“If it’s any salve to your pride, I think you did the right thing,” responded Charlotte. “He deserves our trust.”
“The question of how to arrange the logistics of travel is an issue,” mused Wrexford. “As you know, my estate is quite close to Cambridge, and Sheffield can stay with me. But propriety forbids you—”
“As to that, I have an idea,” she interjected.
He raised a brow. “Dare I ask?”
“I’d rather not say just now.” Just in case, thought Charlotte, the idea blew up in her face. “When do you plan to leave?”
“The sooner the better,” he answered. “However, we can’t ignore the other dangling threads in this case, so I wish to make an inquiry this evening and see where it leads before we make our next move.”
* * *
It was still early in the evening, and White’s had not yet come alive with the daily rituals of masculine revelries. The club’s main reading room was empty, save for several elderly gentlemen asleep near the blazing fire, their snores punctuating the occasional rustle of the abandoned newspapers in their laps.
Wrexford moved into the main corridor and signaled to a passing porter. “Has Sir Charles arrived?”
“He’s in the Blue Parlor, milord. It’s Wednesday, so he’s awaiting his usual backgammon partner.”
The earl nodded his thanks. “Bring us a bottle of the club’s best Madeira,” he said and then headed for the stairs, grateful that the admiral—whose scientific papers on seashells had earned him a coveted membership in the Royal Society—was a creature of habit.
“Ah, Wrexford.” The admiral looked up from the red and black draughts arranged on the game board as the earl entered the room. “How go your experiments with acids and quartz?”
“I’ve had some very interesting chemical results,” answered the earl. “I’m working on a paper to submit toPhilosophical Transactions.”
“I’m delighted to hear it! The Royal Society’s scientific journal needs modern thinking like yours to maintain its reputation for excellence in this new century.”
“It may ruffle some feathers,” murmured the earl.
Sir Charles let out a chortle. “Even better! Thinking outside the accepted boundaries is important. It’s how discoveries are made.”
Wrexford and the admiral attended many of the same scientific lectures and had developed a casual friendship. The British Navy was known as a bastion of traditional thinking, but despite his years of service and his crusty demeanor, Sir Charles had a very agile mind and held surprisingly progressive views on a variety of subjects.
“And how goes your book on conches of the West Indies?”
“Slowly.” Sir Charles made a wry face. “I suppose at my age, I should feel some sense of urgency.” He touched a finger to one of the painted points on the game board. “But after the years of discipline required by shipboard duties, I find myself enjoying the opportunity to explore a great many subjects and have allowed myself to be distracted from my writing.”
“The opportunities have been well earned,” murmured the earl. He turned as the porter arrived with the wine, and asked for it to be served.
“A very fine—and expensive—vintage.” The admiral raised his glass in salute. “As a retired officer on half pay, I can’t afford such luxuries.” A wry smile curled at the corners of his mouth. “To what do I owe such generosity?”
“Professional and personal admiration,” replied Wrexford with an answering smile as he took a seat next to his friend. Despite his silvery hair, Sir Charles still had the muscled physique of a much younger man. However, the Admiralty had been making room for younger officers to move up through the ranks. And so he had been removed from active duty after decades of military service around the globe . . . and naval pay was notoriously low. “I think it shameful that our government behaves so shabbily toward those who have devoted their lives to defending our country.”
“I appreciate your words,” said the admiral. “However, given your reputation, I doubt you’ve come here merely to spout heartfelt sentiments.”
“Actually, you’re correct,” he answered. Clearly, retirement hadn’t dulled the sharpness of his friend’s mind. “I have several questions I’m hoping you’ll be willing to answer.”
Sir Charles took an appreciative swallow of the Madeira. “Fire away, milord.”
“One of your cousins serves as a director of the East India Company, does he not?”
“Yes, yes, Copley. A fine fellow and a brilliant administrator. He was brought in several years ago to add, shall we say, a more progressive attitude to the Company’s traditional views.”
“And what is his opinion on the recent Charter Act passed by Parliament?” inquired the earl. “I’ve heard that the changes concerning the Company’s trade monopoly have caused some dissension among the board of directors.”
“As to that . . .” Sir Charles savored another sip of the wine. “You may ask him for yourself. He should be arriving at any moment.”
Wrexford raised his brows in surprise. “But it’s Wednesday.”
