“But of course,” she answered. Argument would be churlish. “Hawk, please go with Lady Cordelia and flag down a hackney for her.”
Once the pair had left the room, Charlotte turned back to Raven. She had seen his eyes turn shadowed beneath the dark fringe of lashes. He didn’t give of himself easily, and she worried that he would take Cordelia’s abrupt departure too much to heart.
“She appeared uncomfortable before you came down for your lesson,” she murmured. “It was a very long evening, with much wine and rich food.” Not to speak of the confrontation with her brother. “So it’s understandable if she’s feeling a trifle out of sorts.”
Raven didn’t look up. “I s’pose.” He carefully closed his book and placed the pile of equation-filled papers atop the cover. “I might as well put my books away. I’ll finish the problems later.”
* * *
Wrexford raised the brass knocker, but before he could let it fall, the painted portal flung open, nearly squashing his nose.
“Ho, what mischief are you Weasels about to wreak on the world?” he demanded, catching Hawk by the scruff of his collar as the boy tried to wriggle past him.
“Nothing as of yet,” shot back Raven with a smirk. “But I’m sure we’ll think of something by the time we’re finished with our errand.”
“And we mustn’t be late, sir!” squeaked Hawk, holding Charlotte’s well-wrapped drawing aloft. “Mr. Fores needs this delivered right away in order to have prints in his shop by tomorrow morning.”
“Tempus pecunia est, ” added Raven.
The earl chuckled. The older boy had begun to mimic Charlotte’s habit of occasionally muttering Latin aphorisms. Where he learned them was as yet a mystery.
“Time is money,” he translated. “Though not for indolent idlers like myself.”
Raven made a rude sound.
“You know, some people are rather intimidated by my lordly title,” drawled Wrexford. “You might want to show me a little more respect—especially as one of the many privileges of being a high-and-mighty aristocrat is having insolent little brats for breakfast.”
“It’s almost suppertime—” began Hawk, only to be interrupted by his brother.
“Ha! We would stick in your craw,” retorted Raven.
Wrexford made a face. “True. You’re all gristle and bone. I shall have to ask McClellan to fatten you up.” The earl shifted, setting off a whispery crackle as he released his hold on Hawk.
“What’s that?” demanded Raven, eyeing the cone of fancy wrapping paper he had tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Flowers for m’lady,” the earl replied.
The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Pray, what’s so amusing?”
Raven crinkled his nose. “That’s a pretty puny bouquet.”
“Non multa, sed multum,” retorted the earl.
“Do you know what that means?” whispered Hawk to his brother.
“Yes. He’s telling us that because he learned a lot of habble-gabble at Oxford, he’s smarter than we are.”
Wrexford raised his brows. “It wasn’tmewho tossed down the habble-gabble gauntlet.” He gave an airy wave. “Now run along, Weasels. Mr. Fores is waiting.”
As they turned to go, the earl added, “And by the by, the habble-gabble meansQuality, not quantity, is what matters.”
He watched them race away, moving like two dark flickers of quicksilver through the deepening shadows, before rapping a knock on the half-open door and entering into the small foyer.
“Ah. I thought I heard voices outside.” Charlotte came out of the parlor, a small straw whisk broom and dustpan in her hands. “Do come in and make yourself comfortable, milord—though have a care not to sit in the armchair by the lamp table.” Her nose crinkled as she glanced down. “Tyler would never forgive me if you ruined your expensive trousers.”
Wrexford cleared his throat with a cough. He and his valet had recently given the Weasels an assortment of chemicals with which to experiment. They had been told to confine their explorations to the back garden. But mishaps did occur.
