Wrexford acknowledged the statement with a shrug. “It’s merely one possibility out of many. But Woodbridge doesn’t strike me as a fellow who would be involved in anything nefarious.” He smiled. “His sister is far more clever. And as we know from recent experience, she’s the one who possesses the imagination and daring to do something dangerous.”
“True. However, Lady Cordelia is also very sensible as well as clever. She calculated the risks of what she did very carefully and decided the odds were in her favor. And it was done out of necessity, not hubris or greed.”
Charlotte thought for a moment before adding, “She has a strict code of honor. I don’t think she’s capable of wrongdoing.”
“Given the right circumstances, anyone is capable of wrongdoing,” he replied.
She bit her lip.
“But getting back to the murder, other than Woodbridge’s suspicious appearance, is there any reason for you to think it might be a subject for your pen?”
“No,” she admitted. “Though it seems Bow Street is asking some strange questions around the wharves. They seem very interested in the wordargentum, though neither Skinny nor Alice knows why.”
“Actually, I can provide an answer on that,” said Wrexford. “The murdered clerk said, ‘Argentum,’ with his last dying breath.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“Griffin paid me a visit this morning to see whether my Oxford education might provide any insight as to what the word might refer to—other than ‘silver,’ of course.” A pause. “Though I suspect his real reason was to see what my cook was serving for breakfast.”
“And did you offer any suggestions?” asked Charlotte.
“No,” he answered. “I haven’t a clue as to why the fellow said it. And idle speculation seems pointless, unless one pens those ghastly horrid novels that seem to sell so well.”
“Oh, come,” murmured Charlotte. “The Mysteries of Udolphois a very entertaining book.”
“I have better things to do with my time.”
She raised a brow. “Like teaching the boys how to make stink bombs?”
“Ah. So youdoknow about that.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s Tyler who deserves the credit for giving them the instructions. I merely supplied the chemicals.”
Deciding it might be a good time to take his leave, Wrexford rose and retrieved his hat. “I mustn’t keep you any longer, Lady Charlotte. Good day . . . and if I were you, I wouldn’t fret about the murder. Whatever web of intrigue, if any, is involved, I can’t see how its threads will entangle us.”
CHAPTER 5
Between mundane everyday chores, working on sketches for her next satire, and her new family demands—including a trip with the dowager and the boys to Gunter’s Tea Shop for ice cream—the next few days were so filled with activity that concern over the Queen’s Landing murder slowly receded from Charlotte’s thoughts.
Bow Street seemed to have lost interest, as well. According to Raven and Hawk, none of their friends on the street had heard any further murmurings about an investigation. The clerk’s death, like his life, was fast fading into oblivion.
“M’lady, m’lady!” A breathless Hawk hurried into her workroom, a pristine white note clutched in his muddy fist. “Aunt Alison’s footman just delivered this for you.”
The dowager had insisted that the boys call her “Aunt Alison.” They in turn had explained that Wrexford called them “the Weasels”—which had greatly amused her, though thank heaven they had refrained from explaining why. Alison still didn’t know the real story of how they had come to be Charlotte’s wards.
And much to her credit, she hadn’t asked.
Hawk placed the note on Charlotte’s desk and looked expectantly at the ornate pink wax wafer. “Maybe it’s another invitation to Gunter’s.”
“You mustn’t pester her for sweets every time you see her. It’s not polite,” chided Charlotte as she cracked the seal. “Drat,” she added under her breath. “I do hope she’s not asking me to accompany her on a round of morning calls. I have work to do.”
Sighing, she quickly unfolded the thick stationery and read over its contents.
“Is . . . is it bad news?” asked Hawk as he watched her face.
It took Charlotte a moment to react. “Hmm? No, no, it’s not bad news.” She read it again. “Just very unexpected.”
After refolding the note and placing it in her desk drawer, she rinsed her brushes and put her paints away. “I have to pay a visit to Aunt Alison. Tell Raven that McClellan will have refreshments ready for when Lady Cordelia arrives for his lesson.” A pause. “And I do hope that she will stay for supper.”
“Shall I fetch you a hackney?” he asked.
