* * *
As Charlotte bustled with filling the kettle, Wrexford made a closer scrutiny of the room and half-packed boxes. The move to a new neighborhood would be simple enough. Her earthly possessions would barely fill a single dray cart.
As for what was weighing on her mind . . .
“Have you settled on schooling for the Weasels?” he asked.
She took her time to measure an exact amount of dried leaves from the tin tea canister. Which in itself was answer enough.
The water came to a boil, sending up a scrim of steam to hide her expression.
“I—I have not yet decided on what to do,” Charlotte finallysaid over the clatter of the cups. “For now, I plan on continuing their lessons with Mr. Keating. It’s a long trek, and only for one afternoon a week, but . . .” Her voice trailed off as she carried the tray to the table.
Wrexford noted the shadows flickering beneath her lashes. “But what?”
She let the tea steep for another few moments before pouring. “But I worry about them fitting into a classroom.” A sigh slipped from her lips. “It is a more prosperous neighborhood, and I fear their background may make it hard for them to feel at home.”
He didn’t intrude on her hesitation.
“Raven doesn’t trust others easily. And Hawk will copy his brother,” she added. “It is . . . daunting, milord.” Charlotte sat heavily. “I’m not sure I possess the proper experience to play the mother hen for two wild fledglings.”
“Your instincts seem quite exemplary in all else,” pointed out Wrexford. “I can’t think of any reason why they wouldn’t be so in this.”
“That’s kind of you, sir.”
“Actually, it has nothing to do with kindness. I’m basing it on empirical observation, rather than emotion.” He took several sips of the steaming brew, then set down his cup. “You know, I may have a solution to your dilemma.”
“Yet another one?” she quipped. “If you solve this particular conundrum as well as you did the one concerning names, I may have to start payingyoufor your unique expertise, rather than the other way around.”
It was said lightly, but he knew her voice well enough to detect the slight edge.
Ah, so she was still touchy about having accepted his payments for providing information from her sources during the Holworthy murder investigation. He suspected as much, knowingher fierce sense of independence. And it was going to make his suggestion an exceedingly difficult one to present.
“I’m not sure it’s worth its weight in gold—or copper, for that matter. But it so happens I know a young man, the son of a tenant farmer on one of my estates, who’s recently finished his studies as a scholarship student at Oxford and is looking for work in London. He’s a fine fellow, and being from a humble background, he will have a good understanding of the lads, and be able to cater to their needs in learning.”
He paused. “It seems to me that a tutor may be a better choice than a formal school.”
“The young man sounds exemplary,” replied Charlotte. “But at present, I can’t afford a tutor.”
“You haven’t heard his terms,” murmured Wrexford.
“As a man of modest means, I doubt he is offering to work for free.”
“No . . .” Wrexford wrestled for a moment with how to tactfully phrase his next words. Then with an inward grimace, he abandoned the effort. Be damned with tact—subtlety was not his forte.
“So let us discuss exactly what the cost to you would be.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what the young man intends to charge?”
“I don’t.” Enough shilly-shallying. “However, it doesn’t matter, as I intend to pay his fee.”
“The devil you will!” exclaimed Charlotte hotly. “I won’t—”
He raised a hand. “Do me the courtesy of hearing me out.”
She lapsed into a simmering silence. He could almost see the steam swirling up from her flushed skin.
“Both of the lads showed great courage during the Holworthy investigation, and risked their lives to keep my neck out of the noose. That I wish to express my gratitude in a meaningful way is only natural. Surely you must know that the Weasels . . .”
