“Yes, of course.” A gesture directed them to the imposing center staircase at the far end of the entrance hall. “His quarters are one flight up and located at the end of the corridor, just past the chess room.”
“A word of caution, milord,” murmured Griffin, quickening his pace to keep up with the earl. “Cornering a desperate predator is a dangerous strategy.” The Runner had brought along several men, who had been discreetly stationed around the building to prevent their quarry’s escape. “If he is in, don’t enter his rooms. Wait for him to emerge before confronting him. That way, he’ll have fewer options for attack.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” replied Wrexford. “But if you’re worried about your future suppers, don’t be. I’ve made provisions for you with my man of affairs . . .”
He started up the stairs two at a time. “In the event of my demise, a generous stipend will keep your belly full.”
“I’m not concerned about the state of my stomach.” As they reached the top of the landing, Griffin caught the earl’s arm and looked around. “I’ll station myself in that alcove to watch your back,” he whispered, indicating the entrance foyer to one of the card rooms. “I still say you should allow me to accompany you.”
Wrexford shook his head. “I’ve more options for negotiating if I confront him alone.”
The Runner released an unhappy sigh as he turned to take up his position. “Don’t make me regret this. Lady Charlotte will have my guts for garters if anything goes wrong.”
Regrets, however, proved unnecessary. Pressing an ear to the door, Wrexford held himself still and waited. But after hearing naught but silence for several long minutes, he had to concede that Daggett wasn’t inside.
His hand slid over the dark oak and found the door latch. It was tempting to have a look around . . .
A warning hiss from Griffin reached his ears just a heartbeat before he heard the scuff of steps on the landing. Straightening, he turned away, and quickly moved over to the doorway of the game room.
“Ah, Wrexford.” A fellow member of the Royal Institution nodded a friendly greeting as he and three other men paused at the entrance to the card room. “If you’re looking for a game of chess, Cathcart is in the reading room downstairs and I’m sure he’ll oblige you.”
“Thank you, but no,” replied the earl. “I thought I had an engagement with Sir Darius, but I just realized that I muddled the dates, and he’s already departed for a trip to the East.”
“Like a leaf on the wind, Sir Darius seems to blow hither and yon,” mused his acquaintance. “What a strange life.” A puzzled frown. “How does he manage to survive on all that deucedly odd foreign food?”
“Perhaps he is of the opinion that man does not live on beefsteak alone,” Wrexford murmured, then resumed walking, leaving the four men to chew over his parting words.
Griffin slipped free of the shadows and fell in step with him.
The earl paused as they reached the front entrance. “Do me a favor and don’t mention to Captain Daggett that I was looking for him,” he said to the porter, and passed over several guineas to emphasize the request. “I have a surprise for him and I don’t wish to ruin the moment.”
The Runner refrained from comment until they had turned the corner and the club was out of sight. “Now what, milord?” he asked after signaling to one of his men to round up the others.
“I need to think about that,” he replied. An idea had come to mind, but it wasn’t one that he intended to reveal to Griffin. “In the meantime, I suggest you stay mum about all this for now. If you go to the head magistrate now, you’ll be asked some very uncomfortable questions about how you learned all this. And it could put you in a very awkward position.”
Griffin’s expression altered just enough to show he comprehended how fraught with complications the situation was. Their unofficial partnership had ensured that justice was done in several past crimes, and the authorities had been happy to welcome the results without looking too closely at how they had come about. However, if things went awry, the Runner could very well become the scapegoat.
“And yet, by guarding my own neck, I may allow Daggett to elude justice. I take my duty to heart, milord. Now that I know the facts, it would be wrong—indeed, it would be cowardly—to withhold them—”
“You know damn well that the government isn’t going to make any sort of decision today,” interrupted Wrexford. “So let us take the night to consider all the ramifications.”
“Do you swear that you’re not contemplating something dangerous on your own?”
“I do,” avowed the earl with a clear conscience. He wasn’t intending on pursuing Daggett on his own.Seeing the Runner’s resolve wavering, he quickly added, “Come by my townhouse in the morning. We’ll assess our options over breakfast.”
Griffin narrowed his eyes. “I could arrest you for bribery, milord.”
“And forgo Cook’s fried gammon and shirred eggs? I think not.” The earl stepped into the street and waved down a passing hackney. “I promise you—and your breadbox—that we’ll uncover the truth and not let Daggett get away with murder.”
* * *
Releasing a satisfied sigh, Charlotte set down her marketing basket on the newly-cleaned table and began unknotting the strings of her bonnet. Oddly enough, an afternoon of bustling through the ordinary, everyday demands of life had brightened her mood.
Murder’s grim shadow, she reminded herself, could smother every spark of light if one wasn’t careful. Evil must not be allowed to extinguish all that was good in the world—
“M’lady, m’lady!”
The smile died on her lips. Gathering her skirts, Charlotte raced for the parlor, sending her bonnet skittering down the corridor.
