“Not yet, milord. He could be away giving a lecture somewhere.” Turning back to Raven, the valet tapped a finger to a thick book on the counter. “Come, lad. If you like, I’ll show you a diagram of the Square, as well as some of the other well-known codes from the past. ”
The boy shot an eager glance at Tyler, then slowly fixed Wrexford with a questioning look.
“You would be doing me a great favor to provide him with an audience,” he said dryly. “Otherwise I might have to subject myself to a lecture on Caesar shifts, and I’m already in danger of being late for a meeting.”
Raven hurried across the room and took a stool next to the valet.
“I shall leave the pair of you to it,” murmured the earl as he rose. To Sheffield he asked, “What are your plans?”
“I shall toddle back to White’s and keep an eye and ear on Kirkland,” replied his friend. “Unless you have another task for me.”
“Not at the moment. For now, we’ll wait for the next move of our adversaries.”
* * *
The shaft of sunlight roused Charlotte from a bone-deep slumber. Though fatigue still weighed heavily on her, she found her thoughts were too agitated to think of further sleep. After dressing and fixing a pot of tea, she felt more awake, and yet that only exacerbated the question of what to do next.
Granted, she was to put in motion her informant network to see if they could find the love letters. But that felt maddeningly removed from the action. All that was required were a few cryptic notes to key people, and those would be delivered by the boys.
They were in the thick of things. As was Wrexford.
It chafed to feel so passive.
After penning the requests in readiness for Raven and Hawk,Charlotte took a fresh sheet of paper and began to doodle. Drawing always seemed to stimulate her imagination. Theremustbe some creative way to help—she just had to see it.
Scratch, scratch.Several sheets were soon covered in bold, black scrawls. It wasn’t until the fourth one that an idea suddenly took shape. It would, she acknowledged, take a little improvising.
And Wrexford wouldn’t like it.
Charlotte thought for a moment, uncertain how to deal with that thought. Something had changed between them last night. She had felt the thrum of it in the momentary joining of their hands—and she was sure he had felt it, too. But as she couldn’t yet define what it was, she made up her mind to put it aside for now, and simply trust her own judgment.
Yes, the plan was a risk, but one which she felt confident in taking.
She quickly returned to her bedchamber and changed into more fashionable clothing. Casting a critical eye at the cheval glass, she did a slow spin to ensure all was in order. She must appear a perfect pattern-card of propriety.Or rather, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
How very apt, as Mrs. Ashton was wearing the same disguise.
Satisfied that she looked the part, Charlotte gathered up her cloak and reticule. Once on the street, she flagged down a hackney and made the journey to Mayfair, where she descended several streets away from the widow’s borrowed residence. A short stroll brought her to the front entrance.
“Please ask Miss Merton if she’s free to receive Mrs. Sloane,” she said to the butler who opened the portal.
“Yes, madam.” He gestured for her to enter “If you’ll wait here in the parlor, I shall inquire.”
Octavia appeared in a matter of minutes. “Mrs. Sloane. Howlovely to see you,” she said politely, though a questioning look was evident in her eyes.
“Forgive me for arriving unannounced,” replied Charlotte a little louder than necessary. “But my modiste is not quite finished with a pelisse I ordered, and as the delay promised to be a bit lengthy, I left my maid to wait for the item while I came to see you.” A pause. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Come to my study and I’ll order us some tea.”
“Tea would be most welcome,” she agreed.
The charade of good manners continued until they were settled in the room and the maid had delivered the refreshments. Octavia waited until the door shut, then quickly rose and pressed her ear to the paneled wood for several long moments.
“We’re alone, at least for now,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper as she returned to her chair and nervously smoothed at her skirts. “Is there any word on Benedict?”
“It’s far too early for that,” replied Charlotte.
“Then why are you—”
