She never ceased to feel a spark of joy at how perfectly they fit together.
“Wrex,” Charlotte whispered, after feathering a gossamer kiss to his cheek.
He tightened his hold on her, which said far more than words.
“Bad news?” she guessed.
“It seems that one terrible event in the past—a damnable French ambush that killed my brother and scarred Greeley for life—has triggered a number of unforeseen consequences,” he replied. “Though in what pernicious way they tie together is still unclear.”
“You know from your scientific studies that there are clockwork laws of the universe. Drop a stone in water, and the waves inexorably ripple out.” She felt him shift. “You could not have prevented the regiment from riding out on its mission, nor the terrible aftermath that followed, including Greeley’s mental trauma and his murder. So it does no earthly good to put the weight of that guilt on your beautiful shoulders.”
Wrexford took her face between his palms. “My head may know that what you say is true, but my heart . . .”
She clenched a hand and gave a sharp thump to his left breast. “Then your heart had better listen tome. Otherwise, I may cut it out with a penknife and feed it to the Tower ravens—and then draw you a new one.”
“Thank you.” His lips quirked. “For refusing to let me wallow in a sea of self-pity.”
“That’s why we make a good pairing. We are both too stubborn to allow the other to indulge in self-indulgent whinging.”
That drew a reluctant laugh.
They stood for an interlude in companionable silence. Somewhere in the garden, a nightingale’s song rose above the rustling of the leaves. Charlotte watched the pale flickers of moonlight play hide-and-seek within the dark silhouettes.
Hide-and-seek. What if they never found Greeley’s murderer? Could Wrexford make his peace with that?
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
“We had better sit,” replied Wrexford. He then told her about Griffin’s revelation.
For an instant, Charlotte, was too shocked to speak. “Good God,” she finally whispered. “Greeley’s murder, a British traitor from six years ago, the arsonist responsible for the fire at Maudslay’s laboratory . . .”
She frowned. “How can they possibly be connected?” The lamp flame seemed to shiver at her words. “And yet, how can they possibly not be?”
The anguish in Wrexford’s eyes told her that he was thinking much the same thing. Shifting her gaze downward, Charlotte noticed the austere angles of his features, chiseled to a sharpness that she had never seen.Grief, guilt, pain—a volatile mix of emotions had pulled the flesh tight over his bones.
Forcing aside her own fears, she reached over to put her hand on his thigh. “What we’ve just learned about the ex-soldier being attached to Greeley’s regiment gives Griffin another lead to follow,” she said. “A tenuous one, perhaps, but nonetheless it may turn up a key clue that will explain what is going on.”
“Our thoughts align,” replied Wrexford. “It occurs to me that the fancy gentleman may have been an officer in the regiment—and if so, perhaps we have found our traitor.”
He paused. “It’s worth having a meeting with my friend at Horse Guards and going over past records to make a list of possibilities. Through his connections here in Town, Tyler can arrange for us to learn whether any of the possible suspects are residing close to London.”
“And I shall think about another drawing concerning the fire,” said Charlotte, “and how I can stir up just enough questions about the death of the arsonist while under lock and key at Newgate Prison to make the unknown fancy gentleman uncomfortable.”
“You must do it very carefully, my dear,” counseled Wrexford.
“Whatever the dangers, we shall meet them,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I can’t let this go.” He closed his eyes for just an instant. “It’s now far too personal.”
“I expected no less, Wrex.” Charlotte smiled. “Perhaps it’s a curse, but neither one of us is ever willing to shy away from the truth.”
He hesitated, but then smiled back at her.
She allowed herself to savor the moment before revealing her own news. “You aren’t the only one who made a discovery today.”
“The manuscript?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I can’t say that it sheds any light on the mystery of Greeley’s murder.”
