“That is gold, indeed.” Wrexford cocked a toast.
Sheffield looked pleased. “Now, tell me of your night’s activities.”
“One might better call them adventures,” said the earl dryly. “It all began with one of the Weasels coming to alert me that an intruder had broken into Mrs. Sloane’s house.”
“What!” exclaimed his friend in alarm. “Was she injured in any way?”
Wrexford chuffed a quick laugh. “You need ask? Given the two little demons and her own hellfire resolve, the Devil himself wouldn’t stand a chance of gaining the upper hand.”
Sheffield sank back in his chair. “Who—”
“Miss Merton, one of our suspects. You see, she was after aceramic rooster . . .” As promised, it required a rather lengthy explanation to apprise his friend of all the evening’s surprises.
“Bloody hell.” His friend let out a low whistle through his teeth when the story was done. “What next?”
“Sterling will try to trace Hillhouse’s whereabouts and the Weasels will organize their urchin friends to keep a close eye on Kirkland’s movements—and those of the widow,” answered the earl. After a long, meditative swallow of whisky, he added, “I’m considering confronting Mrs. Ashton, now that you’ve corroborated the scandal in her past.”
“Have you told Griffin of these developments? It seems to me you’ve all but solved the case for him.” Sheffield pulled a sardonic face. “Greed, lust, and betrayal—it’s a primordial triangle that has played out countless times throughout human history.”
“So it appears, but until I’m certain, I’ve decided to stay mum. Bow Street is caught on the horns of a difficult dilemma.” Wrexford pursed his lips and stared into the amber spirits. “The government is anxious to apprehend the radical leaders quietly while letting the public continue to believe Ashton’s death was simply the result of a random robbery gone wrong. Unless there’s indisputable evidence, Griffin would be risking his own position to press them to start sniffing around a high-born aristocrat like Kirkland, especially as his father is such an influential man.”
“And you are thinking you can wrest a confession from the widow?” Sheffield sounded skeptical. “It seems to me she has ice in her veins. She won’t be easily intimidated.”
“She may have ice in her veins, but she also has a clear-eyed pragmatism whirring inside her clever brain.” The earl gave a grim smile. “Ratting on one’s partner to save one’s own neck is also a common theme throughout human history.”
“How cynical you are.”
Wrexford finished his drink. “But that doesn’t make my words any less true.”
That earned a sardonic laugh. Then Sheffield, seeing a hint of dawn beginning to tinge the night sky, gave a lazy stretch and recrossed his legs. “When will breakfast be served?”
“As soon as I’ve had a few hours of sleep.” The earl rose. “If the ivories continue to roll in our favor, the day will demand that our wits stay sharp.”
His friend gave a gusty yawn. “Wake me when coffee is brewed.”
* * *
Charlotte set down her paintbrush and rubbed at her bleary eyes. She could barely see straight, but a last inspection of the finished artwork left her feeling satisfied. Exhausted, but satisfied.
A good night’s work. Though in truth, it was well after dawn. The pale, pearlescent light was softening the shadows on the street and the houses opposite her own. Somewhere in her back garden, a wood pigeon was cooing a welcome to the new day. She slowly rose, feeling weariness penetrate to the very marrow of her bones, and rolled the drawing in a protective sheet of oilskin.
Upstairs the boys were stirring. No doubt they would welcome an early morning run to Mr. Fores’s print shop, especially if she added a shilling for a treat of hot sultana muffins from the bakery near Covent Garden.
Charlotte waited for the patter of their steps on the aerie stairs before stepping into the corridor.
Raven stopped short, fixing her with basilisk stare. “Ye told me a bouncer, m’lady. Ye said ye were going to go shut yer peepers, if I did the same.”
“I fully intended to, but I had a sudden idea.” She held up the roll containing her drawing. “And as Mr. Fores depends onme to meet my deadlines, honor compelled me to finish it without delay. He deserves no less.”
“I s’pose,” conceded Raven. He took the package. “After we deliver this, we’ll go find Pudge and have him help us alert the others that His Nibs has work fer us.”
Charlotte passed him several coins. “You must be sure to stop and buy some muffins for your breakfast.”
“Muffins!” Hawk eyed the silver hungrily. “Huzzah!”
She reached out and ruffled the younger boy’s hair. “Be off with you now.” She hesitated, then couldn’t help adding, “And be careful. You heard more than I might have wished for last night, but let it serve as a reminder that we are dealing with very dangerous adversaries, who’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”
* * *
