Her mind flooded with a myriad of questions—but Charlotte forced them aside. First things first.
“Hawk, find some rope,” she ordered, keeping a firm grip on her captive. “Raven, have you got your pocket knife?”
“Aye, m’lady.” The blade opened with an ominous snap.
“I’m no threat to you,” said Octavia softly.
“Two people have been murdered, their throats sliced open with gruesome precision, so I prefer to err on the side of caution.” Charlotte darted a look at Raven. “Hand it over.”
To her relief, he did so without arguing. Unlike her, he wasn’t tall enough to keep the point pressed against Octavia’s neck. “Now search her for any weapons. And if you so much as twitch, Miss Merton, I won’t hesitate to add a third corpse to the count.”
“There’s a knife in the right pocket of my cloak—only because I needed something to pry open the window latch,” said Octavia calmly. “Other than that I’m unarmed.”
Raven fished it out. “She’s telling the truth,” he muttered a few moments later. “Now what?”
Charlotte saw Hawk emerge from the pantry, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder. “Take your brother and fetch a chair from the kitchen,” she answered.
The two of them were back in a trice.
“Place it there,” said Charlotte, indicating a spot by the sofa.
“Your sons?” asked Octavia, watching them jump to the task.
“My wards,” answered Charlotte, giving her captive a small shove forward. “But no less dear to my heart. You made a grave mistake in threatening those I love.”
“They were never in any danger.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. You’ve been lying through your teeth about a great many things.”
“I have,” conceded Octavia, allowing herself to be seated on the hard slats of the straight-back chair. “But not about what you think.”
Charlotte gave a noncommittal grunt. “Raven, tie her to the chair—snugly enough that she can’t wriggle free.”
“Let yer arms hang down by yer side, miss,” he ordered before looping the rope around her middle. Moving swiftly and methodically, he had the job done within moments.
The knots, observed Charlotte as she lit a single candle, would have done a naval midshipman proud.
“Excellent. Now go fetch your coats and boots. I need for you to deliver two messages.” Wrexford must know about this. And so, she decided, must Jeremy. The earl wouldn’t like it, but her friend deserved her trust . . . until he proved unworthy of it.
“They seem very brave and resourceful lads,” murmured Octavia as they raced off. “Most children would have been paralyzed by fright.”
“They are,” replied Charlotte curtly, “unlike most children.”
Octavia nodded thoughtfully, then turned her head to stare out the window facing the street. Charlotte wasn’t sure why.The mist had thickened to an impenetrable veil of ghostly greys and the opaque glass showed naught but the blurred reflection of their silhouettes limned in the weak candlelight.
What thoughts were swirling in Octavia’s head? wondered Charlotte as silence settled over them. The young woman’s face was expressionless.
She felt a chill tickle at the nape of her neck. A ruthless killer would need just such a cold-blooded detachment. And unlike most people, Charlotte had no illusions about whether a woman was capable of murder.
The boys soon reappeared, dressed and ready to brave the night.
“Raven, you go rouse Wrexford.”
Octavia started at the earl’s name, her first real sign of emotion.
“Tell him to come immediately,” went on Charlotte. “Hawk, you must head to Lord Sterling’s residence and give him the same message.”
Raven gave a solemn nod. “We’ll fly like the wind, m’lady.” A low whistle to his brother, and they were gone.
