“Has there been some sort of accident?”
“Skinny isn’t an accident—he’s a force of Nature unto himself,” she replied dryly. “Luckily, McClellan says she knows how to mix a cleaning solution for removing horse droppings from damask fabric.”
“What brought Skinny here?” asked Wrexford, relieved to learn his conscience was clear.
“He—” Charlotte stopped abruptly. “What have you got in your hand?” She squinted. “It looks like a cone of pink and gold paper.”
“My token offering isn’t inspiring much enthusiasm in this household,” he replied. “The Weasels were not impressed. They think it a very puny thing.”
She appeared mystified. “Token offering?”
He held up the paper cone. “It’s considered gentlemanly to bring a lady flowers after dancing with her.”
Amusement lit in her eyes. “If you saw the massive bouquet they managed to put together, you would know why they were laughing. McClellan needed to locate a spare bucket, rather than a vase.” She accepted the gift and carefully peeled back the edges of the paper. “Why, they’re . . .”
Charlotte looked up. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re different.” He had chosen a palette of subtle dusky blue and mauves instead of the traditional brighter hues. “I thought you might prefer something a little more interesting than roses.”
The paper rustled. “They’re beautiful,” repeated Charlotte as she examined them more closely.
“And no bucket needed,” he said lightly, though it pleased him that she seemed to like the bouquet. “But let us put aside the flowers for the moment . . .” He took the cone from her hands and set it on the side table, along with his hat. “And get back to Skinny. You were about to tell me why the lad was here.”
“He had further news about a murder that took place last night.” Her gaze turned clouded. “While we were dancing beneath myriad glittering candles and drinking fine French champagne.”
“You know damnably well that Evil will walk the streets regardless of whether or not we dance until dawn.”
“I . . .” Charlotte took a seat on the sofa. “I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”
“I don’t know anyone who is less accepting of the fact that Evil exists,” he said softly. “Few people have the courage and conviction to challenge it as you do.”
A tight sigh was her only reply.
Wrexford settled himself in the armchair facing her. “I heard of the murder, as well, but it seemed to me that it wasn’t the sort of crime to draw your attention. Did Skinny bring information that might alter that?”
Charlotte shifted her gaze to the windows. Rain clouds had blown in to block the sun, turning the light to a soggy grey haze. A few fat drops began to spatter against the glass.
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “The victim was apparently a clerk involved in accounting at East India House and had no reason to be at the wharves.”
“There are any number of reasons a man might go to a place where’s he’s not supposed to be,” pointed out the earl.
Her expression turned even more troubled. “Yes, I’m all too aware of that.”
He sensed she was wrestling with a conundrum. “Which means?”
A sigh. “I . . . I’m not sure it’s right for me to say.”
Wrexford waited. Charlotte rarely dithered in uncertainty, so it must be a decision fraught with complexities.
“But I confess . . . ,” she said after a prolonged hesitation, “I would value your thoughts on the matter. Perhaps I am merely seeing specters where there is naught but harmless vapor.”
“I think you know by now that I can be trusted to keep anything you tell me in strictest confidence.”
A ghost of a smile flitted over her lips. “It goes without saying that I would trust you with my life.” Another sigh, and then she quickly recounted the scene she had witnessed between Cordelia and her brother.
The earl carefully considered what he had heard before responding. “Granted, the river is not a usual haunt of the aristocracy, but there are reasonable explanations for why Woodbridge appeared to have strayed there. Gentlemen often hire a ferryman to cross over to the slums of Southwark or Rotherhithe for the dissolute pleasures available there.”
Charlotte gave a rueful grimace. “I knew I could count on your logic to put my fanciful fears to rest.”
