“How so?” asked Wrexford.
“Hartley has come to be friends with the professor, and the other day, when the topic of Becton’s death came up, he mentioned that Murray would be very saddened, because the two of them had been close friends for years. Apparently, they corresponded frequently, and often exchanged specimens. Indeed, Murray was particularly excited about all medicinal plants from Spanish America that Becton propagated in his own gardens and shared with him.”
“I see where your thoughts are taking you,” said Wrexford. “The Royal Botanic Gardens receive exotic specimens from all over the world, and the gardeners there propagate them and share them with other study gardens, both here and abroad. And it so happens that the Royal Society sends a regular monthly shipment north to St. Andrews.”
“Yes, I learned that yesterday,” she murmured.
“So you believe that Becton hid his specimen among the routine shipment going to the university there, knowing that his friend Murray would be the one to receive it. But how would the professor know . . .”
Wrexford paused for a moment. “Ah, if you’re right about the specimen being sent north, then it stands to reason that Becton also decided to mail his notes and formula to Murray, along with a warning to keep both the papers and the plant safe.”
Charlotte allowed a ghost of a smile. “It all seems a very logical assumption.”
“So it does.” He loved the artful agility of her mind, and how easily she could see a problem from so many angles and then choose the proper perspective. However, admiration quickly yielded to the pressing need for action. “Tyler, have Riche send for the carriage.”
“And you’ll need to dress for the evening. I’ll lay out your clothes,” said the valet. He took a step and then paused. “I think I should come with you, milord. Hawk and I have been in and out of the storage room together this past week. Our doing so today won’t draw attention, while your sudden interest might provoke the enemy to wonder why.”
The earl considered the suggestion.
“While Hawk leads me to the plant and I secure the crate, you can be hunting down Lord Bethany and explaining the need for putting it under lock and key and then sending a trusted courier to St. Andrews to retrieve Becton’s missing note and formula.”
“You have a point,” conceded Wrexford.
“I was going to send Alison a message alerting her that I might need her help this evening,” said Charlotte. “But I don’t think that’s necessary, now that you’re here. The fewer people who know where Becton’s discovery is hidden, the better.”
He saw the shadow of worry in her eyes. A vicious killer was still free, and wouldn’t hesitate to strike again if he thought his misdeeds were under investigation.
“I agree,” answered Wrexford. Turning to Raven, he added, “Not a word to anyone about all this, lad. Especially the dowager and Lord Wolcott.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy’s reply came without argument.
“Actually, we need to inform one person about our plans,” said Charlotte. “I want you to fly back to our residence and inform Mac that I’ve found His Lordship and that we’re headed with Tyler and Hawk to the gardens.”
That command didn’t sit quite as well with Raven. “But I could be of help in keeping watch—”
“No.” It was said softly, but her tone brooked no argument. “First of all, she needs to be informed of what we’re doing. And secondly, I would feel more at ease if she wasn’t left alone tonight.” Charlotte hesitated. “Daggett is diabolically clever. If he senses we’re on his trail, he might seek to strike where we are vulnerable. So I want you to bring her back here, andbothof you are to remain inside these walls until we’ve returned from our mission.”
“You heard m’lady,” intoned the earl as he caught a flicker of frustration pass over Raven’s face. “Keeping our family and friends safe is a critical part of any dangerous undertaking.”
Raven’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Of course, sir. I just wish I could do something to help you bring the miscreant to justice.”
“I’m sure you’ll get your chance to help,” replied Wrexford. “Now, off with you.”
“The carriage will be ready shortly, milord,” called Tyler from the corridor as Raven darted past him. “I’ve laid out your evening clothes. You had better hurry and change.”
Sheffield followed the earl out to the stairs. “Speaking of helping, I, too, wish to aid in catching the villain.”
“I appreciate it, Kit, but it’s best that I speak to Bethany alone,” replied Wrexford. “He’s very worried that a scandal involving murder and skulduggery will blacken the good name of the Royal Society, so he’ll be more apt to follow my suggestions on how to handle things if he trusts that what has happened is being kept a well-guarded secret.”
“Right,” answered his friend. “But another idea occurred to me. I’ve kept up occasional appearances at a number of disreputable gambling hells . . .” Before becoming involved with Lady Cordelia and discovering his talents for business, boredom and frustration had driven Sheffield to drink and gamble more than was good for him.
“I thought you had given up such destructive behavior,” he replied.
“I still keep my hand in the game, and take care to lose, though my mathematical skills are greatly improved. But it’s all for a good reason,” explained Sheffield. “I visit places that cater to the dockyards and merchant ships. A night of play allows me to pick up all the scuttlebutt of the maritime world, which often proves quite useful for our company.”
“Clever,” said Wrexford as he entered his dressing room and shrugged out of his coat. “But why—”
“If Daggett is holed up somewhere along the river, someone may know about it.”
