Wrexford didn’t reply. Which was an eloquent enough response.
She, too, was having trouble thinking of an alternative, but before she parsed through the problem, a sudden shout caused her to spin around.
“Wrex! M’lady!” The pelter of racing footsteps in the corridor punctuated Hawk’s out-of-breath shouts.
The earl rushed to the door and flung it open just as the boy skidded to a stop, with Peregrine right on his heels.
Two of them. And there should be three.
Impelled by dread, Charlotte hurried across the carpet, her heart hammering against her rib cage. “Where is Raven?”
“On a steam launch chugging down the Thames!” replied Peregrine with undisguised envy.
“Ye heavens, why—” she began, but one look at Wrexford reminded her that flinging out helter-pelter questions did none of them any good.
“Quiet, everyone!” commanded the earl with a note of measured calm. “Let us begin at the beginning. Tell us what happened, lads—but do so without any unnecessary embellishments.”
They both drew in a deep breath, and Peregrine signaled for Hawk to go first.
“Mademoiselle Benoit left her residence about an hour after returning from the soiree and flagged down a hackney. It seemed awfully suspicious, and as we were tasked with keeping an eye on her movements, we decided that we ought to follow her . . .”
Taking turns, the boys recounted where the journey had taken them, and what had transpired on the estate’s dock.
“And so, we rushed back here as quickly as we could to tell you,” finished Hawk.
“This means—” began Wrexford.
“This means that Mrs. Guppy is in league with the Frenchwoman,” said Charlotte, trying to keep fear from bubbling through her blood. “I can’t think of any way to view that in a good light.” She pressed her fingertips to her brow, surprised at how cold her flesh felt. “But perhaps my mind is not functioning clearly.”
“Never fear, Raven is far too clever and experienced to be caught,” pointed out Sheffield.
Wrexford, she noted, remained silent. No doubt he was thinking about the same grim fact that she was.
“The River Thames is notorious for its treacherous currents. Even men who are at home on the water fear going overboard.” Her voice wavered, and she moved to the window, pressing a palm against the chill glass to steady her nerves. “And Raven doesn’t know how to swim.”
“Actually, he does,” said Wrexford. “After the incident at the Serpentine Bridge, I took all three of our Weasels out to a calm spot near Isle of Dogs and made sure they learned how to stay afloat as well as deal with the dangerous eddies of the river.”
“Peregrine swims like a fish,” piped up Hawk. “He, too, taught us some tricks for navigating the perils.”
Charlotte felt her spurt of panic ebb. But not by much.
“What’s this about rivers?” McClellan appeared in the doorway, hair hastily pinned up and a heavy wrapper thrown over her night-rail. She fixed the ladies with a gimlet gaze. “Hmmph! I thought you said it was going to be a quiet evening and any council of war would wait until morning.”
“So we assumed,” replied Charlotte. “But the best-laid plans of mice and men—”
“And rats,” muttered Sheffield.
“Evil, slithering rats,” amended Cordelia.
“Name calling may help vent your spleen, but it does us no practical good,” observed Wrexford. He moved back to the hearth and braced his hands on the marble mantel.
“Why a steamboat?” he wondered aloud.
“There are countless wharves and docklands just in the stretch of river between Fulham and Isle of Dogs,” said Sheffield. “They could be going anywhere, so all speculation on our part is useless. We have no choice but to wait for Raven to return.”
The earl grudgingly nodded his agreement.
“I’ll go fetch tea and coffee,” said McClellan. “And a platter of ginger biscuits.”
