“Well, then,” said Sheffield quickly, “we need to make a plan.”
“All in good time,” counseled Wrexford. “First, you and Woodbridge should go retrieve the Computing Engine. We need to keep it safe.”
Raven shot to his feet, pulling his brother up with him. “We’ll go with you.”
Harper gave a canine stretch and padded over to join them.
“I’ll go, too,” said Cordelia.
“Leave the crossbow and sword here, Weasels,” said the earl before the boys could slip away with the weapons.
“Speaking of swords . . .” The mention of blades suddenly reminded Charlotte of another mystery within the mystery. “The Runners recovered a silver-handled knife with a lion rampant inset on the hilt at Queen’s Landing. Have you any idea to whom it might belong?”
“Ah, so it has been found.” Woodbridge blew out his cheeks with a wry sigh. “It’s mine. The Cobra told us he had it stolen from my townhouse and hidden there as a warning of how easily the conspirators can make me look guilty of any crime. He said that I won’t be in danger of being arrested, as the authorities wouldn’t accuse an earl of the crime unless there was ironclad proof that I murdered Mr. Peabody.”
“Like an eyewitness,” interjected Cordelia. “Which they could also produce if they so chose.”
“As I said, the East India Company—or those who are cloaked in its aura of power and prestige—is a very dangerous enemy,” responded Wrexford. “We would all do well never to forget that.”
CHAPTER 19
The echo of the words hung heavy over the room as the rescue party took a solemn leave from the room.
“Ye heavens, with all the excitement, I could use another nap,” murmured Alison as she watched the group disappear into the corridor.
“And I,” said Sudler, “could use another brandy.”
Wrexford refilled the professor’s glass and then came to take Charlotte’s arm. “Come, let’s take a stroll outside. Perhaps the sunshine will shed some clarity on how to untangle this coil of vipers,” he muttered. “But I fear we’ll need more than light.” They crossed the corridor and passed through the door leading out to the back terrace. “We’ll need a bloody miracle.”
“We’ve faced daunting situations before,” pointed out Charlotte. “And daunting foes.”
“Yes, but this mystery, I fear, is a web that’s woven far wider than any we’ve faced before.”
The breeze slipped beneath the neckline of her gown and, like an icy finger, stirred a shiver along the length of her spine. “I believe Lady Cordelia is telling us the truth.”
“The truth as she knows it,” agreed the earl. “But if there’s this level of corruption within the East India Company, I have to believe that someone in a very senior position is behind it.”
Charlotte understood enough about the world of power and privilege to know that he was likely right. “As I make my living uncovering the secrets and scandals of Polite Society, I’m aware of how a thin veneer of perfectly polished respectability can hide a core of rot.”
She thought of the murdered Henry Peabody, an ordinary man who believed that the rules should apply to everyone. “But no matter how deeply that rot goes, or whom it touches, I intend to expose it.”
Wrexford heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Don’t pretend that my sentiments surprise you.”
His mouth curled up at the corners.
“And besides,” she added, “you hate hypocrisy as much as I do.”
The smile grew more pronounced. Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, Wrexford led her down a set of stairs to a low stone wall that looked out over a distant lake. He sat and patted the spot beside him. “We shall have to plan our next steps very carefully. With all our well-meaning friends running around, trying to help, it’s imperative that we don’t let them stray into trouble.”
“I was thinking much the same thing,” said Charlotte. “We need to be methodical. You have entrée into the world of banking, and into the clubs to which the senior officials of the East India Company belong, so I suggest that is where you begin your investigations.”
“Yes, I’ll certainly need to have a word with Mather. And another chat with Copley.”
“What’s your impression of him?” asked Charlotte. She knew the man only by reputation.
“Smooth and polished as one of the classical marble statues in the British Museum,” said the earl. “But as we keep reminding each other, appearances can be deceiving.” He considered the question for a moment longer. “That said, I’ve not heard a whisper about any flaws. We shall have to ask Lady Peake—”
