The praise made him blush. “Am I getting a little better at sleuthing?”
“Much,” she replied. “Indeed, it may lead us—”
“Before you go on,” interrupted Wrexford, “you had better hear about my evening. I, too, had a private meeting that elicited some surprising revelations.”
“Did Copley have information that can help us?” asked Charlotte. “Did he know the identity of the gentleman with the snakeskin walking stick?”
He averted his eyes, her look of hope making him feel even more wretched. “Yes and no.”
“What kind of answer is that?” responded Sheffield.
“A damnably complicated one,” answered the earl. Unwilling to add cowardice to his earlier missteps, he forced himself to meet Charlotte’s gaze. “I recognized your description of the stick. It belongs to Copley, and it appears that the baron is not quite the shining light that Society thinks he is. There’s a dark side to his business talents and his benevolent generosity . . .”
Wrexford quickly recounted the meeting, stripping it down to the bare bones of the dilemma. “I took a calculated risk, assuming I was right in my conclusion before having proved it. Which, of course, broke the cardinal rule of scientific inquiry.” He spun his cup between his palms. “Forgive me for being such a bloody fool. I fear I’ve put all of us in danger.”
“There’s a good chance he’s lying,” pointed out Sheffield.
“He’s certainly mastered the art of deception.” Wrexford thought back on the conversation and the subtle flickers in Copley’s eyes. “But I don’t think so. And if he’s just another fly caught in this malicious web . . .” He paused for breath.
Sheffield’s expression turned uncertain.
As for Charlotte, she was staring down at her hands, her lowered lashes making it impossible to read her thoughts.
“Then the master spider who’s weaving it now has the advantage over us,” Wrexford finished. “We have to assume Copley will warn him.”
Harper shifted in his sleep, a growl rumbling deep in his throat.
“On the contrary.” Charlotte lifted her chin, steel flashing in her gaze. “We’ve seen in the past that poking a stick at predators can force them to improvise. And that’s when mistakes can happen. I say we continue the offensive.”
Wrexford guessed what she meant. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t imagine you do,” she countered. “But if A. J. Quill stirs some questions about the East India Company’s business practices, that will breathe added fire on the dastards.”
“Making them determined that it’s A. J. Quill who gets burned to a crisp.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
He bit back a retort. An argument would only flare into a war of words, and that might only goad her into doing something even more damnably brave. As he wrestled with how to reply, Charlotte rose and found paper and pencil among Cordelia’s notebooks.
Bloody hell.One of her infernal lists was in the making. Wrexford wasn’t sure whether to laugh or howl at the heavens.
“We need to be clear about our objectives,” said Charlotte. “It seems to me we have two of them. First of all, we must save Lord Woodbridge from ruin. And secondly, we must see that the men who created Argentum are unmasked and punished for their misdeeds.”
“Is that all?” asked the earl. “While we’re at it, shall we also find a way to defeat Napoleon and end the war ravaging half the world?”
Charlotte resumed her seat at the table. “Sarcasm isn’t constructive, sir.”
“Neither is flinging a flaming arrow into the devil’s eye.”
Her brow furrowed. And then she began to laugh. “Oh, Wrexford, I shall keep that image in mind for one of my drawings when we’re ready to deliver the coup de grâce.”
He couldn’t help surrendering a smile. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That little fact should have long ago ceased to surprise you.”
That Charlotte was a source of endless surprises spurred a wry chuckle. “Though I’ll likely regret asking, I’m assuming you have a plan.”
She squared the paper and tapped the pencil in a slow, steady rhythm against the tip of her chin. An unconscious habit, no doubt, to summon inspiration.
