She nodded, not trusting her voice.That Hawk would be caught in the chaos if anything went wrong . . .
Tick, tick.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte tried not to count off every dratted second.
“Wait here,” said the earl, after an achingly long wait. Moving with unhurried nonchalance, he strolled into the corridor and disappeared around the corner.
She forced herself to match his air of calm and went to admire a series of watercolors hung on the nearby wall. They were lilies, by the renowned French botanical artist Pierre-Joseph Redouté, who late in the last century had spent a year at the Royal Botanic Gardens studying its plants. The brushwork was breathtakingly beautiful.
It deserved more than distracted glances—
Catching at the corner of her eye, a sudden dark flutter—the tails of a gentleman’s coat—nearly made her jump. She was no longer alone in the gallery.
“Charlo—Lady Charlotte?”
She spun around. “Marco?” The presence of her old comrade stirred a rush of both relief and guilt. Thank heaven he had survived the dreadful night at DeVere’s conservatory.
Though not because of any help from me—I should have been a better friend.But there was no time for explanations, and superficial apologies would only ring hollow.
Keeping her voice low, Charlotte added, “I’m so glad to see you. But is it wise for you to be here? I thought . . . I thought it had been decided that you and Dr. Hosack were to remain in seclusion for the time being.”
“Sì.”He looked around before going on. “Lord Wrexford told me that it is for my own protection. But apparently the Royal Society asked my host if I might be permitted to give my scheduled lecture, so as not to add any more speculation as to what intrigue is going on at this symposium. And he agreed to the request.”
Moretti lifted his shoulders. “So here I am.” The corners of his mouth quivered in a weak attempt at a smile. “Dio del cielo,forgive me for saying so, but your fiancé can be a very frightening fellow. Does he make a regular habit of involving himself in murder and—”
“Shhhh!”she warned. “We mustn’t speak of that here. But be glad that it was he who found you, and not the killer.”
Moretti paled, but maintained his composure. “It is my understanding that the fiend is still at liberty.”
“Yes.” Charlotte glanced at the corridor.
Still, no sign of Wrexford.
“I’m so sorry you were drawn into such a diabolical web of deception,” she continued. “I hope—indeed, I pray—that it will soon be over. But in the meantime . . .” Charlotte darted another look into the gloom. The doleful tick of time now seemed to echo loud as cannon fire inside her head. “In the meantime, you mustn’t let down your guard.”
His eyes narrowed in question.
“Did Captain Daggett, who is part of the American delegation, ever show interest in your research, or ask about the drawing that Becton gave to you?”
Moretti shook his head.
“What about any of the other attendees?”
“Again, no,” answered Moretti. “W-Why do you ask?”
Charlotte didn’t wish to frighten him. But better safe than sorry. “I can’t explain that now. Please just trust me that you need to be very careful tonight. If anyone tries to probe for more detailed information on your research and methods, be sure to deflect the questions. And if anyone makes a reference to Becton’s sketch, you must feign bewilderment . . .”
Mention of the sketch caused a tiny muscle in his jaw to clench.
“Not only that,” she quickly added, “you must send word to Lord Wrexford immediately and let him know who asked. Your host will know how to reach him.”
“Am I . . .” Moretti squared his shoulders. “Am I in danger?”
“I don’t believe so,” replied Charlotte, feeling her old comrade deserved an honest answer. “But I would rather not take any chances.”
“As always, you don’t try to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” This time, his smile was a genuine one. “I’m so glad you haven’t changed.”
She, too, was happy to see he hadn’t lost the qualities that had forged their youthful friendship. Her words had alarmed him, but she sensed resolve rather than fear.
