“So . . .” Mrs. Guppy fisted her hands together, “will you agree to take charge of ensuring that Milton’s papers don’t get passed to the French?”
Wrexford looked to Charlotte. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and he knew his answer.
“Yes.”
“How are you going to stop the exchange?” asked Carrick.
“Never mind, Oliver,” counseled Cordelia. “Raven was right—Lord Wrexford is no stranger to skullduggery.”
The less said about their methods, the better, thought Wrexford, and then turned his attention to the logistics of retrieving Milton’s papers.
“Now that we’ve come to a meeting of minds, exactly where and when is Wayland meeting the French radicals?”
Mrs. Guppy quickly passed on the information—the rendezvous was to take place at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, a favorite haunt of both the high and the low society of London, where ornate pavilions provided food, drink, and music, while the unlit pathways that meandered through the shrubberies encouraged more risqué activities.
“The appointed hour is midnight, when the nightly display of fireworks begins,” she added, and named the exact location—a carpentry workshop set in the wooded area on the east edge of the gardens.
“I’m familiar with the spot.” Wrexford was already formulating a plan, though he had no intention of sharing it with her and her companions.
As if reading his mind, Mrs. Guppy set aside her glass. “Well, then, it seems that our business is done here, unless you have any further questions for us, sir?”
“I believe we know all we need to know,” agreed the earl.Assuming that what we have heard is true.
Mrs. Guppy gestured to Carrick and Mademoiselle Benoit. “Then let us take our leave.” To Wrexford, she added, “I imagine that you wish to know our whereabouts. I have rented a townhouse on Conduit Street, just a short walk from here, for the duration of the transportation conference, and we shall be staying there.”
“A moment,” said Wrexford as she started for the door. “I am willing to take some of what you have told us on faith. But for now, I’ll be sending four of my footmen—all of whom are former soldiers—with you to make sure that the three of you—especially Mr. Carrick—don’t decide to disappear.”
“Wrex!” exclaimed Cordelia.
Mrs. Guppy held up a hand to silence the protest. “I understand, milord.”
An uneasy silence settled over the room as Wrexford left to make the arrangements.
Cordelia rose and sat down next to Carrick. Pulling him close, she whispered something in his ear.
The earl returned shortly and informed Mrs. Guppy and her companions that the footmen were awaiting them outside the workroom door.
McClellan, who had been sitting quietly in the shadows throughout the long discussion, waited until the sound of steps had faded to silence in the corridor before raising her voice. “Do you trust them, milord?”
“I think,” he said slowly, “that we should all be extremely careful not to let any personal emotions cloud our judgment.”
“But . . .” Cordelia bit her lip. “But Oliver is not only a dear friend, he isfamily.”
“Yes, but as we’ve seen in previous investigations, families can be a viper’s nest of deceit and death,” said Sheffield. “Wrex is right to remind us of that.”
“For now we need to focus our attention on the task of retrieving Milton’s papers,” counseled Wrexford. After a glance at Charlotte, he added, “I have an idea, but it’s late and we will all think more clearly after some sleep. So I suggest we reconvene here in the morning to draw up a plan.”
* * *
Charlotte waited until she and Wreford were alone before moving across the carpet and wordlessly wrapping him in a hug. Strange how such a simple act—pulling him close, feeling his warmth and his strong, steady heartbeat through the layers of their clothing—could force her fears to slither back into the shadows.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For agreeing to put all of us in danger?” he said wryly. “Yet again.”
“For being you,” she answered. “And choosing to do the right thing, even when it’s not easy.”
“I’m not entirely certain that I have made the right decision,” he admitted. “I dislike withholding evidence from Griffin.” A tiny muscle twitched as his jaw clenched. “What if I am aiding and abetting a murderer and his accomplices?”
