“Jasper always preferred to keep his discoveries secret until he was sure that he had worked out all the flaws and come up with the right solution,” mused Garfield. “I didn’t press him as much as you did, Mercer, because . . . well, because his mind spun in a special way, and I respected that.”
“What about you, Mr. Wheeler?” asked Charlotte. “Have you anything to add?”
Wheeler merely shook his head.
And yet Charlotte was sure that the flicker in his eyes said otherwise.
Wayland took a discreet look at his pocket watch. “Is there anything else you wish to ask us? Otherwise, there is a reception starting shortly for the visiting lecturer from Bavaria.”
As they all politely rose, Charlotte contrived to whisper in Cordelia’s ear while adjusting the folds of her shawl. “Find a reason to draw Wayland and Garfield out of the room for a few moments.”
Cordelia was quick to improvise. “Oh, Kendall, before you go, might you and Mercer escort me for a quick peek into the study room overlooking the King’s College Chapel?” A winsome smile. “I have such fond memories of you two allowing me to sneak in as part of your group.”
Garfield chuckled. “You deserved to be there far more than we did, as you actually completed the assigned lessons while we—well, never mind what we did.”
As the good-humored comments trailed out into the corridor, Charlotte turned to Wheeler. “I take it you also joined the Revolutions-Per-Minute Society as a student here?” she asked as a way to begin a conversation, even though she knew he had not.
“No, milady, I did not attend this university, or any other institution of higher learning,” he replied. “I learned what I know about roads and bridges by being apprenticed to various architects and builders involved in such projects.”
“Practical experience is often the best education,” she observed.
No reply.
Undeterred by his silence—she was used to winkling information out of far more intimidating individuals—Charlotte pressed him with another question. “So how did you come to be part of the society?”
“Milton came to work for a time on a project in which I was involved.”
Charlotte noted that Wheeler did not call him Jasper.
“On completing his part of the project, he said that he was impressed by my skills and arranged a position for me with Thomas Telford.”
“You must be very skilled indeed,” she murmured. Telford was recognized as Britain’s leading civil engineering wizard. His expertise lay in building canals, roads, and bridges, including the creation of a master plan for improving transportation in the Scottish Highlands and the design for the celebrated Pontcysyllte Aqueduct over the River Dee.
Wheeler ignored the compliment. “Our paths crossed briefly on several other projects. Milton then invited me to be a member of the Revolutions-Per-Minute Society as my current position is in the area and allows me to attend the monthly meetings.”
“Then seeing as you have a personal connection to Milton, you must have some thoughts on whether someone might have wished him ill.”
A spasm of emotion altered his expression, but it passed so quickly that Charlotte might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching him so intently.
“Mr. Wheeler, we are trying to solve a murder. Surely you would not want to hold back any information that might help.”
He still said nothing.
“I assure you that Mrs. Sheffield and I are not motivated by frivolous curiosity. We have some experience in ensuring that criminals are brought to justice for their crimes.”
That finally drew a reply. “I am aware of that, Lady Wrexford. I read the newspapers—perhaps a bit more carefully than most. And so I have noticed that your husband is occasionally mentioned as having aided Bow Street in quashing some malicious evil.”
Wheeler hesitated, his gaze flicking to the open doorway before locking with hers. “The question is, are you interested in the truth, or merely hearing what is convenient?”
“Truth and convenience are two very different concepts. They have nothing to do with one another,” replied Charlotte. “But you must decide whether I am capable of separating them.”
“Even if it affects a close friend?”
“Truth is truth. It looks the same whether one sees it in sunlight or shadow.”
Jaw tightening, Wheeler considered her words. “Very well.” He released a pent-up breath. “A week ago, I happened to overhear a conversation between Milton and Mrs. Sheffield’s cousin at our local tavern. It was late, and there were few people around. They hadn’t seen me sitting in the shadowed nook near their table, and before I could reveal myself, they started arguing—quite fiercely, in fact, though they kept their voices low.”
“About what?” asked Charlotte.
