“I suppose not,” admitted Charlotte. “But let us not say so to Hawk. He’s so very proud of being able to help.” She took asip of her drink. “He’s quite skilled at art, you know. And so curious about the natural world around him.”
Her brows drew together. “I’ve neglected to encourage his interests, especially in recent days, and I worry that he might feel cast in his brother’s shadow. I’ve promised to take him to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, and I mean to keep it. Darkness must not squeeze out light . . .”
“A wise philosophy.” He raised his glass in quick salute. “ToLux.”
“And toVeritas.”
“Yes, may Truth not be swallowed in the shadows.”
CHAPTER 20
His boots squelching, his hat dripping, Wrexford hurried through the entrance of the Royal Institution.
“Looks like we’ve had enuff rain this morning te float Noah’s Ark, milord,” said one of the porters as he helped the earl out of his sodden overcoat.
“Indeed.” The damn fellow likely wouldn’t sound so cheerful if he were soaked to the skin. “By the by, is Thornton in the building today?”
“Not that I know of, sir. But I was called away for a time to help with moving some crates in the wine cellar.”
The earl thought for a moment. “What about DeVere?”
“Oiy. He’s been here for some hours.”
After a muttered thanks, Wrexford made his way to the reading room, intent on drying his trousers by the blazing fire before heading upstairs to search for the scholar.
DeVere, however, was sitting in one of the deep leather chairs by the hearth, a book of hand-colored botanical prints open in his lap.
“Is gardening among your many interests?” asked the earl,taking up a position by the brass fender and turning his back to the flames.
DeVere looked up with a faint smile. “My interest in peas is purely scientific. I’ve been working with green and yellow varieties to see if I can detect patterns about how traits are passed on.”
“Interesting.” Wrexford looked around. The room was deserted at this hour. “Might I ask you a few questions on a different subject?”
The book fell shut. “Certainly.”
The earl shifted the facing chair a little closer to DeVere and took a seat. The man had a high opinion of himself and at times could be a pompous arse. But there was no questioning his intelligence and expertise in a number of scientific disciplines.
“I shall be direct if you don’t mind, rather than waste your time or mine in oblique pleasantries,” he began. “Has Lord Thornton shown any interest in voltaic piles?”
The scholar took his time before answering. “That depends on what you mean. If you’re asking whether I know of his doing any actual experimenting, the answer is no. However, he has, on several occasions, engaged me in lengthy conversations on electrical current and its possibilities.”
Wrexford felt a prickling at the back of his neck. “Could you be a little more specific?”
DeVere’s mouth thinned for an instant. “I’m not sure that would be helpful. When discussing theories, we all tend to get a little carried away. Imagination can tangle with reality, and we say things we don’t really believe.”
“I applaud your sense of honor, but in this case, I hope you will be forthright.” He gave another glance around the room. “A life may depend on it.”
“I see.” The scholar sat back and steepled his fingers. “I’m aware of . . . might we say, your interest in solving crimes. Does this have something to do with . . .” He let his question trail off.
Wrexford met the other man’s gaze and said nothing.
“I see,” repeated DeVere, and then looked away. “How to put this . . .” His fingertips came up to tap at the point of his chin. “Thornton seemed fascinated by Aldini’s experiments. He kept pressing me on whether I thought Vitalism was a viable theory, and could it be possible that Aldini had just not discovered the correct way to use electrical current to . . .”
Wrexford edged forward in his chair.
“To reanimate the dead,” finished the scholar after a slight hesitation. “But that said, I truly don’t think he believes in that fiddle-faddle. Ideas are exciting, and we men of science like to play with them—but in words only. I’m repeating the conversation as accurately as I can, because you asked for complete candor. However, I’ll reiterate again that I think he merely got carried away in his theoretical enthusiasm.”
“Thank you,” responded the earl. “I understand your caveat and agree with your reasoning. Science is indeed all about questioning accepted assumptions, and imagining the unthinkable.”
