“Yes,” confirmed Wrexford. “I plan to meet with him first thing in the morning.” Bow Street Runners were permitted to take on private commissions. “I shall, of course, sweeten the offer by footing the bill for a sinfully expensive breakfast.”
Griffin was very fond of hearty meals—especially when the earl was paying for them.
“A wise move,” responded Sheffield. “If anyone can help you sniff out the truth, it’s Griffin.”
The earl blew out his breath. “I am under no illusion that it will be easy,” said Wrexford. “One place to start is with the missing manuscript. Greeley’s assistant librarian did some research on it. Only five copies were made, and there is documentation that three have been destroyed over the centuries. However, he was told by the under-librarian at the Balliol College Library that the fifth copy, though rumored to have been lost in a shipwreck in the Tyrrhenian Sea, may in fact be in the King’s Library at Buckingham House.”
His eyes flicked to Charlotte. “By the by, the manuscript is a copy of a late fifteenth-century Renaissance workbook, and its title isNihil Est Quod Hominum Efficere Non Possit.”
“There is nothing that man can’t accomplish,” she translated. “What sort of workbook? Is it considered an important scholarly work?”
“I’ve no idea,” replied Wrexford. “The catalogue notes at the Balliol College Library had no information on its contents.”
“Mysteries wrapped in mysteries,” muttered Sheffield.
Charlotte felt a cold-as-ice pebbling of gooseflesh skate down her arms. That she and her loved ones had been drawn into not one buttwodifficult—and possibly dangerous—investigations stirred a frisson of fear.
The earl said nothing.
“Too damn many of them,” added their friend. “You both need to be careful.”
“That goes for you, too, Kit, if you intend to help Charlotte gather information about the race to build an oceangoing steamship,” said Wrexford. “Asking questions about the government and its research could stir up a nest of vipers.”
He turned to Charlotte. “And you, my dear—be damnably sure that you don’t deliberately poke your pen into Grentham’s eyeball just as a personal challenge.”
She understood his fears. Britain’s shadowy spymaster was not a man with whom to trifle. But she had promised herself never to let fear or expediency nudge the needle of her moral compass away from the Truth.
“You know that I take my responsibilities to the public very seriously, Wrex,” responded Charlotte. “I have sworn an oath to myself never to be petty or reckless.”
“Yes, it’s one of the myriad reasons I admire you.” He released a grudging sigh. “It’s also one of the myriad reasons you terrify me.”
“Bah!” Henning refilled his glass. “I still say Grentham wouldn’t dare reveal A. J. Quill’s identity, even if he knew it. The government would be the laughingstock of the country if it were known that a woman has been bedeviling the high and mighty for years without them knowing it.”
Sheffield bit back a laugh. “I have to say, I agree with Baz.” But after a glance at Wrexford he hastily added, “However, it would be best not to put the assumption to the test.”
The lamplight flickered, accentuating the sallow hue of her husband’s face and the lines of fatigue etching out from the corners of his eyes.
“I think we’ve had enough shocking revelations for one night,” said Charlotte. “I suggest we . . .”
She looked around on hearing footsteps in the corridor. A moment later, Tyler came through the doorway. The look on his face didn’t bode well.
“I learned some unsettling news this evening while out with a few acquaintances.” The valet had a wide range of contacts all around Town, including in less salubrious places where angels feared to tread. She and Wrexford had never inquired as to why, but it had proved very useful in their previous investigations.
“And?”
Tyler looked away, but not before she saw a spasm of guilt. “The authorities have arrested a man and charged him with setting the blaze that destroyed Maudslay’s laboratory.”
Recalling Sheffield’s uneasiness about Maudslay’s missing technical drawings and her own bad feelings about the incident, Charlotte drew in a deep breath. “So, it seems I was right to suspect that the firewasn’tsimply an unfortunate accident.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Tyler closed his eyes for an instant and released a sigh. “Indeed, I happen to know for sure that it was arson.”
“How—” began Wrexford.
“I was waiting for your return, milord, to explain how the truth came to light,” interjected the valet. He looked to Charlotte with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, m’lady. You seemed troubled by other concerns . . .” His gaze slid to McClellan for an instant. “So I thought it might be best to hold off until His Lordship came home.”
“That bad?” she asked.
The valet had the grace to flush. “You’re not going to like it.”
