CHAPTER 5 #2
The earl’s face might well have been carved of granite. Not a muscle twitched. Shadows danced, dark on dark, through his long, curling hair. He appeared implacable, impervious to any appeal for mercy.
Charlotte knew she should have been repelled, but something about the hard-edged planes and sculpted contours of his features held her in thrall.
There was a cold beauty to him, and she felt her fingers itch to take up her paintbrush and capture that chilling aura of a man in supreme command of his emotions.
“I’m merely asking for any information you hear that relates to Holworthy’s murder, nothing more.
And I am not asking you to aid me from the goodness of your heart.
” Wrexford added slowly, his growl rough with sarcasm, “I shall pay you very well. Far more, in fact, than you earn from your tawdry scribbles.”
Stung by his scorn, Charlotte retorted, “Call them what you will, but my art makes quite a lot of blunt.”
“And as I said, I’ll pay you more.” He then named a sum that made her blink.
“H-How do I know you’ll keep your bargain on that?” she demanded.
“Because you have my word on it.” Wrexford shifted on the stool, the slight movement causing the candle flames to sputter. “As a gentleman.”
“Ha. You may have a high and mighty title, milord, but from all I know of your life, you are no gentleman.”
That brought the first flicker of emotion to his face. “You are welcome to ridicule my less than admirable exploits, Mrs. Sloane. But question my honor and—”
“And what? You will challenge me to a duel?” she cut in. “Be advised, I, too, have a very large knife and know how to use it.”
The room went unnaturally still. Charlotte tensed. The earl was notorious for having an explosive temper. And she had just tossed a handful of sparks into the powder keg.
He leaned forward—and let out a peal of laughter.
“Carve me to shreds on paper, Mrs. Sloane. But I have a feeling that in person we will rub together quite enough.
“W-What makes you think that?”
“Because I take care never to underestimate the absurdity of mankind.”
“You have a very cynical view of human nature, milord.”
“Which is something we have in common,” he replied.
The statement took Charlotte aback. “There is a fundamental difference between us, milord. I observe the nuances of how people behave and record what I see in order to earn a living. But, unlike you, I take no glee in the foibles of others.”
“And yet you expose those unfortunate to draw your eye to public ridicule and profit from it. So do you really think you have the right to stand on higher moral ground?”
Charlotte looked away, feeling a little shaken. Was he right? A part of her did take satisfaction in skewering greed, arrogance, and hypocrisy. Did that make her a hypocrite too?
“I make no claim to be a saint, Lord Wrexford,” she said softly.
He laughed again. “All the more reason we will deal well together.” He cocked his head. “We do have a deal, don’t we?”
“Given the alternative, you seem the lesser of two evils,” answered Charlotte. “However, I do have one other demand before the bargain is sealed.”
“The sum I offered is a handsome one—”
“I’m not asking for more money, sir.”
His brows rose in question.
“What I want from you is time. Not a great deal of it, as I imagine you are a busy man.”
“Might I ask for what reason?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You have an interesting face. I’d like you to sit for a sketch.”
“You’ve already drawn me,” he said dryly. “Numerous times.”
“Not a caricature, sir. A watercolor portrait,” explained Charlotte. “Simply for art’s sake. It won’t be displayed in public.”
“The request seems harmless enough,” he murmured. “Very well, I agree to your terms.”
“Then yes, we have a deal, sir.”
“Excellent.” The earl looked pleased. Or perhaps a better word was satisfied.
He took out another purse from his coat pocket and carefully pushed it across the table.
It was considerably larger than the one he had shown to the boys.
“Consider this an advance on my promise, Mrs. Sloane. A token that you may trust me.”
Trust. He could purchase a great many things from her, but trust was not one of them.
Charlotte reached out and took the purse. The chamois was tantalizingly soft against her work-callused fingers, the sonorous kiss of gold against gold a sound she hadn’t heard since . . .
Since a long time ago.
Was she making a pact with the Devil? Shaking off a frisson of unease, she tucked it deep within the folds of her gown. It was simply business. There was no reason to feel as if a jolt of unseen electricity had singed her skin.
“I assume you want a token in return,” she said, meeting his gaze. It was unwavering, and yet she sensed he, too, was not unmoved by the moment. “You came here for information—where shall we start?”
The earl didn’t hesitate. “I’d like to have an idea of how you hear all the whispered secrets that you say are floated so freely around Town.”
“As I said, it’s not nearly as nefarious as you think,” answered Charlotte.
“I hear things through a great many different sources. To begin with, servants offer a wealth of information. Take, for example, my neighbor’s daughter, who works as a tweeny in one of the mansions of Mayfair.
The things employers allow their hired help to see and hear would make your hair stand on end.
And of course they gossip among themselves, so the secrets spread like wildfire through the underbelly of your gilded world. ”
Wrexford nodded thoughtfully. “Go on.”
“I’m patient and willing to piece together all the little bits of color that paint the larger picture.
The boys also know a great many of the ordinary eyes and ears in London—the people you think of as invisible.
Chimney sweeps, costermongers, flower sellers, shopkeepers.
” She paused. “The urchins who clean the muck from the street crossings so you don’t befoul your expensive boots. ”
He gazed down at the muddy tips. “I have noticed you seem inordinately interested in my boots. You keep staring at them.”
She shrugged, not ready to reveal her reason quite yet.
Wrexford didn’t press her. His attention was already elsewhere. “Your overview has been most enlightening, but I have a few specific questions I’d like answered.” He sat up a little straighter, the intensity of his eyes sharpening. “Were your depictions of the burns on Holworthy’s face accurate?”
“Yes,” said Charlotte.
“How?” he demanded.
Ah, secrets must now be sacrificed for shillings. She must be very careful in deciding what was—and was not—for sale.
This detail, however, seemed safe enough to hand over. “Because I viewed the body before the night watchman returned with the authorities.”
He looked about to speak, but Charlotte quickly added, “Raven and Hawk heard the watchman screaming about a murder, and rushed to fetch me. And before you ask, I am very observant. I get the little details right.”
He made a face. “You are a singular woman, Mrs. Sloane. Most females would have swooned at the grisly sight.”
“I am not like most women, Lord Wrexford.”
“So I am learning.” He rubbed at his chin. “Hell’s bells, I would have liked to see the body for myself. Observant as you are, you’re not an expert in chemistry. It might prove very helpful to know exactly what substances were used.”
Charlotte saw a way to earn a bit more of the small fortune he had just paid to her. “I happen to know the body was taken to Basil Henning, a medical man in Seven Dials, whose surgery was closest to the church.”
“Henning?” repeated Wrexford. “A gruff, gravel-voiced Scot?”
She nodded. “You know him?”
“Our paths crossed briefly just before the debacle at Corunna.”
Wrexford was in the Peninsula during General Moore’s ill-fated retreat from the French army? That took Charlotte by surprise. “I didn’t realize you had been in the military, Lord Wrexford.”
“Ah, so not all my secrets are grist for your scandal mill?” His voice held no edge. “In fact, I had no official rank. I was only there for a short time gathering facts for a friend in the Foreign Office.”
Charlotte suspected there was far more to the story, but the earl’s past was none of her concern. She said nothing, waiting for him to go on.
“Can you give me his direction?”
She described the surgery’s location.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sloane. You’ve already proved that my investment in you was a wise one.” Wrexford stretched out his legs. There had been no man in her house since Anthony’s death, and the earl’s presence seemed to dominate the room, crowding out all else.
Charlotte tried to draw in a deep breath. But even the air felt squeezed from the space.
“I wish to pay Henning a visit, so I shall leave you and your two fledglings to your feast.” He rose with a lazy grace. “Just one last thing before I go. Though you claim to be ruled by pragmatism, I doubt you would have agreed to partner with me if you thought I was guilty of Holworthy’s murder.”
“Money persuades most people to forget their tender scruples.”
“But, as you pointed out, you are not like most people,” he answered.
She shifted, uncomfortably aware of the purse’s weight in her pocket.
He was watching her intently. “What are you holding back?”
“Nothing,” lied Charlotte.
The earl stood very still, an ominous black silhouette against the grey-misted panes of the window. “Very well, we will leave it at that.” Turning, he put on his hat and angled the brim to hide his face. “For now.”