“I’m not entirely sure,” confessed Wrexford, still staring at his desktop.
Spotting what looked to be a letter lying on the blotter, Charlotte moved to his chair and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Would you care to explain?”
In answer he handed her the single sheet of paper. “This arrived in the early morning post.”
It was a short missive, written in a neat hand and punctuated with a looping signature. “Lord Wrexford, I beg you to come visit me in Oxford at your earliest convenience,” she read aloud. “I have something of the utmost importance that I wish to discuss with you—and given its momentous significance, I dare not commit it to paper.”
Charlotte looked up. “Who is Neville Greeley?”
“A fellow I knew only slightly at Oxford, when we were both students at Merton College, and later encountered briefly in Portugal during the war.”
He paused, but Charlotte refrained from asking the obvious question. She sensed there was something more complicated lurking beneath the earl’s simple explanation. And so she waited, leaving it up to him to decide whether to tell her what it was.
“However, he was—” Wrexford looked away, but not before Charlotte saw a darkness ripple beneath his lashes. “—my brother’s closest friend.”
Ah.
Her heart clenched in sympathy. The earl’s younger brother, Thomas, had been killed during a reconnaissance mission in Portugal when his cavalry detachment had been caught in an ambush set up by the French. The two of them had been very close, and she knew that Wrexford, however unreasonably, blamed himself for not being able to keep Thomas safe.
“In fact,” added the earl, “Greeley was part of the detachment that rode into the French ambush. He was badly wounded but survived—the only man who did so, I might add.” Wrexford paused to draw a breath. “However, from what I’ve heard, he’s never fully recovered from the horrors of seeing his comrades slaughtered.”
“How awful.” She pulled over a chair so she could sit beside him.
“I helped arrange—privately, of course—for him to be appointed head librarian of the Merton College Library. He was an excellent scholar at Oxford, and I’ve been hoping the tranquility of the academic world would help quiet his inner demons.”
Charlotte leaned in to feather a kiss to his cheek.
“Poor fellow. He’s had a dauntingly difficult path to tread.” Wrexford took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “And here I am—a lucky devil blessed with all the good fortune in life that a man could wish for.” A sigh. “Though I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
She said nothing.We both know that Life is unfairwould sound like a platitude, which both of them despised.
They sat in companionable silence, and Charlotte knew her husband well enough to sense that her closeness was providing more solace than any words could give.
“I feel beholden to go see him, of course,” he finally said. “As soon as possible.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “Let us summon Tyler.”
“He’s probably still sleeping. One would thinkheis the indolent aristocrat, not me.”
“Ha! I heard that.” The earl’s valet, who also served as his laboratory assistant, stepped out of the adjoining storage area with a load of freshly polished glass beakers cradled in his arms. “Most men would take that to mean that their services weren’t properly appreciated.”
“But not you, Tyler,” said Charlotte. “You know quite well that Wrexford couldn’t survive without you.”
The earl made a rude noise.
“True,” said the valet. “Who else would put up with having to remove all sorts of noxious chemical stains from his clothing?”
“Speaking of clothing,” she added, “His Lordship needs a travel case packed for a visit to Oxford.”
Tyler came instantly alert. “Do you wish for me to accompany you?” The valet was also an excellent sleuth and had played a part in their previous investigations.
“That really isn’t necessary,” replied Wrexford. “It’s a social call, nothing more.”
“Oh?” said Tyler, his brows tweaking up. “Since when have you become sociable?”
Repressing a smile, Charlotte quickly rose and gathered her skirts. Theirs was, admittedly, an exceedingly eccentric household. “Come, the sooner we pack, the sooner Wrex—”
She stopped abruptly. “Drat—I just recalled that as a favor to the hostess, I accepted an invitation for us to attend Lord and Lady Marquand’s soiree tomorrow evening in honor of the visiting diplomatic delegation from Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.”
