Page 20 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)

“The Frenchman is a pompous arse,” he muttered. “But perhaps almost too much so. I shall look forward to hearing Charlotte’s assessment.”

“That was quick thinking on your part to create an opportunity for her to meet Ducasse,” responded Wrexford, though he was only half listening

Sensing the earl’s preoccupation, Sheffield asked, “With whom were you just conversing?”

“A former comrade-in-arms and another fellow who both attended the Royal Society meeting where Boyleston was murdered.”

“Did you learn anything helpful about what happened during the evening?” demanded Sheffield.

“I’m not sure,” answered Wrexford, taking a quick look at Fogg. “Let’s be off. There’s nothing more to be gained here.”

“I say we stop for a glass or two of port at White’s before heading home,” suggested Sheffield as they made their way out to Albemarle Street. “As Cordelia and Charlotte are attending Lady Thirkell’s soiree in hope of meeting Jane Marcet, they won’t be returning until late.”

Wrexford suddenly found himself feeling weary to the bone. The prospect of retreating to his workroom, where his only company would be far too many unanswered questions, held little appeal.

“An excellent suggestion. A vintage ’97 tawny would go down rather nicely right now.” He made a face. “Especially as I plan to make sure the porter puts the bottle on your bill.”

“I must remind myself to attend these gatherings more often,” said Cordelia as she surveyed the gaggle of colorful guests by the refreshment table.

“Lady Thirkell’s soirees really do attract a fascinating array of intellectually minded ladies.” Charlotte smiled. “One can always spot an expert in some delightfully esoteric subject and spend the evening engaged in—”

“Good heavens.” Cordelia’s brows shot up. “Does Mrs. Dovecote actually have a live bird nested within the coil of her braids?”

“Highly unlikely,” replied Charlotte. “You missed the meeting where she came wearing her pet garter snake as a bracelet. The creature managed to slither away and wrap itself around Lady Becton’s ankle, nearly causing her to have a heart spasm.

After that, Lady Thirkell banned the wearing of live animals as accessories. ”

Cordelia choked down a burble of laughter. “Speaking of Originals, where is Alison?”

“She left early with her friend, the dowager Countess of Ingalls, who was feeling a trifle under the weather.”

The crowd was beginning to move to the back of the rambling house, where their hostess always set up a late-night repast of fancy pastries and sundry puddings.

“Lady Thirkell has given me Mrs. Marcet’s address,” continued Charlotte. “It seems that she and her husband have recently moved to one of the grand houses in Regent’s Park. So unless you are feeling in the mood to stay for some sweets—”

“No, no, I’m quite ready to return to Mayfair.” Cordelia patted back a yawn. “Kit and I must be at our office quite early tomorrow morning to discuss some shipping logistics for the transatlantic route with one of our captains before the tide turns.”

The two of them took their leave of their hostess and retrieved their winter cloaks from the coatroom before venturing out into the night.

“Lud, it’s turned colder than the devil’s smile,” muttered Cordelia through clenched teeth, her breath forming puffs of pale vapor that quickly dissolved in the breeze.

“The carriage is waiting in the cobbled square just past the neighbor’s mews. It’s just a short stroll,” said Charlotte, indicating a graveled walkway.

“Brrr, let’s not dawdle.”

They set off at a brisk pace, and though the clouds were thickening, the flitting moonlight gave enough illumination for them to see their way.

“By the by,” said Cordelia as the path cut through a stone archway and curled around a copse of winter-bare beech trees, “I meant to ask you earlier, but do you have any objection to Raven assisting me on a mathematical project for Mr. Ricardo that involves the stock market and the trading of securities?”

The question took Charlotte by surprise. “Is there any reason I should object?”

“None that I can think of. He seems very interested in learning more about the financial world and how it works. But as you and Wrex are his guardians, I wish to make sure we have your blessing before we tell him yes.”

“Actually I’m delighted,” responded Charlotte.

“He’s been a bit blue-deviled because there has been nothing for the Weasels to do regarding the murder investigation.

That may soon change, of course, given Wrex’s new mission.

But regardless, the chance to work with you and Mr. Ricardo and learn advanced mathematics is a wonderful opportunity to— ouch! ”

She stopped abruptly. “Damn, I have a pebble in my shoe.”

Cordelia, who was now a few steps ahead, paused to wait.

Muttering another oath, Charlotte crouched down—

Bang!

A flash of sparks suddenly exploded from within the dark trees as a pistol shot rent the night air.

“Duck!” cried Charlotte. On instinct, she threw herself sideways and rolled onto the frozen verge. Scrabbling up to her knees, she saw her friend hit the ground.

“Cordelia!” she gasped, crawling forward as she tore open her reticule and grabbed the double-barreled pocket pistol that she had taken to carrying since the attack on Raven.

“ Merde ,” rasped Cordelia. “The bloody earth is hard as stone.”

“Stay down,” ordered Charlotte, quickly cocking her weapon on hearing the crackling of fallen twigs underfoot from within the trees. She shot up and took a step forward, searching through the shadows for their assailant.

A flutter of movement caught her eye. As the silhouette of a figure darted from one gnarled tree trunk to another, she fired a warning shot to scare off any further attack.

“Hell’s teeth!” Cordelia grabbed the hem of Charlotte’s cloak. “Let the varlet go!”

The figure appeared again, stumbling slightly as a flutter of moonlight shivered through the branches, and then raced off into the gloom.

Charlotte quickly lowered her pistol. “Are you—”

“Unharmed, save for a few bruises to my elbows,” announced her friend. “What the devil just happened? If a footpad was seeking to rob us, he wouldn’t have gone about it like that.”

“No,” agreed Charlotte. “And the bullet whistled high enough overhead that I don’t think it was intended to be lethal.” She uncocked the second hammer of her weapon and slid it into the pocket of her cloak. “Which means it was meant to frighten us.”

“Why?”

“A good question.” She stared into the dark-on-dark tangle of trees. “Though I have a sneaking suspicion that I can guess the answer.”

As the sweetly mellow port suffused a pleasant warmth though his limbs, Wrexford felt his tense muscles slowly relax. Closing his eyes, he took another sip, savoring the whispery rhythm of the dancing flames in the hearth which had him drifting off …

“Has Cordelia talked to you about Raven?” Sheffield’s question yanked him back to the moment.

“Why? Has the lad caused some mischief?” He straightened from his slouch. “I fear he is reaching an age when it becomes second nature to question authority.”

“It’s an elemental rite of passage, I suppose.” Sheffield made a wry face. “And unpleasant for everyone involved. I shudder to think what grief I caused my father.”

However, after another grimace, he quickly returned to the earl’s question.

“Be that as it may, Raven has done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. He overheard Cordelia and me discussing plans to become involved with David Ricardo and his investing business. I wish to learn more about the inner workings of the London Stock Exchange and Cordelia has agreed to work with Ricardo on using mathematics to spot opportunities for turning a profit.”

“Is that really possible?”

“Ricardo and Cordelia think so,” said Sheffield. “And when Raven expressed interest in the concepts, Cordelia asked if he would like to assist her.”

“I imagine he was delighted with the offer,” mused the earl. “So what is the problem?”

Sheffield smiled. “He’s beginning to spread his wings.

And Cordelia and I just want to make sure that you and Charlotte feel that he is flying in the right direction.

After all, you are his guardians—in truth, you are his parents in every way but biological.

” A pause. “And as Cordelia and I consider ourselves honorary aunt and uncle, it should be a family decision.”

Family. Wrexford felt another wave of warmth wash over him. “It goes without saying that I trust your judgment.”

His friend looked down, his expression suddenly shadowed in uncertainty. “I’m not sure that I do. I have been thinking … it’s a momentous responsibility to be a guiding force for a young person’s life. I—I am not sure that I will be any good at it.”

“Bollocks! You’ll be splendid at it,” replied Wrexford. “Your past excesses and your head-butting with your own father have taught you that there is always more than one perspective to a conflict. That’s made you wiser and more tolerant.”

He swirled the tawny spirits in his glass. “Look at how you’ve come to be reconciled with your father, something you never thought would be possible.”

As he spoke the words, Wrexford felt a sharp a stab of regret. He had never had the chance to put things rights with his own fraught father-son relationship.

Sheffield sat for an interlude in silent sympathy before clearing his throat. “I take it you’ve heard nothing from von Münch on your father’s mysterious correspondence?”

“Charlotte has more faith in him than I do,” he answered. “The rascal may have helped us on a number of occasions, but I can’t help suspecting that his altruism is shaped by self-interest. If faced with a difficult choice, I doubt that the concept of loyalty would play any part in it.”

“She knows him better than either of us,” pointed out Sheffield. He lifted the bottle of port—it was the second one of the evening—and held it up to the light of the fire.

“Empty,” he intoned, sounding a little wistful.

“It’s probably for the best. We ought to return to our wives before we get truly foxed,” said the earl, though at the moment he was feeling awfully comfortable just where he was.

“Indeed. Our carousing days are far behind us. As for the ladies, they are far too steady and sensible to get themselves into any mischief.” Sheffield rose, looking a trifle unsteady.

“I’ll accompany you to Berkeley Square in case Cordelia has lingered there for a late-night cup of tea with Charlotte. ”

The porter fetched their overcoats, and the chill served to clear their heads.

“Bloody hell, I am looking forward to spring,” muttered Sheffield, turning up his collar and hunching low against the stiffening breeze. “Despite its shortness, February is always a dreadful month.”

Charlotte was waiting in the doorway of the earl’s workroom, and though the shadows of the corridor hazed her face, Wrexford came to a dead stop.

“What has happened?” he demanded. “The Weasels—”

“The Weasels are safely tucked away in their eyrie,” she assured him. “Let me pour you both a glass of whisky before I continue.”

Seeing that neither she nor Cordelia showed any overt signs of injury, he felt himself relax. “Kit and I have already imbibed a surfeit of spirits, so you might as well just spit out what you have to tell us.”

Cordelia raised her brows as they came into the workroom but made no comment.

“Sit,” said Charlotte.

In the glow of the lamplight, her expression was even more alarming. He perched a hip on the edge of his desk, while Sheffield joined Cordelia on the sofa.

“Go on.”

“Mrs. Marcet didn’t attend the soiree, but I learned where she resides,” began Charlotte. Then, without further preamble, she explained about the attack.

“You saw nothing that might help identify your assailant?” asked Wrexford once she was done.

“It all happened so quickly,” answered Charlotte. “The figure was naught but a shadowy blur.”

“I caught a glimpse of him as I hit the ground,” offered Cordelia.

A small sound rumbled in Sheffield’s throat

“My guess is it was a man because of the figure’s height,” continued their friend.

“I concur,” said Charlotte.

A fraught silence descended over the room. Wrexford rose and moved to the hearth. He stared into the banked coals for a long moment, then wordlessly took another few paces to his right …

And suddenly flung open the door to the adjoining library, revealing the three Weasels and Harper huddled by the threshold.

“It’s not an infraction of the house rules,” piped up Raven, fixing the earl with an accusing squint, “as you’ve been keeping secrets from us.”

The hound added a low whoof .

“Not deliberately—we’ve simply been trying to make sense of what’s going on,” said Charlotte. “However, things have now turned very personal.” She looked to Wrexford. “Our family and friends are under attack from all angles.”

Another woof .

“We need to convene a council of war first thing in the morning—I shall send word to Alison and Henning.” Her hands fisted in her skirts. “Given Boyleston’s murder and the reasons why Pierson requested Wrex’s help, it stands to reason that there are dangerous French operatives here in London.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “And it seems that Wrex’s questions concerning the mysterious stranger have drawn their attention to us. So we need to draw up plans to find them and put an end to their perfidy.”