The earl frowned. The list definitely stirred suspicions, but he kept himself from jumping to conclusions. “The stars could mean he visited them and tried to secure a loan—”
“That won’t fadge, Wrex. We know he got money from Hoare’s bank, and the letters I just showed you prove he also received loans from Gurney’s and Barclays, which makes it likely that he did from Coutts, as well,” retorted Sheffield. “You’re always saying that we must look at empirical evidence, and this all seems to prove that Woodbridge is up to something havey-cavey.”
Wrexford didn’t disagree.
“Having done some research myself on the matter of bank loans,” continued his friend, “I can assure you that the private banks on Woodbridge’s list don’t bother lending piddling sums of money. If he’s convinced all four of them to given him a loan, he’s secured—”
“A bloody big sack of blunt,” murmured Wrexford.
Sheffield slapped his palm down on the desk. “I tell you, there’s Satan’s own mischief afoot here.” He began to drum his fingers against the dark-grained wood. “The key question is, How the devil did he borrow such a large sum of money? His estates aren’t nearly enough collateral, and that’s assuming they aren’t already mortgaged to the hilt.”
“Actually, there’s perhaps an even more important question.” The earl met his friend’s gaze with a grim expression.
“Just how is he intending to pay it all back?”
CHAPTER 11
Ablade of sunlight pierced through the windowpane, its angled brightness a sharp reminder that the day was well past its zenith.
“Merciful heavens, I vowed that I wouldn’t fall into the same slothful habits of the indolent rich,” muttered Charlotte as she hurriedly shoved the last pins into her coiled hair and rose from her dressing table. “But at least I have a better excuse for my slumber than the frivolities of drinking and dancing until dawn.”
To the devil with champagne.Smothering a yawn, she grabbed up a shawl and hurried downstairs. At this moment she would gladly sell her soul to Satan for a cup of steaming black coffee.
McClellan was busy kneading dough at the worktable and didn’t look up as Charlotte slipped into the kitchen. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot on the hob,” murmured the maid, “and rolls warming in the oven.”
“Bless you,” replied Charlotte with a grateful sigh. She poured a cup, the rich burnt-spice aroma chasing the lingering smells of the stews from her nostrils as she quaffed a long swallow.
“A long night.” It was more of a statement than a question. After dusting the flour from her meaty hands, McClellan added, “I hope whatever you were doing proved worth the risk.”
“We shall have to wait and see,” said Charlotte. She fetched the warm rolls from the oven and took a seat at the table opposite the maid. “The earl and I have faced other wretchedly complicated investigations, but this one . . .” She broke off a bit of bread. “This one is proving difficult beyond words.”
McClellan carefully wiped down the tabletop with a damp cloth. “Perhaps because it is your friends who are involved in possible misdeeds, and you fear that solving the mystery will bring heartache as well as justice.”
Charlotte stopped crumbling the bread between her fingers. The maid, she knew, had some dark incident in her past. They had never discussed what it was. Charlotte was all too familiar with guarding painful personal secrets to have pressed for a revelation. However, she sensed McClellan understood that decisions were never black and white. And every shade of grey was tinged with consequences.
“Yes,” she answered. “Right and wrong is a question that can cut one’s heart in two.”
“No, it isn’t,” replied McClellan. “Your heart knows what’s right, and to act otherwise would be a betrayal of all you hold dear—a far worse crime than any of your friends may have committed.”
“Thank you.” She managed a wry smile. “For making the essence of a dilemma sound so simple.”
The maid shrugged. “It usually is.”
“Errare humanum est,” murmured Charlotte.To err is human.“If our friends have made mistakes, let us hope Wrexford and I can help them find a way to make things right.”
Any further discussion on the subject was forestalled by the sound of steps racing down the corridor.
“Awake at last.” Raven fixed her with an accusing stare as he skidded to a halt by the table.
“You never sleep late unless you’ve been up to something dangerous,” added Hawk.
“Which means we should know about it.” Raven scowled, mimicking the earl’s expression of annoyance with frightening accuracy. “Where did you go?”
Charlotte raised a brow. “Do you really wish to pursue the subject of secretive nocturnal activities?”
It was almost comical how quickly their faces flushed with guilt.
“I thought not.” She softened her words with a quick smile. “I know we are all trying to help our friends. But let us use prudence and good sense in how we do so.” A pause. “Be assured that the earl knew what I was doing.” Whether he agreed with it was another matter.
