Hawk was standing by the sofa, sketchbook clutched in his hands.
Skidding to a stop, she looked around.
No blood, no intruder.
“Good heavens, you scared me half to death,” Charlotte gulped in a breath, willing her heart to stop hammering against her ribs. “I thought—”
Something in the boy’s expression caused her to pause.
“You need to look at this!” he said, holding up the book. “It’s wery, wery important.”
“Of course I will, sweeting.” She crouched down, feeling a stab of guilt. More so than in the past, this current murder investigation had touched the lives of all her family. No wonder Hawk’s emotions appeared unsettled. She hadn’t been as attentive to his blossoming talents as she should have been.
He flipped the pages open to a detailed drawing and then shoved it into her hands.
Charlotte recognized the plant immediately. The boy’s sketch wasn’t an exact copy of Becton’s drawing, but the distinctive shape and color of the specimen’s leaves were the same.
“You’ve done a very nice interpretation of the plant,” she said, “but I need to keep the original sketch from which you drew this in a safe place—”
“But that’s just it, m’lady—Ididn’tcopy this plant from the sketch!” interrupted Hawk. “I drew this yesterday from a plant I saw at the Royal Botanic Gardens.”
The book slipped through her fingers and fell to the carpet. “Yesterday? Good Lord—where?”
“In the storeroom,” he answered. “It was among a number of specimens awaiting shipment to the University of St. Andrews.” A look of trepidation shadowed his features. “I didn’t sneak into some place I shouldn’t have been. Mr. Tyler gave me permission.”
Charlotte smoothed a tangle of hair back from his brow. “Yes, I know that. I was merely surprised, not angry.” She took a moment to steady her own nerves. “Indeed, you may have made a terribly important discovery.”
“Aye, I wondered about that.” McClellan, her hands dusted with flour from the bread she had been kneading, was standing in the doorway, looking very serious. “I wasn’t sure whether to send Hawk straight to His Lordship’s townhouse with the news, or to wait until you returned. I hope I made the right decision.”
Charlotte rose and retrieved Becton’s drawing from the tea table. “I doubt Wrexford was at home earlier. He left here intending to meet Griffin . . .”And then confront a cold-blooded killer. “I believe they were going to pay a visit to the Sun and Sextant Club. But Lord only knows where the two of them are now.”
“What do you think we should do?” asked the maid.
Drawing a deep breath, she considered the question . . . The web of intrigue seemed to spin more and more malicious threads, which threatened to tangle their every step.
“The mystery of who murdered Becton is a devilishly difficult one,” she said slowly, “and has us all chasing helter-pelter after shadowy specters.” A pause. “However, there’s one element to it that seems clear as crystal to me . . .”
She met McClellan’s gaze. “Becton’s plant specimen is key to the conundrum. We mustn’t let the villains get their hands on it.”
“You aren’t thinking of going after it on your own, are you?” demanded the maid.
“No,” answered Charlotte. “Though I confess, for a moment, I was tempted.” She stared down at the drawing. Such a sweet, innocent-looking plant. And yet three men lay dead because of it. “However, I know all too well what dangers can arise when we act without knowing what the others are doing.”
After a moment, she added, “Damnation, where is Wrexford?” and then lapsed into another pensive silence.
Out on the street, a carriage rattled by, drawing a sharp bark from a stray dog.
“M-maybe your bruvver can help,” suggested Hawk after the sounds had died away. “He mentioned that he’s attending a lecture at the Royal Botanic Gardens this evening. One of the symposium’s Swedish guests is speaking about Linnaeus.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
“How very clever of you to remember about that, sweeting!” exclaimed Charlotte. Wrexford’s attention had been focused on unraveling the mystery of Becton’s murder, and he hadn’t felt compelled to attend all of the symposium’s presentations, especially as botany was not one of his specialties. But given her brother’s interest, Alison had made sure that Hartley had received invitations to all the remaining events. Which likely meant . . .
“If Wrexford hasn’t returned to his townhouse in an hour or two,” she mused, “I shall join Aunt Alison—”
“I think that I should come with you,” said Hawk, trying very manfully to imitate Wrexford’s drawl. “So I can show you exactly where it is.”
Charlotte ruffled the boy’s curls. “I don’t think that would be—”
