Clara inclined her head. “It has been … enlightening.”
Charlotte’s smile faltered only briefly before returning in full force. “Yes, well. One must act in accordance with one’s station. My family has been patient, but I trust you will now see your place in the world, and that of your allies.”
Aurelia felt the thrill of victory rise quietly within her. Without a single raised voice or impolite gesture, they had drawn from Charlotte exactly what they needed. They had learnedthe general’s location. The statement’s theft, the threats, the convolutions of the past weeks, all of it now had a path forward.
“Goodbye, Miss Langley,” Aurelia greeted her.
Charlotte inclined her head, still smug. “Goodbye, Miss Finch. I trust you have learned what is necessary. Better late than never, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Aurelia agreed.
As the door closed behind them, Aurelia and Clara allowed themselves a small sigh of relief. Once around the corner, they could not contain their soft and breathless laughter, though still careful to avoid attracting attention.
“We’ve done it,” Aurelia whispered, while her eyes were shining with excitement. “Everything we need to help Owen is here now.”
Clara’s arm slipped through hers. “And Charlotte revealed it herself, without even knowing. I do believe she has done more than we could have hoped.”
Aurelia’s mind raced with possibilities, the thrill of knowing they had the lead propelling them forward. “If Owen acts quickly, and we are clever … then justice can finally be served. There may still be time to recover what is lost, and to see the truth restored.”
Their laughter spilled again as they hurried down the street. The afternoon sun warmed their faces, and Aurelia could feel a lightness in her chest she had not known in years.
Chapter 35
The messenger arrived just after dawn. Owen hadn’t slept long enough to resent being woken. He was already dressed and in the middle of a conversation with Thomas, when Harcourt came to the study door bearing a card and an expression of tightly controlled alarm.
“A man has come, my lord. He says he was sent from Greenwich and must speak with you only.”
Owen froze. Behind him, Thomas looked up.
“Greenwich?” he repeated.
“That is what he said, my lord.”
Owen took the card. From W. Carter, it said, written in a hurried, uneven hand.
“Bring him in,” Owen urged.
A minute later, the man who entered wasn’t Carter. He was younger, thin-faced and poorly dressed, with mud on his boots and the wary look of someone who had been paid to carry dangerand understood only half of it. He was clutching his hat with both hands.
“My lord Westbridge?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
The man swallowed. “Sergeant Carter said I was to give this into your own hands. No one else’s.”
He drew a folded packet from inside his coat. The paper was creased and damp at one corner, but the seal remained intact. Owen took it.
“Where is Carter?”
“I don’t know, my lord.”
Thomas rose slowly. “Did anyone follow you?”
“I don’t think so, sir,” the man assured him. “I changed my way twice, as he said. Took a cart part of the road, and walked the rest.”
Owen broke the seal. There were two papers inside. The first was a short letter. The second was longer, written in a steadier hand, and signed at the bottom. He read the first letter.
My lord,
