His heart skittered and skipped a beat.
“We all know your bark is worse than your bite . . . ,”
A lowwoofpunctuated her words.
“By now,” she went on, “you should know better than to think we were going to let you sneak away and confront the devils on your own.”
It took him a moment to find his voice. “I suppose I keep hoping that Reason will triumph over . . .”
Emotion?He wished he could give a name to the rippling he saw in the depth of her eyes.
They stood, gazes locked, as another phalanx of iron-dark clouds stormed in from the west and shrouded the moon. Wrexford blinked, and suddenly he felt her arms come around him and the warmth of her body press against his.
“The definition ofinsanityis ‘to keep repeating the same experiment. . . ’ ” Charlotte leaned back and traced her palm along the line of his jaw. “ ‘And think that you’ll get a different result.’ ”
He laughed.Insanity.Perhaps that explained the fizzy heat bubbling through his blood. “An interesting concept to ponder.” He caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “However, right now, I’m too exhausted to think about anything but making our way home.”
Charlotte tightened her hold.
“Weasels,” called Wrexford. “Hold on to Harper. We wouldn’t want the beast to get lost on his way back to Mayfair. And kindly refrain from any further mischief.”
“Indeed,” murmured Charlotte as they turned to make their way out of the dockyard. “I think we’ve all had enough mischief for one night.”
CHAPTER 30
Dropping the playing cards in his hand, Sheffield jumped up from his chair as the door bumped open.
“Thank heaven,” he said, a smile chasing the pinch of worry from his face.
Lady Cordelia was on her feet, as well. Darting around the table, she hurried to Charlotte and clasped her in a quick hug, then flashed a grateful look at Wrexford. “Yes, thank heaven you’re both safe.” Her breath caught in her throat. “And the boys—”
“The boys are fine,” assured Charlotte, though a chill touched her spine on thinking about what a razor-thin line had separated life from death for Wrexford. She had taken aim with her pistol when the admiral had forced him toward the wharves, but the angle had made it a dangerous shot....
The scrabbling of the boys and their companion on the stairs drew her back from brooding over what might have been. Wrexford had exercised his lordly prerogative and commandeered one of Griffin’s waiting carriages to carry all of them back to his townhouse.
They burst into the room, the boys nearly tripping over the hound’s long legs in their rush to tell the others about the events of the evening.
“Harper saved the day!” announced Raven.
Much to Hawk’s hilarity, Harper padded over to the hearth and, after a gusty canine stretch, dropped to the floor and promptly fell asleep.
“Hold your fire, lad,” ordered Tyler from the corridor. “And wait until we’re all assembled before you begin.” He appeared a moment later, followed by Woodbridge.
Charlotte knew the two of them had been standing guard at the front and the rear of the townhouse, in case the enemy had discovered where the professor and his Computing Engine were hidden. She smiled to see they had set aside their weapons and were now each carrying a bottle of the earl’s finest whisky.
Wrexford made an appreciative sound deep in his throat. “Remind me to raise your wages.” After taking the spirits from his valet, he moved to the tray of glasses on the sideboard. Flickers of amber danced through the candlelight as he poured out six measures.
Raven’s face fell.
The earl cast a look at Charlotte, who answered with a tiny nod. He drizzled a small taste of the spirits into the two remaining glasses and handed them to the boys while Tyler passed around the other libations.
“Slàinte.”Cocking a salute, Wrexford swirled the spirits and drained his drink in one swift swallow.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte chose to savor the whisky, slowly allowing its fire to melt the last bit of ice in her blood and form a mellow pool of warmth deep inside her.
Fire and ice.For a moment, the happy chatter of voices around her blurred to an indistinct babble as the spirits stirred the strangest thoughts. She had left England as a giddy, rebellious schoolgirl, oh-so sure that Love would smooth all of Life’s rough edges. Those innocent illusions hadn’t lasted long. She had returned to London as a practical, pragmatic woman of the world, wary of foolish fantasies and youthful hubris.
Survival demanded strength. Emotions made one vulnerable.
