* * *
“Drat,” whispered Charlotte after closing the glass-paned doors. “I would like to believe that Mr. Goffe is mistaken about the chest wound. Death is death, but we all know how murder can stir up unexpected secrets and cause yet more pain.”
“Nobody is infallible,” answered Wrexford. “But he’s been well trained, and I don’t think that we shall be so lucky as to have Baz overrule his verdict.”
Charlotte twisted the fringe of her shawl around her fingers. “What do you know of Milton?” After a moment of thought, she added, “And for that matter, Cordelia’s missing cousin, Oliver Carrick?”
“Only what little Kit has mentioned to me,” replied the earl. “He said that both Milton and Carrick are very gifted in advanced mathematics and engineering, but he indicated that Cordelia had told him that Milton was the real thinker—not only a practical genius but also a fellow interested in considering the philosophical implication of Progress and Change.”
Charlotte furrowed her brow in thought.
“Several years ago, the two of them formed a club with three other scientific-minded men called the Revolutions-Per-Minute Society.”
“An odd name,” she mused.
“Apparently the members are all interested in innovations that will make travel faster and more efficient.”
“You mean modes of transportation like Puffing Billy?” she asked. Sheffield had been an early investor in the prototype steam locomotive, and several enterprises were making progress on the engineering challenges of turning the new technology into a viable commercial venture.
“It’s my understanding that while the society is interested in the development of new types of vehicles, its primary focus is on improving methods of building roads and bridges in order to create a reliable transportation network connecting all parts of the country,” he answered. “Sheffield says that the members are all very passionate about the subject and believe that by making the movement of goods and people swift and easy they will transform society.”
Wrexford paused. “I have to say, I don’t disagree.”
“Revolutionary, indeed,” murmured Charlotte. “Given that he appears to be the driving force, I wonder whether the society will survive Milton’s death?”
“I’ve no idea.” He pressed a palm to one of the sun-warmed panes of glass, and yet it didn’t quite dispel the chill tingling in his fingers.
As if in concert with his mood, a trio of crows circled low over the terrace, their dissonate screeches shattering the stillness for a moment before they flapped away.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he suddenly muttered.
Charlotte hurried across the carpet to join him and right away spotted what had caught his eye.
She turned without a word and rushed to reopen the doors and meet the Weasels as they raced up the shallow terrace stairs.
“A-A varlet—” began Raven with an out-of-breath wheeze.
“Hurled a rock—” cried Hawk.
The rest of their words jumbled together as both of them began talking at once.
“Silence!” commanded Wrexford.
The cacophony instantly ceased.
“Let us all step into the library.” Though the last of the guests had left the lawns, he didn’t wish to cloud the wedding day by stirring speculation that something was amiss.
Once they were inside, he pointed to Raven. “You first.”
A deep inhale. “We were out behind the stables with Alice and Skinny and Pudge when a man suddenly appeared among the trees edging the west pasture and flung a rock at us.”
Another ragged breath. “Skinny wanted us to give chase,” continued Raven. “But I didn’t think you would like that, so we let him get away.”
“Perhaps,” said Charlotte gently, “you misunderstood the man’s gesture. He may simply have been hoping to forage some apples from the orchard and your presence scared him away.” A pause. “I did notice the two of you absconding with a bottle of champagne.”
“We werenotfoxed!” responded Raven with an indignant scowl. “Between the five of us, a bottle barely wet our whistles!”
“Oiy,” agreed Hawk. “Besides, it prickles the tongue. Whisky is more inter—
