Still, she ducked her head and kept moving. The glare felt as bright as the sun—it was said that over one thousand glass lanterns glimmered like points of fire in the night. After another bend, Charlotte turned away from the glittering lights and cacophony of the main pavilions on her right, where an orchestra of wind instruments was playing “La Réjouissance” from Handel’sMusic for the Royal Fireworkswhile the aristocratic revelers who could afford the luxury dined in the fancy food pavilion on arrack punch and thinly shaved ham.
The path she chose narrowed, and the sounds around her softened to furtive rustling. Here and there, a moan of ecstasy stirred the leaves. Quickening her steps, she made her way deeper into the velvety darkness.
At the hoot of an owl, Charlotte slipped into the bushes and crouched down beside Hawk.
“We circled around the workshop,” he reported. “There is a front and a rear entrance, both locked, and it was completely dark inside.”
The plan they had made earlier in the day called for her and the Weasels to arrive early so that the boys could keep watch for Wayland and the Frenchmen. Wrexford and Sheffield would travel on their own and meet up with her to await word on when they could move in to confront the conspirators.
“We did see a flutter of movement in the trees behind the place,” added Hawk. “But when we went to investigate, there was nothing there.”
“People come here on the prowl for adventure,” mused Charlotte. “A frisson of excitement, whether good or bad, relieves the tedium of their everyday life.”
As A. J. Quill, she had good reason to know that the vast majority of London’s working class lived an existence of quiet desperation. It was why she wielded her pen. To make the world a better place for those who could not fight for themselves —
She made herself shake off the distracting thought. Tonight was about catching a cold-blooded killer and ensuring that the former emperor of France did not profit from the crime. Heaven only knew what misery he would inflict on rich and poor alike if he were able to return to his throne.
“Go back and keep watch with the others. Wrex and Sheffield will arrive shortly, and we’ll wait here.” She paused for a moment. “And remember, as soon as you alert us that both the Frenchmen and Wayland have arrived, the three of you are to head straight home.”
* * *
Wrexford and Sheffield paused after purchasing their entrance tickets and passing through the ornate main entrance of Vauxhall Gardens.
“Drunkenness, debauchery, and deceptions,” observed Sheffield as he regarded the revelries taking place beneath the flickering lanterns of the main walkway. “Highborn or lowborn, men—and women—find it hard to resist their primal lusts.”
“People like to be shocked by things they wouldn’t dare think about at home,” said the earl. “Danger is like a drug. It stimulates the senses, consigning reason to perdition.”
Laughter erupted nearby as a well-dressed gentleman fell into a fountain while trying to dance a jig along its stone edge.
“But the ecstasy is short-lived.”
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” quipped Sheffield, repeating the famous line from Dante’sDivine Comedy.
“The poet was right—life often plays out as a farce.” After another look around, Wrexford turned for one of the side paths. “We need to go this way.”
They were both dressed in dark clothing, with soft felt hats pulled low. Heads down, they cut around the crowd, keeping their pace slow so as not to draw attention.Drunken laughter, ribald teasing, shrieks of delight—the air was thick with merriment. But the weight of his pocket pistol brushing against his thigh as he moved reminded Wrexford that their reason for being here was not for pleasure.
“Is all arranged with Griffin and his men?” asked Sheffield, once the way led into a secluded glade of trees.
“It took some convincing,” replied the earl. “Along with the promise of several prodigious dinners.”
Sheffield chuckled. “He’s far worse than I ever was about taking advantage of your largesse.”
“It’s a small price to pay for working with a fellow who is both trustworthy and extremely skilled at what he does,” replied the earl. “He wasn’t happy with the fact that we have naught but circumstantial evidence to support our claim of having found Jasper Milton’s killer.” A shrug. “Which is why he agreed to my proposal of us apprehending Wayland and the French radicals and then handing them over to him. That allows him to take custody of the men in order to investigate my claim that I overheard what sounded like suspicious conspiring. He and his men are waiting at the side gate by Tyre Street.”
“You haven’t yet failed to make him smell like roses to his superiors,” commented Sheffield. “You didn’t mention Milton’s stolen papers?”
“No,” he said. “The papers seem irrelevant to the authorities. It seems to me that their value—if any—is purely scientific. I would rather have experts who understand their significance assess them before deciding what to do with them.”
“That seems a logical—”
“Sshhh,” warned Wrexford, coming to a halt as voices rose from nearby. But it was merely a drunken couple who giggled again and stumbled off toward the Dark Walk to make their mischief.
They resumed walking and soon heard Charlotte’s signal. “All is well?” asked Wrexford, after slipping through the foliage and meeting her between the trunks of two tall oaks.
“The boys are in place, and the workshop is presently deserted. Hawk will alert us when both parties have gone inside.”
“They know—”
