“We are learning Italian next,” offered Hawk.
After swallowing a cough—or perhaps it had been a laugh—Sheffield changed the subject. “How many enemies are in the building?”
“Colonel Jarvis, Lord Taviot, two nasty-looking ruffians, and a fancy lady who doesn’t appear pleased with the situation,” answered Raven.
“It has to be Lady Kirkwall,” said Charlotte. “Clearly she is in league with her brother, as she helped orchestrate the attack on me.” Still, despite all the evidence to the contrary, something rubbed her wrong about thinking of the lady as purely evil.
“Bloody hell, how did I not see the darkness of her heart?” muttered Sheffield.
“I don’t think it’s that black and white, Kit,” she responded. “Though I can’t explain why.”
They lapsed into an uneasy silence as the sun slowly peeked through the early morning clouds. For Charlotte, the minutes seemed to slide by with agonizing slowness. But at last she heard the squelch of steps through the marshland and turned to see Peregrine and Wrexford approaching.
“Thank heavens,” she whispered, only to realize that another hazy shape was right behind them.
Von Münch.
Recalling Wrexford’s suspicions and the earlierbang, her split-second reaction was to reach for her pistol. But the earl’s face betrayed no sense of alarm, so she moved to take cover behind Raven and Hawk. Whatever the reason for von Münch’s presence, the less he saw of her, the better.
Sheffield gave voice to her own question. “What’s the librarian doing here?” he asked tersely as Wrexford crouched down beside him.
“Reinforcements,” came the answer as the earl surveyed the brick building and its surroundings. “It turns out Herr von Münch is a crack shot. As to why he’s here, he discovered how Jarvis fit into this pernicious puzzle and came to warn us.”
Charlotte received a second surprise as McClellan suddenly materialized from the lingering fog.
“Oh—and Mac convinced me that she ought to be part of the rescue party. Having another steady finger on the trigger is a prudent precaution.”
“Baz would have insisted on coming, too, but he’s not moving well these days,” added McClellan. “And while he’s an expert with a scalpel, he concedes that he’s not very skilled with a firearm.”
The librarian looked bemused. “Yours is a rather unusual household, Lord Wrexford.”
“That is one way of putting it.”
“I’m rather surprised your wife didn’t come along,” added von Münch.
“That would cause a great scandal in Society if word got out,” replied the earl. “One must have a care about such things.”
“Yes, of course.”
Wrexford looked away from the building to the swath of reeds closer to the river’s edge. “Getting back to the rescue plans, Horatio’s men are moving into position and will cut off any access to the prototype steamboat. Once I get the signal, we shall approach the building and take the villains by surprise.”
Charlotte saw von Münch glance at her and the Weasels. “I can’t help but be curious, milord. Why the band of, er, . . .” He paused, as if searching for words.
“Urchins?” suggested Sheffield. “Wrex and I have, shall we say, established a working relationship with a trusted group of them. They make excellent scouts and messengers.”
The librarian nodded thoughtfully. “Clever.” His gaze seemed to linger on her for a heartbeat . . . and then another. “But how—”
“Never mind that now,” growled Wrexford. He turned to Raven. “How many doors into the building? Where are they, and which one is the best way to gain entrance without being spotted?”
Raven responded with a detailed report.
“Hmmph.” Sitting back on his haunches, the earl considered what he had just heard.
Charlotte reached up to adjust the tilt of her floppy hat, managing to catch his eye just for an instant. The connection, however fleeting, stirred an inward smile. It was, she knew, irrational to think he was invincible.
But her fears seemed to flutter off with the rising breeze.
Wrexford must have spied the signal from Horatio’s men, for he drew his pistols. “Time for us to move. Raven, you go with Herr von Münch and cover the rear exit. But don’t take any action unless you hear me give the hoot of a barn owl.” He thought for an instant. “Or unless all hell breaks loose. Then you have permission to improvise.”
