“The paintings are splendid,” she replied, taking a seat at the worktable. “It’s a very impressive place.”
“I wouldn’t want to live in a palace,” said Raven, after slathering strawberry jam on a piece of toast and cramming it into his mouth.
The maid winced. “Just as well, as your table manners are more suited to a barn. And that’s maligning the horses, who make far less of a mess chewing their oats.”
The boys both chortled and helped themselves to the sultana muffins she had just brought to the table.
“Hmmph.” The warning sound, however, was softened by a smile.
Charlotte took a swallow of the scalding brew, willing its warmth to loosen the knot in the pit of her stomach.
McClellan, who missed very little, set a fist on her hip. “Is something wrong?”
Both Raven and Hawk stopped chewing.
She had already decided that they all had to be apprised of the danger. Having grown up in the slums, the boys were no strangers to evil. They wouldn’t be frightened.
Though she wished they would be. DeVere was more cunning than most miscreants in that his charm hid the depths of his depravity.
“Yes,” she replied simply. “I discovered a very unsettling thing last night. Mr. DeVere has returned to London.”
The maid let out a sharp hiss.
Placing his elbows on the table, Raven leaned forward and looked up expectantly, waiting for her to go on. Neither of the boys knew exactly what had taken place in the secret laboratory within the DeVere mansion. But they knew that Lady Julianna had not survived.
“He blames Wrexford and me for the death of his ward,” continued Charlotte, making no effort to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. “And I have reason to believe he may seek revenge by harming one of you two.”
“An eye for an eye,”murmured McClellan.
“Yes,” said Charlotte. “And so I want you both to be extra vigilant whenever you leave this house.” The boys, she knew, were savvy beyond their years, and had eluded all sorts of mortal perils. But all it took was one lightning-quick strike that they didn’t see coming . . .
“I don’t know if he’s aware of this residence. But he certainly knows the location of Wrexford’s townhouse, and we’ll soon be living there. I don’t wish to alarm you, but there’s a chance he may decide to have people watch your comings and goings.”
Raven made a rude sound. “We’ve already mapped out a way to slip in and out of His Lordship’s back gardens with nobody seeing us. And as for surveillance, our street friends will have any spies spotted in a trice.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but respond with a look of concern. Their closest friends were no longer in London . . .
As if reading her thoughts, Raven quickly explained, “Our network is as strong as ever. Billy Bones and his gang are now sweeping the streets where Skinny and Pudge worked. And Ghillie has taken over Alice the Eel Girl’s work.”
“Oiy—there’s always plenty of urchins to fill in any holes,” piped up Hawk.
The matter-of-fact way he said it tugged at Charlotte’s heart. She and Wrexford had made life better for some of the homeless children roaming the streets. But there were so many more.
She took another swallow of coffee, using the moment to surreptitiously study the boys over the rim of her mug. When she had first met them, their whole world revolved around two basic needs—staying safe from predators and finding enough scraps of food to survive. They were now safe, they were loved, they were nurtured. More than that, they had discovered passions—mathematics and science for Raven, art and botany for Hawk—that gave them entrée into a whole new realm of possibilities.
Their lives certainly seemed to be better. But were they happy? Truly happy? Raven was fiercely independent and chafed against the strictures of rules. Perhaps he regretted the loss of his unfettered freedom.
“Are you sorry to be moving into Wrexford’s townhouse?” she asked abruptly. “It will likely mean a more regimented life. Being part of a family brings responsibilities and duties.”
Both boys looked thoughtful. And though she saw Hawk dart a sidelong glance at his older brother, she had recently noted that he was beginning to voice his own opinions.
“Like what responsibilities and duties?” asked Raven.
A very logical question. “Like escorting Aunt Alison to an exhibit at the British Museum this afternoon after your lessons,” answered Charlotte. “She doesn’t wish to go alone, and as I am meeting with Wrexford and can’t accompany her, I would feel more comfortable if a family member goes with her, rather than one of her dowager friends, in case she becomes fatigued and needs a shoulder to lean on.”
“That’s not a duty, that’s a treat.” Raven grinned. “She’ll take us to Gunter’s after the visit and ply us with sweets.”
“Yes, well, not everything that is asked of you will be sugar and spice.”
