“I’m serious, milord. This is no jesting matter.”
“Indeed not. To think that you might go hungry if I were to stick my spoon into the wall is nothing to laugh about.”
A snort.
“I’ve no desire to meet my Maker quite yet, so I intend to be careful,” said Wrexford. “I can, on occasion, exercise discretion.”
“You’ll need more than discretion.” Griffin pursed his lips. “I’ll do what I can to help, but I must tread very carefully. It would help if I knew what you’re looking for.”
“For one thing, I’m interested in knowing of any private banks here in Town that might be willing to work with a client who needs to bend the rules to suit his needs.”
“There are some small establishments around the Exchange who are said to be less than scrupulous about their paperwork. I can compile a list.”
“Please do,” replied the earl. “I had intended to press the Honorable David Mather about certain loans Hoare’s Bank has made. But he has apparently left Town.”
“Your friend Sheffield—”
“Sheffield is not involved in any wrongdoing. I give you my word on that,” interrupted Wrexford. “I have reason to believe that Lord Woodbridge may have been used as a pawn in certain fraudulent financial transactions, of which Mather was a part. And that Henry Peabody, conscientious clerk that he was, may have stumbled across a business within a business going on at the East India Company, which is why he was murdered.”
“And you think the perpetrators of this business within a business sought to frame Woodbridge for the murder?”
“Woodbridge believed what he was told when he agreed to be part of a clandestine consortium. When he learned that he had been misled about the nature of the business and why it must be kept secret, he demanded to withdraw,” explained the earl. “I think the planting of the knife is a warning. Right now, it’s just circumstantial evidence. You don’t have enough proof to bring charges against a peer of the realm.”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “However, they’re sending the message that they are powerful enough to destroy him with a few well-placed words to the right person.”
“I won’t ask you how you know all this,” muttered Griffin.
“It’s best you don’t,” agreed the earl. “I’ve some ideas on how to begin gathering the evidence I need to expose the dastards.”
“You know, if there’s a whisper of scandal stirring within the world of the wealthy and powerful . . .” The Runner leaned back against the squabs. “Then I imagine A. J. Quill will hear of it. I swear, a flea can’t fart in this city without that infernal scribbler getting wind of it.”
Griffin made a face. “So perhaps you should find a way to learn his identity and see if he’ll share his sources with you.” A humorless laugh. “And convince him to help you root out the dastards. God knows, he seems to share your abhorrence of the high and mighty misusing their power. A few of his satirical drawings hinting at malfeasance within the almighty East India Company would work in your favor by stirring up a buzzing of hornets.”
Or a slithering of serpents.
A gust of rain-soaked wind slapped against the window glass, and Wrexford was suddenly aware of the chill seeping into the hackney.
Charlotte’s pen could put her in grave peril....
The wheels clattered to a halt. “I must attend to my current duties,” said Griffin as he grasped the latch and swung the door open. “A word of caution . . . think carefully on just how far you’re willing to go for the truth, milord. I admire your passion for justice. But not if it costs you your life.”
His hobnailed boots scraped over the cobblestones. “And my beefsteak suppers.”
* * *
The journey back to London had passed without incident, and on entering the city just after nightfall, Tyler and Sheffield had headed for Mayfair with their companions, while Alison’s carriage had turned east to drop Charlotte, McClellan, and the boys at her residence.
Despite the jolts and jostling of travel, Charlotte had managed to doze off for part of the journey. The other hours had been spent in thinking, thinking....
Time is of the essence, but how to attack an enemy who is still just an unseen specter flitting through the shadows?
McClellan unlocked the front door and bustled the boys into the kitchen for a simple supper. “It won’t take long to fix a pot of hot porridge,” she said to Charlotte after lighting the stove and setting the kettle on the hob. “Sit and I’ll brew a cup of tea.”
“Tea would be lovely,” answered Charlotte. “But I’ll just have some cheese and bread from the larder.”
Raven leaned forward on his stool and set his elbows on the worktable. “You’re going out, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” Her skirts whispered over the flagged floor as she took a seat and met his gaze. “And we need to establish some rules as to the comings and goings of this household.”
