“Yes, yes,” she said. “Be assured that they understand that they are to head straight back home.” A smile. “Or risk having their ginger biscuits cut off for the foreseeable future.”
“I would dearly miss Mac’s ginger biscuits,” mused Sheffield.
Charlotte was about to reply when a tiny flicker of lantern light sparked through the foliage from the pathway leading to the workshop.
They ducked down and waited in silence.
After ten minutes, another flutter of light appeared for an instant before disappearing.
Wrexford drew his weapon and signaled for Sheffield to do the same. Charlotte, he knew, had come unarmed, for he had insisted that she not accompany them inside to confront the conspirators.
A breeze stirred through the branches as Hawk materialized out of the gloom.
“They’re all inside, Wrex,” he confirmed.
“Excellent.” The earl turned to Charlotte. “Remember, you have strict orders. You are to take cover in the bushes once we get closer to the workshop and wait there until we return.”
She nodded.
Satisfied, Wrexford led the way back to the path, and they continued on to where Raven and Peregrine were waiting.
“There are two Frenchmen. They arrived first and unlocked the door,” reported Raven. “We didn’t see any weapons, but they were carrying a valise.”
The money, perhaps?
“The fancy fellow you described arrived alone,” added Peregrine. “He had nothing in his hands.”
“Well done, lads,” he whispered. “Now off you go—straight home to Berkeley Square.”
Raven hesitated—but only for an instant. His expression, however, indicated how little he liked being dismissed from the action.
However, butting heads over what risks were permitted was a problem for the future, thought Wrexford with an inward sigh. He forced himself to focus on the present moment.
The three boys disappeared with wraithlike stealth, and Charlotte retreated into the foliage to keep watch for any trouble coming down the path.
With a nod at Sheffield, he signaled for them to approach the workshop.
All at once, a momentousBOOMshuddered through the gardens, and an instant later the sky filled with a starburst of multicolored sparks.
“The fireworks have started,” muttered the earl, pausing to look up. “Right on schedule.”
Sheffield winced as another explosion rent the air. And then another.
Wrexford started forward. “Come, let us put an end to this sordid affair.”
The iron-banded oak door to the workshop was shut. Slowly easing the latch up, the earl released it without a sound and gave a tentative push to test the hinges. Hearing no hint of a groan, he opened it just enough for him and Sheffield to slip into the windowless anteroom.
The air was musty and redolent with linseed oil and wood shavings. It was dark as Hades, but a crack of light was visible straight ahead, where the door leading into the main room had been left slightly ajar.
Wrexford cocked an ear but heard nothing. He waited a moment longer, then tapped Sheffield’s arm and indicated for them to move ahead.
Slowly, slowly.
Still no sound of voices.
Wrexford paused to draw his pistol’s hammer to half-cock, then inched forward another step and placed his palm on the rough-grained door.
His flesh began to prickle.
