“Kindly refrain from comment until I’m finished, sir,” she chided. “You need to hear this.” His jaw tightened, and taking that as signal of surrender, she continued. “From my source, I, too, learned of the murder victim’s connection to C. Hoare & Co. through his cousin, the Honorable David Mather, as well as the fact that the two men often met at a tavern near the dockyards. I paid it a visit and struck up a conversation with one of the regular denizens.”
Another growl, which she ignored.
“From him I learned yet another interesting fact. The murder victim was apparently close to one of the barmaids there. And she was too frightened to speak to Bow Street when they came to make inquiries,” explained Charlotte. “Her name is Annie Wright. I followed her to her lodgings in one of the rookeries off Tench Street, near Wapping Docks, and reconnoitered the area.” She paused and then added, “However, I decided to speak with you first before I make contact with her.”
To her surprise, Wrexford remained silent.
Charlotte waited, watching his face through her lowered lashes. She had learned to read the subtle signs of his moods. That his expression was undecipherable didn’t bode well. Leaning back, she waited for whatever explosion was coming.
“The dockyards are a notoriously dangerous area.” His voice was mild—another bad sign. “But, of course, you know that. Just as you know that asking questions pertaining to a murder makes it an even more dangerous place.”
“I went in the guise of Magpie, who has a great deal of skill and experience at uncovering secrets in the worst hellholes of London.”
“It takes only one tiny slip to get your bloody throat cut,” he replied.
“I know the rules of stews, Wrexford,” responded Charlotte. “Probably better than you do.”
“Somehow, that’s not overly comforting.” He looked away to the shadows lurking beyond the mullioned windows. “If I thought it would do any good, I’d forbid you to seek out Annie Wright.”
“Nothing about murder is comforting, milord. But as it seems likely this one is entangled with the troubles of our friends, you can’t very well expect me to ignore it,” she said. “So it’s a good thing you have no authority to tell me what I may and may not do.”
His gaze betrayed a flicker of emotion as he turned back to face her. It was gone in an instant, and yet its fire left a strange prickling on her flesh.
“I would hope you know me well enough to trust that I would never exercise such authority.” Though his tone was carefully controlled, Charlotte heard the note of hurt shading his words. “Even if it were mine to wield.”
“Forgive me, Wrexford,” she whispered. “That was badly done of me.” She drew in a shaky breath. “With all the recent changes in my life, I fear . . . I fear that I may lose a grip on who I really am.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Your true self is woven into every fiber of your being—your conscience, your passions, your compassion, your sense of justice.”
Her throat tightened as Charlotte sought for a reply. “I think you have more confidence in me than I have in myself,” she finally managed to say.
This time, the silence between them had no sharp edges. A soft rustling stirred the air as they resettled themselves in their seats. When their eyes met again, they smiled.
“Well, I suppose we had better get back to the matter at hand,” said Charlotte briskly. “And try to figure whether the pieces of information we’ve uncovered are all part of the same puzzle.”
“Logic seems to dictate that there are two steps for us to take next,” replied the earl. “We need to learn more about Professor Sudler, and whether Lady Cordelia and her brother have taken refuge with him. And we need to ascertain whether the murder at Queen’s Landing and any information that Annie Wright possesses are connected to our friends.”
“That makes sense,” said Charlotte. “However, we must also face the question of what to tell Sheffield.” A sigh. “The line between discretion and deception is, I fear, a very muddled one.”
Wrexford’s grunt signaled agreement.
She cleared her throat. “I have a thought . . .”
“Which I would greatly welcome,” he responded.
“As we agreed the other night, we can’t hold anything back about our efforts to find Lady Cordelia,” she offered. “However, until we uncover evidence that she and her brother have any link to the murder, other than the fact that Hoare’s Bank handles their finances, I think we can, in good conscience, leave that part of our investigation unmentioned.”
“Some might say that we are parsing morality with a very sharp blade,” observed Wrexford with a sardonic twitch of his brows. “But like you, I have a healthy regard for pragmatism.”
“Excellent,” murmured Charlotte. “Though I expect we will argue over how to deal with Annie Wright.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to let me accompany you?”
“You cut a very imposing figure, sir. Even disguised in shabby clothing, there’s no way for you to go unnoticed in the stews.”
He didn’t argue.
“If it would put your mind at ease, I suppose I could ask Raven and Hawk to shadow me—”
