A minute ticked by, and then another. “And I can either cry while every drop of hope spills out,” she whispered, “or find a way to salvage what’s left.”
The thought of Nicky in prison roused her from the stranglehold of despair. He would likely swing from the gallows unless she could find a way to prove him innocent.
Charlotte sat unblinking, unmoving. To do so might require her to sacrifice her own hard-won life in order to save his.
Which, of course, she would do in a heartbeat.
CHAPTER 3
It was late, a spitting rain deepening the night shadows to an impenetrable gloom by the time Wrexford tracked Griffin to a seedy tavern near Covent Garden.
“Milord.” The Runner looked up from a plate of pickle and cheddar. “What brings you to these humble environs—other than the magnanimous urge to gift me with a joint of roast beef and an apple tart for the rest of my supper.”
The earl took a seat at the rough-planked table. “A favor.” He signaled for the barmaid to bring two tankards of ale. “Given your prodigious capacity for consuming food when I’m paying for it, I daresay you’re getting the best of the bargain.”
“Indeed?” Griffin took a small bite of cheese and chewed meditatively. “To what do I owe such good fortune?”
“The misery of others,” shot back Wrexford. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’d like you to arrange for me to meet with Nicholas Locke.”
The Runner’s heavily lidded gaze suddenly sharpened. A big, chunky man, Griffin’s slow movements and taciturn mannerfooled many people into thinking he was a beef-witted sluggard. They quickly learned their mistake.
“You told me earlier that you didn’t know the fellow from Adam. Why the sudden interest?”
“Call it scientific curiosity.”
Griffin snorted a low sound that sounded suspiciously rude. “There’s nothing scientific about murder, milord. It’s all about pure primal passions.” He paused as the barmaid set down the drinks, then took up one of the tankards and quaffed a long swallow. “But since we’re talking about curiosity, I can’t help wondering why you’re so interested in Mr. Locke.”
Wrexford took a swallow of his ale and quickly set it down. “You have execrable taste in taverns. This is horse piss—if not something worse.”
A chuckle rumbled in the Runner’s throat. “Flossie brought you the cheapest brew, to save your purse.”
“I’d rather save my gullet.”
The quips didn’t distract Griffin from his original question. Like a mastiff with a bone between his teeth, he never let go of any evidence that might affect his investigation of a crime.
“Swallow your sarcasm, milord.” He took another bite of cheese. “Have you reason to believe Locke is innocent?”
“I’m not sure,” answered the earl. “Let’s just say I’ve had a conversation which indicates the possibility exists.”
Griffin set his elbows on the table. “What sort of conversation?”
“A private one.” The earl held up his hand to forestall the Runner’s retort. “That’s all I can say right now. I’ve no evidence to indicate that you’ve arrested the wrong man, merely the assertion from a friend of Locke that he couldn’t be guilty of such a heinous crime. The brothers have apparently always been close.”
“Greed and envy have a way of poisoning brotherly love,” observed Griffin. “Chittenden had only recently inherited the title. That could have changed everything.”
“True,” agreed the earl. “It seems the most logical explanation. And I’m a great believer in logic . . .” He leaned back and watched Griffin dig into the just-delivered platter of beef and boiled potatoes.
“And yet?” said the Runner after swallowing a bite.
“And yet, I don’t see the harm in my having a talk with the young man. He might be more forthcoming with me than an officer of the law.”
Griffin took several long, drawn-out moments to consider the earl’s suggestion.
He was, thought Wrexford wryly, far quicker with his fork than with his words.
“Very well.” Finally a muffled murmur came as the Runner finished with the beef and turned his attention to the wedge of apple tart. “I’ll make the arrangements. But it goes without saying that in return, you’ll inform me of any facts I ought to know.”
“Agreed.” The earl rose, hiding a smile. Clever as Griffin was, he had left his demand wide open to interpretation. “Thank you. And now, I’ll leave you to finish your supper in uninterrupted bliss.”
