Charlotte added the information to the other names in her notebook.
The metallic clang of the lock releasing and the gaoler’s growled order to hurry forestalled any further questions.
It was precious little to go on. Assuming, of course, that Nicky wasn’t lying through his teeth. She rose quickly and darted one last look at his shadowed profile before hurrying to quit the cell. Whether it would lead them anywhere but in a roundabout circle back to the gallows remained to be seen.
* * *
“Yer Nibs!”
Charlotte had already climbed into the carriage. Turning around, Wrexford paused, his foot on the iron rung, as a sentry hurried over and passed him a note.
“The devil take it,” he muttered, crumpling the paper and stuffing it in his pocket after giving it a quick glance. “The warden is demanding that I meet him at one of the nearby taverns to work out the terms of future visits to your friend. If we are to have any hope of proving Locke innocent, we’ll need access to him. So I’d better go.”
She slid over the seat and caught hold of the door latch. “I’m sorry to have drawn you into this damnable coil. If Jeremy were here—”
“He isn’t, and you can’t very well handle things on your own. So whether you like it or not, you need my help.”
Charlotte looked up through her lashes, the jagged shadows making it impossible to read her eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
He blew out his breath. This wasn’t the time or place to delve into the tangled complexities of their relationship. She had enough worries preying on her mind.
“However,” he went on, using sarcasm to hide his uncertainties, “I do hope your friend is innocent. It would pain me deeply—not as deeply as poor Cedric, of course—to be throwing away a fortune on the sort of miscreant who would slice off his brother’s bollock.”
“That’snotamusing,” she muttered.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“I mean to reimburse you for your expenses,” she said haltingly.
“Don’t be daft. I shall send the bill to the prisoner’s bankers. The new Lord Chittenden can well afford to pay for his own upkeep.”
Charlotte repressed a shiver, but not quite quickly enough to escape his notice.
With all the emotions roiling around inside her head, Wrexford imagined the practical ramifications of Cedric’s death had not yet fully penetrated her consciousness. When he spoke again, he softened the edge of his words. “Forgive me. As you know, my sardonic view of life is often offensive.”
“I’m used to it,” she murmured.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “We are, I suppose, well-acquainted with each other’s eccentricities and have learned to put up with them.”
“True.” She shifted closer to the carriage door. “Which is why you won’t bother brangling when I take my leave and make my way home on foot.”
Damnation.He had let down his guard for an instant, only to find himself hoisted on his own petard. A reminder that Charlotte’s steel was just as sharp as his own.
Not many people had the mettle to match his thrusts and parries.
Narrowing his eyes, Wrexford replied, “Allow me to point out that this isn’t the most salubrious of neighborhoods.”
“All the more reason that a lordly peer would keep his carriage, and the bantling with him would hare off on his own.”
She was right, a fact that only exacerbated his darkening mood. The meeting with Locke had unsettled him. He wasn’t sure whether the prisoner’s evasiveness was due to fear and shock, or whether the cause had a more sinister root. Regardless, the fellow seemed an unworthy cause for Charlotte. Involving herself in a scandalous murder investigation would be dangerous in any number of ways. Secrets had a way of slipping free.
He didn’t like to think of her being forced to make elemental decisions about her own life before she was ready to do so, all because . . .
Because Locke had some emotional hold on her.
“Keep your head down and move quickly,” he muttered in grudging reply. “You heard the gaoler—a sweet young morsel like you would be devoured by the ravening beasts around here.”
“I’m no stranger to the stews, sir. I can take care of myself.”
