“Thank heavens,” muttered Charlotte on hearing a brusque knock and then the sound of voices in the entrance foyer. Shooting up from her work chair, she then hurried down the stairs.
“At last! You’ve finally arrived,” she called to Wrexford.
“Had I realized that ‘tea’ was a precise time, I would have acted accordingly,” drawled the earl as he shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to McClellan. “If you were thirsty, you should have started without me.”
“Please, sir, this is no time for jesting,” she chided, gesturing for him to enter the parlor. “Given all that has occurred since last we met, we have some very serious matters to discuss.”
A flicker of emotion—was it guilt?—seemed to darken his eyes, but he turned away too quickly for her to be sure.
“I assure you, it wasn’t my idea,” he responded. “Though I suppose I should have realized it was a possibility.”
Charlotte felt a frisson of alarm. She had no idea what he meant. But she had a sinking suspicion that she wasn’t going to like it when the truth was pried out of him.
After following him into the parlor, she shut the door behind her. “What the devil are you talking about?”
Wrexford settled himself in one of the armchairs and carefully crossed one booted leg over the other. “Never mind. It’s not important—”
“Bollocks,” she snapped, moving to the sofa and taking a seat facing him. “If we’ve learned one thing from our previous brushes with violent death, it’s that holding back information is bloody dangerous.”
Her words chased the trace of wry humor from the earl’s chiseled features. “I wasn’t intending on holding anything back,” he replied, waggling the roll of papers he was carrying. “I was simply waiting for McClellan to bring in the refreshments so I could sweeten you up.”
A clench of foreboding tightened her chest. “As you know, sir, I don’t take sugar in my tea. So you might as well spit it out.”
The earl shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure you don’t wish to have one of McClellan’s ginger biscuits before we continue? They’re remarkably good.”
“I’m quite familiar with her cooking,” replied Charlotte, finding it impossible to stay angry. They had been through too much together, she realized, for her to ever doubt the elemental bond of trust that twined them together. “Whatever you have to tell me, it can’t bethatbad. When I saw the boys at breakfast, they didn’t appear to be missing any limbs.”
He made a face. “Well, it’s a good thing thatIfound the Weasels this past evening, rather than the night watchman. Else they, along with their partner in crime, might be locked up in Newgate, waiting for a ship to transport them to the penal colonies in the South Pacific for breaking into a private residence.”
Charlotte closed her eyes for an instant. “Woodbridge’s townhouse?”
“Yes.”
“I should have guessed some mischief was afoot,” she muttered. “They were far too eager to retire to their aerie and do their schoolwork.”
“Instead, they and Sheffield decided to search for clues as to what troubles have ensnared Lady Cordelia and her brother,” he said.
“And you found them—”
“I found them because the same thought had occurred to me,” explained Wrexford. “Don’t ring too sharp a peal over their heads. I think they did it in part to make sure Kit didn’t make a mull of it. He doesn’t have our experience in illegal activities.”
That made her laugh.
“Be that as it may,” he went on, “we did discover some intriguing clues in the townhouse. And that’s only part of it. However, I think it best that I start at the beginning . . .”
A knock made him hesitate.
“Tea and biscuits,” announced McClellan, shouldering the door open and bustling in to place the tray on the low table between Wrexford and Charlotte. “I took the liberty of not adding any knives to the tray.”
“The earl and I have ceased cutting up at each other,” said Charlotte, then added a sigh. “It seems I need to have a discussion with Raven and Hawk about deception, no matter that their recent actions broke no direct order.”
“Hmmph. I feared as much,” muttered McClellan as she poured two cups of tea and passed them around. “No ginger biscuits for the Weasels until further notice.”
Charlotte cocked an ear. “I trust they’re not hovering in the shadows. The earl and I have matters to discuss that I prefer they don’t overhear.”
The maid shook her head. “They went off a short while ago to take a crock of beef broth to Skinny, who has a touch of catarrh.”
“Dear heavens! He’s ill?” Charlotte felt a stab of guilt. Raven and Hawk’s little band of urchin friends had become very dear to her. She had been meaning to think about their future, but her own life had been turning topsy-turvy of late....
