Mercurial.His mood seemed to be changing with quicksilver spurts, and she had no idea as to why.
The earl didn’t wait for a reply. “Your dear friend—Lord Sterling—is both an investor in Ashton’s new steam engine and a comrade of two of the leading murder suspects. Surely it hasn’t escaped you that he, too, must now be viewed from a different perspective.”
Jeremy guilty of a sordid crime?
A gasp tore free from her throat. “Never,” whispered Charlotte, once she managed to find her voice. “I-I know him. He’s not capable of such evil.”
“You knew your late husband—even more intimately, I presume. And yet you didn’t see the real darkness into which he allowed himself to be dragged.”
At that instant, she wanted to hate him. “How dare you . . .”
“Because,” he replied with infuriating calm, “it’s the truth and you are smart enough to know it.”
She longed to argue—nay, she longed to spit into his glittering emerald-sharp eyes!
But she couldn’t. Her profession had given her a look at too many gut-wrenching deceptions and betrayals. Evil lurked everywhere, even in hearts where one least expected it.
Slumping back against the cushions, Charlotte fought to bring her emotions under control.
Wrexford tactfully averted his gaze. The clash of steel onsteel had stopped, leaving the room shrouded in silence. The boys must have grown weary of fighting.
“Very well,” she said, relieved her voice didn’t crack. “As you say, Lord Sterling must be considered a suspect.” A pause. “But not for long. I intend to prove his innocence.”
“I would be happy for you to do so,” he replied. “The fewer specters we are chasing, the better.”
“Then we had both better get to work.” Charlotte rose, too unsettled to remain seated. “Have you made up your mind about allowing me a companion for tomorrow?”
“I’ll send someone, along with a carriage, to fetch you.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Good God, sir—I can’t be seen in one of your carriages! My reputation would be ruined as soon as the wheels rolled into Mayfair.”
“Give me some credit, Mrs. Sloane. I’m quite familiar with what a proper lady can—and cannot—do. On occasion, I wish to travel without drawing notice, so I have several vehicles which are unmarked and unrecognizable.”
For what reason? she wondered, then quickly pushed the thought away.
“Having a carriage drop you at the park entrance only further enhances your image as a widow of strict propriety,” he pointed out.
“That makes some sense,” allowed Charlotte, hoping she didn’t sound too peevish. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“No.” Following her lead, Wrexford got to his feet. “I’ll not impose on you any longer.”
Charlotte watched him move toward the doorway. The curl of his mouth indicated that his usual dry humor had returned. And yet, a black cloud seemed to surround him.
Specters, indeed.She wasn’t thinking straight.
“Lord Wrexford.”
He halted and slowly looked around.
“I—I haven’t thanked you properly for your gift to the lads.”
“You may want to reserve judgment on that.” It was said lightly, but like much of their conversation, his words resonated with multiple meanings.
“Let us not part on a discordant note, sir,” replied Charlotte. “I . . .” She wanted to say more, but couldn’t seem to find the right words, so merely expelled a harried sigh. “My tongue, as you well know, has a sharp edge. There are times when I ought to keep it sheathed.”
“I’ve a thick skin, Mrs. Sloane. You’ve drawn no blood.”
The mention of blood made her shiver.
