Tyler went first, in order to move ahead and reconnoiter the darkened specimen galleries. Sheffield followed, taking care to tread lightly over the flagged walkway. Hosack, however, stumbled in the gloom and hit up against a cart of terra-cotta pots, setting off a brittlechink.
“Try to relax.” Wrexford placed a steadying hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “As I told you, we’re merely here to look around.”
Earlier in the day, the earl had sought out Hosack to explain his suspicions, and how the doctor’s expertise was critical in confirming whether or not there was any incriminating evidence to link DeVere to Becton’s murder. He had, of course, warned of the risks if they were caught. However, to his credit, Hosack hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to be part of the covert excursion.
But theory was one thing, and reality quite another when push came to shove.
“Sorry. I-I’ve never done anything criminal before.” Hosack drew a deep breath, which seemed to calm his nerves, and managed a brave smile. “But my friend deserves justice, so I’m ready to do whatever I have to.”
“I don’t expect any trouble,” assured Wrexford. That DeVere had tried to kill him the last time he had entered the sprawling mansion was a fact he refrained from mentioning. The circumstances had been different.
“Come, the sooner we find the crates from the Quincy’s merchant ship and have a look at them, the sooner we can be on our way. As you seem quite certain that Becton’s miracle plant was from the tropical forests of Spanish America, you need only look at the specimens and confirm that they are only ones native to the United States.”
“I can do that, milord. If DeVere and Quincy have stolen my friend’s specimen and hidden it among North American species, I shall spot it.”
“Excellent. Now let’s keep moving.”
The glass-paneled walls and roof of the conservatory admitted enough light from the cloudless night sky to allow them to navigate the winding paths through the raised beds of specimens planting. Dotting the way were groupings of potted trees and bushes, their foliage swaying gently as they brushed past the shadowy branches.
Tyler and Sheffield were waiting at the entrance to another section of the building. “The rooms ahead look to be storage areas and study rooms,” said the valet. “Which seems the likely place to begin searching for the recent shipment from Quincy’s ship.”
Wrexford nodded his agreement. Though he truly didn’t expect trouble, he eased his pistol out of his coat pocket before signaling Tyler to continue on.
Once they passed through the doorway, the air turned chillier, and the floral scents less pronounced. In fact, as the earl ventured deeper into the space, passing stacks of folded canvas and shelves of glass bottles, an oddly metallic tang tickled at his nostrils.
Tyler must have noticed it as well, for he, too, stopped short and drew his weapon.
Turning, Wrexford motioned for Sheffield to stop. “You and Hosack take cover behind those burlap sacks of earth,” he whispered, indicating the amorphous shapes half hidden in the gloom. “Do it quickly, Kit, and stay with him until I signal that it’s safe to come out,” he added before his friend could argue.
Up ahead, the valet had inched forward and positioned himself to one side of an archway leading into another room. Wrexford hurried to join him.
“There looks to be a candle lit at the far end,” said Tyler.
The earl ventured a peek into the space. But the fitful light from above was playing tricks with the eye, turning the shadows into a helter-pelter tangle of shifting shapes.
The silence was deafening.
“I’ll go first,” said Wrexford. “Stay behind me and several paces to the right.” Tyler possessed a cool head and steady hand.
“Do be careful. Lady Charlotte will have my head on a platter if you have to march down the aisle with a bloody bandage around your brow.”
He checked his priming. “Yes, but think what a juicy drawing she could make of the event.” Clouds were beginning to scud in. As one drifted over the moon, he darted forward.
On reaching a barrow filled with tools, he ducked low and cocked an ear.
Nothing.
Another quick traverse brought him closer to the candlelight. Just a few more steps would bring him to the corner of the stacked crates and give the right angle to see what lay within the alcove.
“Hell and damnation.” The oath slipped through his gritted teeth as he ventured a look.
Tyler was at his shoulder in a flash. His eyes widened in shock. “Lord Almighty.”
* * *
Charlotte added a bit of cross-hatching and then leaned back to assess the effect. It was a strong drawing, she decided, and sharp enough to raise more queries about the questionable shipping practices of Quincy Enterprises.
After opening her box of watercolors, she picked up a brush and began mixing a range of hues. It had been awfully tempting to add names to the text of her satire—oh, how she longed to strip away DeVere’s cloak of respectability with a few razored words! But even though poking a stick into the nest of vipers would make them writhe, and perhaps commit a fatal mistake, it was still too early to risk putting them on guard.
