“You deserve an explanation,” said Charlotte softly. “I know that.”
His expression was inscrutable. They both were good at keeping parts of themselves well hidden.
“That you’ve respected my privacy on this matter is . . .” Charlotte was unsure of how to go on.
A moment ticked by, and then a tiny twitch pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Actually, I haven’t. I asked Tyler to digaround for Locke’s connection to you. It didn’t take him long to unearth the answer.”
She waited.
He shrugged. “I took his copious notes—you know what a stickler Tyler is for research—and . . .” Again he hesitated.
“The devil take it,” she muttered, after he let the silence stretch out for an interminable moment. “You’re worse than Sheffield at drawing out a dramatic moment.”
“God forbid.” His rumbled laugh seemed to dispel the tension in the air. “I took Tyler’s notes and consigned them to the fire. Without reading them, I might add.”
Conundrums within conundrums.“Why?”
“Because it was an act unworthy of our friendship.”
Charlotte made a wry face. “Thank you—for making me feel smaller than a gnat on a flea’s arse.”
His eyes lit with a fleeting smile.
“Oh, Wrexford . . .” She looked away. “I’m so sorry. Cedric’s death was a terrible shock. And that Nicky may have . . .” A pause. “It’s confusing. I’ve been struggling to sort it all out.”
He rose and came closer. She closed her eyes as his palm pressed lightly against her cheek. “Then let me help.”
His touch seemed to still all the churning in her gut. “Thank you.”
The earl let his hand linger a moment longer, then returned to his chair.
“Cedric and Nicky are my cousins, and were my closest childhood companions. Of all my family, they seemed to understand me and how confined I felt by the gilded cage of my existence. They encouraged me to read, to explore ideas thought unfit for a girl.” Charlotte paused to steady her voice. “When I confided my plans to elope, they gave me their pocket money and said to spread my wings and fly.”
“I see,” murmured Wrexford.
“They wished to keep in touch, but I soon stopped writing to them. I didn’t . . . I didn’t wish for them to worry about me.”
“I understand.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed away their friendship. But . . .”
“The past is the past,” he said brusquely.
She huffed a low laugh in spite of herself. “How unlike you to utter mundane platitudes.”
“Well, as you know, I have a great many faults.”
And a great many strengths.
“As do I. However, I suggest we put them all aside for now.” She shifted in her chair. “Please tell me what you’ve learned about Cedric.”
Wrexford hesitated. “Where are the Weasels?” he asked abruptly. “Their ears are better than those of a bloody bat, and while the details would likely not come as a shock to them, I know your sentiments about discussing man’s baser depravities in front of children.”
“They are at their lessons with Mr. Linsley,” replied Charlotte. “By the by, both of them are thriving under his tutelage. I’m grateful to you for suggesting him.”
He shrugged off the thanks. “Perhaps a rigorous regime of studies will help keep the little beasts out of trouble.”
She held back a smile. Despite his sarcastic needling, she knew he was very fond of the boys. “We have the house to ourselves as McClellan is out doing some errands. So, please, no more prevaricating.”
