Without any further hesitation, she rose and addressed the boys. “Hawk and Falcon, you two fly off and fetch Aunt Alison. Raven, find Cordelia and Kit and convey the urgency of my previous messages.” A quick pivot. “As for you, Tyler, take the carriage and bring Baz back here.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Mac has gone to purchase some new brushes and watercolor pigments for me, but she should be home shortly. Let us plan on convening our council of war in an hour’s time.”
Their marching orders received, the four messengers wasted not a moment in racing off to perform their duties.
“Speaking of family,” began Wrexford. “I have a confession to make—”
Before he could go on, Charlotte turned and wrapped her arms around him. Warmth pierced through wool and linen to prickle against his fear-cold flesh.
“I fear that I’m not very good at being part of a family,” he went on in a rush, before he lost the courage to reveal the less than admirable side of his soul. “Greeley’s murder has reopened the old wounds surrounding my brother’s death, and I’ve come to realize that I failed my father when he most needed me.”
Remorse lodged like a stone in his throat, forcing him to pause for a moment before he could continue. “I thought only of myself . . .” Wrexford explained about his avoidance of his grieving father. “I’m too introspective.” A huff. “Too impatient. Too sharp-tongued.” He made a face. “I fear that I won’t be a good husband or a good surrogate father to the Weasels—”
Charlotte pressed a kiss to his lips to silence his fears. She held him close for a moment longer before leaning back. “God knows, I, of all people, am aware of the complexities and conflicts that can tear families apart.” Her eyes pooled with sympathy. “They appear deceptively sturdy, but in truth families are achingly fragile. However—”
“I should have bothered to look closer and see his pain,” he said, determined to forge ahead. “Instead I withdrew into myself and focused my gaze on my own interests. It’s a flaw—”
“Good heavens, Wrex! None of us are without flaws,” interjected Charlotte. “Flaws are part of who we are,” she continued. “But more importantly, they are often the core of our strengths.”
“A frightening thought,” he muttered.
“Oh, come,” For just an instant, a glint of humor danced beneath her lashes. “Who would you be without your snaps and snarls?”
Slipping free, he perched a hip on the corner of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “A better man?”
“On the contrary,” she replied. “I won’t make light of your fears, for they are very real to you. However, the boys and I see you through the prism of our own perceptions, which paint a very different portrait from the one you have sketched.”
Outside the leaded windows, the scudding clouds momentarily allowed the sun to peek through, sending a flickering of gold-flecked light through the shadows.
“You are the most thoughtful individual I have ever met. You observe, you analyze, and you are open to seeing things that don’t fit your preconceptions. You listen carefully and are willing to admit when you may be wrong. Yes, you have sharp edges, but you only use them to deflate the hubris of puffed-up popinjays.”
She allowed a moment of silence. “The Weasels will watch, listen, and learn from you how to grow up to be men of honor and integrity. They could not have a better guardian.”
“You give me too much credit,” said Wrexford. “But—”
“But enough recriminations for now.” Charlotte smiled. “Much as it’s important for us to talk about the doubts that lurk in our hearts, let us put these very personal matters aside for the present.”
Her gaze moved to where the note lay open on his desk. “We now know the identity of the villain behind the heinous crimes. And it’s time to bring him to justice.”
All at once, the shadows haunting his thoughts seemed to lighten.
“Indeed.” He waggled a booted foot. “Let us go kick the Earl of Taviot into the deepest pit of Hell.”
Charlotte moved closer and touched a palm to his cheek. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Wrex,” she murmured. “We all go through black moments in our lives. They are painful but also help make us wiser and stronger.”
“Amen to that.” He cracked his knuckles. “Taviot had better start saying his prayers.”
* * *
“Ah, I hear Alison and the boys approaching.” Charlotte took a seat by the hearth. She had fetched a notebook from her workroom and opened it to a fresh page.
“How could you not? A mounted regiment of Royal Hussars would make less clatter in the corridor,” observed Wrexford as he busied himself with cleaning his pistols. “Speaking of the dowager, I assume that she is to be allowed unfettered freedom in the investigation.”
“Alison has proved extremely helpful in the past, so it would be unfair to impose any strictures,” replied Charlotte. “However, the fact that she isn’t as mobile as she used to be should keep her out any of real trouble.”
“A fair point,” he acknowledged.
“Just don’t repeat that within striking range of her stick.”
“I may be reckless at times, but I do possess some sense of self-preservation.” Wrexford wiped the oil from his fingers with a gunpowder-flecked rag. “We’ll need to address how to handle Peregrine.”
