Mac blinked a tear from her lashes and smiled back.
“M’lady said we could be part of the council of war,” reminded Raven.
“Oiy,” added his brother. “There are things that guttersnipes can see and do that won’t attract attention.”
Wrexford doubted that Charlotte would find that unsettling thought a point in their favor. For now, however, he forced his thoughts back to the moment.
“The current council of war is over,” he replied. “Once I finish making some initial inquiries, we’ll decide on our next moves.” To Sheffield, he added, “Which for us should include making a visit to the docklands tonight—to see what dark mischief Taviot and his cohorts have hidden there.”
CHAPTER 20
Charlotte put down her pen and leaned back to study her drawing. It might be more provocative than Wrexford would like. However, she felt that she had erred on the side of caution, saying just enough to raise questions about who would profit from winning the race to build a revolutionary oceangoing nautical propulsion system without stirring overly lurid speculation.
If the government found that uncomfortable, so be it.
“Perhaps they will even thank me for it,” she whispered as she picked up a brush and began to add colored washes to the inked lines. Assuming the attack on their own Royal Navy laboratory had not been a cunning ruse.
With Lord Grentham and his cadre of clandestine operatives, one could never be certain.
Cat and mouse. Though in this case the cat was no mere tabby but a shadowy panther with razor-sharp teeth and claws.
A shiver touched her spine, but Charlotte shook it off.
“Perhaps I’ve been too careful of late,” she said, “allowing all my concerns—Wrex’s pain, Mac’s silence, Peregrine’s imminent departure—to make me tread with too tentative a step.”
I need to slip out of a lady’s confining layers of silk and don unfettered urchin rags.
She quickly finished painting in the last of the highlights on her drawing, then rose and headed to her bedchamber. Wrexford had returned earlier in the evening, armed with the information that Taviot had indeed been part of a diplomatic delegation to the Peninsula. A friend within the Foreign Office had given him a dossier filled with the specifics of the group’s duties and travels, but that had been set aside for later. They had both agreed that tonight was a time for action. Wrexford and Sheffield were headed to Dowgate Wharf. While she had proposed her own mission.
A tug loosened the ties of her gown, and a sinuous shrug had her skirts pooled on the carpet.A mission that fits me like a kidskin glove.
After pulling on a pair of threadbare breeches and tattered boots, Charlotte paused to pick up a package wrapped in oilskin, then hurried down the corridor to fetch Raven and Hawk for a foray into the slums of Seven Dials. She had already informed Peregrine that she couldn’t allow him to be part of the mission. The boy had taken the announcement with his usual quiet good grace. But Charlotte knew that it had cut him to the quick.
Perhaps the package of newly arrived scientific books that Tyler had ordered from Hatchards would help assuage his disappointment.
She quickened her steps. Wishful thinking, perhaps. But it couldn’t be helped.
* * *
Wrexford rapped on the trap of the hackney, bringing it to a halt in an unlit side street near London Bridge. “It’s best that we get out here and go the rest of the way by foot,” he said to Sheffield.
As he climbed down, a fug of unpleasant odors assaulted his nostrils, the stink of low tide twining with the earthy smells of rotting garbage and open cesspools.
“The laboratory is located in a cul-de-sac off the northeast corner of Dowgate Wharf,” he added. After some argument about the dangers, the Weasels had been allowed to reconnoiter the area just before dusk—that section of the docklands was rife with urchins and day laborers looking for any way to earn a crust of bread—and discovering the exact location of the consortium’s clandestine workspace had proved easy.
The earl looked around at the aged warehouses sagging cheek to jowl against each other. “Stay alert,” he cautioned as they started forward into the gloom.
“Are you expecting trouble?” His friend was also checking the surroundings, though the weak dribble of moonlight did little to penetrate the shadows. “The consortium has no reason to suspect that we are aware of this location.”
“Any number of things can go wrong when attempting an illegal search.” Wrexford stopped to peer into a black-on-black sliver of space between two buildings. “You ought to know that by now.”
He pulled a pair of black knitted toques from his pockets. “Leave your hat here and put this on. Pull it low on your brow to hide your hair. The thick cuff will shadow your features.”
“But I’m very fond of this hat.”
“You’ll have no need of it for quite some time if we’re spotted by the night watchmen and hauled off to Newgate Prison.” He switched his own head covering and signaled for them to resume walking.
A breeze pulled at a rusted sign hanging above a padlocked door, setting off a fitful groaning that amplified the aura of tension in the air.
