He ruffled Raven’s hair. “As I said, justice will soon be done, and that should satisfy both of us. Indeed, by tomorrow, this should all be over.”
“Deo volente,” said the boy.
The aphorism—God willing—surprised a chuckle from Wrexford. Charlotte, a scholar of Latin in her youth, had clearly been tutoring the boy in the ancient language.
“Nemo est supra legem,” he replied.Nobody is above the law.
Wrexford hesitated, then opened his desk drawer and took out a small silver picture case. He put it down on the blotter and clicked it open to reveal the miniature painting.
Raven leaned in to study the three faces.
“That is Thomas in the middle. To his right is Neville Greeley, and to his left is their friend Harry Baldwin, who lost his life at the Battle of Talavera.”
“Thomas looks like you,” observed Raven without lifting his gaze.
“No, he doesn’t—he’s smiling,” said Wrexford, unable to keep his voice from catching in his throat.
That drew a laugh from Raven.
“Everyone loved Thomas’s sunny smile,” added the earl.
“It’s a nice smile,” said the boy after subjecting the portrait to further scrutiny. “But I like your scowls better. They’re more interesting.”
Raven moved closer, and Wrexford felt the warmth of the boy’s closeness loosen the knot in his chest.
“Hawk smiles more than me. I dunno why—I guess it’s just my nature. But m’lady says that it’s not the smiles and scowls that are important. It’s what lies in your heart that matters.”
“M’lady is not only profoundly wise,” he replied. “She is also profoundly compassionate and sees the best in us despite our flaws.”
“She says the same about you.” Raven ventured a shy grin. “I guess we’re all lucky that we found each other.”
“Indeed we are, lad.” He pulled the boy into another hug, feeling himself blessed beyond words. Though Raven wasn’t always comfortable with physical closeness, he made no move to pull away.
It was McClellan’s call that drew them apart.
“Raven! Stop lollygagging! You mustn’t be late for your fencing lesson. Harry Angelo is doing you boys a great honor. He’s not to be kept waiting.”
Raven was about to fly away when he noticed a crumpled scrap of cloth wedged between the books stacked on the corner of the desk.
“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the bits of gold and red embroidery threaded on the dark wool.
“A piece of my assailant’s coat collar that tore off when I grabbed at him last night.”
“May I have a look?”
“You’re welcome to take it. I’ve examined it and can’t see that it will be of any help in identifying the culprit.” Wrexford shrugged. “Not that it matters. Griffin will see that all the underlings are also apprehended and made to pay for whatever transgressions they have committed.”
McClellan called again.
“Now go! You need to get ready for your lesson.” He carefully closed the miniature portrait’s case and put it away. “And I need to plot out the last moves for bringing a black-hearted killer to justice.”
CHAPTER 24
After rinsing out her brushes and putting away her paints, Charlotte gathered up the reference books she had brought up from Wrexford’s library and set them aside. Though forced to take some artistic license in drawing a propeller—having never seen one, she had to guess at some of the nuances—she was satisfied with the finished artwork.
More importantly, her conscience was at peace.
“The issues it raises are important for the public to understand,” she told herself. “Assuming the concept actually works, propeller technology would revolutionize ocean travel and thus greatly affect our nation.”
