Tick-tick.
Charlotte fisted her hands to keep them from shaking. His back was to her, and all she could see of him was an imposing black silhouette, limned in a halo of fluttery light.
Not an encouraging sight.
She must have released a sigh, for he looked around.
“Go ahead and speak your mind, Wrexford,” she urged. “Whatever you’re thinking, it will be far less upsetting than this . . . this disapproving silence.”
“You are misinterpreting my reticence, Mrs. Sloane. What you’ve asked is impossible to articulate in a simple answer.” The earl shifted. “It matters not a whit what I think. The heart of the question is, what doyouthink?”
It wasn’t the reply she had expected—or wanted. Wrexford rarely pulled his punches.
“And here I was hoping for you to impose your usual cold logic to a problem, and parse through all the variables to arrive at the correct solution,” responded Charlotte, though herattempt at wry humor sounded a little flat. “Instead, you have chosen a most inopportune moment to refrain from expressing your opinion.”
“You wish for logic?” Wrexford shifted again, but the refraction of light through the windowpanes still made it impossible to read his face. “Fine. Then let us analyze the benefits and drawbacks of doing what you propose.”
He approached and, after pushing the facing armchair a tad closer to hers, took a seat. His knees were nearly touching hers. And yet, the closeness was somehow comforting.
“Before we begin, shall I fetch paper and pencil to make one of our usual lists?” he drawled after placing her letter on the side table.
Charlotte shook her head. “Let’s get on with it.” If her old life was about to give up the ghost, she would rather it be done with a swift thrust of the knife, rather than from myriad tiny cuts.
“Very well.” The earl steepled his fingers. “Let’s start with the benefits. Why do you wish to reveal yourself as Lady Charlotte Sophia Anna Mallory Sloane and reenter the world of the beau monde?”
“Because it’s the only way I have a chance to prove Nicky is innocent.”
“How so?” he pressed. “You’re more skilled than most Bow Street Runners in ferreting out information. Your network of informants has access to most every secret that swirls through London.”
“But not all of them,” replied Charlotte. “Believe me, I’ve made inquiries with every possible source who might prove helpful. I’m convinced the answers I need can only be found within the highest circles of Society, and even then, they must be extracted by careful questioning.”
“You don’t trust that I can do that? And Sheffield as well?”
“To a point, sir. But if critical secrets lie with a lady—and wehave good reason to think that may be the case—then only I can get them. You admitted as much yesterday.”
“Very well,” he conceded. “That’s one reason. Any other?”
Charlotte pinched at a crease in her skirts.
“There would, of course, be a number of ancillary benefits,” he went on, when she didn’t answer. “Balls, supper soirees, concerts, drawing rooms, teas . . .” A pause. “Reconciliation with your family, and with it, a likely change in your financial situation. I doubt you would ever have to work again.”
Charlotte stared at him in shock, too stunned to react.
Wrexford stared back with unblinking calm.
It took several long moments for her wits to begin working. “How can you think . . .” she sputtered. “All those things have nothing—nothing—to do with the decision!”
“Nonetheless, they must be listed. Cause and effect is a scientific principle,” he said calmly. “Youdidask me to apply cold logic to the question.”
Her body suddenly felt as if it had turned to ice. “Very well.”
“Now, as to drawbacks . . .” He hesitated. “You may make all these changes in your life, and in the end, it will come to naught. You won’t find any proof of your cousin’s innocence and he will go to the gallows.”
Not trusting her voice, Charlotte nodded in confirmation.
Wrexford’s gaze turned searching. Probing, piercing to the very depth of her marrow. She looked down at her lap, despite knowing there was nowhere to hide.
“Can you live with that, Mrs. Sloane?” he asked softly. “For it seems to me, that’s the only question you should be asking.”
