“Can’t,” replied Raven. “M’lady says ye’re to come quick-like.”
Wrexford felt a frisson of alarm. “What’s happened?”
“An intruder broke into the house—”
“Was she hurt?” he interrupted sharply.
“Naw, we pummeled the miscreant into submission,” answered the boy. “And then tied ‘em to a chair right and tight. M’lady’s standing guard, but she wants ye to see what happened.”
“What the devil is that supposed to mean?” called the earl as he hurriedly fetched a pistol from its case.
“You’ll see fer yerself,” said Raven darkly. “Shake a tail feather, sir. We need te hurry.”
Bloody Hell.All sorts of dire possibilities flashed through his head.Why was she always so infernally afire to charge straight into the maw of danger?
An idiotic question. Wrexford blew out a breath, exasperation warring with admiration. Because she was the Warrior Queen, possessing more passion and principle than was good for her.
“Meet me on the far side of the square,” he called. “It will bequicker to take a hackney part of the way than to go the entire distance on foot.”
The flash of gold urged the driver to fly through the deserted streets like a bat escaping from the bowels of hell. They careened to a halt a few streets from Charlotte’s residence, and Raven led the way through a series of alleys to the back garden.
“Through here,” said the boy, loosening several hidden pegs and shifting a loose board to make a narrow gap in the fence.
The house was completely dark, which stirred yet another pinch of worry as Wrexford waited for Raven to refasten the secret entrance.
“Hurry,” he snapped. “The cursed fellow may have gotten free.”
“Not from my knots,” replied Raven as he signaled for the earl to follow him. “And even if the prisoner did get free, m’lady would knock her arse over teakettle again.”
Her?The rustling leaves must have distorted the words.
“Let me go first,” whispered Wrexford, holding Raven back once the boy’s key released the kitchen door’s lock. Drawing his pistol, he eased through the opening and entered the darkened corridor.
The faint sound of voices was coming from up ahead. He slowly eased back the hammer and started forward.
Then came a loud clink—metal hitting against metal. Wrexford broke into a run.
The drawing room door was half closed, the weak aureole of light making it hard to see what was going on. Charlotte had her back to him. She was leaning over . . . a sudden silvery flicker flashed behind her—
“Don’t anyone move!” he ordered, kicking open the door and raising the snout of his pistol.
Charlotte slowly turned. “Thank you for coming, Wrexford. My apologies for rousing you at such an ungodly hour.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Would you care for sometea?” she added, gesturing at the steam-swirled pot sitting on the pewter tray.
“Ye untied her,” said Raven with a scowl as he joined Wrexford in the doorway.
“Yes, she convinced me she was no threat,” replied Charlotte.
Wrexford stepped into the room and slowly looked from Charlotte to Octavia, who was seated on a straight-back chair and chafing her wrists amid a tangle of rope. “Is this your idea of jest?” he demanded. “If so, it’s not remotely funny.”
“I assure you, sir, I would never stoop to such puerile pranks,” replied Charlotte. “Though there are times when your high and mighty attitude richly deserves it.”
The earl bit back a retort as he took in Octavia’s disheveled clothing and the bruises on her face. It was only then that he realized Charlotte was wearing naught but her nightrail and a wool wrapper. Her feet were bare.
His gaze then found the shards of shattered pottery on the floor and the two swords propped against the wall. “Might I ask—with all due humility, of course—what’s going on here?”
“Sit down, milord.” She indicated one of the armchairs, which along with the sofa had been knocked askew. “It’s going to be a lengthy conversation. However we must wait for one other person to arrive before we begin.”
If he were in need of a libation, decided Wrexford, it would be brandy, not tea.
