“Variations?” Hawk scrunched his face in a frown. “That makes no sense. Love is love.”
“Actually it’s more complicated than that,” offered Peregrine. “Shakespeare’s plays are a good example. My uncle Willis used to tell me about how the playwright understood human nature better than most and captured both the light and the dark side of love. He said like most powerful forces, it can be used for good or for evil.”
“What did your uncle mean?” asked Hawk.
“Ummm . . .” Peregrine lifted his shoulders in a baffled shrug. “I don’t exactly know. But one of his favorites sayings from Shakespeare wasLord, what fools these mortals be!”
CHAPTER 13
Despite the ungodly hour, their early morning breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of Cordelia and Sheffield.
“Ye heavens, Kit, I would have thought that you could now afford your own sustenance,” said Wrexford as he buttered a fresh-baked sultana muffin. During his rakehell bachelor days, Sheffield had been wont to frequently avail himself of the earl’s well-stocked larders and wine cellar.
“Yes, but our cook can’t come close to matching Mac’s ambrosial coffee and pastries.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere!” called the maid. She bustled into the breakfast room a moment later with a fresh pot of coffee and tray of fragrant French croissants.
Sheffield inhaled deeply and then released a blissful sigh. “Tell me, how much would it cost to lure you away from Wrex and his irascible moods and sarcastic tongue?”
“Far more that you are willing to pay,” growled the earl.
Cordelia helped herself to a croissant and took a seat. “Enough banter.” She pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Forgive our unannounced appearance so early in the day. We arrived back in London late last night, and I simply couldn’t wait to hear whether you’ve discovered any helpful news regarding Jasper Milton—or my cousin.”
“Help yourself to coffee,” said Charlotte. She waited for their friends to get comfortable before she and the earl launched into a summary of all that had happened.
“A band of suspicious radicals, a midnight attack on Charlotte by some unknown assailant,” mused Sheffield once the explanations were done. “A secretive mademoiselle . . .” He reached for a pot of apricot jam. “How is it that we never seem to stumble over a crime that has a simple solution?”
Cordelia rapped him on the knuckles with her butter knife. “That’snothumorous.”
Sheffield made a face and hung his head in contrition. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”
“We know what you meant,” said Charlotte. “But in all honesty, I think there is rarely a crime that can be deemed simple. The actual act is merely the stone that drops in the water. There are always ripples that spread out from the moment of reckoning which stir complicated questions about the causes and effects.”
“That’s all true,” agreed Wrexford. “But be that as it may, let us turn from the abstract to the pragmatic. We’ve uncovered a few clues that call for further exploration.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Mademoiselle Benoit merits more scrutiny, as does Hedley’s remark that Oliver Carrick gave a talk at the London Society for Progress on the technical innovations involved in building longer bridges.”
“The Royal Society is holding a gala soiree tomorrow evening in honor of all the international scientific delegations who have come to London for the Royal Institution’s symposium,” said Charlotte. “Alison’s good friend Sir Robert is on the society’s Board of Governors, so I can ask her to ensure that the board makes it clear to the French delegation that it would be a grave insult to the British scientific community if all their members, especially their officers, do not show up.” “I’ll join with Charlotte in arranging that,” volunteered Cordelia. “I’m very curious to meet the Frenchwoman.”
“Mademoiselle Benoit turned very skittish when Wrex mentioned Milton and your cousin. We are quite sure that she is hiding something,” said Charlotte. “The question is what.”
The earl nodded. “The head of the London Society for Progress is a friend of mine. I will have a word with him about Carrick and with whom he might be working on bridge innovations.”
Sheffield sat back in his chair. “It may not prove overly useful, but through a friend of my father I have an introduction to Lord Hugo Fenway, who is director of the government’s newly formed commission in charge of the Bristol Road Project. It is a major undertaking, tasked with modernizing the route between London and the port of Bristol so that goods may be moved quickly and efficiently. We are scheduled to meet this afternoon.”
“Kit is being modest,” interjected Cordelia. “The reason for the connection is that his father has agreed to let him stand as candidate for Parliament in the pocket borough that he controls, and as Kit’s election is certain, he’s been invited to meet with Fenway because of his interest in roads and the transportation of goods.”
“My father’s friend said that Fenway is still in the process of putting together the commission and thinks he may have a place for me,” explained Sheffield. “Not only would I find the position interesting, but in the course of learning about it, I might contrive to discover more about the activities of Milton and Carrick, who were consulting on the renovation of the stretch of road and obsolete bridges near Windsor.”
“It seems we all have our marching orders,” said the earl.
“Yes, but it’s too early to visit anyone at this hour,” pointed out Sheffield. He eyed the silver chafing dishes on the sideboard. “Besides, I haven’t yet had my full breakfast.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes.
“Alison won’t mind the intrusion,” said Charlotte. “Do you mind if we leave now?” she said to Cordelia. “I am escorting the boys to their fencing lesson at Angelo’s Academy later this morning—where I, too, shall begin learning the art of swordplay from the great Harry Angelo.”
“Don’t tell Alison that,” quipped Cordelia. “She’ll be green with envy and demand to sharpen her skills as well.”
“I’m actually not doing it to learn how to wield a blade, though that might come in handy. It’s because living the life of a cosseted countess has left me woefully weak.” Charlotte recounted the details of how she had barely managed to escape her assailant in the stews.
