Aside from marriage worries, Wrexford also sensed that she was struggling with her identity as A. J. Quill, and how to stay true to her principles while balancing all the responsibilities for family and loved ones . . .
He must have made some sort of sound, for Charlotte came alert, and reached over to twine her fingers with his.
“Bad dreams?” she murmured.
“Dreams would imply that I’ve been napping rather than pondering the current situation,” he said lightly. A glance at the facing seat showed Tyler had nodded off.
Be damned if he hasn’t,thought the earl as he lifted her hand and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “I hope you know—I hope you believe—that you’re safe with me in every way that matters.”
“Wrexford.” Charlotte touched his cheek. “I confess that I am unsettled about a great many things. But you are not one of them.”
“And yet—”
She stilled his lips with hers. Her trust in him took his breath away.
“Whatever lies ahead,” murmured Charlotte, her whisper tickling against his skin, “we shall face it together.”
The rest of the journey seemed to pass quickly and the carriage soon rumbled onto Piccadilly Street.
Wrexford rapped on the trap and called for the driver to head on to Charlotte’s residence. “I shall drop the two of you first, before setting plans in motion for a courier to head to Scotland. Raven and Mac are no doubt anxious to hear about the evening.”
“I wish we had better news,” replied Charlotte as she roused a sleepy Hawk.
“Let us be patient,” he counseled. “Our pieces are positioned well on the chess board. Another few moves, and I expect that the game will be won.”
* * *
Charlotte gave a horrified huff as she opened one eye and saw the bright blade of morning light cutting across her bedcovers. It was later than she wished, given all the tasks on her list. Idling the morning away in sleep was for the indolent rich.
“While I have far too much to do.”
Though it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been working half the night. After Wrexford had dropped her and Hawk at their door, and explanations had been made to Raven and McClellan, she had slipped into her workroom. An idea had come to mind for a drawing. The lines had been inked in and the text had been lettered.
All that remained was to paint in the final washes of color.
The government wouldn’t be happy with questions raised about whether DeVere’s time in America had anything to do with his death, given that Quincy had been a victim as well. But the great unwashed public would lap it up. They loved any hint that their so-called betters were just as flawed and filthy as they were.
As she dressed, Charlotte turned her attention to more personal matters. She was determined to take Wrexford’s advice to heart and trust that the investigation no longer posed a threat to family and friends. What with Becton’s murder, she had given short shrift to the wedding plans, much to the dowager’s disappointment. A morning spent allowing Alison a more active role in planning the festivities would make her great-aunt exceedingly happy.
“And perhaps me as well.” Charlotte made a wry face in the looking glass. Though in truth, the fuss had always struck her as excessive. “I suppose it’s one of the reasons I chose to elope.”
After sliding the last hairpin into place, she hurried downstairs and followed the sweetly spiced aroma of fresh-brewed coffee into the kitchen. Raven had a book on mathematics open on the worktable and was writing in his notebook.
“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath.
“Language,” she chided as she poured herself a cup from the pot on the hob.
“Wrexford swears when he’s puzzled.”
“Wrexford does a great many things that aren’t permitted to someone of your years.”
“I hate being a child,” groused Raven.
As far as Charlotte was concerned, he was growing up far too fast.
“Oiy,” agreed Hawk as he chewed on a forkful of shirred eggs and gammon.
“And you—don’t speak with your mouth full.” She took a sip of the blissfully hot brew. “What has happened to your manners? They seem to have wandered off this morning.”
