“In a manner of speaking,” replied Charlotte. She had taken pains to rehearse a formal speech, but given her audience and their unpredictable sense of humor, she realized improvising was probably a wiser choice.
“I shall explain what that means once everyone is settled.” She looked at McClellan, whose expression—like those of the others—was alight with curiosity. “I’d like for you to stay as well.”
The maid quickly slid into the spot next to Charlotte, while Sheffield hurried to join Henning on the settee. Raven and Hawk were sitting cross-legged on the carpet at Wrexford’s feet. A low word from him stilled their fidgeting.
An expectant silence gripped the room.
Charlotte made herself take a breath. “We’ve investigated murders before—”
“And done a damnably good job at solving them,” piped up Henning.
“Kindly refrain from interruptions,” snapped the earl.
The surgeon gave an apologetic shrug and took another slurp of spirits.
“As I was saying, we’ve investigated murders before, but never one with such a personal connection as this latest Bloody Butcher crime.”
Sheffield frowned.
“The victim, Lord Chittenden, was one of my closest childhood friends.” Charlotte darted a look around at her six companions.Friendship.Despite her fears and worries, she felt a smile quiver at the corners of her mouth. Friendship came in all sorts of unexpected guises. Which perhaps made it that much more profound. A special camaraderie bound them together . . .
Shaking off the momentary musing, she steadied herself for the moment of final revelation.
“He was also . . . my cousin.”
Suddenly everyone was speaking at once.
Henning swore as he jerked up from his slouch and sloshed the amber whisky from his glass into his lap.
“That would mean . . .” exclaimed Sheffield overriding the surgeon’s oath.
“Is m’ladyreallym’lady?” demanded Raven as Hawk mumbled in confusion.
“Quiet!” commanded Wrexford.
The cacophony instantly ceased.
Charlotte swallowed a nervous laugh. “Thank you, milord.”
He nodded and signaled her to continue.
“I’d prefer to avoid sounding like a melodramatic novel and simply recount the facts,” she began.
A glint of amusement lit in the earl’s eyes, which oddly enough helped settle her jumpy nerves.
“So the facts are these—I was born Charlotte Sophia Anna Mallory, the only daughter of the Earl of Wolcott. Even as a child, I chafed against the rigid rules governing a lady’s behavior. I was constantly rebelling . . .” She looked to Raven and Hawk, who were listening intently. “Which infuriated my parents. It made life very difficult for all of us. The more they sought to force me to conform, the more I was determined not to allow my spirit to be crushed. However gilded, I simply couldn’t bear to live within a cage.”
Am I sounding too maudlin?Charlotte paused for a moment and quirked a grimace. “Quite likely, many of their chidings were deserved. We’re never quite as wise as we think we are at that age.”
Henning’s muffled chuckle was echoed by a small cough from McClellan.
“Wise or not, at age seventeen, I made the impetuous decision to elope with Anthony Sloane, a young man of modest birth who was my drawing teacher. We shared a love of art and an adventurous spirit, which led us to flee to Italy. And for a time, we were very happy in Rome.” She looked at her lap, remembering the clarity of the sunlight on the ancient marble ruins. “But Anthony found it hard to maintain an optimistic outlook. When the success he thought he deserved didn’t come quickly, he became discouraged.”
Her voice faltered as Charlotte thought of her late husband’s struggles with his inner demons. Guilt pinched at her heart.Had she done enough to help him? There had been times when his surrender to self-pity had exasperated her and she hadn’t been as supportive as she would have liked.
“We returned to London, and then I eventually became acquainted with all of you.” She lifted her shoulders. “That’s really all there is to tell about the past. What really matters is the present and the immediate future. You see, I’ve come to the conclusion that in order to have any chance of proving Nicholas Locke—who is also my cousin—innocent, I must be able to move freely within the highest circles of Society. And to do so, I must come out of the shadows, so to speak, and gain entrée to theton.”
“Let us help,” said Sheffield without hesitation. “My grandmother is rather influential, and as she’s very fond of me—Lord only knows why—I’m sure I can enlist her aid. And Wrex, of course, has some clout.” A grin. “Despite his awful reputation.”
