Wrexford continued sorting through some papers, looking for some notes he had made on the case. But after several moments, he looked up. It wasn’t like Tyler to refrain from comment.
“Are you troubled by this?”
“Yes,” said Tyler without hesitation. “And if he’s the one running the scheme, so should you be.”
“I may be stubborn, but I like to think I’m not a fool. If you have concerns, I would like to hear them.”
Normally quick with his wit and his tongue, the valet took his time in composing a reply. “When circumstances first forced you to take up sleuthing to solve a crime, you were the only person at risk if you failed.”
“Lady Charlotte and the Weasels—”
“Yes, yes, they were soon entwined,” said Tyler. “Then in the Ashton affair, Sheffield and McClellan were drawn into the heart of the mystery.” Rain had just begun to fall, the first hesitant drops pattering softly against the windowpanes. “And now Lady Peake . . .”
Wrexford watched the dark silhouettes of ivy shudder in the swirling breeze. It was true. Being alone gave one the luxury of a devil-be-damned attitude toward life. “You think I should back away to keep them out of trouble?”
A measured exhale.
He waited, using the moment to marshal his own thoughts.
And then, thankfully, a very Tyler-like laugh. “I’m neither a bloody idiot nor a bloody hypocrite. Of course I don’t expect you to slink away when you know something is wrong. I just want to remind you to exercise caution in confronting Copley.”
The valet moved to the hearth and warmed his hands over the fire. “Unlike our previous opponents, the East India Company has both the resources and the power to crush anyone who stands in the way of their plans.”
Wrexford nodded. “I’m very aware of that. I’ve spent the afternoon speaking with friends who are more intimately acquainted with the workings of the Company than I am. The recent Charter Act has created factions within the board of directors, so the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that the Argentum scheme is not some secret official endeavor of the East India Company, but rather a purely private financial manipulation.”
“Even so, the men involved are powerful and possess the means to eliminate any threat to their objectives.”
“Which is all the more reason to knock those who seek to abuse such responsibilities on their arse,” responded the earl. “Yes, in the past, I might have recognized wrongdoing but have felt cynical enough to dismiss it as the way of the world. But friendships change one’s perspective.”
In ways that defied mere words.
“It matters deeply to fight wrongdoing. Not just for friends, but also for those who can’t fight for themselves.” Charlotte, he knew, had always understood that. It was, he realized, one of the things he loved best about her.
Tyler struggled to smother a smile. “It seems the cynic may be turning into a sentimentalist.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting,” retorted Wrexford.
“Quite right. I’ll need it for trudging through the rain and muck to dig up whatever dirt I can find on Copley.” The valet fetched his hat and coat from the corner of the room. “Still, let us both tread carefully, so we don’t end up falling down some deep and dark chasm . . .”
* * *
Tyler’s words were still echoing in his ears as the earl entered White’s an hour later and made his way upstairs to wait in the parlor adjoining the game room. He flipped open his pocket watch and watched the hands slowly move to mark the hour.
Tread carefully.Wrexford had been mulling over the admonition on his walk to the club. It was good advice, given the situation. But sometimes a bold step was necessary to force an enemy into making a fatal mistake....
The scrape of chairs sounded from next door as Sir Charles, true to his military precision, announced that time was up and they would continue the game at the next session. Wrexford moved into the corridor and contrived to pass by just as the admiral and his cousin were quitting the room.
“Ah, Copley.” He stopped and turned. “Actually, might I have a quick word with you?”
The admiral gave a curt wave. “Don’t rush on my account. I’m toddling home to finish a section of my writing that simply must get done.”
The earl gestured to the empty parlor. “In that case, shall I have a porter bring up a bottle of port so we can enjoy an unrushed interlude of quiet conversation?”
“By all means,” answered Copley with a gracious nod. “A tête-à-tête with a man of your wide-ranging interests is always a thought-provoking way to pass the evening.”
* * *
A gust tugged at Charlotte’s hat, sending another drizzle of windblown rain snaking down her spine. Hunching deeper into the collar of her coat, she darted through the unlocked gate in the garden wall and hurried to the scullery door. Too unsettled to sit still in her workroom, she had abandoned her sketching and decided to pay a visit to the earl’s townhouse.
