“Thank you, but I am anxious to return to London as quickly as possible, so I made arrangements at the inn in Royston, which will save me several hours.”
“As you wish,” replied Charlotte. “Come, I’ll take you to the boys and then have our cook prepare a cold collation for the road.”
Once the farewells were made—a happy occasion, with the dowager adding her heartfelt thanks to the exuberant shouts of joy from the Weasels and Peregrine—and Belmont dispatched with good wishes and a hamper full of delicacies, Charlotte was quick to retreat to her workroom.
Savoring the stillness after all the emotional turmoil of the day, she moved to the bank of mullioned windows overlooking the back lawns and faraway woods. The symphony of summer sounds had turned more muted as the fast-approaching autumn brought a coolness to the evenings. Ivy rustled against the glass. Just beyond the gardens, a breeze ruffled through a stand of rowan trees, the moonlight catching flickers of its deep red foliage.
Her breath misted the glass as she reflected on this new death that had disrupted the lives of her family and dear friends. Murder was so much more than a single act of violence. Like a terrifying kraken from seafaring legends, it flung out its tentacles and dragged one into a dark maze fraught with unseen twists and turns . . .
A knock drew Charlotte back from her brooding.
Alison entered, carrying a bottle of champagne and two crystal coupes. “I thought a celebration was in order.” She nudged the door closed behind her, and then came to a halt as she caught Charlotte’s expression. “But perhaps I should have brought whisky instead.”
Charlotte forced a smile. “You are right to remind me that darkness should never be allowed to overshadow the special moments of joy.”
“I’m sorry that you had such a difficult day. It is never easy to be the messenger of death,” said the dowager after setting down the wine and glassware. “I imagine that Milton’s friends were devastated by news of his tragic accident.”
Secrets and subterfuge.Disheartened by the thrust-and-parry meeting with the scientific society members, Charlotte suddenly couldn’t stomach playing such games with her loved ones for a moment longer.
“We have not been entirely forthcoming with you,” she confessed. “The magistrate and the coroner gave us reason to believe that Milton’s death was no accident.”
Alison’s brows rose a notch. “And you feared that I would draw my blade and rush willy-nilly into the fray?”
“The thought occurred to me,” she said dryly.
“Hmmph.” But the snort held no real bite. “As a matter of fact, Ididbring my sword cane—with our family, one never knows when trouble may strike. But I did promise you and Wrex that I wouldn’t draw it without your permission, so I’m quite insulted.”
“Hear me out before giving me a tongue lashing,” said Charlotte. “Cordelia felt compelled to begin probing into who might have wished her childhood friend ill by speaking this morning with Milton’s fellow scientific society members, who happen to be gathered at the University of Cambridge for a series of lectures,” replied Charlotte. “It seemed to me that she was harried enough with all the sudden changes in her life without having her dear friends asking questions and demanding to help.”
The sound of boyish laughter floated in from the corridor.
“If I erred on the side of caution, I apologize,” she continued. “That is why Baz joined Wrex and Kit and Cordelia’s brother in going to confirm the coroner’s verdict of murder. But he doesn’t expect there to be any error—he trained the fellow.”
The dowager dropped any pretense of being offended. “What a tragedy. The unexpected death of a friend is unspeakably shocking, even more so when it’s because of foul play.” Her mouth pinched in sorrow. “After all the Sturm und Drang of her courtship, Cordelia deserved a modicum of peace and quiet in which to begin her married life.”
“Peace and quiet.” Charlotte heaved a rueful sigh. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Alison chuckled. “Now that you have officially added a third Weasel to your household, you had better surrender any thoughts of peace and quiet for the foreseeable future.”
“It is a bargain I won’t ever regret making.”
“Ha, be careful what you wish for!” teased Alison. Her expression turned wistful. “At least boys are easier than girls. A surrogate daughter would be a joy . . . but raising her would be far more fraught with worries. Given all the strictures of Society, there are so many more perils for a girl to navigate.”
“Indeed.” Recalling her own youthful rebellions, Charlotte felt a little faint. “Lud, I made life an absolute hell for my parents.”
“I have no doubt that you and Wrex would keep a steady hand on the tiller and sail through the rough waters and occasional squalls with flying colors.”
Charlotte wasn’t so certain. All of her natural inclinations were diametrically opposed to what was considered proper feminine behavior by the beau monde. How could she ever stoop to mouthing hypocrisies?
She shook off the question, relieved that it was merely hypothetical.
“Unfortunately, our meeting with the members of the Revolutions-Per-Minute Society offered no easy answers as to a motive for the crime,” continued Charlotte. She told Alison about Wheeler’s revelation.
“A quarrel, especially one only partially overheard, does not mean the angry party is a murderer,” pointed out the dowager.
“True,” agreed Charlotte. “I also had the distinct impression that Milton’s two other fellow society members were not entirely forthcoming with us about who might have wished him dead. I can’t help but wonder why.”
“You suspect one of them might be the murderer?”
