“My thoughts, sir,” replied the butler with a sniff, “are that I would prefer to face your ire than risk having the Young Person cut out my liver with the nasty-looking knife he has clutched in his grubby fist.”
“Ah.” The earl snapped the pages shut. “I take it Master Sloane is at the door.”
Tyler, who was busy cleaning the scientific instruments on one of the work counters, let out a snicker.
“Yes, milord. May I show him in?”
“I suppose you had better do so. It would be a cursed inconvenience to have to hire a new butler.”
“Indeed it would,” quipped Tyler. “Finding someone willing to tolerate your moods would be no easy task.”
Riche padded off without comment.
“M’lady said this was urgent,” announced Raven without preamble as he hurried into the room and slapped a folded sheet of paper down on the earl’s desktop.
“Thank you.” Wrexford picked it up. “Where’s your shadow?”
“We came in through the alleyway by the mews. One of the grooms was currying a big black stallion and he said Hawk could stay and watch.” Raven looked around. “Wot’s that?” he added abruptly, his gaze fixing on the large brass apparatus Tyler was polishing.
“A microscope.” He cracked the wax seal. “Its lenses magnify things to many times their real size.”
The boy continued staring.
The note was longer than Charlotte’s usual terse missives. “Tyler, show the lad how it works while I have a look at this.”
The sound of their voices faded to an indistinct hum as Wrexford read the news of Hillhouse’s disappearance. Had they finally stumbled on to the scent of the villains? His blood quickened at the thought that the hunt was on in earnest. But he made himself hold his excitement in check.
A difficult task, as Charlotte’s very next sentences spelled out the details of Hillhouse’s youthful moral lapse. Granted, a single mistake didn’t damn a man for eternity. However, if money had proved an irresistible temptation once, it might well again.
Evidence.At least he was beginning to gather evidence, rather than just sit and spin theories. After re-reading the note, he took his time to consider the facts and what they might mean. Hillhouse, Kirkland . . . and Isobel Ashton? Lost in concentration, he wasn’t sure how many minutes had ticked by when a muted exclamation pulled him from his thoughts.
“Oiy!” Raven lifted his head from the microscope’s eyepiece, a look of wonder warring with wariness. “Yer bamming me, ain’t ye?” he said to Tyler. “It’s a trick—that ain’t really the eye of a gnat?”
The valet grinned. “It is, lad.” He slid out two thin glass plates and showed the boy the tiny insect pressed between them.
“How does it work?” demanded Raven, touching a curious—and none-too-clean—finger to the gleaming metal.
Tyler winced but bit back any chiding, choosing instead to launch into an explanation of the convex and concave lenses.
The boy, noted Wrexford, asked very intelligent questions.
“Come, let me show you a drop of water,” said the valet, warming up to the subject. “You’ll be amazed at what the naked eye can’t see.”
As Wrexford rose, he saw Raven’s face fall. “Ye got a note ready fer me te take back?” he asked, reluctantly sliding down from his stool
The earl had not yet decided how to respond in writing. Charlotte’s message seemed to confirm that he and Sheffield were pursuing a promising path, but there were many questions he wished to discuss with her. It was all still conjecture,and with a sudden start, he realized how much he had come to value her judgment.
The boy darted a longing look back at the microscope.
Clenching his teeth in frustration, Wrexford realized that a visit was not possible at this hour. Now that she had settled in to a more respectable neighborhood, the rules had changed. He could no longer come and go without stirring malicious gossip.
“No need for you to rush off quite yet. I need to think for a bit,” he said to Raven. He turned for the door, and then added, “Tyler does have a tendency to rattle on like a loose screw, so if you’re finding him a posy bore, you are welcome to wait in the kitchens.”
“Naw, s’alright, I don’t mind,” replied Raven, exaggerating an indifferent shrug.
Once in the corridor, Wrexford headed for his study, the thump of his steps stirring the emptiness to life. Shadows uncoiled from shadows, dark, taunting shapes twisting and turning through the flickers of lamplight.
Questions, questions.And precious few solid answers.
