“Are you sure the lad would not care to come join us and make himself comfortable?” quipped Isobel. “He seems to be looking at things more clearly than the rest of us.”
“No need,” snapped Wrexford. “He thinks better on his feet.”
Sheffield rubbed at his temples. “And I think better when I’ve had my breakfast. Itismorning, isn’t it?”
“I could wake the cook—” began Isobel, but the earl cut her off.
“Not necessary. We’re almost done,” said the earl. “The lad asked if you have any idea who might have searched the house?”
“Kirkland and Blodgett were here, so I suppose they both had the opportunity,” she answered. “Other than that, no.”
“Then it seems to me that there’s nothing more we can accomplish for now. We all ought to get a few hours of sleep—and pray that it sparks some new thoughts on how these murders all tie together.”
“A wise suggestion.” Sheffield rose and took his leave from the ladies. To Wrexford he said, “I’ll call at your townhouse later in the day, in case I may be of use.”
Charlotte thought about slipping away while the others were occupied, but the earl had other ideas. “Come with me, Phoenix. We’ve a few points to discuss before we part ways.”
She held her voice until they had crossed the cobbled street and came to a halt in the shadows of the square’s central garden. “Wrexford, I know I owe you an explanation . . .”
He turned to face her. Charlotte bit her lip, wishing she could read his eyes through the flitting swirls of darkness.
“I assume,” he said softly, “you will share your past with me if and when you decide I can be trusted with your secrets.”
Charlotte had expected one of their usual clashes. His reply seemed to wrap around her heart and cause it to skip a beat. “I do trust you.” More than anyone else in the world. “And I mean to tell you. I—I just need a little time to order my thoughts.”
“That’s probably wise,” he said dryly. “I daresay we’ve had enough shocks for one night.”
Charlotte mustered a ghost of a smile. “Right. Well then, unless there’s anything else to discuss, we . . . we should both think of getting some sleep.”
“There’s actually one last thing.” He drew her deeper into the leafy shadows of the branches overhanging the wrought iron fence. “But it won’t take more than a moment since I’ve no intention of brangling with you over it. I’m going to send McClellan to stay with you until we’ve found the people responsible for the murders.”
“Wrexford—”
“She knows how to load and fire a pistol with pinpoint accuracy. Two extremely useful skills that aren’t in your arsenal,” he continued. “She’ll arrive later today.”
“Wrexford—” But Charlotte found herself hissing at thin air. The earl had, with infuriating cat-like quickness, already disappeared into the gloom.
CHAPTER 25
Charlotte slept fitfully, exhaustion too weak to fight off the dark dreams clawing at her peace of mind. She finally gave up any further attempt at repose and threw off the bedcovers, wincing as a blade of afternoon sunlight cut across her face.
An apt metaphor, she decided, for how her life had been turned upside down. She always rose at the crack of dawn. Only indolent aristocrats had the luxury of lingering in the silky cocoon of sleep, blissfully ignorant of the inevitable everyday triumphs and disasters taking shape.
As she splashed cold water on her cheeks, Charlotte found herself yearning for her old life, her old world, where the hours were, for the most part, filled with ordinary tasks.Shopping, washing, cooking, drawing.A hard rhythm, perhaps, but one that had grown comfortable because of its familiarity. This new life was even more complicated than she had expected.
And about to get even more complicated, given her promise to Wrexford.
After dressing, she hurried downstairs, filled with a sudden resolve to fend off her worries, at least for an interlude, withmundane tasks. The larder needed to be restocked, her paints and paper replenished.
The boys had left a note—thank God they had not shirked from heading off to their lessons. She hoped that boded well. Both of them seemed to like their new tutor. Wrexford had chosen well.
Wrexford.Charlotte didn’t want to think about him and all the conundrums and confusion entangled in their relationship. Death and disaster were the forces that had brought them together. And now, she must face giving up her most vulnerable secret . . .
No wonder her emotions were out of sorts.
Taking up her cloak and marketing basket, she headed out to the street.
* * *
