The silence felt louder than the cracking of the coals. It sent a frisson of alarm skittering down Wrexford’s spine.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Sheffield turned, his expression bleak. “Be damned with what she believes the evidence says—in this case, I think Lady Charlotte is bloody wrong.”
He stiffened. “About what?”
“You haven’t heard?” Surprise flickered in his friend’s eyes.
“Lady Charlotte arranged several days ago to take Hawk on a visit to the Royal Botanic Gardens this morning. They departed by carriage at an early hour and aren’t expected back until the end of the day,” answered Wrexford. “I imagine she intends to tell me whatever she’s discovered then.” He shifted in his chair. “However, I’d rather hear it from you now.”
Sheffield drew a heavy breath and proceeded to explain about the meeting with Lady Cordelia, and Charlotte’s shocking observation. “A gesture, glimpsed for an instant, in the dead of night, by a child!” he finished, unable to hold back a grimace. “It seems far too thin a thread to use as a hangman’s noose.”
“Alice has proven herself to be a very accurate observer,” pointed out the earl. “She’s not prone to fantasy.”
Sheffield had the grace to flush. “I wasn’t implying she’s making things up. Just that she might be . . . mistaken.”
Wrexford sensed that he must tread carefully. “That’s possible. But we both know Lady Charlotte is not prone to jumping to conclusions. She cares deeply about justice, and would never want to accuse the wrong person.” He hesitated, aware that the wrong words might injure their friendship. “I doubt she is basing her assessment solely on the gesture. Lady Cordelia does possess a Wellington hat, and has admitted to masquerading as a man.”
“I simply can’t believe she’s capable of cold-blooded murder. You met her. Do you?”
How to answer?
“Would that I had the godlike powers to discern what lies in the deepest, darkest recesses of the heart, Kit. Howeveradmirable a person may appear, I fear we can never know what demons lurk within.”
Sheffield’s shoulders slumped. “I know what you say is reasonable. Just as I know what you say about Lady Charlotte is true, and that I should listen to my head, and not my heart.” He huffed a self-mocking laugh. “Ye gods, unrepentant rogues like us aren’t supposed to have hearts.”
Wrexford rose and went to pour two measures of Scottish malt from the decanter on the sideboard.
“They are,” muttered his friend, “cursedly painful encumbrances.”
“So they are.” The earl handed his friend a glass, the brusque movement sending shards of fire-gold light skittering over the far wall. “But we must be able to feel pain, if we are to be able to feel joy.”
Sheffield watched the patterns flash and die away as he drew in a mouthful of whisky and swallowed. “I never thought I’d hearyouwax poetic about sentiment.”
Women seem to be addling our wits.
“There are others who do it far more skillfully than I,” he replied. “Such as, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’”
“Or quote from Shakespeare’sA Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
Wrexford allowed a faint smile. “I never thought I’d hearyoucorrectly identify the Bard.”
“A lucky guess,” murmured his friend through another mouthful of malt.
The momentary glimmer of Sheffield-like humor in his friend’s eyes was reassuring. In response, he cocked his glass in salute. “To us rogues, and all our many faults.”
They finished their drinks in companionable silence. Wrexford welcomed the mellow fire of the whisky as it seemed to chase away some of the darkness of his own thoughts. A glance at Sheffield showed the tension was melting from his features.
Still, the worry that he hadn’t been as good a friend as heshould have been prickled at his conscience. “If Lady Cordelia is innocent,” he said, “we will—”
“Milord!” Tyler shouldered his way through the door. “The fellow I set to watching the Albany Hotel has just sent word that Hollister has returned to his rooms. If you hurry, you can catch him there.”
* * *
A kiss of warm, moist air caressed her cheeks as Charlotte clicked open the brass-mullioned glass door and stepped inside the large hothouse. Brick walkways meandered through long rows of raised beds filled with plantings. Around the perimeter, a selection of potted trees in all shapes and sizes created an exotic jungle-like feeling. Shadows flickered through the leaves, punctuating the steadydrip-dripof unseen water.
She heard a sound of wonder catch in Hawk’s throat. She felt it, too. It was as if they had suddenly been transported to another world.
