For an instant, a mirthless smile tugged at the widow’s lips. “Coolly correct.” Her fingers twined in the silk fringe of her black shawl. “I’ve tried to kindle a warmer rapport, but with no success.”
“And yet you tolerated her presence? I would have thought . . .” He let his words trail away.
“To Elihu she was family,” answered Isobel. “It would have been wrong of me to force him to make any painful choices.”
Wrexford hesitated. Further personal probing, he decided, would only be jabbing a needle into a raw nerve. The two womenwere not on friendly terms. How much that colored the widow’s assessment of Octavia Merton was hard to know.
“Just one last question for now. Can you think of any reason why Miss Merton would wish harm to come to your husband?”
“No.” Isobel hesitated. “But as I’ve said, I find it difficult to discern Octavia’s thoughts.” She shifted, setting off a faint rustling of fabric. “Perhaps it would be better if you spoke with her yourself. Shall I ring for her?”
“She’s here?” he asked in surprise.
“My husband was always hard at work on his projects, even when traveling. So yes, both Octavia and Benedict accompanied us to London.”
Wrexford edged forward on the sofa. “Yes, I’d very much like to have a word with her.”
Isobel summoned a footman. “Please ask Miss Merton to come to the drawing room.” Then leaning back against the cushions, she folded her hands in her lap and turned her gaze to the windows. Her expression was as inscrutable as stone.
He regarded her profile for a long moment and then on impulse asked one more question. “If I asked you to describe Miss Merton in a single word, what would it be?”
Her reply came with no hesitation.
“Secretive.” She exhaled a wry sigh. “But then, I suppose we are all guilty of having secrets.”
* * *
“Another visit te His Nibs?” Raven made a face at Charlotte’s request to take a second package to Wrexford’s townhouse. “Sending him billy-doos, m’lady?” he murmured, giving a credible pronunciation to the French term for love letters. Though where he had overheardthatterm was an unsettling thought.
She repressed a sigh. He was fast growing out of childhood into adolescence. Given his fierce independence, she had noillusions about the battles that lay ahead. The struggle over name-choosing would likely seem a mere ripple on calm water . . .
“Don’t be impertinent,” she said tartly.
“Wot’s billy-doos?” demanded Hawk.
“A silly jest that doesn’t merit a reply.” Charlotte finished knotting twine around the package for Wrexford. “Both of you are letting your speech—and your manners—slide into the muck. I know you can do better.”
Hawk hung his head in contrition. “I’m sorry, m’lady.”
Raven’s reaction was harder to gauge. He had always been far better at hiding his feelings than his younger brother. Turning into the shadows, he took a moment to pluck at a loose thread on his sleeve before meeting her gaze.
“Just let us know when your missive is ready, milady,” he said in perfect imitation of a proper little Etonian. “It would give us great pleasure to deliver it forthwith to the Earl of Wrexford’s townhouse.”
Charlotte couldn’t hold back a burble of laughter. “Be off with you, Weasels,” she said, using the earl’s sardonic name for the pair. “And donotpester His Lordship’s cook for sweets.”
A guilty flush colored Hawk’s face. “Yes, m’lady.”
As they hurried away, she turned and found herself confronted by the still-jumbled assortment of half-packed boxes stacked around the room. Yet another reminder that her whole life was turning topsy-turvy.
Change.
Taking a seat at her desk, Charlotte felt a sudden clench in the pit of her stomach.
Through Wrexford, she had learned the scientific laws of the universe seemed to indicate that everything was in constant flux.Time. Motion.Nothing was impervious to change—even a solid slab of granite eroded over the years, worn away by wind and rain.
But somehow such abstract concepts were of cold comfort.She picked up her pen, hoping its familiar feel would help calm her nebulous fears.
Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis—The times are changing, and we change with them.“I, of all people, ought not be intimidated by change,” she whispered.
