We need to return to the soiree. Given our absence from the festivities at the Royal Botanic Gardens, it’s best not to stir further speculation.”
Stirring speculation was not to be wished for. But its threat paled in comparison to having a poisonous serpent once again slithering through their world.