“Very well. According to Locke’s doxy, your late cousin was also sharing her favors,” began Wrexford.
An oath slipped from her lips.
“However, it seems neither of them knew it, so Chittenden can’t be accused of sordid depravity.” A pause. “However, my interview with the young woman revealed a different cause for concern.”
Charlotte listened with a sinking heart as the earl described the doxy’s mention of the strange marks on Chittenden’s body and the visit he and Henning had made to the morgue. By the time he finished explaining about Westmorly and Nicholas’smisleading statement about the gambling debts, she could no longer deny what was staring her in the face.
“Much as I hate to admit it, brotherly jealousy may very well be the motive for murder,” she murmured. “Given Nicky’s rant about Cedric getting everything by virtue of his being the older by several minutes, it might have triggered a fit of uncontrollable rage.” Her hands knotted together in her lap. “The mutilation certainly fits in with such a scenario.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’ve asked Sheffield to look further into Chittenden’s friction with Sir Kelvin Hollister, in case there is more to it than a romantic rivalry,” Wrexford counseled. “But, yes, there are a great many more questions that Locke needs to answer.”
His gaze turned searching. She could feel it poking and prodding into every tiny chink in her armor.
“I was able to arrange with the warden for a visit with him later this afternoon. But there’s no reason you need to come along. I’m perfectly capable of questioning him on my own,” continued Wrexford.
It was tempting. But giving in to self-serving weakness was merely another name for hypocrisy. Let that happen and she might as well toss her pen into the River Thames. She would be no better than any other of the silk-swathed scoundrels and liars in Town.
“Since when,” asked Charlotte, “have you known me to take the coward’s way out?”
“There is a first time for everything.” He was gentlemanly enough not to mention her swoon again.
“Hypothetically speaking, yes. But I’m not about to dance stark naked down Piccadilly Street or crown myself Queen of England, either, so we can set aside absurdities that aren’t going to happen.”
“There’s nothing absurd about feeling emotionally involved with a loved one,” he said quietly.
Charlotte sighed. It was true. Love addled the wits. It made one behave irrationally. “Be that as it may, if we try very hard, I think it’s possible to make ourselves overcome emotions.”
The earl’s eyes hadn’t left her face. “But at what cost?”
Damn him for asking a question I don’t dare contemplate.
Unclenching her hands, she looked down and started smoothing a crease from her skirts. As she did so, her fingers brushed up against paper. Hawk’s drawing, along with the packet containing the snuff, had slipped from the cushions to become tangled in the folds of sprigged muslin.
Lud, the earl’s revelations had chased all thoughts of her own discoveries from her mind.
“What have you there?” asked Wrexford as she carefully cupped the two items in her upturned palms.
“You were not the only one out looking for clues yesterday.” Charlotte quickly told him about her foray to Kensington Gardens, and the inquiries made by the boys.
With his usual scientific detachment, the earl studied the crinkles and smudges for a long moment before taking up the sketch and subjecting it to a more thorough scrutiny.
“Wellington,” he murmured.
Her eyes widened. “Theduke?”
“No, the hat.” He refolded the sketch. “It’s called a Wellington.”
“I don’t suppose that helps.”
“Not particularly. Any number of hatters make the style.”
Charlotte now felt even more foolish offering the grains of snuff. “You needn’t bother looking at this.” She closed her hand around the clue. “It won’t be of any use.”
“The scientific method is tonotmake assumptions, even if common sense seems to indicate that you are right.” The earl held out his hand. “The workings of the world don’t always conform to expectations.”
She reluctantly gave him the pouched paper.
After a cursory peek at the snuff, he leaned closer.
